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  1. Chapter 1 Cal was searching frantically in the supply room. “Let’s go, boys! On the field in five!” Shit shit shit.” His first practice and he didn’t have a uniform. He counted himself lucky to be on the football team as a freshman, but being late to his first practice wouldn’t bode well for his future. His parents had helped him buy his own set of pads, pants, and cleats, but he was supposed to get a jersey from the school. If it wasn’t for his ass of a math teacher he would’ve been early to get a jersey, but now he was shit out of luck. Pushing aside old bags of deflated balls and pads that still reeked of B.O., his hopes dashed by a jersey only to find a huge tear in it. He could feel his heartbeat faster as he counted down the seconds. “Fuckin finally!” Pulling a jersey out of the corner, he inspected it quickly. Still sporting the school colors but in an almost retro design. No holes, rips, and it didn’t smell that bad, it was, however, nearly 4 sizes too large. Standing at a proud 6’0 and 183 lbs, Cal was a size large, an xl accounting for his pads. Checking the tag, it was a size 5xl. Putting it on, cursing his luck. Checking in the mirror, the collar and sleeves were disproportionately huge, the waist billowing halfway down his thighs. Still, it was manageable and would probably last until he could get a fresh jersey. Running out to the field, his oversized jersey billowing around him. The other players were already on the field doing warmups, Coach Stevens off to the side talking to the quarterback and a couple of other seniors. Joining everyone else for what seemed like a couple of laps around the field, Cal took the opportunity to check out his fellow teammates. It was hard to tell under everyone’s gear, but it looked like Cal was the biggest freshman there. He was still clearly outmatched by some of the more seasoned athletes. Still, he was proud of how far he’d come. He spent his junior high years playing soccer and only recently started lifting weights in his free time. By the time Summer started, the repeated soccer practices and games started to lose their excitement. It had started out fun, the competition, the training, the wins. But after a few weeks, it didn’t seem as exhilarating. Soon lured by the intensity of football, Cal found himself admiring the lifestyle. The games, the intensive training, the social life. Starting in June, he began working out, increasing his calorie intake, and even started taking supplements. He remembered fondly the thrill of first seeing the fruits of his labor. After two weeks of his regiment, he felt his shirtsleeves starting to bunch up over his biceps. Soon he could feel his pecs start to press out against the fabric. He practiced flexing in the mirror, seeing his muscle tone increase week by week. By the time Fall came around, he proudly marked his progress over the summer in his head: 1 inch taller and 23 lbs of bulk added to his powerful frame. Cal could feel his pulse beginning to rise as he quickened his pace. The excitement of actually being on the field, Cal tried to take it all in. The smell of sweat and fresh grass filling his lungs, his cleats digging into the field as he jogged ahead. Completing their laps, the players gathered round for a quick introduction and an overview of their games for the season. Remorsefully, Cal accepted that he wouldn’t be able to play most of the season’s games. Going out on the field in groups, Cal paired himself up with two other freshman newbies for some beginner tackles. Trusting his size and abilities, Cal prepped himself to rush the faux quarterback and the poor guy protecting him. The ball was thrown and Cal launched himself at the receiver, taking him down in a tumble. Cal could feel his muscles vibrating with energy as he jumped back up, ready to go again. That whole afternoon, it seemed like nothing could tire him. They kept going until sunset. By then everyone was ready to collapse, but Cal felt like he could keep going for hours. Getting home and tossing off his sweaty clothes, he got into the shower. Feeling the heat from his pumped muscles escape into the frigid water, Cal relaxed his energized body. As the water crept up in temperature, he paid close attention to his groin. Proud of what he had for his age, Cal soaped up his schlong and balls. Swinging to its full 6.5 inches, he gently stroked it. Getting out of the shower, his hard on bouncing up and down, Cal started to towel off his muscular torso. Looking down, he could feel something off about his point of view. His normally small but hard pecs looked bigger, protruding further out. Checking himself in the mirror, he could tell his frame was much thicker than it was that morning. Jumping on the scale, it read 195. “195? What the fuck?!” Out of nowhere, a deep voice behind him chuckled, “Awesome right?”
  2. hotmuscle101

    Blue Pill Part 20

    Sorry for the wait, in case you need a refresher here is Blue Pill Part 19 And without further ado I give to you Blue Pill Part 20 Although she had just fed, Sarah was hungrier than she had ever been before. The smell that hit her as soon as she opened the door to the gym was intoxicating, like pure male essence. It was the aroma of sweat and testosterone that caused her newly formed dick to harden down the leg of her short running shorts. The head of her dick just barely held within the confines of her shorts. She began to sniff the air, walking down the hallway, following the smell to where it was the strongest. This led Sarah to a heavy steel door, which she quickly pushed open to reveal an even more intense cloud of the stench that led here there from the hallway. It was so thick it was almost as if you could swim in it. Sarah felt something wet drip onto her foot and as she looked down to inspect where it came from, she saw another drop forming at the edge of her boxers. The smell had her so turned on that she was hornier than she ever remembered being before. Sarah was surprised to find the locker room was practically empty, minus the few gym bags sitting outside of their lockers. She walked up to one of the gym bags that was setting open atop the bench. She looked in and found a used jock sitting on top. Sarah reached into the gym bag and pulled out the jock. It was still warm and sweaty from the previous wearer, as if it had just been discarded. She brought the jock up to her nose, smelling the amazing aroma of sweat and testosterone with a hint of cum. Sarah stuck the jock in her mouth sucking on the sweat and cum. As she was sucking she felt a surge of strength run through her body and felt her dick pulse in her running shorts. She looked down to see that the head of her dick was now just barely peeking out of the edge of her shorts. As she was looking down at her dick, she noticed that her entire body looked pumped. She ran her hand along the shaft of her penis, earning her a glob of pre-cum once she reached the head. Hormones were racing through her brain telling her she needed to get off and soon. Sarah heard the sound of a shower turning on through the doorway at the end of the row of lockers. She headed towards the doorway with a hunger in her eyes and a raging hardon in her shorts. " Time to feed" she growled to herself... When Riley had first arrived to the gym, his gut was full and swollen with Derek's cum. He knew he needed to do something to get the size of his beach ball belly to go down and after reading the note that was left for Derek about how it would be beneficial for him to work out, he decided the best place for that would be Frank's Gym. It was always filled with meatheads and hardcore weights. Riley was in his jock and a pair of sweats he had found in the school locker room and He was wearing a t-shirt that said 'Fletcher Valley Athletic Department'. It was a little loose on him, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be that way for long. He looked out across the gym floor and found a handful of guys lifting. They ranged in size from amateur bodybuilder to Olympia sized. The biggest being Damien, he was easily a 300-pound wall of shredded beef, ready to dominate his next bodybuilding competition. He was a 6-foot-tall wall of dark chocolate and he was walking straight towards Riley. Riley began to panic. He wondered if the behemoth had seen him staring or if he was just overthinking. Jason's heart began racing faster and faster as each titanic footfall of the giant caused his meaty pecs to bounce. His massive Quads rolling over each other as they fought for space inside the weak confines of his gym shorts. Riley couldn't believe his eyes when they finally fell upon the obscene bulge in Damien's shorts. He had seen some decent sized packages in the school locker room. Chris's came to mind right away, but what was in front of him now had to be as big as Chris's cock was when it was hard, and it was completely soft. As Damien got right up next to me he leaned down to say something in my ear. His deep baritone filled my soul, as I had a hard time registering what he was saying. "Yeah, I saw you lookin. You're gonna need about another 100 pounds before you can handle what I got to give. Come find me when you do though, I'd love to fill your bowl with my cream." He stood back up to his full height and I watched his face as a huge toothy grin formed on his face as he gave me a wink. He reached down to adjust his package which Jason swore was bigger than just a moment ago. As Damien walked past Riley, He turned to watch Damien as he stared directly at Riley's ass. He seductively licked his lips as he headed into the gym locker room. To say that Riley felt on fire would be an understatement, he felt like hormones were flooding his entire being. Not only that, but his cock was rock hard. He knew he needed to focus. If what the note said was true, he needed to start lifting so he could absorb all the muscle cum that was in his belly. Riley decided to start with arms, so he headed over to a long row of dumbbells in front of a large gym mirror. He grabbed the 25's to start as a warm up and headed over to the isolation bench. As he was walking over to the bench Riley watched his arms in the mirror as the sinewy muscle lightly flexed to support the weight in his hands. He flexed his arm straight down causing a slight bulge to appear on the back of his arm from his triceps. Riley sat at the isolation bench and began doing curls. At first the weight was a little heavy, but began to get easier to lift as he did more reps. Once he had 25 reps done he switched to his other arm and began lifting again. Riley watched as veins began to surface on his arm and his goose egg of a bicep began expanding, just a little bit more with each rep. With his biceps now feeling warmed up, he brought the weight behind his head and began one armed triceps-extensions. He really had to push at the beginning to get the weight up, but as he continued it got easier and easier with each rep. Riley did 25 with each arm and stood up to take the weights back. This time as he passed himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but gawk at his reflection. His arms were pumped just from his warm-up. Riley started the work out with 15-inch arms, but they were looking much closer to the 15-inch range and this time when he flexed his arm straight down, he was rewarded with an actual horse-shoe bulge on the back of his arm. The boner that had started to go down during his lifts sprang back to life as he admired his pump in the mirror. "Fuck yeah! I'm getting pumped" Riley growled to himself in the mirror. "So fucking hot!" Riley put the weights back and walked further down the row of weights, this time picking up the 50's. Riley had never done anything heavier for isolation curls than 35. He could feel the heaviness of the weight in his hands as he headed back to the bench. Riley sat down and began pumping out rep after rep. As the weight got lighter with each rep, his arm began to bulge with some serious muscle. Veins that had appeared during his warm-up were now thickening and branching out all across his swollen bicep. The hard knot on his arm was now about the size of a baseball. Riley then continued the same process with his other arm. During this entire process Riley's raging hard on had begun leaking copious amounts of pre-cum into his jock. Knowing that he was going to have some difficulty doing single arm triceps extensions with 50 pounds, He decided to do just a regular triceps extension using both arms and the 50-pound dumbbell. It was a struggle at first, but just like with his biceps it got easier with every rep he did. Riley lost track of how many extensions he did until he realized that the weight he was using felt as light as the 25 pounders. Riley stood up to take the weight back. This time what he saw in the mirror was a complete and total surprise, the arms that he now possessed were at least 16 inches and wrapped in veins. He couldn't believe how big he was getting. The thought caused his cock to flex in his sweats, which brought his attention to a wet spot that had begun to form where the head of his dick was. Riley reached down and ran his hand along his shaft, as he flexed his cock in his hand. He continued flexing his cock in his hand, as he brought his other arm up into a flex as well. This caused his cock to react by surging in his hand, the head of his cock was now poking out of his jock and shot a wad of precum on the inside of his sweat pants. More turned on then he ever remembered being in his life, Riley headed over to the bench press and loaded the bar with weight for a warm-up. He laid under the bar and brought the weight down to graze his nipples. He then pushed the weight back up. Riley cranked out rep after rep as he began to get a pump from his warm up. Riley began losing sight of his erect nipples as his pecs began inflating with blood. Riley decided it was time to put some serious weight on the bar. He got up and loaded the bar with 300 pounds and got back under the bar. The most Riley had ever benched before this was 150 and that was a struggle. Riley felt confident this time as he lifted the bar, he slowly brought the bar down, feeling the muscle fibers in his pecs stretch and scream in pain as they were forced to lift twice as much as they ever had before. The weight finally reached his pecs and he pushed with all his might to get the weight back up. Once it was back at the top, he brought the weight back down, this time not as much resistance from his pecs. Every time Riley brought the weight down he didn't have to go as far as his pecs swelled thicker with each rep. After what felt like an eternity, Riley finally re-racked the weight and sat up on the bench. Right away Riley could tell a huge difference in his pecs, the weight of his bulbous man breasts pulled heavily on the fabric of his shirt. Riley stood to look at himself in the mirror. "OH SHIT" Riley couldn't believe how big his pecs had become. "I might have done too many bench presses." Riley realized, too late of course, that his pecs were out of proportion with the rest of his body. They almost looked like breasts if it weren't for his slight pouch of a belly he had left. Riley ran his hand up along the curve of his bulbous pec muscle and moaned out loud on the gym floor as his hand rubbed across his pert nipple. A couple of the muscle heads turned to catch a glimpse of Riley and his increasing wet spot in his sweat pants. Realizing that he needed to balance out his body, Riley headed over to the squat rack last. One of the big meat heads must have been using it last, because they didn't take their weights off the bar. The bar was loaded with 500 pounds. Riley was feeling stronger than he ever felt and his rock-hard cock told him that he could lift that fucking weight. Riley braced himself underneath the bar and went to lift the weight up when the big muscle head that had been lifting there headed over to stop Riley. "Hey bro, that weight is way too heavy for your chicken legs, how about we start you off with something a little lighter?" "I'm going to crush this weight!" Riley growled with a fire in his eyes. "Well then, I'm at least going to spot you, I would hate for you to crush yourself under my watch. Names Ben by the way, I'm the manager of Frank's gym." "Enough talk Ben, let's lift some fucking weight." Riley lifted the bar up before Ben was positioned behind him. Riley could feel Ben's hard biceps against the back of his newly minted triceps. The breath on the back of his neck made him even hornier if that was even possible. "FUUUUCCCCKKKKK" Riley moaned/yelled as he squatted down with the weight, he could feel Ben's crotch against his ass as he pushed back in the bottom of the lift, then Riley began pushing the unbelievably heavy weight back up. At the top of the lift, Riley could feel Ben's biceps tense against his triceps as he was trying to get Riley to re-rack the weight. "Great job man, I..." "Did I say I was done yet?!?" As Riley squatted down again, with Ben following him down. The legs of Riley's sweatpants were becoming increasingly tight around his ever-enlarging thighs and he could feel his ass pushing back more into Ben's crotch. Riley flexed his ass at the bottom of the squat. This elicited a moan out of his spotter as he could feel Ben's dick hardening against his rock-hard ass cheeks. Once at the top of the lift, Riley started another squat. Riley could feel the power in his legs increasing as they blew up in size. He could feel his sweat pants becoming too tight against his straining cock and his ballooning ass. Before he could stop himself from humiliation, he heard the ass of his sweats give out with a loud rip. He could feel cool air hit his hole as it was exposed between the straps of his jock. Ben felt the head of his cock through his gym shorts push past Riley's rock-hard ass cheeks to his exposed hole. Riley felt Ben's cockhead through his shorts as it pushed against his hole. Riley decided to hold the weight there for a little longer. Ben rubber the head of his cock against Riley's hole. Riley's legs strained to hold the weight, but they grew larger by the second during the strain, making it easier the longer he held it. "Fuck man, I can't. You have got a really hot ass and I have never had these feelings for another guy before. I'm straight man I'm sorry." Ben pulled his cock head back from Riley's ass and stepped back. Riley stood back up with the weight and re-racked it. Riley turned around to face Ben. He stood almost eye to eye with Ben. Ben had the most beautiful hazel eyes and short military cut hair. His face was chiseled and manly looking. He had to be about 260 pounds. He was a big boy. Riley looked down and realized that’s not all that was big on Ben. His arms and pecs were massive, but what really pulled Riley's attention is what was poking at his hole just moments ago. Riley reached down and wrapped his hand around it, massaging the head. Ben moaned loudly as he closed his eyes and rolled his head back. Riley leaned his body in against Ben's, "Wh..what are you doing?" Ben stuttered as Riley leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. Ben moaned into Riley's mouth as Riley felt Ben's cock swell in his hand as it anticipated releasing its load. Riley stepped away from Ben before he could cum. Ben's eyes were still closed in a moment of bliss."FUCK! That was so fucking hot! Why did you stop?" "You're straight remember." Riley replied with a devilish grin." Besides, I'm done with my workout. Thanks for the spot Ben. Hopefully we can lift together again." Riley gave Ben a wink as he headed for the lockers, holding the ass of his sweats together as best he could. "HEY, WAIT! I never got your name!" Ben shouted after Riley. "If you want my name you'll have to see me again to get it." Riley headed into the locker room and began taking off all his clothes. He admired the way he struggled to get his shirt up over his massive pecs. Riley moaned as the hem of the shirt snagged on his nipples. Riley removed the remains of his sweats to reveal a raging hard on he wasn't expecting. It was about a half inch bigger than he was used to and quite a bit thicker. "Well this isn't covering anything anymore." Riley said as he removed his jockstrap and set it on top of his gym bag. Riley couldn't believe how big he had gotten. He must weigh at least 190 now. He heard the locker room door open on the other side of his lockers. Riley thought it might be Ben, so he wanted to make Ben work for it a little bit, so he turned and quietly slipped into the sauna before he came around the lockers. "God I can't wait to make love to the beautiful man!"
  3. davinaclark72

    muscle growth Josh Outgrows Sam

    Hi all, first story here. Bit nervous about sharing. I was debating whether to upload the parts separately, but I think putting them together will just be easier for the time being. Enjoy! Josh ran down the stairs 2 at a time, brushing his teeth while cursing internally. His egotistical roommate, Sam, had unplugged his alarm clock while Josh was asleep. Again. Josh would most likely be late for mandatory registration, which he had already missed twice this week for much this same reason. And it was only Wednesday! Sam was definitely humouring himself through the petty bullying, seeing as he loved the power dynamic and all. Every time Sam did this Josh just felt a little more powerless against the huge fellow he shared a dorm with, like Sam would always be in control of his actions. He would always be the bigger, stronger man of the dorm, towering over Josh’s rather short height of 5” 5’ at a whopping 6” 3’. As Josh quickly did the buttons up of his ill-fitting shirt, he couldn’t help but feel that he had endured enough mental torture from Sam for a lifetime. For instance, every day without fail Sam would come home from his evening gym session and flex in front of the mirror in their shared bedroom, testing the limits of the sleeves of his one size too small compression shirt against his 18 inch biceps while exaggeratedly moaning. Josh knew Sam only did it to wind him up, but that didn’t stop it from working quite fucking well. Josh had always wanted to be bigger than he was, or at the very least big enough to fill out the sleeves of his already small shirts. He had tried to lift before to no avail, and Sam had a field day making fun of him when he attempted a bench press. One of the many reasons he was so frustrating to be around. Sighing, Josh put his several sizes too big hoody on and braced himself for the outside. The journey to campus was quick and uneventful really, and before he knew it he was entering the warm classroom and sitting at the back. The rest of the day passed in a blur; he was told off, given detention (as was customary for these days), and continued with his day. During gym class, which was shared between the whole year, Josh embarrassingly couldn’t even do 10 push-ups. He felt so weak, and although the only people laughing were Sam and his friends, it felt like the whole world was silently mocking him. When it came to be Sam’s turn the whole year sat in awe as he pushed out rep after rep, eventually having to stop at 120 so that other people could actually have a go. Detention rolled around at the end of the day and Josh savoured it, knowing back at his dorm he would have to face Sam before he inevitably left to go workout at the gym. As much as he didn’t like it the thought of Sam lifting heavier and heavier weights every day aroused him to no end. His swear dripping down onto the chair, pushing his muscles to the extremes... Josh had to uncross his legs under the desk so as to not stifle his tiny erection. The rest of detention passed without a hitch, and with slightly wetter underwear than when he entered, Josh made his way back to the dorm. As he opened the door he knew exactly what would be waiting for him. He creeped upstairs to his and Sam’s shared bedroom and opened the door as quietly as he could. Hopefully Sam was downstairs somewhere, making himself another jug of protein shake which he would down in one gulp. Stop giving yourself a boner, he thought, you have to be stealthy. But as he entered the bedroom his heart sank. He knew he was only being hopeful. Sam was sitting at their shared desk, on the computer, the chair sinking lower than normal to accommodate his massive size. Sam turned towards Josh greedily and smiled. His blonde hair was styled in that fashionably messy mop that most college boys have, and the smallest hint of facial hair over his defined jawline. “Heya Josh, didja get up on time this morning?” Josh just glared at him. Sam knew exactly what he was doing. “Josh, buddy, pal, my FRIEND, it feels like we haven’t had a conversation in forever. You keep ignoring me as if I’m not a sight to behold. Which I am.” He turned to the side and did a side chest pose. “When are you going to admit to me that I’m actually quite amazing, and you’re the one who’s making a big mess out of our friendship.” Josh focused on unpacking his bag and preparing it with the books he would need tomorrow. His arms trembled as he tried to lift his admittedly quite heavy maths textbook out of the drawer, trying not to pay attention to the drone of his roommate. “Looks like you’re having trouble there mate. Why don’t I give you a hand?” Josh felt Sam stood up, as no doubt did the residents downstairs. The floorboards groaned as Sam stepped his way towards him. He leaned over Josh, who was struggling to lift the book out of the drawer, and took it with one hand. He raised it quickly, then held it high above his head as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. Which it probably did weigh to him. Then he raised it and lowered it like one would a weight at the gym, smirking the whole time. Josh kicked himself for giving Sam the attention he was after, for staring at the way his bicep bulged as he held the book above his head, the way the corners of his mouth creased into a horribly sexy smile. “Whatever.” Josh replied, and laid down on his bed, pulling out his phone. Sam eventually got bored of pestering him and left for the gym, so Josh put on some lounge trousers and a t-shirt, reclining back into the comfort of his duvet. He made the mistake of getting dressed in front of Sam once. If his skinny body, poor posture and crooked face wasn’t enough to be ashamed of, Sam smacked what little ass Josh had and told him that it matched the rest of his body - absolutely tiny. “Because,” Sam said, “Asses like those aren’t for people like me.” Josh laid there for an hour or two on his phone, scrolling through Twitter and ogling at size morphs. The second he heard the front door open downstairs he switched tabs, he knew he would never hear the end of it if Sam caught him looking at overly buff dudes with enormous bulges edited onto them. He turned over to face the wall as he heard the echos of Sam walking up the stairs, not wanting to even look at him. He heard the bedroom door open. Josh almost wanted to cry when he felt the bed tip to one side as the massive figure of Sam sit next to him. “You look so small curled up there. So puny. You’re a real stick, you know that right? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Josh.” Sam grabbed his head and turned it towards his sweat glistening body covered in the tightest tank top there was. The schools logo was pasted over the front of it, distorted slightly by Sam’s abs. With one hand holding Josh’s head, he slowly lifted his arm and showed off his full 18 inch cold biceps. Josh instinctively sucked in air at such a sight, and looked away to try to lower his arousal. “You like that do you? You like my massive arms, so enormous when compared to yours?” Sam clasped Josh’s arm with one hand and raised it next to his, comparing the two. “Look at it. Fuck, it’s nearly triple the thickness of yours. You’re so TINY!” Struck with fear, he didn’t know what to do. Sam filled his entire vision. A teenage muscle god filling him with even more insecurities. Sam flexed his pecs, making the bounce one by one, the huge mounds of muscle sending shivers down Josh’s spine. “I guess,” said Sam quietly, then raising his voice, “that’s the sort of experience that 200 pounds of muscle does to someone! Urgh, yeah!!” He flexed again. 200 pounds? Sam was becoming a monster. Josh himself was only 120 pounds, no wonder he felt small next to this giant. Suddenly the rumble of Sam’s stomach cut loudly through the quiet atmosphere. “Aw, we’ll have to cut my well deserved worship session short I’m afraid. I’d better have my feast. These guns don’t feed themselves!” He said, flexing both arms at once. When at las he heard Sam thundering back downstairs, Josh adjusted the elastic on his underwear. God, this was hard in more ways than one. But then, as he was about to pull his phone back up, Josh saw a glint of light on the dresser. He stood up, not recognising the cylinder that caught the corner of his eye. A reasonably sized glass bottle with a red lid, labelled as “Xtra Size”. There was no other labels on the bottle. Quickly, Josh opened it and poured a few pills onto his hand. They were half red and half white, quite large, and seemingly inviting. What were these? He checked the label again. Xtra size? There were no other labels to speak of. Josh thought the size Sam possessed - could it really be from these pills? And if so, was there a limit? Sam must’ve been taking these for ages, as from what Josh knew he’d been massive since joining college. He decided to take the bottle and hide it inside the secret compartment of his bag, where he kept the cut outs of photos from the school magazine of the wrestling team. Which Sam was on. Josh hopped back into bed, but the thought of the strange pills was constantly in the back of his mind. Just one wouldn’t hurt, right? It’s only a pill. The worst case scenario, nothing ends up happening. So, moved by his desire to grow bigger, Josh opened the pill bottle back up and swallowed one down his throat, with the assistance of water. There’s no way his throat is strong enough to swallow it without water. At least, not yet. He sat there, waiting for something to happen. And then he realised how stupid he was being - why would a pill activate instantly? He had to actually wait for it to work. So, he waited. He went over to his desk and started doing his homework, thinking about growing bigger the whole time. By the time night fell, when Josh and Sam were both fast asleep, Josh felt a little kick in the back of his chest, like a motor that made been underused for a long time just revving up again. But only for a moment, and by morning Josh had forgotten it. This was going to be an interesting day. Josh woke up feeling refreshed and invigorated, which was something he didn’t feel often. Even when he checked the time and noticed his alarm clock wasn’t working, his joyous mood was not deterred. Instead of rushing to college, he stayed behind a bit longer to make himself beans on toast, when typically he only ate half of a granola bar. Well, he thought, if I’m going to grow, I’m going to need some sort of nutrition. He left the house feeling content, not noticing that his shirt was now a perfect fit. His bag, while extremely heavy due to the maths textbook, was no longer so bad he had to stop to catch his breath every 5 minutes. After arriving on campus the same as yesterday happened, registration, his classes, eating alone at lunch (this time with a slightly bigger serving), although after sitting down in detention he noticed a strange feeling in his chest. It was a weird feeling to describe, it was constrictive while also freeing, and felt boiling hot, like his insides were surging with energy. It tingled slightly in a good way, which oddly reminded Josh of the moments before an orgasm. He thought nothing of it, and by the time he got back home he was almost sure that it was ingestion. As he walked up the stairs to his and Sam’s shared room, he thought to himself about the pills. If they were the reason he felt so good today, why not take more? In fact, in all my time in college, have I ever felt this good? The answer was clearly no, so he decided that when Sam left for the gym he should take another one to see if the trend continued. He opened the door to his bedroom, still afraid of the idea of Sam being there but no longer terrified like he was the previous day. In the mood Josh was in, when he opened the door and saw Sam, he looked a lot less imposing. Josh felt like he could at least handle whatever was thrown at him. Sam seemed to be looking for something, which Josh realised with a start were probably the bottle of pills he left lying on the dresser. Sam looked him up and down menacingly and spoke. “You haven’t seen anyone else in here have you?” That answered Josh’s question, Sam was looking for the pills, and he thought that Josh was so much of a wimp that someone else must have broken in to steal them. A logical explanation, really. “No,” replied Josh, “Why?”. Sam looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “Because if anyone has been in this room, or touched any of my stuff, I’m going to kill them.” Gulp. “I’m off to the gym early today.” And with that, he was gone. Off to work out his problems by working out, Josh suspected. Sighing in relief, he laid down on his bed. He took the bottle of pills out and swallowed one with help from the bottle of water next to his bedside table. A thought came over him, instantly giving him an erection, but he dismissed it immediately. No... he shouldn’t. But the bottle sat there staring back at him, invitingly. Too much of it could be a bad thing, he thought. Best to leave it for now. Josh decided to occupy his mind by attempting to follow a workout off of youtube, trying to copy the forms. It was surprisingly easy, and by the end he wasn’t even exhausted. Filled with energy, he started pumping out push-ups on the floor of the bedroom, counting them as he went. It was excruciatingly difficult, not as difficult as it had been before, as he was reaching 30, 31, 32... this is the most push-ups he’d ever done in a row! He felt himself start to get hard, imagining himself getting bigger, stronger, lifting weights in the gym just like he imagined Sam would be doing right now. In the middle of the 40th push-up, when he felt close to collapsing, he suddenly felt that pain in his chest again, constricting yet freeing, and he realised with a start that the push-ups were no longer as difficult. In fact, they were getting easier! His shirt felt tighter, his trousers seemed to be losing their elasticity, the hem of his shirt rising slowly but surely to the point you could see his midriff. All through this the feeling continued, he felt his spine crack and straighten, his socks feeling smaller. He stood up and checked himself at himself in the mirror. Woah. Although it wasn’t much, Josh was obviously BIGGER. He flexed his arm under the shirt and felt a wave of glee at seeing the smallest bump underneath the fabric. It wasn’t exactly testing the limits, but it wasn’t there before. His shoulders looked wider, his lats were sticking out tons more, his pecs were very slight but visible- Josh put a hand through his trousers and into his pants, jerking himself off at the thought of growing even bigger. Was his meat bigger too? He took his hand out and grabbed a bendy ruler out from the drawer, one which Sam used to measure his biceps. Sticking his dick up to the ruler, he measured it at 4 inches hard. Not exactly big, but bigger! He lifted his hand away so he could get a look at his legs, leaving his dick dangling out of the top of his trousers. They were so much tighter now that he had actual dimensions to show through them. When Josh turned to his side he nearly came instantly. Look at his arse! It stuck out substantially by at least an inch and a half, making the trousers completely tight around the top half. And if his worship sessions wasn’t good enough already, he felt the tingles of that feeling again, the surge of energy, of gaining mass. He stayed silent for a moment, stifling a moan of pleasure, and then came when he heard a floorboard creak under him due to his growing size. The thought of having so much muscle turned him on to no end. He fell to the floor, orgasming with pleasure, thinking about growing bigger, his pecs stretching over him, his shoulders being so wide he can’t fit through doors any more. In his daze, he took his shirt off and flexed both arms, like he saw Josh doing. Fuck! He kept one arm flexing while using the bendy ruler to measure an arm. 11 and 1/2 inches, I AM HUGE, he thought. He flexed the arm again, watching it slowly pump bigger. 11 and 3/4. But he can grow bigger. And he plans too. Fuck. He needed to grow bigger. He just had to. He rummaged through his bag and grabbed the bottle swallowing 2 more pills that would fuel his growth. Josh was addicted to the growth, and couldn’t stop. But the growth had a mind of its own. Without warning, it had stopped suddenly and quickly, the feeling gone. Like someone turning off a tap. After he realised, he sat down at his desk and tried to do busy himself with his maths homework. He rearranged the complicated algebraic equations almost absentmindedly, thinking about what spurred the growth in the first place. It happened first in detention, and today it happened during his work out. Is there a cause for it? It seemed to be happening randomly, which wasn’t a good sign. He agreed that while it would be hot as hell if he was in the middle of class and he started to outgrow his clothes, it would probably cause quite the scene, which he wanted to avoid. Because if Sam got word that he was inexplicably growing bigger, then he’d know Josh took his pills. But... what Josh was wondering was why Sam hadn’t grown much at all in the past couple of months. He was taking the pills, right? That’s why he had the bottle with him. Why was Sam so determined to get them back if they weren’t having any effect? He heard the echo of Sam walking up the stairs and immediately jumped into bed. Although Josh’s growth was barely noticeable, he didn’t want to take the chance of Sam noticing. Because if he did... well, Josh probably wouldn’t see tomorrow. So, when Sam opened the door, Josh tried his hardest to hide his body under the covers of his bed. Sam was wearing a grey compression shirt today which emphasised the dark shadows between his pecs. His pecs themselves jutted out by a few inches from the rest of his body. When he walked, they bounced delightfully causing enormous creases underneath them, moving the whole shirt with them whenever they bounced due to their size. God, Josh could watch them all day. But he had to stay disinterested. It won’t be too long and he’ll have pecs of his own, and then they’ll grow to be the same size as Sam’s, then they’ll grow even- no, stop, thought Josh. He turned to his side and tried to get some sleep, ignoring the increasingly ridiculous moaning Sam was making to try to draw attention. Sam was going to get his comeuppance, and Josh was going to make sure he would pay dearly for being so spiteful. Josh woke up with his feet much closer to the end of the bed than they were previously. He must be getting taller to accommodate for the mass he was gaining. He might even get taller than Sam! This prompted a morning jerk-off that lasted longer than Josh would like to admit, but the fantasies of Sam becoming smaller and smaller to him as he grew colossally large pleasured him to no end. He took another 2 pills with his breakfast, just to be sure that they would really kick in the growth. His appetite was growing with him, so he cooked up an entire pack of 4 bacon strips to eat along with a few slices of toast. Growing portions for a growing man. Just as he put his hoody on and was about to leave, he felt the trickle of growth that he’d come to love kick in again. It wasn’t only in his chest anymore, it reverberated throughout his whole body, sending waves and waves of euphoria through his brain. He greedily ripped off his hoody and watched through the hall mirror as his head very slowly raised higher. His shoulders grew wider, actually stretching the fabric of his small shirt, and it delighted Josh to hear the faintest of rips. But where the growth really thrived were his pecs. 2 meaty mounds appeared on his chest, becoming more obvious due to the growing size of them, until they were very clearly separate muscles from the rest of his chest. The top button of his shirt actually burst off, his growing chest forcing the shirt to actually break. I’m becoming huge, he thought, which caused him to moan with pleasure. And it felt so good. The tingling spread to his abs, the lowest of which were visible due to the slow rise of the hem of his shirt. The bricks of muscle were defining themselves, no longer hidden behind a flat stomach. Josh’s trousers looked painted on, as his glutes grew even meatier to accommodate for his growing body. His quads were becoming huge, as were his calves, both straining the fabric of the formal trousers. After a few minutes however, the growth pulled to a halt. It seemed it was only happening in unpredictable, 5 minutes doses. Josh raised his arms in what was becoming his signature pose, the double biceps, and was delighted when two very obvious peaks greeted him back. The fabric of his shirt sleeves were now stretched tight, no longer the small mounds from yesterday. The checkered pattern embroidered into the shirt itself was distorted by the huge bicep peaks. He didn’t have time to measure it, but it looked to be about 13 inches. If he kept growing at this rate, he didn’t have long until he had caught up to Sam. And he was so absorbed in worshiping his growing muscles, Josh had completely forgot that he meant to leave. He put his hoody back on, pleased that it couldn’t zip it up all the way to the top due to his expanding chest, while not noticing that it now only came up to his 2nd set of abs, and left the dorm. As he left, he took note of how he was getting closer to the top of the doorframe. Still a good 3 or 4 inches, but he was getting there. He was given detention again, a shocker, and continued on throughout the day much the same he would normally. At lunch, he didn’t even sit alone. A shy looking boy asked to sit near him by the name of Alex, and the two talked for almost the entirety of lunch. When Josh was sure both he and no one else were looking, he swallowed his 2nd chicken breast down with another two pills. The growth hadn’t hit him since this morning, and he hoped it wouldn’t happen until after he got home, but he knew it we foolish to get that lucky. Because his last class, Chemistry, ended up being much more interesting than it normally is. As the teacher was droning on about electromagnetic fields or whatever, Josh felt the now familiar tingles of growth hitting him. It seemed that each pill affects a set amount of growth spurts, so taking more pills makes the spurts more intense. This was especially true as of late. Because while Josh had correctly guessed that more pills equals more growth, he didn’t quite understand that he was now feeling the effects of 6 pills in one single spurt. His whole body went nearly numb with tingles, and he had to stifle a moan as he felt his biceps expanding in size. The chair he was on creaked loudly as he reached down to readjust the zipper on his trousers, which was struggling against the growing bulge in his underwear created by his lengthening manhood. His legs were starting to get closer to the top of the underside of his desk, and he had to frequently shuffle his leg placement in order to not raise the desk with just his legs. Thicker and beefier his chest grew, causing him to unintentionally lean back in his chair in pleasure. The buttons of his shirt were flying off one by one and were too hard to undo manually due to how tight it had become. A few people looked his way, but didn’t say anything. He was at the back of the classroom, so no one could see him. They could only hear the creaking of his chair and his stifled moans of pleasure. His shirt sleeves were much the same story as the front of his shirt; he couldn’t bend his arms now, or he’d feel the small tension of the fabric in the telltale way something does on the verge of tearing. His whole body felt so good, and he put his hand onto his crotch to rub his (unbeknownst to him) 6 inch erection. By the end of the lesson his growth had stopped, although he realised with a start that before he couldn’t see the bottom of the board due to the girl in front of him, but he could now see all of it including a small section of the wall below. He was growing taller, wider and hunkier by the minute. When he lifted his bag onto his shoulders, he had to readjust the straps again due to his wide his shoulders had become. When he left the classroom he even felt the top of his head brush against the top of the door. Josh skipped detention. There was no way he was going to go there when his clothes were in this state. He had to rush home before Sam did and hide under the covers. He wanted to surprise Sam with his newfound size only once he was bigger than him. That way, if Sam tried to take the pills from him Josh could easily retaliate, as he’d have the size as range and growing. He looked down and sighed. Oh Christ, though Josh, I need to check out the size of this dick! Because there was a very obvious bulge created at the front of his trousers, not helped by the tightness caused by enormous glutes. While his way out of campus Josh spotted two of Sam’s wrestler buddies clad in red singlets. They were only slightly beefier than Josh, and he had a feeling he would outgrow them pretty soon. Their bulges were big and tight under their singlets, Josh would outgrow them there too. He found himself walking up to them, for some reason, possibly as a ruler for his future growth, and he introduced himself. They were both about an inch or two taller than Josh was. “Hey bro, I’m Tyler.” Said the one with a big brown mop of hair. He said it with a smirk, but not one of disapproval like Sam did. The other one, who Josh noticed had a slightly more prominent bulge, introduced themselves as Tom. Josh took a liking to these two - they treated him with respect, although he didn’t quite feel he had earned it. “Fuck, dude, you look massive under there” said Tyler, gesturing at his skintight shirt. Tom nodded along with him, and asked “Can you flex for us man?”. Josh was in awe that they even wanted to see his muscles, until he obliged and did his signature double biceps. He forgot that his shirt was so tight, so when he flexed guns the sleeves ripped clean off. Look at how huge his biceps were! Surely they must have been 15 inches by now. He was getting closer and closer to Sam’s size, and he almost definitely had bigger biceps than both Tyler and Tom. “Fuuck man, those peaks are LOADED!” Said Tom. Tyler had similar things to say, and Josh loved the complements. “How big are they?” Tyler asked. Josh could see the bulge growing in Tyler’s singlet. He was clearly aroused by the sight of someone literally ripping their shirt with their muscles. “Uh, I haven’t measured them in a while.” Josh said. “I’ve got a tape measure!” quipped Tom with a smile. He put his rucksack to the floor and grabbed his tape measure, then wrapped it around Josh’s enormous bicep. “16 inches!” They shouted in unison. Wow. Only 2 inches away from Sam, now. “Can I feel it?” asked Tyler. He took his hand away from his crotch, not caring any longer if Josh saw. Besides, it was just guys being dudes, right? “Sure, go ahead.” Josh held out his arm and Tyler put his hand around it. “Woahh. It’s like iron.” Josh raised his other bicep and gestured for Tom to worship him too. Tom happily obliged, feeling the peaks of Josh’s bicep just like his teammate. Look at him, being worshiped by two hunks. I’m becoming one of them now, huh, he thought. “You new here then? We haven’t seen you around.” Josh thought for a moment. Lying could get him in hot water, if they talked to someone who knew him. “I’m Sam’s roommate, actually.” He said. They gasped in shock simultaneously and both leaned in to look at his face again. It would have been hilariously comical if Josh wasn’t so scared that they might blab to Sam about his size. “No way.” Said Tom “I don’t believe it.” “But he said his roommate was proper skinny, right?” “Yeah, yeah, he always goes on about how he’s the alpha male of his dorm.” “But you’re not a skinny little runt!” “No, you’re not skinny at all.” “You’re actually kind of...” They look at each other and whispered the same word. “Hunky...”. Josh thought he’d never see the day where someone called him hunky. But were they wrong? His flexed his arms again. Yeah, they’re right, he was hunky! “I guess so, huh?” he said more to himself than anyone in particular. They completely missed Josh’s intentions and supported his statement “Damn right you are!” “Hell yeah!” Josh noticed Tom pause for a moment, and after a some consideration he said “Hey stud, why don’t you join the wrestling team?” Tyler replied with glee: “Yeah, that’s a wicked idea! We can go down to the gym now and get a feel for things now, if you want.” He was shocked. Him? But, he supposed, he would be growing bigger soon anyway, not that they knew that. And Sam was on the team... Josh thought for a moment about if it was worth the risk. Big, sweaty hunks in close proximity wearing nothing but singlets sounded real good right about now. Josh looked at them with a smirk and said “Sure, I’m sure it won’t be too hard to learn. And,” he continued, now smiling, “It might help me grow a bit bigger all over.” Tyler and Tom lead Josh down to the gym. The weights were on the opposite end of the building so hopefully Sam didn’t stumble upon him. Once there, they found a singlet that only loosely fit Josh, but he told them he’d grow into it. If only they knew how quickly he planned to do so. They measured his stats, as followed: Height: 5” 9’ Weight: 177 pounds Arms: 16 inches Chest: 46 inches Quads: 22 inches If he remembered correctly, Sam was only 200 pounds. He was gaining closer and closer to Sam’s mass. Tyler and Tom showed Josh the basics, such as stance (which he had already had mastered), level changes, and a bunch of boring illegal moves. What really excited Josh was when they started talking about takedowns. Because while Tyler was going on about holding someone down, Josh noticed a feeling in the back of his mind. It was something different that wasn’t quite there before. Struggling to understand what it was, he considered for a moment. It felt like it had always been there, but Josh had never felt it properly. He pictured in his mind the act of growing, of it getting easier and easier to take someone down, holding them down as your whole body outgrows them by double, then triple, until you dominate them completely, the vision of his silhouette slowly expanding to gigantic, hunky proportions, until- he felt it. It was like a tap, he could turn it on and off whenever he pleased. He had figured out how to control his growth. Whatever was causing it before was negligible, he felt like he was in control of the lever accelerated the rate that he grew. Tyler was going on about strength, which only heightened the complete euphoria Josh was feeling as he made himself grow just a little to test his newfound power. Sure enough, as he channeled the energy inside of him, making himself sturdier, bigger and stronger, his eye level started to rise. The previously loose fitting singlet was feeling tighter and tighter as he grew wider and thicker, taller and stronger. He put a hand to the python downstairs which was pulsating with mass, causing the singlet to sag further down. His growing arms were getting further away from his body as his lats pushing them away. His quads felt huge with no clothing constructing them, and he could almost hear the earthquake like vibrations his growth was surely causing. He absentmindedly flexed his arm and massaged it, watching it surge in size. He smirked as he realised he was now taller than both Tom and Tyler, dwarfing them by half an inch and gaining. “Holy shit, Josh, are you listening to me?” He snapped back to reality, and felt the growth slow to a halt. “Your bicep is looking fucking huge, man.” Tom said with awe. And Tyler chimed in “You’re looking bigger all over dude. Especially...” They stared at his bulge. It did look ridiculous, stuffed into a singlet that was probably even a size too small for Josh now. And it was thoughts like that that didn’t exactly make his erection go down. Josh looked at them again. As much as he wanted to worship them, he... has an idea, first. Knowing that they would do anything he asked, he asked them whether they could text Sam to let him know about he was joining the wrestling team. And that Josh challenged Sam to a wrestling match. Tomorrow morning. While Sam was definitely more skilled, Josh had a few tricks up his sleeve. While Tyler and Tom were arguing over who should send the text, Josh sneakily downed another 3 pills. He wouldn’t feel the effects immediately, but when he did it was sure to be incredible. Tyler showed Josh the angry reply Sam had left demanding to know why they let Josh join the team. Josh considered for a moment what to say. Before he could think of anything however, a second text came through. This time it was Sam agreeing to the wrestling match but demanding that he and Josh met up 15 minutes beforehand. Josh told them to agree to to the meet up and to answer no more further questions. There was no doubt Sam now realised that Josh had taken his bottle of pills and was using the extra muscle mass to join the wrestling team. Josh planned on Sam thinking this, because his comeuppance was going to rely on it. He, Tyler and Tom spent the rest of the night goofing off at the wrestling mat and teaching Josh the different strategies. When night fell, with Josh grinning when remembered that he had to duck underneath doors, Tyler offered to let Josh stay at his and Toms apartment until morning. They all walked back to the apartment in their wrestling singlets, bulges and pecs bouncing as they walked. Tyler let him borrow his clothes to sleep in, which were now much too small for Josh’s enormous proportions, but were still better than his old clothes. Josh waited until they were both sleeping to stroke his massive dick, which he measured at 9 inches hard, getting off on what had happened today. This morning, he probably didn’t even come up to Tyler or Toms shoulders in height. And now- he came, loudly, thinking about how he was an inch taller than them. He was growing into a massive stud, and he loved every minute. Josh slept like a log, and when morning came he was more than ready to take on Sam. He felt energised, and swallowed 3 more pills to fuel the growth that was coming later in the day. He thanked Tyler and Tom for letting him stay and that he would see them at the match. Still wearing Tyler’s clothes, he made his way back to his dorm, climbing effortlessly up to the 2nd storey to peek through the window of his bedroom to check that Sam wasn’t in there. He imagined the sight of him, a muscle bound jock in clothes too small scaling the side of a block of dorms. He groaned in discomfort. His manhood was quite restricted in the already tight clothing, and giving himself erections weren’t helping matters. Once he double checked that Sam wasn’t in, he let himself into the dorm and ran up to his and Sam’s bedroom. Although he had been ducking under doors all day, something about ducking under the door that previously he had only seen Sam do was infinity arousing. Once there, he stripped down to his underwear and marvelled at the sight of himself in the reflection of the now small mirror. He was, simply, enormous. He didn’t even all fit onto the mirror, so he had to crane his neck to look at his various features. His shoulders, probably the hardest to see due to their width, were ridiculously wide, at least the length of his head twice. He flexed them. They made his gigantic pecs look even larger! His pecs stuck out by 2 or 3 inches, large squishy mounds of unfathomably huge muscle. He put a hand to them and squeezed, admiring the sheer size and softness of them, awing at the fact one of his hands didn’t even reach around the whole pec. His biceps were a sight to behold too. Long were the days that Sam’s arm was 3x the thickness of his, his now rivalled Sam’s in girth. He did a double bicep, watching how the peaks were almost vertical with height, huge and hunky, packed densely with solid MUSCLE. He put a hand over them, flexing, and couldn’t even make a dent no matter how hard he squeezed. He though to himself; did that make him strong or weak? It didn’t matter. He knew he was becoming a sexy beast, and that was all that mattered. His forearms were massive and veiny monsters, leading down to his equally wide hands. He looked down at his six pack, which was looking more like an eight pack with racks of stone hard muscle that tapered down to his tiny waist. He turned to the size and ogled at his butt. It stuck out substantially more than his pecs did, 2 lumps of jiggly gluteus muscle. He squeezed it, feeling how if he relaxed the muscle was buoyant and bouncy, but flexing it made it impenetrable. His quads were huge as well, thick logs of muscle that could crush a watermelon between them. He flexed again once more, pushing away the thought of making himself grow. No. He had to stick to the plan, as tempting as it was. Just another half an hour or so and he could do as he pleased. The reason he came back to the dorm was to wear some better fitting clothes. Since neither Tyler nor Toms wardrobe fit him anymore, and his certainly didn’t, he turned towards Sam’s. He greedily picked out Sam’s favourite compression long sleeve shirt that he always wore to the gym. It fit a lot tighter than he thought it would - not that it was actually tight, but Josh still couldn’t believe he could actually wear Sam’s clothes without them looking enormous on him. They fit only slightly loosely, and it was miles better than walking around in what felt like children’s clothes. He put on compression trousers to match, leaving his only skin exposed being his head and his hands. He took another pill just in case he hadn’t taken enough before. This was going to be fun. He made his way out of the room, ducking, and towards campus, where Sam said he would meet him in 10 minutes, which was 15 minutes before the game. Sam was surely confident Josh would get beaten to a pulp. He entered the changing rooms not a minute too early. After the door slammed shut behind him and he walked a few feet down the corridor, he heard Sams deep voice call out to him. “That better fucking be you, Josh!” Josh only smiled to himself. He walked into the changing room Sams voice came from and was immediately confronted by Sam. Oh boy. He was not prepared for how much SMALLER Sam looked from this angle. The fact that Josh was so much taller than he used to be was making Sam look so much less imposing. Sam still has 2 inches on him, but it didn’t feel like much at all. When Sam turned around he gasped in shock at the size of Josh. He looked at his pecs, his arms, his legs, in desperation, until he looked down at his eyes and saw he still maintained the height advantage. He spoke coldly and quietly, as if he expected Josh to hang onto every word. “That’s my fucking shirt.” Josh only looked at him inquisitively, mentally preparing for what he was sure was about to happen. “I said,” Sam started again, louder this time, “that’s my fucking shirt!” Josh smirked, then flexed his pecs. “It fits me pretty well, don’t you think?” He said, “Think I’m gonna outgrow it pretty soon though”. Josh flared his lats, trying to aggravate Sam. It worked - he suddenly got close to Josh, grabbing him by the arms and pushing him up against the wall. “It was you, wasn’t it? You took my pills. Hah, I must’ve left them on the dresser for ten minutes and you nabbed them. And look at the state of you now.” He gestured to Josh’s now huge body. Not quite as big as Sam’s however, which Sam took with stride. “Hah, even with the pills, you’re still the smaller man. Once I take the pills back from you, once you stop TAKING THE PILLS THAT ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE, you won’t be able to handle the sudden absence of them. After a few days off of them your body will start shrinking. Smaller and smaller you’ll get, until I can squash you with my FOOT!” Josh couldn’t help but be slightly afraid of him. He was shouting now, completely uncaring whether anyone outside of the changing rooms heard him. But Josh still had a few things left to do. “So if I stop taking the pills, then after a few days I start to shrink, right? Is that what’s going to happen to you?” Josh finished the sentence with what he hoped was a cocky smirk. Sam looked him dead in the eyes and muttered “Give them to me.” Josh smiled back into his face. “GIVE THEM TO ME!!” Sam tore Josh’s bag off of his shoulder, ripping the strap, and rummaged through it, looking for the pills. He ripped open the side compartment deliriously which was now completely empty. Josh had hidden the cut outs of the magazine away in his room, and he was holding the pills of the hour in his right hand. He held them out with a snarl. “You want them? Come and get them.” Sam leapt at Josh’s hand, trying to claw it open. Josh’s grip was strong, but Sam was definitely stronger and was getting closer to unclamping Josh’s hand. And that’s when Josh focused his energy on growing. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, so Sam would slowly realise he could no longer overpower this growing muscle jock. And grow he did. It started slow, his chest puffing bigger, creating bigger creases underneath it in the tight compression shirt, the fabric over his pecs stretching tighter and tighter. The hem of his shirt rose to become level with the top of his trousers. Josh looked at Sam again. He was getting close to eye level. Sam realised what was happening and tried harder, his fingernails clawing at the bottle tightly clasped in Josh’s hand. He yelled in anger “What the actual fuck Josh!” But it was no use. Josh let out an orgasmic moan as his shoulder stretched further, at least three times as wide as his head both sides. He was growing into a muscle god and Sam was powerless to stop it. He desperately pulled back on Josh’s hand, nearly taking Josh with him, but Josh had grown the muscles needed to fight back now. He watched the bulge in his compression shorts surge bigger, pushing it into Sam’s face as he knelt down to get the bottle of pills back. Sam stood up in disgust, still trying to pry the pills out with more desperation that ever. Their hard bulges were now touching, and while Josh’s was slightly lower than Sam’s that was all about to change. Sam’s face was one of shock, fear, and envy as he watched Josh’s eye level creep higher. Josh paid extra attention to this, watching as his eyes finally became equal to Sam’s own eyes. He locked eyes with him and copied the smirk he’d seen Sam do at him so many times before. And then his eye level kept rising, becoming level with Sam’s eyebrows. He was taller than Sam. His dick, already hard, came instantly. The euphoria hit him, this was unreal. HE WAS BIGGER THAN SAM!! If you looked at their silhouettes straight on, you would only see Josh’s outline. He was bigger. And Josh kept growing larger still. The compression shirt which Josh had always envied Sam for filling out was slowly being outgrown by Josh’s pure muscle mass. Josh laughed, lifting his bicep and being awed but not surprised at the size of the muscle he was greeted with. The shirt stretched taught over his expanding bi’s, and was getting tighter by the second. He felt the fabric get closer its limit, something that Sam was never able to do. All the while he was growing taller still, and Josh could now see the top of Sam’s head. Josh looked down at the hem of his shirt, noticing that it exposed his second set of abs on his midriff due to a mixture of his growing height and it being pulled up by his enormous pecs. This shirt, which fit Sam perfectly, was being torn to shreds by Josh’s expanding body. Sam, upon realising he had lost, tried to flee, but Josh grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. Josh grasped Sam’s hand and compared it to his own, watching his fingers inch bigger and bigger. Josh dialled up the growth internally to see how big he could really get. Still clasping Sam’s arm in his ever growing one, Josh held Sam’s chin tightly in much the same way he used to do to him. He flexed his double biceps, pleased to hear the sound of tearing fabric as his football sized arms kept getting beefier. His chin was now level with the top of Sam’s head, and still rising, at least an inch ever half minute. He felt the top of his head brush the ceiling. The trousers only came up halfway to his shins, and a massive rip down the side of them told him that they no longer fit him at all. He was absolutely gigantic and Sam was powerless to stop him from growing even larger. “Josh, let me GO!” Sam screamed. Josh instead grabbed his shrinking hand and brought it to Josh’s abs, which the shirt had exposed completely. In fact, it was just underneath his humongous pecs and still rising, although the sound of seams splitting implied wouldn’t fit inside it for much longer. Josh bought Sam’s hand to his abs, making him touch the hot, hard bricks of muscle, each ab the size of Sam’s hand. Josh nearly orgasmed again when he felt his massive pecs literally bursting through his shirt. The warm locker room air on his growing chest muscles felt so good. Josh lost himself in the feeling of growing, bigger, stronger, thicker, hunkier... Until he was pulled out of his growth trance by his phone alarm. He forced himself to stop, as his alarm signalled the start of the wrestling match. Sam looked up at him, Josh’s face obscured by his enormous pecs, he was shirtless save for the small amount of fabric remaining around his midriff. Josh’s trousers were torn to shreds, and his boxers left nothing to the imagination. The bulge in his boxers was still hard and curved around the side of his leg, at least 15 inches of pure meat. Sam stuttered below him. “W-we can cancel the match, right? You’d win anyway, I think.” Josh only looked at him with an evil glint in his eye. “No, I think not..” he paused, and then flexed his double biceps, growing another inch of height as he spoke, “I think your team wants to see who the BIGGER man is.” Thanks for reading! I might add more but if I don’t then consider this the ending
  4. Hialmar

    Forced to be bro

    Forced to be bro Coach pushed the button again. Josh's fear didn't fade away. If anything, it increased. But it was now increasingly mixed with something else. A, now familiar, fourth warm wave of heaviness, and yet lightness, spread through his body in a pleasant way, and he became aware of his body in a new way. Heaviness. And yet lightness. He was soaked in the ugly-smelling cold-sweat he had exuded, when he struggled and resisted Coach. It had been to no avail. Coach was bigger than Josh, the sort of man Josh had aspired to become. Now, he found himself strapped to a chair in the locker room, an IV needle inserted in his arm and weird electrode-looking stuff fastened to all his major muscles, and temples even. Coach had probably gone insane, and Josh feared for his life. God knows what unsafe substance Coach allowed to enter Josh's body? And the electronic equipment? Weird ideas by a weird man. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. The terrified incoherent chatter in Josh's mind ran in all directions. He felt dizzy, nauseous. His compression shirt clung to his waist, chest and shoulders in a sticky way. His feet felt heavy inside his trainers, and he could sense the scent of his athletic socks, as they clung to his calves: The honest sweat after a workout, reeking in the locker room. Male sweat. The testimony, that he had done his best, and performed well. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It had happened after the others had already left. Josh had been delayed – on purpose, as he now realised. He knew, that Coach wanted to increase his (and the other members') performance, and some sorts of supplements (not all of them entirely legal) had been part of the routine for some time, now. But this sort of drip-plus-electrodes was something unknown and entirely new, and Josh felt rigid by fear. Side-effects? Consequences? Forced to undergo whatever Coach wanted him to undergo. Coach pushed the button again. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It actually felt rather good. One part of him began to relax. The excitement of another part of him had just begun to increase. He felt so present. Bodily present. In the chair. His arms resting in the armchair. His bum at the seat. Thinking of that, his glutes felt warm, too. Hot and sore, like after a leg workout. Legs. Thinking of that, his quads and hamstrings felt hot and sore, too. Like some pump going on. Which was actually a nice feeling. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. Relaxed and excited at the same time. Bodily present and resting. All his muscles felt hot, sore and firm. Like after a workout. His socks clung to his calves. Calves felt like concrete blocks now. He was unable to lift his legs. He felt so relaxed, so he couldn't move his back. Hot, sore and firm back. His compression shirt expanded, tight around his widening back, expanding chest and bulging shoulders. The expanse of his back, chest and shoulders defined and limited by the compression shirt – a definition and limit now changing. Moving. Expanding. Redefining former definitions and limits. Hot, sore and firm chest. Hot, sore and firm shoulders: All three parts of his shoulders. Rear, middle and front. Bulging. Bulbous. Hot and sore. Felt good. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. Yes, it literally felt good. Why bother? Why worried before? Felt pumped. Felt growing. Felt like a real bruiser taking his medicine. Wow. Bigger than coach now. Biggest. Not so sore any longer. Better. Felt better. Hot and firm body. No: Hot and hard body. So good. Shoulders and traps. Growing in all direction. So good. Huge. Ravine forming between his pecs. Oh, fuck, yes, deeper! Deeper! Continuing between abs. Pain. Good pain. Harder. Harder abs. Narrow waist. Heat in quads. Expanding. Heat in hamstrings. Expanding. Heat. Burning heat in calves. Socks expanding around his calves. Shorts felt uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable. One aspect of his shorts felt comfortable: His meat inside the jockstrap. Throbbing inside the jockstrap. Throbbing against his shorts. Big legs. Oh, fuck, his arms, too! HIS ARMS! Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. He shuddered in the chair now. Shuddered by the power that flowed into him, shuddered by growth, shuddered by the FEELING of it. Fuck yeah! Look at this! Thug brawn! Real bro! Jock power! Not sore. Heat. Heavy and light. And power. This strength. So good. Condition! Changing limits. Expanding all over! Real ace, innit. Wait until I show up at home and show Olivia THIS. And the throbbing python. Impress her. This bro. With bro muscle. No, more: Muscle-god. Felt awesome. Becoming more. Becoming... Oh, fuck, so AWESOME! Like he was built of bowling balls, footballs. Medicine balls. Melons. GRANITE GLOBES! Fuck, look at this! Look at me! LOOK AT ME! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. His body spasmed and convulsed in a sweet way now: Yeah, real sweet, innit. How would he be able to think about numbers, figures, stats now? They didn't matter. BIG was what mattered. BIG. BIGGER. HUGE. Steel-hard. More! Yes! More! The heat. The pleasure. The growth. Muscle-god heat. Muscle-god pleasure. Muscle-god growth. It didn't matter, that Coach had a hard-on in his tracksuit bottoms. Look at me, you insignificant shit! Look at this muscle mass! Tremble before me, you bloody wanker! Tremble before this MASS MONSTER! So good. His shorts ripping apart. Unable to resist his ENGORGED quads and POWER hamstrings, letting the throbbing jock out. I'm AWESOME! All body throbbing now. Throbbing of power. Throbbing of growth. Muscle-god power. Muscle-god growth. Wow. The compression shirt. Couldn't take it anymore. Not with THIS back and chest inside! Exploding out of my clothes! Unable to contain me! No limits! UNLIMITED GROWTH! Expanding. HARD! HARDER! INVINCIBLE! These traps! This bull-neck! Love it! The scent. My bro sweat. My jock sweat. My muscle-god sweat. Fuck, yeah, inhale my ultra-testo, fukking tosser. The URGE! More! Need more! Must have more muscle mass! The definition! Unbelievable! These veins! Pump beyond pump. Even better! Bulging all over. Muscle ecstacy! UNLIMITED STRENGTH! Ripping these weak straps apart. Don't stare, dweeb. I will remain in this chair. I will sit on this THRONE OF GAINZ and ABSORB all ultra-gear and all POWER juice you can cram into me. His instincts told him to flex. He flexed. It felt good. Coach looked scared now. It felt good, too. Obey me! NEED MORE!!! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Muscle. Power. Spread. Pleasure. The being, that had been Josh, was now unable to think coherently, even less speak coherently. As it rapidly indurated and spread in all directions it moaned and groaned. Grunted. Roared. Bellowed. It had the power inside it. It embodied power. It was power. It was strength. It was masculinity. It was brawn. It was mass. It grew, gained, bulged and expanded. Its roars and bellows intensified. The scent of sweat and pre-cum was very intense in the locker room, now. Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Growth. Gainz. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Bulging. Body. Engorged. Muscle. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Spread. Pleasure. Coach pushed the button again. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Oh, fukk, look at me Coach! Pleasure. Power. Uhnnnnn. Pleasure. Uhnnnnnn. Power. Fuck, yes, MORE! Pleasure. Fukk, can't belive... Innit? So... Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power! Pleasure! Power!!! Pleasure!!! Power!!!!! Pleasure!!!!! POWER!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!! POW... Oh, fukk!!!!! Uhh! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASU ... Coach pushed the button again.
  5. My best friend was always quite a weakling-he was really tall, 6 foot 5, but never weighed more than 165lbs Until he made some changes... I think it all started some years ago. He just turned 16. At this time My body was already quite well developed. My arms were at 15.75 inches, my legs were big and I had some abs and noticeable pecs. That was when I started working out. I often picked on my friend and fun wrestled him as he had no chance against me (I was 6 feet tall- almost 6 inches shorter than him but weighed 170lbs). It was so funny to see him trying to get out of a headscissor or a headlock by using all his strenght. He someday told me not to humiliate him any longer because he’d feel extremely sad and weak... So when he turned 17 he started hitting the gym too. His first half year transformation was insane! He put on 33lbs! From 165 to 198 lbs. His arms swell like nothing I had ever seen, he probably had 13inch arms but now they were at 15.75! (Mine were 17in at this time.) His legs started to show some muscles and his pecs were already as big as mine. He started to show some abs too. So today, 3.5 years later he’s 20 and took going to the gym quite serious - primarily because he wanted to become a better Football player. We ALWAYS went to the gym together but he gained much faster than I did. He pretty soon was able to deadlift 440lbs several times and benchpress 330lbs once. His legs are at 30inches and his chest at 47inches circumference. His arms don’t look like arms anymore- they passed the 19 inch mark as mine rested only at 18. His abs were fucking ripped and his bulging obliques formed an awesome V-line. He weighed 245lbs and had bulging abs. Just imagine that. People were afraid of him, for example when we went out partying and someone was in his way, they immediately apologised. Also tons of girls felt up his arms and pecs as he bounced them well visible under his tshirt in the middle of the dance floor. One day we were at our flat in the city and had some friends over. We were all quite drunk and made fun of each other. I somehow said something stupid about him. He stood up and “fun wrestled” me. But what was fun for him was hell for me. He grabbed my arms, wrapped them around me, threw me onto the couch, sat down on me, wrapped only one of his huge hands around my throat and said:,, Never disrespect me again in front of everyone else” I was shocked. He was fucking strong. Not even I could have finished him that fast three years ago. He could have killed me in less than 15 seconds if he wanted to... As everyone left he came to me. I thought he’d say sorry or something but instead he just said:,, Now I’m the stronger one of us -,,SHRIMP“! The FAR stronger one! It’s my time to humiliate you now!” I was shook. At that point I was really afraid of him, towering in front of me with his huge muscles. I just said ok, and took some steps away from him, turned around and started going to my room. When he just silently said:,,Now is the time to humiliate YOU...” I turned around and saw how he took off his shirt, uncovering his huuuge pecs and ripped abs. I could almost see the blood rushing through the veins on his chest and arms. I was really afraid at this moment. He threw his shirt to me. “Smell it!” “No, why should i?”, I said “Because I am the alpha now! Sooner or later you’ll smell on it!” He ran to me, grabbed my neck from behind and rubbed his shirt into my face. “But why just smell my shirt, if you could smell... ME!” He turned me around and flexed his arm. “Kiss this biceps.” I just looked at him. “KISS IT!” He pushed my head against his peak and flexed it intermittently. He dragged my head from his biceps over his armpit to his pecs and gave me a bearhug. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” I screamed. He just laughed:,, Hahaha! So what?! That’s not even 50% of my strenght!” He tightened the bearhug even more and bounced his meaty, massive, naked pecs into my face. I got really hard and just hoped that he didn’t notice. My trousers were quite loose and that’s when he noticed. “What have we got here? Lil’ omega boy is aroused by some real steel muscles overpowering him?”, he said as he let go of the bearhug. He dropped me onto the couch. He had me in a headlock immediately. He wrapped his huge biceps around my... my.... mouth?! He really was playing with me... as I wanted to bite his biceps he flexed it, laughed and said: ,,Watch out for your teeth, weakling!” He wrapped his arms around my neck now- totally cutting off my air supply. The only thing that didn’t make me pass out was the fact that he flexed and bounced his 19 inch bicepspeak intermittently. But as he stopped I had to tap. He totally let go of me. I was stunned. It could have been that easy?! His arms were almost half way back at him as he wrapped them around y neck again, layed on my back and said:,, Only weaklings tap...” and he made me pass out. I woke up again. All I saw were his massive calves because he put me in a headscissor while I was knocked out. First thing I noticed were all those veins running down his super hairless tree trunk legs. Wait. What was that? He only took off his shirt before?! And he wore a long blue Jean just before he sent me to sleep... Does that mean that he’s... naked...? ,,Ah, so you’re back, twink! Now you get to feel how it is to be totally humiliated.After tensing his massive quads a few times he somehow turned me around so that now my neck was just a bit above his knee I was facing towards his... cock. I could see his massive, vascular 30inch tree trunk legs. But what impressed me at least as much as his muscles was that cock. It was limp, but really thick and already quite long. It was waaay bigger than mine... actually I‘ve never seen such a massive prick, not even in porn He shove it up my throat and I felt it growing in my mouth.... It filled out the whole space in my mouth as it grew bigger and bigger. It was crazy how big it actually was. Because of his massive tree tunk legs and his overall massive frame his dick was much bigger than it seemed. It already almost filled out my mouth as it was limp. But as it got hard I felt it growing down my throat. Inch by inch. I tried to bend my head backwards but his huge quads were in my way. I gagged and nearly suffocated again because I didn’t know what cut off my airway more, his leg muscles which he flexed all the time or his giant cock... As he got fully erected he started talking to me:,, So, lil weakling! U remember when u were the stronger one of us? Those times are over now and will never come back again! I am the alpha now! No, I’m more than alpha... I’m a god!” He grabbed my hair and moved my head, so that I was giving him a blowjob right now. ,,Well twink, just accept it, I am way stronger than you are.” He started moving his hips. ,,I could easily break you into pieces, just look at my arms, man! They are way bigger than yours! Hmm, if I am a muscle god, u should also treat me like one!” He took my left hand and laid it onto his pec. He started bouncing it. After a while he slid my hand over his rock hard abs. Up and down, up and down with his cock still deep down in my throat. I could feel all his masculinity rush through his cock and his pulse beating in those massive muscles. He then loosened the legscissors and slowly moved my head back from his cock. It looked like it never wanted to end. He pulled out and pulled out, i was really amazed that all that fit inside my mouth. It must have been at least 9inches long... I was totally out of breath as he got up to kneel in front of me on the couch. It was so impressive... he started flexing all his muscles. He did a double biceps pose, flexed his rocky abs, bounced his pecs, tensed his traps. Totally naked. ,,Don’t you get it?!”, he shouted at me as he again reached out for my neck and pulled my face to his chest. He rubbed my face all over those gorgeous pecs and abs. ,,You are my little bitch by now! You are supposed to do everything I command you! I mean, you could try to resist but in the end there’s nothing you could do against me...!”, he said. ,,You should clean up my muscles. Too bad I didn’t sweat by wrestling with u... guess I’d have to work out with you now to get started.” He commanded me to get naked too. He then told me to get on his shoulders to do some pullups. My cock was rock hard all the time and pressing against his lower back. As he went down to do some pushups he told me to get on his back. I did so. He started pushing. It still seemed very easy for him. And then I noticed something. I was in the perfect position to get him in a headlock. Should I really dare to do this? It the only way I could show him that I’m not that weak as he says. I slowly moved my arm under his throat, pulled it back to me And locked it with my other arm. I had him. I had this muscle monster in a real headlock- HIS throat against MY biceps. But what was that? Quite unimpressed he just stood up and started running backwards into the wall. He really bumped me in quite hard but I still had him. I could feel him loose his breath and he started to panic a bit. Now he took together all his left over strength and bowed over, throwing me over his head with my back hitting the floor. Fuck. I probably gonna be dead now. He stood up from his kneeling position and what I saw was frightening. His legs and arms as well as his lower abs and chest were totally covered in veins. They were bulging on his totally pumped muscles. He was breathing very hard and heavy. ,,You really shouldn’t have done that! You know what I gotta do now!!!”, he said really angry. He ran over to me, just like a fucking tank, his pecs were jumping with every step. His massive limp dick was bouncing too. He punched me in my stomach making me go to the ground. Then he wrapped his 19inch arms around my neck, adjusted them a bit an flexed them. I was really afraid that he was going to kill me now... I tapped but passed out again... I came back... I wasn’t dead?! I opened my eyes and saw him towering over me. His massive 30inch legs, his huge cock, those swelling ripped abs, his crazy arms and everything was still covered in those thick veins. He truly looked like an animal. ,,I don’t know why you don’t get it weakling! I am the alpha now, I’m almost twice your size, you stand no chance against me!!”, he said. He wrapped both his big muscular long fingers around my neck and lifted me up with his bare hands- choking me at the same time. I was some inches above the ground, just so that my eyes were on the same level as his. He stared into my eyes like a wild beast right before breaking the neck of it’s prey. In a matter of no time he dropped me and held me in a bearhug. I could feel his massive chest and ripped abs on my limp and weakened body... My cock grew rock hard and pressed against his upper quad. ,,U like that?!”, he said as he squeezed me harder. I wanted to say something but I just wasn’t able anymore. I had no air, no strength and was totally done... ,,Awww, lil boy is so exhausted he can’t speak no more... HAHAHAH WHAT A WEAKLING!”, he screamed and tightened the bearhug even more. I felt his monster cock grow bigger and bigger too-pressing against my (much less ripped) abs. He made me pass out again... I wasn’t even aware that a bearhug could make you pass out... As I regained my consciousness I found myself still in his arms. ,,It’s so easy to overpower you. Guess how easy it would be to kill you! But then I’d have nobody to worship my muscles. Well except all those girls...”, he said. He dropped me on the floor and I was amazed by what I saw... A ripped monster with huge bulging muscles all covered in veins - jerking a huge cock... ,,I sweat just a little, twink. But enough for you to clean me up.” He hit a double biceps pose and made me stand up. I didn’t have enough energy to ask or even just say something anymore. I got his point. He was so submissive... I should have done all this three years ago with him... Back when I was able to do that... ,,LICK THEM!”, he said flexing his biceps. I did so. And I loved it. The salty taste of his testosterone loaded sweat. The form of his arms with all those veins... I cleaned his hole body. From his armpit to his massive chest. He bounced it so his pecs would jump a few inches what made it hard to keep my tongue on his skin. I caught a lot of “underboob sweat”. He grabbed my head and lead it around while I licked his washboard abs. I knew that it’s not gonna be enough for him... he pressed me downwards even more. Now my mouth was at those big balls. They smelled really manly. He didn’t even have to command me. I sucked up all his sweat and started swallowing his massive prick. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he ever received... I felt up his muscles with my hands. As I run my fingers down his abs with one hand and worshipped the inside of his huge thighs he came. ,,Mhhhhh... Now you know your place. I don’t allow you to spit it out! Eat it- it’s extra protein for you!” I really loved his taste. I chewed on it and I hope that his testosterone loaded load will give me a boost in strength... I’ll probably suck him off more often, perhaps I’m gonna become as big as him some day....
  6. Guest

    theft The locker room loser

    Inspired by a story I've read recently, a short story found its way from my pen to this board. Enjoy! Keith strutted into the deserted gym next to Orchid University. He loved working out late at night, jumping to whatever exercise he felt doing and not having to wait at any of the machines. Not that other guys made him wait. His 6'3 and 242 pound frame not only earned him success on the football field, it also intimidated anyone that got in his way. Not to mention the attention of the girls… He continued past the deserted counter and entered the locker room. He put his bag on a bench and began getting out his shake and towel. "Hi, Keith". The faint voice made Keith turn around and he stared down at the skinny guy that had just entered. He recognized Tyrone, some skinny freshman who worked in the gym. He nodded and returned to his stuff. "What are you training tonight?", the little guy asked, "Or just a quick workout for football?". Great. A talker, just what I need. Why do guys that wanna talk don't go to bars?, Keith thought as he tried to ignore the guy. "Not in a mood to talk? Focused on training, he?", Tyrone went on. Keith turned to face the guy with an annoyed look on his face. He noticed how the shirt hung like a tent on the freshman's pathetic body and how his shorts covered his legs almost completely. He unzipped his hoody and took it off, revealing his heavily muscled torso highlighted by his skintight tank top. Tyrone gulped at the sight of the round shoulders that stuck out like bowling balls to support the thick arms. A smug grin formed on Keith's face at the small guy's reaction. "Training builds muscle. Ya should try it", he said and casually bounced his pecs. "Tough guy, he", Tyrone replied, "Want to test your strength?". He motioned to a weird machine placed at the end of the row of lockers. It was some old-looking grip strength tester. It had an electronic display in the center and below there were four metal handles. "Ya want to go up against me? In a test of strength?", Keith asked laughingly and throw a double bicep pose. His meaty arms swelled to their 20 inches of muscle covered with some fat. "Just for fun", Tyrone said without taking his eyes from the orbs atop the large guy's arms as he moved to the machine. Keith shook his head incredulously and stepped over to the machine, completely dwarfing the freshman. They both grabbed hold of two handles. "Who's the alpha and who's the beta?" The display read off as it sprang to life. "I'll go first", Tyrone said and squeezed the handles with all his might. His 120 body shook and his face turned red from the effort. "POWERHOUSE", the display said. Keith followed. He gripped the handles firmly and clenched his thick fist, his body barely feeling the effort. "POWERHOUSE", the display said, "TIE!" "Seems like were matched", Tyrone peeped, "Let's try again". He repeated his earlier movement, getting another 'POWERHOUSE' reading. Keith couldn't believe this pathetic guy was matching his power. His competitive nature took over and he pressed the handles again. "MUSCLE MAN", the display showed, "Advantage to player one! Next round!". "Not so tough after all, it seems", Tyrone said and continued the game to get another "POWERHOUSE" reading. "What the fuck?!", Keith boomed, "This game is rigged". He summoned his strength, his knuckles turning white as he grabbed the handles. "MANLY", the display showed. Black dots danced shortly before Keith's eyes and a shiver traveled down his spine as he read off the text. "How…", he began and the other words died in his throat as he looked down at his body. His torso no longer strained his tank top. The fabric now sat more loosely around his somehow diminished muscles. He didn't stand out like the heavily muscled guy he used to be, but looked more like someone who worked out regularly. He glanced aside and noticed the other change: the once skinny Tyrone was now filling out the shirt that hung on him like a tent minutes earlier. The guy could now easily pass for a model. "My turn again", Tyrone said in a deepened voice. "No. I give", Keith said and tried releasing the handles but his paws seemed somehow fused to them. "We have to continue the game until there's an alpha", Tyrone said and applied his strength to the handles. "POWERHOUSE!", the display said. Keith gulped as he saw a jolt shoot through the freshman's body. He reluctantly copied his opponent's grab, noticing how the handles seemed to resist. He stared in disbelief at the display as it read "Mr. PUNY". Tyrone looked aside and saw more mass disappear from the football player's body. Their bodies were pretty evenly matched now. "Oh yeah", he grunted as he felt the energy flowing through the handles into his growing body. He grabbed the handles again, now easily pressing into the metal. "POWERHOUSE!!" "Why are there exclamation marks on it?", Keith asked in his weakened voice while he saw another jolt of growth shoot through the now pumped up fitness model-sized freshman that began looking bigger than him. "There's more power in my body now", Tyrone replied in a baritone voice, "your turn". "Do I have to?", Keith muttered. "DO IT!", Tyrone boomed. Keith shook and instinctively obeyed the bigger man. His body shook with effort and his face turned beat red. "WEAKLING" Keith felt another wave of weakness dance through him. His once skintight tank top now hung loosely from his diminished frame. He felt his sweatpants slide down along his thinning legs. He looked down and saw that he had lost every ounce of muscle he'd ever gained. The movement next to him caught his eye. Tyrone saw the mass siphon away from the football player's body and pass through the machine into him. His formerly baggy shirt now clung to his beefed up torso: his swelling pecs pulled the fabric forward while his thickening back pushed the fabric backward and his broadening lats put more and more tension on the seams. The sleeves that used to cover most of his arms didn't even cover his upper arms anymore: his widening shoulders pulled the fabric up to showcase his meaty arms. His baggy shorts now came only halfway on his thick quads. Keith gulped as he had to look up to catch the freshman's eye. The guy now looked like an amateur heavyweight bodybuilder. "Please", he pleaded in an unfamiliar higher voice, "no more. I can't get smaller". Tyrone just smirked and effortlessly tightened his grip around the metal handles, making the machine shake from his force. "POWERHOUSE!!!!!" Keith blinked in disbelief at the display. He refused to look aside as the shadow of the freshman grew and he heard the tearing sound of the ripping fabric. He knew he had no other option than to continue the game. He grunted as he summoned every ounce of force in his weakened body. The handles seemed to resist his grip. "PATHETIC" The letters on the display appeared to turn blurry and a wave of fatigue flowed through Keith. He could feel more size escaped his body and his boxers that used to showcase his meaty ass and lengthy cock fell to the ground. "CALCULATING SCORE", the display showed, "Player two… = BETA BOY!" Keith fell the last ounce of masculinity vanish from him. He felt his balls shrivel to the size of small marbles and pull closer to his body. His cock, once his 10 inches of pride followed this lead: it shrunk to a pencil-thin 2 incher. A ringing sound made him look back at the machine. "Player one", the display said, "… = TOTAL ALPHA!!!!!" "YEAUGH", Tyrone groaned as a final, yet very powerful surge shot through his huge frame. His tight, already ripped shirt exploded into shreds as his huge muscles grew to another level of thickness. A loud snapping sound followed as his shorts and boxers gave in under the pressure of his thickening waist. His head shot up as more height was added to his frame. He grunted as he felt the energy shot into his groin. His balls swelled to the size of lemons and sank lower in between his meaty quads and his 7 incher amassed girth and length, snaking further down against his leg. Without looking at the drained football player, he swaggered over to the mirror on the other side of the locker room. He ripped away the last remains of his destroyed shirt and stared at his nude reflection. "FUARK", Tyrone bellowed, his eyes widening in disbelief at the image of perfection staring back at him. He scanned every inch of his now beastly physique before beginning to explore his new body. His paws groped the protruding rack that hung from his chest, clawing at the hard meat of the half watermelon-sized pecs and testing the weight of meaty slabs; they slid down onto a stony eight-pack made of cobblestones separated by deep grooves. He licked his lips while taking in the size of his perfectly round shoulders that outsized bowling balls and the insane size of the monster arms that hung from them: the muscle on his upper arms twitched underneath the paper-thin skin and seemed ready to explode from it; his lower arms were crisscrossed with cable-sized cords of muscle. His lower body was just as impressive: his quads rivaled young trees in size; they were jam-packed with hard beef that eclipsed his kneecaps; his calves were bigger than most guys quads. He was about to grope the lengthy snake as a faint movement caught his attention. Keith had ignored the giant freshman, knowing he was no match for the guy now. While Tyrone went to inspect his new physique in front of the mirror, the diminished athlete made his move. He slowly released the handles he was still groping, pulled up his now baggy boxers and equally large sweatpants and kept his hand on them to prevent them from falling off again. He cautiously stepped to the door, making sure not to attract the freshman's attention. He grabbed the door handle and tried pushing it down. The door didn't move. He tried again, applying more force this time. "I locked it earlier when I came in". The deep rumbling bass filled the locker room like thunder and vibrated down Keith's weak body. His hand was frozen to the door handle. He heard the heavy footsteps and the large shadow grew on the door as the giant freshman came to him. A paw grabbed his armpit and dragged him in front of the mirror. He glanced up at his reflection and gasped: the ridiculously large clothes hung from his emaciated body and made him look like a kid who had put on his bigger brother's clothes. He peeped as the paw ripped away the clothes and exposed him completely. Tears welled up in his eyes: he looked like a weak boy instead off the hulking athlete he had been minutes earlier. Every trace of muscle that had once highlighted his physique, was gone. The layer of fat that used to give him a bulky appearance now made him look pudgy ad childlike. The beefy football player that dominated the team had been replaced by a meager boyish figure. He couldn't even remember having ever been this small. His 5'1, 105 pound body made him weak and puny by any standard. "Turn around!" The booming command made Keith jump up and he quickly did as he was told. He looked straight at the top row of the most deeply grooved set of abs he'd ever seen. He tilted his head up to stare at the face and instinctively took a step backward as his mind processed the size of the beastly freshman in front of him. The now 6'6, 330 pound Tyrone dwarfed him unlike anything he'd ever done to other guys. His own 242 pound body had been bulky and massive, but the giant freshman didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him: deep grooves, striations and veins edged along the hulking mass of his hard muscles that pushed against his skin. His square face, shadowed by a five o'clock beard sat atop an insanely thick neck that flowed into a broad line capped with boulder-like shoulders. Striations were visible through the thin skin stretched across the perfectly round delts. A thick vein snaked over the shoulders down on the ham-sized arms and branched off in dozens of smaller veins to feed the huge biceps at the front and the thick triceps that jutted out from the back. The beastly freshman outsized even elite superheavyweight bodybuilders. He looked like an anatomy chart that had come to live and was perfectly proportioned, except for his arms that seemed just a tad too big. Masculinity seemed to ooze from him and hang in the air like electricity around his hulking frame. Tyrone moved in front of the mirror and threw a most muscular. "FUARK", he roared as his muscles exploded in a symphony of harness, striations and veins across his body, "seems like there's a Tyrex in town". The faint 'wow' made him turn his attention back to the former athlete next to him. A smug grin formed on his face as he noted the awe in the frail guy's eyes. "Yo Keith", he said and brought his right arm up in front of his torso and flexed it, 'BADABOOM". Keith's eyes widened while the bicep in front of him exploded in size. The orb of hard meat sprang upward and outward into a pineapple-sized muscle choked in veins. The bicep swelled and hardened some more as the beastly freshman tightened his flex fully, stopping just below 30 inches of pure muscle. The sight of the massive arm hardening inches from his face made Keith's cock race to hardness and spew out a small, watery load that dribbled from the 2 incher. Tyrone noticed the fallen athlete's reaction and felt a jolt go through his own cock while he realized he totally dominated the small guy. He relaxed his right arm, placed his paw atop the guy's bony shoulder and pushed him down. Keith was forced to his knees by the paw that covered his shoulder, upper arm and half of his flat chest. He looked forward and stared straight at the fleshy snake that was lengthening along the thick quad and began rising upward. Within seconds the 14 inch cock was at full length, veins running along the thick shaft and the purple red head pointed directly at his face. He looked up but he couldn't see the freshman's face: the protruding rack of pecs hide it from his view. "Please…", he pleaded but a large paw grabbed the back of his head and the snake was rammed into his mouth. Tyrone grinned as he felt the small guy's hand tug at his right arm that held his head in place. His thick forearms easily withstood the tugging. He pushed more of his cock into the hot mouth. Keith gagged as 10 inches of the fleshy snake filled his mouth. He ceased his clawing and placed his frail hands atop the beastly quads for support as the beastly freshman began pumping in and out his mouth. His vision was filled with the cobblestone-sized abs that flexed on the rhythm of the thrusts. "YEAUGHN", Tyrone roared as ecstasy exploded through his 330 pound body. His lemon-sized balls drew tight and began releasing their thick load into the fallen athlete's mouth. Keith quickly gulped down the first huge load, a second one filling his mouth seconds later. He sucked down as much of the sticky spunk as fast as he could, but the hefty balls kept blasting out loads. Cum began flowing from the corners of his mouth and even from his nose. His vision began going dark by the lack of oxygen. After 10 loads, the snake withdrew from his mouth and blasted a final load onto his face, coating it with liquid heat. The paw released his head and he slumped down to the floor. Tyrone turned his gaze back to his reflection in the mirror. He flexed his left arm, smirking as the huge muscle exploded into a massive orb of vein-covered beef. He would have sworn he heard his skin stretch tight as the monster bicep swelled to its new size. He went over to Keith's gym bag and grabbed his hoody. He ripped off the sleeves and put it on. The zipper could only close over his eight-pack, his pecs protruded so far from his chest that it was impossible to get the zipper up any further. He grabbed a pair of baggy sweatpants from another locker and pulled them on: they fight like a second skin over his gargantuan legs. He threw a final look on the emaciated senior lying on the floor and left.
  7. musclelovingtwink

    Josh's Genie

    Posted a few stories on Metabods ages back, figured I'd put them here to see if people like them Chapter 1: Josh Hartley sat at the kitchen table, looking at the loosely wrapped box his Dad had just handed him. It was his 18th birthday and it'd been a shitty day all round at school. Josh was younger than nearly everyone in the year so nobody really cared about 18ths anymore, and once again he'd been humiliated in gym class due to the classes switch to swimming for the summer. He was shorter than all the other guys and the Speedos provided by the school were obviously more filled out by the other guys. Returning home he'd reheated for leftovers and waited for his Dad's return from work, at which time he was given the present. It was a simple grey box with a red ribbon stuck on and a cheap card. "Are you gonna open it, son?" his Dad asked excitedly, a broad grin on his face. They weren't exactly rich so Josh wasn't really expecting much. He slid the ribbon off and opened the box. "Geez, Dad this must have cost a fortune." he gasped as he saw what looked to be a very expensive bottle of some brand of alcohol he'd never heard of. He wasn't sure what it was but the glass bottle had such fine, ornate detail over the whole surface that it clearly wasn't some cheap bottle from a liquor shop. "Don't worry about how much it costs, you only become an adult once, and it's important to me that you remember this." Before Josh could think about breaking it open to celebrate his father announced he was going to bed to be up for work in the morning. Sadly, Josh went upstairs to his room and took the bottle with him. He placed it on the bedside table and sat on the bed. Looking at the bottle he noticed a scuff on the side so he licked his thumb and tried to wipe it off. The spot wouldn't budge so he wrapped his hand with his shirt and started to rub the bottle. The bottle started to shake in his hand and with a loud bang like a gunshot, the cork flew out of the top and a dark red smoke started pouring out of the neck. Josh dropped the bottle as smoke kept blasting out and seemed to congeal on the floor . The smoke started to rise and formed into the shape of a man, first a set of beautifully sculpted, 8 pack abs with a deeply cut v leading to the pillar of smoke where legs would be, then a shelf of enormous pecs that stood out many inches above his glorious abs, with large, dark red nipples. Bulging shoulders and throbbing biceps with huge veins spread out from the muscular torso, and atop the statuesque figure sat a face of such astonishing beauty that Josh's draw actually dropped, and had his eyes not been scouring every inch of the Adonis-like figure, they would have been locked with the pitch black eyes of the smoke figure. "I am the great genie of the bottle, speak what you wish and I will make it reality." said the figure in a voice so loud and deep that the room seemed to tremble around him. Josh was almost speechless, and his mind flooded with ideas, worries and sheer shock at the godly figure that had just exploded into his bedroom. "A-anything?" he stammered out. "Some caveats may apply, you don’t need to worry about that right now." "Is it like all the stories, three wishes?" Josh asked, sill having no clue what he would wish for. "Not at all, that is a myth." said the genie sternly. "Oh." said Josh, his heart sinking. "One wish. Every day. Forever." Josh nearly fell over in shock at the news. "Holy shit, uhh, well…" he couldn't clear his mind enough to think straight so what he said just sort of slipped out without any thought of consequence. "I wish I was the hottest guy at school." "Done." said the genie, snapping his fingers, and a spark of electricity crackled between them. "You will become the sexiest man at your school, soon." "You mean I don't just change now?" he asked. "Well this is one of my caveats, I get to decide how the wish plays out, as long as you don't specify against what I want." he said, with a small smile. "Then can I wish to grow now?" "One wish every day, and all wishes are final." said the genie, again seeming pleased with his own rules. "But now, I must rest, I've been in that bottle for hundreds of years and granting wishes is exhausting." "O-Ok…" Josh started but the muscular figure had already dissipated and was refilling the bottle. He climbed into his bed and slept, expecting to wake up in the morning to this all having been a dream. School seemed to pass at half speed the next day. Josh had tried rubbing the bottle in the morning to no avail and at this point was actually starting to believe that the whole thing was just the creation of his sleep deprived brain. Sitting in the afternoon math class, Josh spoke to his closest friend Marc. Plenty of people were cordial with Josh, he wasn't that much of a social outcast, but Marc was one of the few people who wouldn't eagerly throw him in front of an oncoming bus for the chance to ascend the social food chain a little. "Did your dad get you anything cool for your birthday?" he enquired eagerly. "Uhh, yeah, some old bottle… I think it's alcohol…" His voice trailed off, he still wasn't sure if he'd dreamt the events of last night, and in the likely event that he had, he had no idea what was in the bottle. "That's cool, I guess." Marcus said somewhat awkwardly, "I know you guys aren't exactly swimming in cash." "Yeah, he really tries though, and I do appreciate it." The day was uneventful, which Josh preferred as eventful usually translated to humiliating for him. However, after math his class headed off to the locker rooms to get changed for the day's swimming class and he was once again confronted by the harsh reality of everyone seeing his distinctly under-packed Speedo. Sitting at a bench in the locker room, waiting to be called into the pool by the gym teacher, Josh did his best to conceal his body from the prying eyes around him. That was, until Liam Sterling, the most incredible looking guy in the class, and coincidentally the guy who gave Josh the most shit about his appearance, marched up to him with purpose. Liam was captain of the swim team and obviously had no qualms about displaying the slab of meat between his legs, almost obscenely in the tiny, stretched-to-the-limit Speedo. Seriously, there had to be six thick inches of clearly outlined dong crammed into that pouch and he wasn't even sporting a partial. He exemplified the perfect swimmers build, it wasn't that he was slender, but that his muscular body was sleek and looked as though it could slide through the water without generating so much as a ripple. And speaking of rippling, it was the best way to describe him, every inch of his body was curved by a rounded mass of sheer muscle, threatening to burst from his skin with every movement. His face was so good looking that you could stare for hours at the sharp jaw, the wavy, deep brown hair, and those stone cold, piercing blue eyes. All of this of course made life so much more unbearable for Josh, as he had to tolerate torment day in and day out from the one guy he wanted more than anyone else. "Jesus, Hartley do you even have a dick in there?" he asked, looking around to make sure everyone was paying attention. "You must be hung like a fucking baby." "I…" Josh started but he felt blood rushing to his face, and other places as he immediately tried to push the thoughts of Liam's body from his mind. "Fuck man! Guys he must have something there cos he's totally getting a hardon just looking at me!" Liam laughed. Josh blushed harder, thinking how it was hard not to get hard just from having Liams thick dick just inches from his faces, inches he was sure it could manage to close by itself. He became painfully away of a throbbing from his dick and looked down to see that it was clearly as hard as ever and noticeably reaching towards the roof, but it wasn't just that, it also looked large. Thicker than he remembered and pushing past the boundary of the 4 inch disappointment he was used to. It felt like more than just blood rushing to his dick, as he felt like it was on fire. The material of his swimwear began to stretch along with his dick, as he stood up awkwardly, brushing briefly against Liam but far to concentrated on the fire in his cock to care. His hand massaged his cock almost against his will as a reaction to the pain, until he realised that the burning wasn't pain at all, but an intense pleasure that burned from his dick and radiated through to the rest of his body. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" shouted Liam in his face, "ARE YOU HAVING A FUCKING TUG RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME YOU SICK FREAK?" Josh was too dazed by the pleasure clouding his brain to react, when he looked down to see that that the thin elastic of his swimwear was stretched so tightly over his cock, which was now more like a long, throbbing monster covered with veins, sitting on top of two orange sized balls, that the Speedo was pulled away from his body and the sides of said dick were clearly visible to the whole room. Jaws were dropping around the room and other guys became uncomfortably confined by their own clothing, when something entirely new started. Josh's skin looked as though thick worms were crawling underneath his skin, writhing and thickening all over him. Liam looked like he was about to pass out from shock and other guys in the room seemed equally surprised. The worms multiplied and grew, covering Josh's slender frame and thickening into broad bands of muscle, accompanied by a creaking noise which seemed to be the bones in his limbs lengthening and his shoulders pushing outwards. Large, diamond-shaped quads and sharply protruding calves supported Josh's new body, beneath the bulging Speedo, barely holding together to conceal very little of his enormous dick. His torso was framed by incredibly wide lats, tapering down to a thin waist, where a deeply cut v of muscle adorned the edges of 8 bricks of pure abdominal muscle, the tops of the highest of which were cast in shadow by the completely bulbous pectoral masses, which throbbed, swelled and contracted with even the slightest movement on Josh's behalf. Nipples that were so large they could almost fill a person's hand were spread over the peaks of the pecs and sent new signals of sensitivity to Josh's dazed mind every second. His shoulders looked like basketballs with deep cuts in the muscle stuck out on either side of him, holding the monstrous arms with incredibly large, deeply separated biceps with thick cords of veins twisting down them. He caught a glimpse of his own face in a nearby mirror and was struck by his own beauty. The squareness of the jaw he so admired in Liam was now present on his own immaculate face, leading down to a neck, nearly as thick as his head. His eyes, somehow the same shade of green, but now infinitely more eye catching below bushy, dark eyebrows to match his wavy, black hair. The whole room was silent in a stupor for what seemed like a minute, until a loud snapping noise shattered the peace to announce that Josh's now footlong monster cock had won the battle with the Speedo and was now out in the open for everyone to see, standing out proudly, curving towards the ceiling and dripping just the slightest bit of pre from the tip. In the next three seconds at least half the room came without any assistance from their hands. "What..." Josh began, and was taken aback by the deep pitch of his new voice. "What were you saying about my little dick, Liam?" "I- Er." Liam stuttered, his own hand inadvertently in his swimwear, massaging his own erection. "You were saying how you wanted to suck it, right?" Josh continued, having no idea where these words were coming from. "I don't…" "Well go on then," he said, the deep commanding tones echoing through the silent locker room, "Suck it. Right here. For everyone to watch." "Ohgodyes." blurted out Liam, as though he'd been lusting for permission, the words all blurring into one. He fell forward onto his knees and his lips wrapped around the head of Josh's python. His tongue began to work Josh's slit and even more waves of ecstasy pulsed through his muscular body. One of his hand fondled Josh's swollen balls while the other remained in his own, jizz soaked, swimwear. Josh felt his dick sliding down Liam's throat, so tight against his throbbing member, until he felt Liam's lips press against the base of his dick, and was clearly aware that this was not the older guy's first time servicing a cock. Liam's body slid back and forth for ages, as Josh wove his hands into the swim captains wavy locks and forced him onto the rod harder. Every muscle in the teen Adonis seized up, and he flexed his glutes, pushing forward as he felt himself reach climax. He felt the cum shoot though his massive rod and into the much smaller Liam. Such a sheer volume of thick, white semen was being forced into the sexy body that some spurted from his mouth and splattered the walls of the locker room. Liam slid off the end of the cock from the force of the ejaculation, and further cords of jizz slung themselves over his half naked body. Once again the watching crowd let loose their own seed. Josh flexed his powerful body as he moaned in pleasure. His face creased into a satisfied grin as his mind flooded with what lay in store, and what he could achieve with his wishes after that.
  8. * FINALLY FINISHED * "Ah, so you're JP's big brother," Andrew realized, once he heard the caller's name. "It's good to meet you man: verbally at least." "It's good to meet you too Andrew," Ryan replied, fully aware that his former coach could hear them. He didn't give voice to his thoughts: I don't want to be known as JP's brother; I'm my own man! "Once Tyler told me all about you, I looked you up on that new YouTube site and saw all your videos. You're an awesome football player man, and you'll have no trouble getting a full ride to any school you want!" "Thanks man," Andrew said, pleased that Ryan had told him how he had found out all about him. "I'm glad to have one fan at least." "Much more than just one, considering all the views your videos got," Ryan assured him sincerely. "That's part of the reason my college coach wanted me to call Coach Palmer and arrange this phone call. My coach told me to tell you that he's going to arrange an Unofficial Recruiting Visit down here for you the next time you're in Virginia." "That's very flattering man; thank him for me," Andrew said. "I'll have to give you the contact information for my high school football coach back in Orillia. He can coordinate with your college football coach to arrange everything for the visit." "It wasn't just your online videos that put you on his radar Andrew," Ryan informed him. "He also took note of your impressive performance at the football camps you attended this spring." "Well I'm glad I wasn't easy to miss," Andrew said seriously. "After all, I was among dozens of other high school football players at those camps, and I think I was the only Canadian there." "You're impossible to miss Andrew," Ryan assured him . "My coach told me that when he saw you in March, you weighed 275 pounds and stood 6 foot 7 inches tall." "Those were my old stats," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. He noticed Coach Palmer edging away to give him some privacy and added, "I'm bigger now." "How much do you weigh now Andrew?" Ryan asked him, sounding a little nervous. "305 pounds of solid muscle," Andrew replied, having detected a hint of fear in Ryan's voice. "It was a great day when I reached the average weight of an NFL lineman." "That's awesome man; I'm really happy for you," Ryan said sincerely. "Coach Palmer's no longer in hearing range Ryan; tell me how you really feel," Andrew said, just to test him. "I have been man," Ryan said seriously, hearing the slight hint of menace in Andrew's voice. I'm going to have to watch myself with him, he thought to himself. He sounds like he's just as smart as my little brother! "My coach told me that your performance at the spring football camps led to you getting offers for Unofficial Recruiting Visits throughout the Midwest." "Starting with Ohio State tomorrow," Andrew said, deliberately dropping the name of JP's hopeful college. "When do I get to meet you in person Ryan?" "You'll have to wait until your Unofficial Recruiting Visit at Virginia Tech," Ryan replied. "My coach asked me if I would be willing to be your campus guide, and I'd be glad to do it." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, getting the feeling that Ryan was a really great guy under his cocky jock exterior. "You know, I just thought of a way we can see each other face-to-face even if we're probably dozens of miles apart." "You're right man, I'm in Harrisonburg off I-81 right now," Ryan agreed. "How can we see each other face-to-face without being in the same room?" he asked. "On Skype man," Andrew replied. "I have it on my laptop. Do you have it on yours?" "Sure I do man," Ryan replied with a big grin, getting excited at the notion of seeing just how big and muscular Andrew truly was. "Do you want to talk later once you get back to your hotel room?" "That sounds like a great idea," Andrew replied, anxious to see what the famous Ryan Maloney looked like. "It's a much better way for two new friends to chat long distance than on Instant Messenger." He heard a long silence on the other end of the line and hastily added, "If you want to be friends, that is." "That's fine with me Andrew," Ryan agreed eagerly. "It would be great to get to know you better and find out how you got so big and strong. Coach told me that you can bench 700 pounds for reps!" "Yeah, that's only because I couldn't find enough weight plates in your home gym to get to my max of 800 pounds tonight," Andrew said cockily. "Hopefully the gym at Virginia Tech has enough weight plates to challenge me." "Wow!" Ryan shouted in astonishment after another long silence. "You're insanely strong man; I bet you can bust through any defensive line effortlessly!" "Yeah I can man, but I always help the other players up afterwards to be a good sport," Andrew said seriously. "No sense being a sore winner." "I've heard of sore losers, but what's a sore winner?" Ryan asked curiously. "A sore winner is someone who gloats about his victory, acting cocky and arrogant as he rubs his success in other people's faces," Andrew replied. He decided to be completely honest with Ryan about his younger brother and added, "Kind of like how JP was during his last workout with you this spring." "So he told you about that, did he?" Ryan asked angrily. "No, I kind of tricked it out of him," Andrew replied. "I'll tell you more when we chat on Skype tonight, but I'd better text you my contact information on Skype now." "Don't forget your cell phone number Andrew, and ask Coach Palmer for mine," Ryan reminded him. "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, pleased that he and Ryan could keep in touch. "You know, it might be hard for you to confirm you got the text while you're on the phone with me," he suddenly realized. "Do you have a notepad you can write on instead?" "Good idea man; yeah I do," Ryan replied. After a few seconds, he said, "Go ahead Big Guy, I'm ready." Andrew quickly gave him all the required information and then Ryan returned the favour, once Andrew pulled out his cell phone. "I've got all your contact information Ryan," Andrew said. "I'll text you when I get back to my hotel and then we can meet face-to-face on Skype." "I look forward to it Andrew," Ryan said sincerely. "Get Coach Palmer back on the phone. I want to thank him for arranging this cell phone call with you this evening." "That's a good idea Ryan," Andrew said, signalling Coach Palmer to come closer. Once Coach Palmer stepped up beside him, Andrew added, "It was great talking to you man; I'll see you on Skype later tonight." "Goodbye Andrew," Ryan said, before Andrew handed Coach Palmer's cell phone back to him. Andrew waited patiently while Ryan filled Coach Palmer in on all that he had discussed with Andrew. Once the call was over, Coach Palmer turned to Andrew and said, "Very good Andrew: now you have another Unofficial Recruiting Visit lined up for this summer, hosted by one of my best players no less! Ryan thinks a lot of you and he'll be very happy to host a big man like you on campus!" "Yeah, and I'll enjoy being hosted by the Big Man on Campus," Andrew said with a big grin. "Very funny Andrew, making a play on my words like that!" Coach Palmer chuckled. "Hey, I don't just have brawn, I actually have brains as well!" Andrew reminded him with a cocky smirk. "I know that now Andrew," Coach Palmer assured him with an indulgent smile. "But since we're standing on the football field, how about you show me just how skilled you are at using your brawn. I can see that you're already prepared, since you're holding your football." He noticed Andrew's cocky smirk morph into a confident grin and added, "I'll use my digital camera to capture your performance on the field and then I can send that video to Ryan's college coach." Andrew nodded in agreement and slowly took off his football jacket. "Would you mind putting my jacket on the fence behind you Coach? I don't want it to get dirty." "You just want to leave the back of your Varsity Jacket free for a Provincial Championship patch, don't you?" Coach Palmer realized with a big grin. When Andrew nodded, he added, "Then you'd better take off your t-shirt as well, then you won't get it dirty either." Andrew grinned with excitement at the prospect of showing off his huge muscles and slowly began to peel off his skin-tight t-shirt, disguising the effort to make it look like a show for the coach. Coach Palmer's eyes widened in astonishment and more than a little fear at Andrew's massive shoulders, huge pecs, enormous biceps and eight-pack abs. "Uhhh... that's great Andrew, now jog across the field to the other end zone so that I can throw you the ball," Coach Palmer stammered. "You can catch a hundred yard pass, can't you?" "If you can throw the ball that far Coach," Andrew teased him. "I certainly can Andrew; I just hope you can run that far," Palmer said, taking the Miami Football out of Andrew's hands. "Move it Mister: that's an order!" "Yes Sir!" Andrew shouted eagerly, running down the field with huge strong strides. Coach Palmer cocked his arm back, marshalled all his strength and threw the football as high and as far as he could. He followed the flight of the ball as it arced through the air and had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun in the west. He finally saw Andrew catch the football at the opposite end zone and he realized at that moment that none of the videos he had seen of Andrew's performance on the football field had been exaggerated. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, in a hotel room in Harrisonburg, Virginia, off Interstate 81, a strikingly handsome jock with jet black hair and piercing green eyes stood up from the couch by the window and grinned. Perfect, Ryan Maloney thought to himself. I'll be able to learn from my new friend Andrew Pearson how to get really huge and strong. With any luck, he'll pick my school over Ohio State and then we can be right beside each other on the Offensive Line. Ryan frowned as he suddenly realized something. Once I get big enough that the coach lets me play, of course. But then he grinned again when he realized that he had found the perfect reason to give Andrew for why he wanted to get bigger and stronger. He'll never know that I just want to get big enough that my little dweeb brother can never get close to beating me in anything ever again! "Who were you talking to out here Ryan?" Luke asked, stepping out of the washroom after his shower. "One of my brother's friends man," Ryan replied, turning to face his smaller friend with a smug grin on his face. "Is he a dorky band geek like your brother?" Luke asked with a sneer. "No man, in fact he's big enough to make you look like a runt," Ryan replied with a slight glare. He maximized the YouTube Video he had been watching of Andrew before Coach Palmer had texted him. "See for yourself man; keep an eye on number 3: Andrew Pearson," he said, as he sat back down on the couch. Luke and Ryan watched the highlight video of the 2004 Provincial Championship game between Andrew's team, the ODCVI Blues from Orillia, and the Eastview Wildcats from Barrie. "Wow man!" Luke shouted in astonishment once the video had ended. "You've got to convince your coach at Tech to get Andrew down there for an Unofficial Recruiting Visit this summer." "Already done man, after Tyler told me all about him," Ryan said with a cocky smirk. "And guess who gets to host him for his visit!" "You mean, you're going to be the host?" Luke asked him in surprise. "Of course man, who else?" Ryan scoffed. "Who better to host an incoming freshman than a current freshman?" He left out the part where his Tech coach had reminded him that all Redshirt Freshmen had to act as student hosts for incoming freshman prospects. "Once I showed this video to Coach, he told me to call my high school coach and set up a phone call with Andrew. And thanks to Coach Palmer calling Coach Graves, who called my dad, JP ended up bringing Andrew over to Central High School this evening. Once he got Andrew alone, Coach Palmer texted me and I called him and got to speak to Andrew. He's a really great football player, as you could see from the highlight videos." "Hey maybe you and Andrew can become teammates on the Offensive Line next fall and win a college football championship," Luke suggested. "Yeah, and maybe Andrew can show me how to get as huge and ripped as he is!" Ryan shouted in excitement, flexing his massive biceps. "Then I can leave that little dweeb brother of mine in the dust once and for all!" "That would be awesome man!" Luke shouted in excitement. "Then when you go home for Christmas you can give that brother of yours the worst present he's ever had!" "Yeah, the present of my awesome presence!" Ryan shouted, proving that Andrew wasn't the only smart guy in the state. "How will you convince Andrew to help you get bigger without revealing the real reason?" Luke suddenly asked. "Easy, I'll just tell him the truth: my coach at Tech won't let me play until I'm a lot bigger and stronger," Ryan said smugly. "Andrew will never realize that I just want to get huge to dominate my little brother so completely that he'll shrivel up and rot just like a little raisin!" "Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Luke realized. "So, enough talk; you want to head out and see what kind of summer parties JMU has to offer?" "Sure man, and maybe I can find a hot chick who wants a piece of me," Ryan sneered with a suggestive smirk. "I'll keep my cell on vibrate so that when Andrew texts me, I can get back here and see him on Skype." "You want me to come back with you?" Luke asked, as they headed out the door. "Naw man, I want to see him alone," Ryan replied. "If he sees two of us, he might think something's up when I ask him if he'll help me get bigger like him." Luke nodded in agreement as they headed down the hall. Ryan breathed a silent sigh of relief, relieved that Luke hadn't figured out the true reason that Ryan wanted to speak to Andrew alone: so that no one could horn in on the new friendship that he was hoping to form with JP's new mentor. ================================================================================================================================================= Andrew had been showing off his football skills for ten minutes, so neither he nor Coach Palmer noticed JP coming out of the high school gym. Andrew threw his football from the far end of the field to Coach Palmer, but he threw it too far and it hit JP in the chest before he could catch it. "Are you okay JP?" Palmer asked as JP fell onto his back. But then he grinned as JP rolled through the fall and back to his feet. "I guess you are okay," he realized, noticing the cocky smirk on JP's face. "Sure I am Coach; it will take a lot more than a 120 yard pass to hurt me," JP assured him; relieved that his high pain tolerance had allowed him to withstand the impact of the football. "That's the furthest I've ever seen anyone throw a football though; even Clark Kent on Smallville last season restricted himself to 60 yard passes!" "Andrew outweighs Clark by at least 80 pounds of solid muscle," Palmer said, grinning at JP's huge friend as he jogged shirtless across the field towards them. His jaw dropped in astonishment as Andrew stopped in front of him and he could only stare in awe at the sweat glistening on the body of the hulking muscle god in front of him. "Uh, very good job Andrew: your football skills are very impressive," he managed to stammer out. He turned to JP, whose eyes were as wide as his own and asked, "What did you think of Andrew's performance on the field tonight?" "It was amazing Coach; I can see why you wanted to see him tonight," JP realized. He noticed the digital camera in Palmer's hands and added, "It looks like you got a lot of good footage of Andrew's football skills. Which school are you going to send it to?" Coach Palmer and Andrew looked at each other uncertainly, unsure how to answer JP's question without making him mad. "Are you going to tell him Coach, or should I?" Andrew finally asked Coach Palmer. "Tell me what?" JP snapped, guessing that there could only be one reason why they so reluctant to name the school. "It's Virginia Tech JP," Coach Palmer replied, gambling that his position as Head Football Coach would keep him safe from JP's wrath. He was right, because all JP did was narrow his eyes slightly in anger. "I'll let Andrew tell you all about it; I've got everything I need," he added, holding up his digital camera. "See you later JP and nice meeting you Andrew." With that, Coach Palmer beat a hasty retreat into the high school, leaving Andrew alone to face JP. Andrew looked over cautiously at JP, who was glaring at him with a look of fury on his face. "Go ahead JP; let me have it for talking to your brother and then I can explain how it happened," Andrew sighed. "I ought to punch you in the face for even talking to Ryan, knowing how much I hate him!" JP snapped. "Fine, do it if you think it 'll make you feel better!" Andrew snapped back. "It won't make any difference to me; I probably won't feel it anyway!" JP roared in fury and lunged at Andrew, his right fist leading the way. SMACK! JP punched Andrew in the face with all his strength. To make his smaller friend feel better, Andrew let his head snap around from the blow, even though he didn't feel a thing. Encouraged by thinking that he had actually hurt Andrew, JP kept punching Andrew in the face, making his big friend's head rock back and forth. Andrew didn't even stumble or flinch though, and eventually JP got tired. He stopped punching Andrew in the face and settled for kneeing him in the gut instead. Soon JP's hands began to ache from punching Andrew's tough jaw and his knees felt like they had impacted a concrete wall. JP ignored the pain for a couple more minutes and kept hitting Andrew in the abs until he finally tired out and he was no longer mad. "Feel better now JP?" Andrew asked, breathing a sigh of relief that JP had stopped attacking him. Hopefully he got some of the rage at his brother out of his system by attacking me! "You look tired." "Yeah I am Andrew," JP replied, smiling when he noticed Andrew rubbing his chin with one hand and his abs with the other. As he tried to catch his breath, he added, "I'm glad I was able to hurt you a bit; that means that I'll be able to wipe the floor with Ryan the next time I see him!" "Good JP, can we go now?" Andrew asked him impatiently. "Or did you want to throw my football around for a while on an actual football field?" "That would be great Andrew," JP said excitedly. "You always know what to say to make me feel better." "And apparently I know what to do as well, since letting you punch me several times calmed you down," Andrew realized with a gentle smile. "What do you mean by 'letting' me?" JP asked him in surprise. "I mean that I could have caught all your punches if I had wanted to," Andrew replied, crossing his massive arms with a smug grin. Then he noticed JP frowning, so he decided to cheer him up. "But I figured that it would make you feel better if I acted as your human punching bag. Anytime you want to let out your frustrations by doing it again, just let me know man. Or don't; it won't matter to me because I barely felt anything anyway." "Thanks a lot Andrew; now you've made me feel worse!" JP snapped at him. "Sorry about that man, but you punched me, not the other way around," Andrew reminded him with a cocky grin. "But you don't hear me complaining about it!" "That's because you just admitted that I barely hurt you!" JP snapped in fury. "That's because I'm almost twice your size JP," Andrew reminded him. When JP glared at him, Andrew sighed and added, "But if it makes you feel any better, you did hurt me a little bit." "Not enough Andrew!" JP yelled in fury. "How am I supposed to take Ryan down if I can't even make you wince when I punch you?" "I outweigh Ryan by almost a hundred pounds," Andrew reminded him, having to clench his fists to keep from snapping back at JP. JP grinned: suddenly feeling better and Andrew grinned back at him. "Now can I tell you how I ended up talking with Ryan over the phone?" "Yes Andrew," JP replied, suddenly realizing how lucky he was that he hadn't made his huge friend mad. Andrew told him the whole story and concluded by telling JP that he would show Ryan just how big he was on Skype later that night. Then he and JP finally got to throw the football around on the field for about an hour. Andrew showed JP some of the football drills he went through as an Offensive Lineman at ODCVI. JP smiled to himself, really happy that Andrew was playing football with him: something Ryan had never done. Once they were done, it was 10 pm and getting dark. The lights around the field came on and Andrew had an idea. He stood under the uprights near his car and said, "So this is what the Friday Night Lights look like." "It's Tuesday night Andrew," JP teased him with a smirk. "Funny man JP; it was a figure of speech and you know it!" Andrew laughed. "Speaking of figures, you certainly make an imposing one with the lights behind you," JP suddenly realized, a trace of fear showing up on his face. "Then take a picture of me with my game face on," Andrew ordered him, getting down into his three point stance with one hand holding his football. Andrew glared up at the camera as if he was about to take down his opponent and JP quickly took the picture, feeling very afraid of his huge friend at that moment. "Okay Andrew, how about we try one with you smiling?" JP suggested, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of his voice. "Sorry about that JP; I didn't mean to scare you," Andrew apologized. He grinned up at JP, who took another picture, and then stood up to his full height of six feet and seven inches. "There now JP: we've played football, taken some pictures, met your wrestling coach and you've used me as a human punching bag. Are you ready to go home now?" "Yeah Andrew, and I'm really excited about tomorrow's recruiting visit to Ohio State," JP said with a big grin on his face. "The Ohio State JP," Andrew teased him, finally putting his t-shirt back on. He noticed JP mock-glaring at him and laughed. "Don't look at me like that man; you're the one who corrected me about that earlier today!" "You're right Andrew," JP realized, as they headed to Andrew's truck with their Varsity Jackets slung over their shoulders. As they reached Andrew's truck, he asked, "So what are you going to do when you get back to your hotel with Carrie and Mike?" "I'm going to call Ryan on-" Andrew began, before having to catch JP's fist in mid-punch. "Don't try that again JP: you've hit me enough for one night," Andrew growled in fury. He gave JP's fist a slight squeeze until JP winced in pain. "Do you get the point now man? I can catch your punches anytime I want to!" "Yes Andrew, I've got it!" JP gasped in pain. "Can you let me go now?" "Sure man; I've made my point," Andrew replied, releasing his iron grip on JP's fist. JP massaged his sore hand and Andrew said, "Why do you insist on asking questions that you don't want to hear the answer to?" "I don't know Andrew," JP replied, as they got into Andrew's truck. "I guess I'm just too curious for my own good." "Yeah, you seem to have forgotten that cautionary tale about the cat who was too curious," Andrew realized. "Don't even joke about that Andrew!" JP begged him. Andrew looked over and a look of concern came over his face when he saw how scared JP looked. "Aroused, your great physical strength could kill! And I only felt a tiny sample of it when you squeezed my fist!" "I'm sorry about that man, but you made me mad for a moment there," Andrew informed him. "I was in a really bad mood all last fall and the results weren't pretty." "Why was that Andrew?" JP asked, as Andrew started driving them back to JP's house. "My grandpa had a stroke last fall, just after I graduated Basic Reserves Training," Andrew replied. "I was really worried about him during football season, since he was confined to a wheelchair and could barely speak. Fortunately, my parents were able to bring him to every game, but then my nemesis David Harrington insulted him and I just lost it and punched him in the face, giving him a bloody nose. The next punch knocked him out. If Steve, Darrel and Mike hadn't pulled me away, I would have killed him with my bare hands!" JP just stared at Andrew in speechless terror as his big friend's face turned red with fury and his hands turned white on the steering wheel. Andrew looked over at JP, still furious from the bad memories, and saw the look of terror on his face. He started taking a few deep breaths to calm down and was relieved to see the normal look of confidence return to JP's face. JP wisely decided to wait until Andrew had calmed down completely before he asked, "What happened next Andrew?" "Coach Everson suspended me for two games and my parents chewed me out hard when we got back home," Andrew remembered, looking embarrassed. "I actually stayed in a hotel that weekend, not wanting to deal with anyone. Then when I got home from school on Monday evening, my dad informed me that my Grandpa (his dad, not my mom's) had suffered another massive stroke and was now confined to a hospital bed. I could see in his eyes that my dad blamed me for that, since Grandpa Pearson had attended the game where I took David out for insulting him. I felt really bad and I visited Grandpa every weekend after that, now that I had seen the damage my bad temper had caused." "It wasn't your fault Andrew," JP tried to assure his big friend. "It was probably just a coincidence that your grandpa had another stroke around the same time that you were punching David." "That's not true JP; he had the stroke at the game right after I attacked David!" Andrew shouted in frustration. "My rage stressed him out so badly that it caused his second stroke and put him in that hospital bed!" JP just stared at his big friend in sympathy, not having a clue what to say when he realized what an incredible burden of guilt Andrew had been carrying around for almost a year. Andrew sighed as a tear ran down his cheek and he and JP just drove in silence for a few minutes while he tried to compose himself. "What happened next Andrew?" JP asked his huge friend gently. "Coach Everson let me play in the Semi-Final and then the Provincial Championship Game," Andrew replied. "Unfortunately, the O-Line had learned some new plays under the back-up Center that I wasn't familiar with and we lost the Provincial Championship Game in the last second due to a missed field goal because David deflected it. I managed to control my temper about that but I broke down in my grandpa's hospital room as I told him a day later. He couldn't say a word, but he did reach over with his one good arm to grab my hand. I promised him that I would win the next Provincial Championship for him and he smiled. Then he fell asleep and I went home. We got the news the next morning that he had passed away during the night." "So you were the last person to see him and he went to heaven happy," JP guessed. "Yeah man," Andrew said with a gentle smile. "And now you know everything about last season and why I'm not really a cocky jock anymore." JP nodded in understanding. "You're the only one who knows everything I've told you, besides Carrie of course, and I want it to stay that way." JP nodded in understanding, realizing how much Andrew thought of him that he would reveal his innermost secrets. "Do you have anything else to tell me Andrew, or is that it?" JP asked. "That's it JP," Andrew replied, glancing over at his friend with a gentle smile. "I think we're even now, since you told me everything about you and Ryan earlier this evening." JP tried to keep the anger he felt at hearing the name of his big brother from showing on his face, because he remembered how easily Andrew had shut down his attempt to punch him earlier. I'd better be on my best behavior with Andrew; he could crush me with one hand tied behind his back! JP realized in sudden fear. Then he thought of something that made him smile. "Getting excited about the trip to the Ohio State tomorrow JP?" Andrew asked him. "Yeah Andrew," JP replied, not letting his huge friend know that he was actually thinking of how scared Ryan would be when he saw how big Andrew was. "I'm really grateful that you're taking me to see the school I hope to wrestle at in my college years." "No problem JP; Mark did it for me, so I'm returning the favour in a deflected manner," Andrew informed him. When JP looked at him with confusion, Andrew explained that his first protégé Mark Stevenson had invited Andrew along on his Official Recruiting Visits during the previous football season. "So in a way, Ohio State is already aware of me, because I went there with Mark on his Official Recruiting Visit almost one year ago," Andrew explained to JP. "Did you mentor him just so you could get early exposure to the NCAA?" JP teased him. Andrew glared over at him in mock fury, but a slight grin betrayed his true feelings. "Just joking Big Guy." "Hey, I told you before, you call me 'Huge Guy' JP!" Andrew roared, unable to keep a cocky grin from appearing on his face. JP laughed and the two of them continued joking around until they got back to JP's house. Once they got to JP's house, they parked in the driveway and Andrew turned to JP. "Thanks a lot for listening to everything I told you about last season without judgement JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're a great friend." "Thanks Andrew; you are too," JP said, as his parents came out of the house. As he and Andrew got out of Andrew's truck, he said, "Coach Graves got in touch with all the wrestling coaches at each school we're going to, so I'll be having my own early Unofficial Recruiting Visits while you have yours." "Good job man; taking a page out of my book I see," Andrew said with a smug grin. He turned to his friends, who had come out of the house after JP's parents and asked them, "Did you guys have lots of fun with Matt and JP's parents while we were gone?" "Yeah man," Mike replied. "JP's parents were bragging about him while he was gone, showing us his wrestling photos, newspaper articles, trophies and his District Finalist Medal from last season." "I hope we can see a State Championship Medal from you next season JP," Mr. Maloney said with a frown. "You will Dad," JP assured him, trying to make his determination show on his face. "But in the meantime, I will have to show off my District Finalist Medal to the Ohio State Wrestling Coaches tomorrow." "Yeah, when I called Coach Graves and told him which schools Andrew was taking you to, he said that he would get in touch with the wrestling coaches at those schools," Mr. Maloney said proudly. "Yeah he showed me all the emails from them, in which they expressed their hope that I would talk to them while I'm on campus this week," JP said with a cocky smirk. "So I told Coach to say 'Yes, he'll be glad to meet you there' and he added my cell phone number to the email replies. Then the coaches can text me with the details." "And all this wouldn't have happened if Andrew hadn't offered to take you with him on his recruiting visits," Mrs. Maloney said, reaching up to put a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. Andrew looked very embarrassed as JP's parents ushered Andrew inside to talk to him some more. "Where's your mom Matt?" JP asked, finally noticing that she was missing from the group. "She already went home, after leaving a packed suitcase here for me," Matt replied. "What did you and Andrew do at the high school?" JP ushered him into the house so that they could talk, leaving Mike and Carrie standing outside on the front walk. "Do you feel that we've been forgotten by Andrew over the last couple of days?" Mike asked Carrie. "No more than the past three years when Andrew spent a lot of time mentoring his current teammates," Carrie reminded him. "He didn't have to mentor you of course; your big brother Matt did a lot of that, as well as training Andrew for football before high school." "Yeah, Matt's mentoring of me and Andrew got us ready for high school football so that we played on the Varsity Team even during our Freshman Year," Mike remembered. "Of course, Coach Everson had Andrew be the back-up to Carl, the Centre, that year. Then Carl left for Miami and Andrew took over at Centre in Grade Ten." "Good thing too, because the college recruiting started just last year: Andrew's second season as Centre," Carrie reminded him. Mike grinned and nodded, and Carrie added, "I'm a little surprised that no college coaches have recruited me for Girl's Hockey yet." "Ask to meet the Girl's Hockey coaches at each school we visit and you'll find lots of recruiters visiting you this fall," Mike predicted. Carrie grinned at Mike: pleased that for all his big muscles, he hadn't lost any of the intelligence that had let him tutor Andrew and Phil in exchange for weight training years ago. Carrie and Mike chatted outside for a few more minutes and then went into the Maloney house, where they found almost everyone talking in the living room. As Carrie looked around, she noticed that Andrew and JP were not there. "Where are Andrew and JP?" she asked Mr. Maloney. "JP took Andrew up to his room to show off all his wrestling newspaper stories and trophies," Paul replied proudly. Carrie nodded in understanding: pleased that Andrew had found another protégé after not having one the previous year. Up in his bedroom, JP was proudly showing Andrew all the newspaper clippings and trophies from his high school wrestling career. "This is very impressive JP; you have really achieved great athletic success in only two years," Andrew congratulated him. "And you're a District Finalist as well." "Probably nothing compared to what you've achieved Andrew; you actually won the District Title." "Yeah, but this coming wrestling season, you'll win the State Title JP," Andrew predicted with an encouraging smile. JP smiled as Andrew had once again made him feel better. "What did you want to do now Andrew?" "Help you pack for the college road trip that starts next week, but perhaps I should see Ryan's room first." "What for Andrew?" JP asked with an angry look on his face. "I want an objective view of the kind of guy he is," Andrew replied. "A look in his room is the best glance I will get at his character since he probably decorated it himself." "Fine, let's get it over with so that we can plan our trip," JP agreed reluctantly. He led Andrew to Ryan's room and opened the door, revealing all the posters of scantily-clad women all over the walls. "Well, that certainly reveals Ryan's true character with one look," Andrew realized. "On my walls at home, I have football players banging heads on the field." "So now you see how different you and Ryan are, which explains why I think of you as my big brother instead of him," JP explained, closing Ryan's door again. Andrew nodded and followed JP back to his room to help him pack for the road trip. About an hour later, Andrew and his two friends said goodbye to JP and his family and headed back to their hotel. Once there, Andrew told Carrie that he wanted to talk to JP's brother on Skype. "Okay Andrew, I'll just go have a shower before bed," Carrie said. "Have fun talking to your new friend." Andrew had told her all about his talk with Ryan earlier that evening. "I will Carrie, and I'm going to wear my ODCVI football t-shirt so that he can see just how big and strong I am," Andrew said with a smirk. "Fine, have fun playing 'Who's the Alpha' with Ryan," Carrie laughed. "See you later Big Man," "That's 'Huge Man' to you 'Little Girl'," Andrew teased her with a mock glare. Carrie laughed and headed into the bathroom to have her shower. Andrew pulled out his Motorola Razor and texted Ryan. Then he activated Skype and waited. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, at a club in Harrisonburg, Virginia, Ryan's cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket with a frown. "Sorry babe, I've been expecting this text," he apologized to the hot girl he was in the middle of kissing. He read the text and grinned when he realized that Andrew was ready to start their Skype Chat. "I'm going to talk to my new friend, and he'll show me how to get even bigger and stronger for you next time," he promised her emptily. Ryan stepped back and quickly found Luke so that he could tell him where he was going. Then he headed out of the club, after promising to pick Luke up later, and drove back to their hotel to talk to Andrew. Perfect, Ryan thought to himself as he drove. Andrew will teach me how to become really big and strong so that I can give the girls more pleasure than they've ever dreamed of! And I'll be big enough to smash that dweeb brother of mine into pieces, as well as all opposing players in the games this season! Ryan was still grinning about his foolproof strategy to get Andrew's help when he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He stepped out of his car, put on his best arrogant jock face, and sauntered into the lobby, grinning like a cat at all the pretty girls he passed by. But this time, he didn't talk to any of them, he was too eager to see his new friend Andrew face-to-face. Once he got up to his hotel room, he went inside, opened up his laptop and activated Skype. As the image on the screen resolved into focus, Ryan's jaw dropped as he saw what was on the screen. ================================================================================================================================================ Andrew smirked as he saw the look of shock on the face of the black-haired, green-eyed jock on his laptop screen. "Ryan Maloney?" Andrew asked, just to make sure he was talking to the right person. The big guy on the screen nodded silently; still too shocked to speak. "I'm JP's new friend Andrew Pearson." He waited for almost a minute before Ryan got up his nerve to finally say something. "How are you man?" "Oh just fine; I had lots of fun on the Central High football field showing off my football skills for Coach Palmer," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. Part of him realized he probably shouldn't act so cocky, but then he realized that he had finally found someone who would approve of him acting like an arrogant jock. "I threw a pass that went the entire length of the field and knocked JP off his feet when he tried to catch it!" Ryan's look of shock intensified and then a fleeting look of concern appeared on his face. It was quickly erased by an arrogant smirk, however. "Did that little dweeb run home and cry to Mommy about it?" he sneered. "Be careful Ryan; that's my new protégé you're talking about," Andrew warned him, his protective instincts flaring up. "And he told me how he was once yours." "Yeah he was," Ryan said, remembering his last workout with JP less than fondly. "Sorry about that Andrew; my brother and I just don't get along anymore." "Did you want to talk about it Ryan?" Andrew asked. "It won't go any further than the two of us, since my girlfriend isn't in here with me." "Okay Andrew, and then we can talk about more exciting things: like your upcoming recruiting visit to Virginia Tech," Ryan agreed. "And I will email you the video that Coach Palmer emailed me of my exploits on the Central High School football field," Andrew offered. "Then you can forward it to your football coach at Tech." "Good thinking Andrew," Ryan agreed. He began telling Andrew about how his little brother JP had followed him around everywhere all his life and then started bugging him about working out when he got to high school. So Ryan began teaching him how to work out, but he never imagined JP would take to it so well and get close to surpassing him. So Ryan gradually removed himself from his brother's workouts, especially after the events of three months before, and their relationship was practically non-existent since then. "That sounds rough man," Andrew said sympathetically, realizing that JP felt the same way. "I went through something similar with one of my good friends about seven years ago." "Tell me about it Andrew; I can listen while I watch the video you sent me," Ryan said, opening up the email attachment. So Andrew told Ryan all about his failed friendship with Steve, basically repeating word-for-word the same things he had told JP the night before. Like JP before him, Ryan was amazed at how similar his experiences were to Andrew's. "So what do you think Ryan?" Andrew asked, once he had finished telling Ryan everything. "That's an amazing story Andrew, and I can see that we have a lot more in common than just being great football players," Ryan replied sincerely. All thoughts of acting like an arrogant jock in front of Andrew were gone, and he felt that he could finally be himself with his new friend, which was a great relief for him. "Your video is amazing as well, and my coach at Tech will be really excited to see it." "More excited than you are Ryan?" Andrew teased him, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah man," Ryan replied with a big grin. "But I'm excited to meet you in person as well, and I'll talk to Coach and get an Unofficial Recruiting Visit set up for you at Tech later this summer." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, sensing that their conversation was wrapping up. "Well, I look forward to it, but right now, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. Do you want me to say hi to JP for you when I see him again tomorrow morning?" "No Andrew, I will when I see him again," Ryan replied seriously. "And do me a favour." "What's that Ryan?" Andrew asked him. "Don't talk about my brother anymore with me unless I ask you about him," Ryan said. "No problem Ryan," Andrew agreed. "Text me later if you want to have another Skype chat." "I will man; just email me your travel plans so I know where you'll be tomorrow night," Ryan said. "Sure thing man; talk to you later," Andrew said, preparing to sign off. "See you Andrew," Ryan said, just before he ended the conversation. Andrew sat back in his desk chair and stared at the blank screen for a moment: thinking hard. Hopefully one day I'll be there when Ryan and JP have fixed their relationship and then I won't have to choose which one to be friends with, he thought to himself. Then he heard Carrie calling him from the bathroom. "Andrew, I'm ready to have another shower: this time with you!" Andrew grinned, stood up, and headed into the bathroom, looking forward to having lots of fun with his girlfriend before they went to bed. * FINALLY FINISHED * COMING SOON: - The Road Trip to Ohio State - The Ohio State Recruiting Visit itself - JP gets a head start on his own college recruiting process thanks to Andrew My website page for this chapter: http://seanspictures.webs.com has a picture from Google of what I imagine Ryan would look like. Just click on the link for Chapter 5 and go halfway down to see it.
  9. Back to the first part of this chapter.... "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Finally, another chapter.....a group of the boys are heading off for muscle worship in LA! Part 1. Sorry it has taken me so long to continue. ENJOY! Comments welcome... Updated Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Casey and Abdul shook hands and almost immediately crashed into each other like sumo wrestlers. Moving with confident skill, Abdul wrapped his arms around Casey’s chest and slid them up underneath his armpits. He gained leverage, letting out a massive grunt as he heaved the big muscleboy up off his feet. Casey moaned as Abdul slammed him down to the mat. “Awesome,” breathed Lang. “That was fast,” said Waring. “He’s not done yet,” said Alvarez. The men leaned in to watch closer. The wrestlers’ gigantic muscles rippled with pumping, vascular power on the mat. Casey managed to break free for a second, but found himself in Abdul’s guard. Abdul was already going for a triangle choke. Casey was slippery enough to wiggle free for a moment, but Abdul climbed onto his back and sunk in a chokehold, rocking Casey backwards as he tried to shove his hands underneath his rippling forearm. It was no use. Superior experience took the moment from Casey. Abdul reached behind him and grabbed Casey’s asscheeks. “Let’s keep it clean, keep it clean,” said Moster, circling. “Think you’re tough, punk?” Abdul snarled into Casey’s ear. “I know I am,” said Casey. He struggled to wriggle himself free. Sweat began to pour down his body, further drenching the mat. Abdul stretched him out as the other guys watched. They slid in the growing pool of oil and sweat. As he dug his hands in, he caught Casey’s posers with his heel. Casey could feel them sliding down his quads the harder he squeezed. The elastic band stretched until is slipped under the pouch. For a flash, Casey felt humiliated and helpless, almost half naked and groaning as Abdul dominated him. Then he retaliated. Snapping one hand onto Abdul’s pecs, he managed to push him back and deliver a powerful backhand blow across Abdul’s face. Abdul’s face whipped to one side. “Fuck Turkish rules. Keep the posers on,” Casey snarled. Moster said nothing. Mouths dropped open. Abdul released the posers, smiled back, as Casey pulled them back into place. Casey looked back at him, and Abdul smiled - and returned a powerful backhand blow of his own across Casey’s face. Casey’s head whipped to the right. He looked back slowly and nodded. “We’re even.” Welts began to appear on the faces of both men. All of sudden, Abdul shot out, gutwrenching Casey’s face into his lap. “No. Now we’re even.” He tried to shoot a takedown, but Casey suddenly sprawled flat, flipped him, and got a tight front headlock on Abdul. He went down on one knee and flipped him over with a fireman’s carry. Before Abdul knew what hit him, he was on his back. Casey felt his arm between his legs as he attempted a cradle. He was close to scoring. Abdul, his face now puffing up, struggled in the sweaty pool of muscle. Casey locked up his hands and rocked him back. The tide of battle changed. Somehow Abdul got to his feet, grabbing hold of Casey’s hips and now shooting for a second takedown, bending over him now and reaching down his broad back. Casey, surprised, tried to sprawl but Abdul guided his hands up again toward the straps of his posers and made him almost sit on his hands. Casey tried to bridge, but Abdul clamped onto him. Saliva sprayed from his mouth and onto the back of Casey’s neck. Abdul flipped him, crashed onto him with his full body weight. It was no use. Casey gave up and collapsed. Sweat poured off Abdul’s face right into Casey’s eyes. Casey slapped the mat to make it stop and Abdul let him go. Body odor wafted from sweaty armpits as the men applauded Abdul’s round one victory over Casey. “Want to go again?” Abdul asked. He was breathing hard. In spite of his win, the kid had been a lot tougher than he anticipated. His eye was swelling shut and his mouth was bleeding a little. “I can take it,” said Casey. His thin skin was red with mat burns, head was throbbing. Was this really him? It was as if he couldn’t control the truth coming out of his mouth. It all felt right. He could take it. He loved the pain, in fact. Loved it. But didn't really want to think about it for the moment. Abdul nodded, stepped back, retired to the corner of the ring. Pedro was there, pouring more oil. “Don’t need that. Massage my shoulders.” Pedro looked at him a little helplessly, his light kitchen fingers not nearly meaty enough to knead the dense muscle mass that was Abdul’s traps, but he tried. After a few seconds, Abdul brushed him away, irritated. “Never mind,” he barked. Pedro’s eyes flashed hurt, and Abdul brought himself up to smile at him slightly. “You tried.” He patted the handsome boy’s face heavily with thick oily fingers, leaving a gleaming handprint on Pedro’s cheek. Pedro beamed ecstatically. He so hoped he could suck his god’s cock later, but didn’t dare to ask. Abdul turned back into the ring. He called to Schumacher. "Get your ass over here and massage my shoulders," Schumacher grunted and went to work on him, kneading the bunched masses with his thick, powerful fingers. Casey was still center, dancing from foot to foot, not caring that his massive tool was bobbing out of his posers. “Lookin’ good, Case,” yelled Obatu from the sidelines. He turned to Washington, sitting next to him. “Know him from Raw Weight.” “Yeah, Miles’ place. Gotta get there again soon.” “Good workouts.” He winked. “A little cash to be made, too.” “Yeah? Doin’ what?” “You know. Trainin’. Getting’ big. Growing. Flexing. Getting your dick sucked. You know.” “Oh, yeah.” Casey didn't know. But he forgot about it in a moment. The whistle blew. “Round two!” announced Moster. Casey and Abdul stepped towards each other, circled, each more wary. On the sidelines, Alvarez glanced over at Lang. Lang’s pants were open, his zipper down, his cock tumbling out of his khakis. He happily worked his long, extra-thick shaft. He glanced up at Alvarez and shrugged. “It’s hot,” he said. Alvarez had to acknowledge it was. “So why not?” Alvarez nodded agreement, opened his fly, with some difficulty pulled out his own already-stiff, mammoth member, and began to chug up and down the shaft with practiced, heavily calloused fingers. Lang looked down, grinned, licked his lips, winked at Alvarez. “Pose and approve later?” “We’ll see.” Lang knew there would be. This was too hot not to follow up with a long pose and approve session and some good butt fucking. But for now, both musclemen turned back to the match and standing side by side, together worked their cocks in silent unison. Their fists plunging up and down. A moment later, Waring, Duncan, and McIntyre had joined them. “Oh, yeah,” said McIntyre. squish squish squish squish squish squish squish squish And a moment after that, Hension, Chad, Meyer and Gunst had pulled their heavy cocks from their khakis and were applying basic spank the monkey techniques. squish squish squish squish squish squish squish squish Moster heard the squishing sounds of numerous big cocks being worked by powerful, pumping fists, looked up, glancing askance at the group. “Begging your pardon sir!” yelled out Hension. “We’re masturbating, sir!” “And why not?” said Moster, but he kept his cock in his pants. Still, out it poled. “Bring it, bitch!” yelled Casey as the two faced off in the center of the mat. “C’mon dude, we wrestlin’ or dancin’? Take a shot!” Abdul taunted. Both men seemed either oblivious to or uninterested in the fact that all around them, every man on the muscle squad was now actively jerking off. Casey shot out a lightning fast single leg. Abdul hopped over it and tried to pivot as Casey dove in, wrapped meaty arms around Abdul’s waist, and brought him violently down to the mat. Somehow Abdul flipped to his belly and Casey applied a painful hammerlock with one hand as he grabbed the back of his head with the other and rubbed his face in the mat. “How’s that mat taste?” Casey asked as Abdul grunted, struggling to turn his head to the side. On the sidelines, Pedro was frantic, seeing his big man suddenly so disgraced, however momentarily. Abdul tried to get off his stomach, but Casey slid his bulging quads down inside Abdul’s and drove his arm underneath his chin. Casey rolled onto his side and poured on the pressure. “Arrgghhhh!” Abdul groaned as Casey stretched him out. Pedro looked on, helpless with worry. “Ya like that, tough guy? Want some more?” Casey murmured between clenched teeth said as he pulled up harder on his chin, Casey totally wrapped around him. Abdul was completely immobilized. He groaned. “C’mon Abdul, you can take this!” Schumacher yelled. He too was now playing with himself freely. Lang, firing away on his stiff-as-iron cock, was laughing. “Put him on his back, Case! Finish him off.” Casey’s posers crept deep into his ass crack as he locked his legs around Abdul’s left leg. His rock hard glutes squeezed together as he wore the huge Turk down. Abdul tried to get free of Casey’s chin lock, but it was no use. He panted and groaned as Casey pulled his head down. “Got some lube?” asked Chad from the second row. The source was surprising. “Here,” said Schumacher, passing around tubes of the prime VALHALLA LABS signature cock-pumping oil. “Gift from the house.” “When did we start making this stuff?” asked Hension, looking down at the tube as he squeezed the warm lubricant onto his thick cockshaft. “Shut the fuck up,” said Lefevre, but he grinned good-naturedly, clapping Hension lightly on the back of the head. On the mat, Abdul suddenly switched it all out. He pried Casey’s hands from the chin lock and sank his arm around Casey’s neck, pulling him down to the mat and now choking him out. His drove his ankles down deep into Casey’s quads and he began to constrict his hold around his neck. Sweat poured off both men. The strong smells of perspiration, olive oil and butt wafted up into the overhead lights. It was now Casey’s turn again to groan in pain. Abdul’s powerful forearm was wrapped around his thick neck. Moster jumped into the ring, sticking his head into his face and asked Casey if he was ready to give up. Casey was grunting and struggling to breathe. Casey was unable to say the words I give. “Too soon,” he breathed out from under Abdul’s body mass. “Loosen up, man,” Moster said to Abdul, who nodded. Abdul loosened the hold so Casey could breathe, but he wasn’t done. Casey tried to get up, but Abdul still was controlling him. Then Abdul reached down and once again slid his hand down into Casey’s now-ripped posers. Casey looked angered as Abdul grabbed onto his thick cock. He handed off the poser to his foot, and peeled Casey’s poser down revealing the muscleboy’s huge penis. “In Turkish oil wrestling rules, the match is now over,” muttered Gunst from the sidelines, watching the mass of slippery muscle tumble on the mats. He rubbed the bulge in his pants, and glanced down. Straight up and out, past the belt line, up into his t-shirt, poling up above his belly. He unzipped and released his mass. “We done?” breathed Abdul. “No!” yelled Casey, now naked. “Naw, it’s way better than Turkish wrestling,” whispered Blankenship, now fondling his own stiff penis, still sheathed in khaki. Gunst looked him quizzically. “I like how it feels in my pants.” “Oh. Oh, yeah. Me too. Sometimes.” Gunst began pumping. “But not now.” Around the ring, all cocks were pumped a little more fiercely as the match intensified. “Okay then. We go for a pin.” Abdul moved his hand up to Casey’s head, rubbing it in his hair to get some sweat for lubricant. Then he came back rubbing Casey’s cock until it was rock solid. Out it poled, 12 inches and more. “Whatcha gonna do about it this time?” he sneered. The 17 bodybuilders were now all leaning in and pumping hard cocks, watching the sweaty jumble of muscle on the mat. Even Schumacher was now pumping furiously. As was Tiffany. For once the self-possessed little muscleboy let his guard down. He worked his cock ferociously, watching the dark match. “They’re pretty even,” said Warning. “Yeah,” said Chad. Next to him on the left, Obatu and Washington looked as if they were about to get up. A light flickered in Lang’s eye. Hension looked wildly around him. He was going to cum soon. Moster directed them all warningly, knowing where they were likely to go next. “Stay where you are, gents. No cumming. Men can hold it.” General moans. The men did as they were told. The wrestling room was silent except for the grunts of Casey and Abdul, the near-silent whirring of Dr. Irving’s video cam, the blue-balled moans and groans of the fleet of masturbating muscle giants, with the squeaky wet regular tattoo of lubricated palms working big cocks. Squish squish squish GRUNT GROANNNN squish squish squish squish squish squish “I SAID, DO NOT CUM!” Moster shouted suddenly. All jumped in their seats. “A man can withstand it!” All sat. 17 monster muscle cocks with nowhere to go but into calloused palms. For now. Up and down. Up and down. “Hey, Chad!” whispered Bogarde loudly. “Squeeze my nips!” Chad reached over to his right with his free hand (the other feverishly pumping his cock) and began violently tweaking Bogarde’s huge, downward-pointing think nipples. “Yeah, make me hurt, man!” Bogarde pleaded, working his cock. “You got it, man.” Squish squish squish UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. squish squish squish squish squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. Suddenly Abdul flipped, keeping his hold on Casey, who squirmed below. Casey was on his back now with Abdul on top, now in the north-south position. All Casey could see was Abdul’s bulging balls and the red singlet outline of his rigid cockshaft. Abdul lowered his balls onto Casey’s face and caught his head in between his legs. But Casey somehow spread his legs and reclamped behind Abdul’s neck. The two muscle monsters squeezed each other tight, rubbing crotches in each other’s face. Casey’s enormous penis brushed Abdul’s scratchy beard. “Ouch!” Casey cried. Finally Abdul broke the hold and swung around to face Casey, getting him in one of his killer headlocks. Once again, Casey was in trouble. But he managed to dig an elbow into Abdul’s groin. Abdul shouted and Casey pried himself free, stood, and turned. He lunged full weight at Abdul. Abdul was ready for him, grabbing his shoulders and shoving Casey’s face right into his and applying a submission hold. For a moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Abdul drove Casey’s shoulders into the mat. “Ughhhh,” Casey moaned. Abdul had mounted him and was driving his elbow into his head. It was momentary. Casey flopped in his own sweat a moment, and then, with surprising swiftness, changed course, wrapping his hands behind Abdul’s neck and pulling him in toward his chest. He wrapped his legs tight around Abdul’s body and grunted as he started to gain control. Abdul and Casey slid around the mat, slipping out of each other holds as they tried desperately to get a submission out of each other. Suddenly, Casey managed to climb on Abdul’s back and slip his arm under his chin. His stiff cock slapped against his abs. “Shit!” Abdul yelled as Casey secured the choke. Casey squeezed harder. Suddenly Abdul was struggling to breathe. His face was beet red. And suddenly, it was over. Abdul slapped the mat furiously and Casey released his grip. He let out a whoop. He grabbed Abdul by the hair and lifted his head up, using his other arm to flex his biceps. Fast as a flash, Abdul grabbed his hand and twisted his wrist, ensuring Casey’s victory was a brief one – but it was too late. The image had been captured in the men’s brains. “Aweesummmm,” breathed Hension, once again, and to no one in particular. “Wait till I call it!” yelled Moster. “Fuck you,” said Abdul. He hunched back on his knees and locked Casey up in a kneeling position, pressing his slippery forehead into his and looking into his eyes. They panted for breath. Once again, as if alerted by a bugle charge, both suddenly sprang once again into action. Abdul managed to get a headlock on Casey and threw him to the mat. His cock slapped against his leg as Casey tried to turn to avoid getting pinned. Both were so sweaty and slick with the now hot oil that neither could get a good hold. The mat was an ocean of steaming sweat and oil, both men sliding in the mass of liquid. In the circle of chairs around the wrestling ring, the bodybuilders pumped their blood-engorged cocks feverishly. On the mat, Casey freed a hand and ripped Abdul’s singlet wide open. The Turk was enraged. His cock spilled onto the mat. Pedro leaned forward now openly licking his lips. “Please let us cum, sir!” pleaded Hension. “Okay…..guess I’ll play, too,” said Moster, studiedly lazily. He advanced into the center of the ring where the two muscle monsters lay, locked in sinew, sweat, and bronzed oil, their huge cocks flailing openly. “Men, why don’t you join me?” Moster smiled. He only had to ask once. In a heartbeat the 17 bodybuilders bolted from the chairs, clambering over one another and the rings to get to the center of the ring. Still, they waited breathlessly, cocks in hand, no one daring to make a further move. Abdul shot a look of helpless rage up to Moster, but Casey was holding him firm. Neither man could budge. squish squish squish squish GOOSH squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. And Moster unzipped. The largest black cock in the world poured out of his pants, flopping down to his knees. FLOPppp… In a second it was poled high, reaching nipple level. Moster grabbed it with his fist and slid his hands down it just three times. squish squish squish squish GOOSH squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. The bodybuilders circled the wrestlers, side by side. Casey stared at the huge, pendulous looming cocks above him, heavy dew drops of precum beginning to drip, oozing into the mass of mat liquid in which the two musclemen lolled in their struggles. It was as if it was the first time he had even noticed what the men were up to. “What are they doing??” he cried out to Moster. “What’s it look like, punk?” growled Abdul in his ear. Moster ignored him. “Pedro,” Moster invited graciously, “why don’t you get over here and join us?” Pedro didn’t have to be asked twice. He scampered gleefully into the circle, a little beautiful brown spot of handsome teenhood amidst a turbulent ocean of masturbating musclemen. He pulled out his own pretty little cock and began to pump fiercely, gleefully, staring hungrily at the huge muscle and looming penises all around him. After only a moment, he couldn’t stand being surrounded by the sea of cock without getting to his knees and starting to suck his way around the circle, feverishly. He started with Gunst, his pretty little mouth enveloping the massive organ. From the sidelines Dr. Irving began to walk rapidly behind the circle of men, panning his cam across the landscape of their solid glutes, huge, hard and round, squeezing and relaxing in tense, pumping cannonballs of butt muscle as they pumped their cocks feverishly. Backs of heads. Batwing lat spreads of knitted boulders of muscle. Delts touching. Hamstrings pounding with thick rivers of veins. Butts pumping. Irving got it all on cam. Someday he knew this video would be worth thousands….hundreds of thousands. He captured it all. From the mat below, Casey gazed up, exhausted and confused, bewildered and amazed at a sea of musclecock held high above him. Abdul merely growled. In a few seconds the waterfalls of cum would begin. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had wanted something like this to happen. “What’re they gonna do?” asked Casey, fearfully, muffled. Hmmmm, thought Moster as he pumped his organ. The white cap is wearing off. Probably from the match. If it was still in him, he’d have no problem. Still, it didn’t stop anything. The bodybuilders were groaning loudly now, pumping and flexing, rocking ball-toe-heel, their magnificently bodies undulating rhythmically. “Let ‘er rip!” Moster, now pumping furiously, looked to Dr. Irving, who had never stopped the video, nor moved. “You getting it all?” “Of course,” said Irving, irritated, shocked, perplexed and baffled as always - but never daring to shut down the cam. He could never understand what all this had to do with science, but never mind. He was well paid. “Muthafucker!” Hension screamed. “You boys about ready to shoot?” Moster asked. “Hang on. They ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said Abdul. He squeezed Casey’s head as hard as he could. It wasn’t too long before Casey wriggled out of it and was on his hands and knees facing him. He came in at Abdul and tried to push him over onto his back, but the muscle Turk reached behind him and sunk his fingers right into Casey’s exposed anus. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Casey cried as Abdul used his rectum as a handle to flip him over. He slammed on his back on the mat. An ocean spray of sweat and oil sloshed into the air. And around them the squishing sounds of muscle jerking grew more frantic. “Oh, maaaaa—aaaan,” said Hension. “Hold off, men!” shouted Moster. "Santa mierda de Dios,” breathed Pedro, now frantically licking Obatu’s cock up and down its 12-inch length. Obatu’s pumping fist was punching him repeatedly in the nose. He didn’t care. He held the cock between his lips and sucked hard. Precum began to spurt down his throat. Squish squish squish UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. GOOOsh squish squish GOOOsh groannnn Ugh unnnghh squish squish squish squish squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. Casey and Abdul were in a mad final scramble now. Both knew the match was coming to an end. Abdul was enraged he somehow didn’t have the conditioning to go a full hour with Casey; it had only been 12 to 15 minutes in the ring, and no more – and he was wiped out. For his part, Casey was panting deeply and hot as a furnace, pushed to the max. And yet. And yet. Abdul knew Casey could outlast him. Casey, however much he might be forever on the bottom tonight, yet had a couple of hours of strength to go. It was only that he lacked the fighting technique Abdul had hard earned over the years. And this enraged the Turk. Abdul got behind Casey and sunk his arms between his legs, locking onto his other arm and driving his biceps into Casey’s balls. Abdul’s forearm pressed painfully against his thick penis. Casey couldn’t take it. He had to move, giving him enough space to maneuver. Dirty Turkish wrestling. Casey managed to get a “Fuck you”, but he was outclassed, totally helpless and defeated. “I gotta suck cock!” Lang shouted, and dove down in front of Alvarez. In a flash Alvarez’s meat was in his mouth, sluicing juicily down his throat. “Me too,” muttered Hension, who dropped down in front of Gunst. He bobbed and weaved with the mighty strokes Gunst was applying to his huge cock, ducking his head, trying to get his mouth around it. “Shit,” said Gunst. With his right hand he backhandedly smacked Hension’s face hard, grabbed the back of his head, clenched a handful of hair; with his left hand he clutched his cock and rammed it down Hension’s throat. Hension began to violently suck muscle giant’s firehouse cock while working his own and never taking his eyes off the grappling musclemen on the mat. Abdul had Casey’s legs now, lifting him up so Casey was upside down, sliding down Abdul’s back till his head hit the mat and he was facing his ass. His nose went right into Abdul’s exposed ass crack for a minute while the Turk kept tilting his head back to put pressure on Casey’s balls. But Casey rallied. Groaning, straining, working hard, he trapped Abdul’s head in a figure 4, squeezing his face right into his balls as he pinned him. “Yer so eager to see my cock, so get an eyeful of it now,” he hissed. Abdul tried to snarl back, but he could only groan. He was getting tired. And the muscleboy had hours of energy ahead of him. He could feel it. Moster had a hard time seeing if the Turk was pinned or not, the men were so wrapped up in an oily mass of muscled quads, rippling traps, batwing lats, boulder biceps, brick-like abs, pounding glutes, pounding feet, pounding fists, and bulging balls. But it wasn’t looking so good for the Turk. UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. The squad, now in deep sex frenzy, was by now beyond observing the details of combat. Blankenship and Waring had each dropped to their knees, sucking the heavy, veiny cocks of Chad and Washington. Schumacher grabbed Meyer, flipped him around, pulled down his khakis, and plunged his cock mercilessly into his welcoming butthole as the handsome deaf mute played gleefully with his engorged manhood. He began to fuck him with deep and powerful strokes. Meyer smiling ecstatically and waved his mighty butt under the cock blows. He reached back and pried his buttcheeks wide. His asshole was as open as he could get it. He spread his legs. Schumacher’s thick cock was in action, driving, pounding, fucking. Squish squish squish fuckfuckfuck UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. Moster could see where it was headed on the mat. Abdul had taken the first two pins. But Casey was just getting started. He was mad now. The effect of the white caps was weaving in and out, true, and Casey was responding as if he was on mushrooms. But his huge muscles were gleaming with power. Every vein was bursting. Sweat was pouring off both men. And Abdul was breathing hard. But he still had the upper hand. Still, Moster pumped harder. He had to admit: this was pretty hot. Pedro looked at him adoringly, moved to take Moster’s cock in his mouth. Moster pushed him back roughly. “Get away, son,” he barked. Pedro looked frightened and abashed. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow arched. “You being a bad boy? Might have to tan your hide later,” he murmured. Pedro looked hopeful but the fear still glistened slightly. He glanced down at Moster’s powerful fist, now stroking his massive meat up and down, up and down. “Your hand could kill my butt!” he squeaked. “Not your butt, little boy. Not yours. Now get out of my way. Go suck Private Duncan’s cock.” Moster tossed a glance at Duncan, who was busily working his dick. Pedro scampered away, ran to Duncan, and knelt before him. “The C.O. says I have to suck your cock,” he cried out, and gathered the mighty pole into his mouth. Duncan was startled. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t mind.” Pedro knelt and went right to work on Duncan’s massive tool. He was particularly excited by the latticework of heavy veins surrounding the muscleman’s member. He began to trace his finger along the thick rivers of vascularity as he sucked. Duncan spread his legs wide. He grabbed Pedro’s black hair in his fist and began to steadily pump his hips into the boy’s face. On the mat, more spent than he wanted to admit, Casey stared up at the circle of musclemen above and around him. Four of the musclemen were sucking musclecock now. The little Mexican teenager was scampering about sucking musclecocks as they were freed up. Schumacher was fucking the cute little muscleguy’s awesome glutes. The other 7 musclemen were straddling the mat edges now, massive quads akimbo, pumping serious cock. And the CO Sergeant Moster had his cock out, too. It was the biggest penis Casey had ever seen in his life. Even bigger than his own. Which was huge. As he stared, he lost focus. And in a flash, Abdul had flipped him again and was straddling his pecs with his own huge body and pressing for an advantage. Casey couldn’t move. The sounds of musclesex filled the wrestling room. On the sidelines, Dr. Irving was capturing it all on video. GOOOsh squish slurp suck suck slurp squish GOOOsh groannnn SUCKSUCK LICK SLURP fuckkkk Casey grunted. A surge of energy hit him. He tried a duck under, but Abdul kept the upper hand. As he went down to his knees on the mat, Casey kept his left arm welded to the Turk’s shoulder, pulling out to his side and anchoring his right hand deep in his anus. “Turkish rules, right?” Casey snarled into Abdul’s ear, beginning to chew on the lobe. He was back in control again. The Turk let out a short gasp as he felt Casey’s index finger work up into his asshole, a big grin on his face. Abdul wanted to smash those perfect teeth in, but he was too busy trying to pry the muscle giant kid’s finger out of his butthole. With a sudden rush of White Cap adrenaline, Casey moved his right arm around Abdul’s waist, mounted him and broke him down so his belly was flat on the mat. He managed a gut wrench and turned him over once, but he was too tough and was able to counter Casey’s leverage with his strength. Moster knew he had to step in. He couldn’t afford to have Abdul so badly defeated. Not yet. Not at the outset of Casey’s career. Sure, Casey Rockland was a muscle outlier. There may never have been a muscleman like him before, and there may not be another again. But it was too soon for the legend to emerge. For the good of the program, Casey had to lose tonight. And it didn’t look as if he was going to. So Moster did the one thing he could do, to save Abdul’s neck. Moster blew the whistle and reached in. He grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks and powerfully brought them up to their knees. Casey was stunned, dizzy, swirling with confusion and excitement and pain and frenzy all at once. Abdul’s rage was huge but not huge enough to allow his own massive tool to go limp. Both muscle monsters were sporting huge erections. And the men around them were pumping and sucking and fucking furiously. Ugh unnnghh groan moan slurp suck squish squish squish slurp suck suck squish squish squish AH AHH AHHHHHH yeah yeah yeah UNNNGHHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!! Moster stepped forward, grabbed his mighty cock, knelt down next to the knotted figures of muscle, and began to shoot cum in the Turk’s face. SPURT! BLAST!! AAAHHH YEAH!!! Gallons of gobs of white creamy cum shot maniacally from his deeply creased piss slit. And the biggest cock in the world, on the biggest bodybuilder in the world, began to throb and spurt hot liquid rivers of jism onto the Turk’s face. “FUCKING HELL!” roared Abdul. ‘GODDAMN YOU MOSTER!!!” And the cum spilled, coating his roaring face, filling his mouth and nostrils, dripping down his chin. Moster was aiming it, like a firehose. “On the Turk, men!” he shouted. And with that…all hell let loose.
  10. Hello, all...here is the long-awaited Wrestling Chapter......to catch up where you were before, I highly recommend you look at the other chapters first..... Links to other chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / A Brief History of Casey Rockland / Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 6 - Casey is Discovered at Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Pt. 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale, Continued / The Men Hit the Showers "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11 - Casey Meets the Muscle Squad Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. Chapter 12: Part 1 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Five minutes later, Karim Abdul was striding down the corridor, pecs bouncing, headed for the wrestling room. Still carrying his clothes from Casey’s presentation, he was now dressed only in his red Lycra wrestling singlet. His step was deliberate, his gait powerful. As he walked he grumbled to himself, ignoring the low clamor of the rest of muscle squad, who followed eagerly behind. His cock, loose in the singlet, swayed heavily from side to side as he walked, his balls pushed forward. “Asswipe kid.” The rest of his thoughts were a little too vague for words. Thoughtlessly he grabbed his cock and got it momentarily out of the way of his quads, pumping as he walked. Most of the squad was keeping a good 20 yards of distance between themselves and Karim Abdul. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of a wild Abdul punch at this moment. Even Schumacher, McIntyre, and Duncan, men who could well defend themselves and were used to Abdul’s occasional wild swings, were keeping themselves at a cautious distance. Karim knew he had to mark his territory. Now, tonight, and fast. No questions asked. Leaving nothing to second-guessing. After all, even he had to admit it - this kid was fucking unbelievable. He was huge, he was cut, he was raw, he was handsome, he was young, he was unbelievably hung. And at only 18 years of age, he was still growing. Karim wouldn’t rest until he’d smashed the kid’s handsome face into the mat. And maybe pissed in his mouth, too. Something. Something like that. Yeah. Show him who was in charge. But - it was all – well, a little unformed. Even to him. He passed the door leading to the back of the kitchen. He bashed the door open with his fist, smashing the frame and cracking the thick glass. Inside, Pedro, Abdul’s handsome little kitchen cocksucking buttboy, was sweeping up. “Your ass in the wrestling room. Bring that 10-pound canister of olive oil. MOVE!!! NOW!” commanded Abdul. Pedro jumped a mile. Then Abdul was gone, continuing on down the corridor. Pedro immediately put the broom away, washed his hands - his musclegod demanded clean fingernails - climbed up a little ladder to one of the shelf larders, and grabbed a 10 gallon jug of olive oil. Carrying it with some difficulty, he nevertheless darted out the door and ran excitedly after Abdul. "Wait for me!" the eager boy squeaked. He was about to get an awesome muscle show. Maybe suck some massive cock. Wow! Further ahead, Abdul was a man on a mission. And coming up behind him and running by was Private Tiffany. Abdul didn’t like that asswipe, either. Great glutes, though. Perfect glutes. Big, hard, striated boulders. Yeah. Fuckable. Most inviting. He’d fuck the little asswipe’s butt one day and then push his face in the toilet. Yeah. He continued on, paying little notice, though he did allow himself a quick, cool glance at the muscleboy’s rolling, muscular boybutt as he scampered by. From the corridor somewhere behind Abdul, Schumacher was shouting to Tiffany. “Where you going?” he demanded to know. “Getting Dr. Irving!” “Who?” Tiffany turned back, running backwards, explaining patiently as if to a child. “The dude with the camera. Ever notice him? Probably not…” He waved Schumacher off with easy, grinning contempt, turned back and scooted happily up the corridor towards Dr. Irving’s office. Schumacher swore to himself. He had to acknowledge he had no idea who Tiffany was talking about. He rarely noticed the lab workers or other doctors, barely paying attention to even Dr. Zaftig himself. He returned his gaze to Karim, striding purposefully up the hall ahead of him. Karim Abdul’s rocky man glutes rumbled darkly as he walked, and Schumacher gazed into the impenetrable deep butt crack outlined in the red Lycra. Excepting only the cloaked, anonymous butt fucking nights, no one other than powerfucker Schumacher had yet penetrated Karim’s magnificent asshole. Ever. “At least I have that much,” Schumacher muttered. By now he was passing the open office door. Tiffany, his back to the corridor, was hurriedly explaining to some geeky lab coat doctor who Schumacher had never noticed before, saying something about Get the camera out, asshole, and Come with me now…. Schumacher paused for a moment in the office doorway to admire Tiffany’s butt sweep in his tight regulation khakis. His full, hard, rounded glutes were a most enticing display in his slacks, the rear pockets rounded with the curvature of pure muscle, promising the pleasures that lay beneath. Joe Tiffany Now there was a butt to fuck. He grunted and continued down the corridor, following Karim. In truth he didn’t know why he was heading off with the others to the wrestling ring, and especially at this hour. He should be headed off to bed, a quick JO instant replay of the group shower suck / group butt lick he’d enjoyed just 40 minutes earlier, and then plenty of shuteye for another brutal workout tomorrow. That was the life. And another day to plan on getting into Tiffany’s butt. Another day to strategize some deep cock / muscleboybutt frottage sessions. Another day to – “Hey, Schumacher.” It was McIntyre. “Where you going? This way.” He’d walked right past the wrestling room door. “Oh.” He retraced his steps. As he came back, a little sheepishly, Alvarez and Lang were in the doorway. Lang’s tongue was practically lolling out of his head in anticipation, and even cool customer Alvarez had an excited gleam in his eye. “What do you assholes think is gonna happen?” snarled Schumacher as he strode by, pushing past them into the wrestling room. Alvarez put his hands up in mock defensiveness. “Oh, nothing, nothing. We just thought we might want to watch.” “Yeah, we wanna watch nothing happen,” smirked Lang. Both men mockingly bowed as Schumacher went by, Alvarez of course taking the lead, with puppydog Lang following suit. Schumacher glanced down at their packed flies bulging out of their khakis as he strode by. “You both sure got big enough hard-ons, just to watch nothing happen.” Lang looked defensive. Alvarez just laughed, and gently patted Lang’s growing bulge. “Yeah, guess we do.” He nodded and winked, and went inside the wrestling room. Lang followed, and even had the temerity to wink at Schumacher as he went by. Alvarez threw his arm around Lang and playfully squeezed his ass. Faggots, thought Schumacher. His own cock roared to life in his pants and was soon poling straight out and upward. He glanced back down the corridor. Moster and Casey were rounding the corner. Moster had changed out of his sweats, and was now in the regulation Valhalla Labs green t-shirt and tight khakis. Casey still had only his micro posing trunks on. Behind them scurried Dr. Irving, carrying Casey’s sweats and his video equipment. He was babbling on his cellphone. Probably talking to the insane dude who ran the place. Zaftig. Moster noted the ruined kitchen door and sighed. “Another door,” he grumbled. These dudes, when they got pissed off. It’s not like Valhalla Labs was a bottomless money source. Close, but not bottomless. He nodded at Schumacher and gestured briefly for him to go into the wrestling room ahead of them. Schumacher scowled, but did as he was directed. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes, Sergeant Moster?” Irving scurried to catch up to them. “Do you have a white cap on you?” “Why…yes….” Moster knew he would. The little doctor had long since learned that anything could happen when the men gathered, and he made it a point to carry extra medication with him at all times. And there was no sense in irritating Moster with a “Why, no.” He wouldn’t put it past the giant black muscle monster to deck him with one mighty punch in the nose if displeased, which would no doubt kill him. He scrambled and produced a small medication bottle. Moster turned to Casey, struggling a little to keep up, halfway between a walk and a run, his black shiny micro poser barely covering his steadily bobbing cock as he ran. “Here,” said Moster. “Take this.” “Hunh?” Casey stopped full. “Take it. Don’t ask questions.” “What—what is it?” “Extra confidence.” “Drugs?” Casey was momentarily stumped. He remembered that the boys in the Home were always experimenting. It made them silly and weak. He wanted no part of it. “I don’t do drugs.” Moster motioned to Irving. “Go on and set up, we’ll meet you there.” He turned to Casey. “It’s not a drug. Not like you think.” “I don’t do no steroids, neither.” “Not a ‘roid. There is no man in this facility on the juice. We have to do something about your grammar, by the way.” “Then how –“ “Shut up and take it. I will explain later. You will be fine.” Casey gulped, put his faith in Moster, and did as he was told. He popped the pill in his mouth, and smiled with weak subservience at Moster. “Okay, sir.” “What was that?” “I..I mean, Yes, Sir!” “That’s better.” Moster turned and continued down the corridor, Casey scampering after him. Good thing the men still do what I tell them to do, thought Moster. And how long is that gonna last with this boy? Once he finds his power? Moster tucked that thought away. “Let’s go watch you wrestle. You do wrestle, you said?” “Yeah, but I’m scared…” “No need to be.” “…no..…scared I’ll hurt him. I always do….” Except, of course, Ramon Ramon, the much smaller wrestler at Raw Weight Gym who never failed to thoroughly pin the muscleboy. But of course, that was a long time ago. Inside the wrestling room Karim had already snapped on the overhead lights and was doing deep knee bends in the middle of the 20 sq foot wrestling ring, which dominated the center of the room. The thick blue mat of the ring gleamed in the overhead lights, with the VALHALLA LABS logo in the center. Around the ring on two raised platforms were about 40 folding chairs, all affording perfect, elevated views of any wrestling action. Pedro stood eagerly on the side, now holding towels and a water bottle. “Getting limbered up to better meet the kid?” called out Blankenship. He had already grabbed his ringside seat, he too adjusting his crotch as he sat. “Shut the fuck up,” said Karim, squatting. To Pedro he shot out, “Where the fuck is the oil? Get the oil.” Pedro shot off into a storage room and returned with a 5-gallon jug of olive oil. “Goin’ for Turkish wrestling, hunh, Karim?” Chad was grabbing a seat ringside. He nudged Waring. “This is gonna be good.” No answer from Karim. “The kid’s got an iron grip, I’m told,” called out Waring, nudging Eli Meyer’s ribs as he took a seat next to him. Meyer’s mouth hung open in a perennial smile. He pointed to his mouth so Meyer could read his lips. “I said, Casey Rockland’s got an iron grip.” “I heard you.” Obatu was next, leaning against the ropes. “And those quads be killers. He gets you in a lock hold, you gonna be dead in the water. What’re ya gonna do about that, Mr. Abdul, sir?” Karim didn’t answer, regarding them all stonily. Obatu lazily returned his gaze, smiling, unintimidated. Blankenship had started this. But Blankenship had easily dodged the intended receiving end of a few near-miss wild roundhouse punches in the past. He was too fast and too alert to be caught unawares, and Karim Abdul had learned not to waste his energy on him. So Karim suffered the men’s ready comments stoically. “This kid got veins like this?” he asked, flexing his 25-inch biceps, showing off half-inch thick rivers of veins, pulsing with power. “Yeah, I think, actually, he does,” said Blankenship with a smile. “Here he is now. Let’s see. Kid, you got veins like his?” Moster and Casey had appeared at the opposite door, the darkened end of the wrestling room. Both giants approached, in black silhouette against the framed light from the corridor, getting larger as they quietly walked toward the ring. Casey looked up quizzically at the question. “Flex your biceps,” whispered Moster. “Hunh?” “Flex, man. Don’t ask stupid questions. Flex it up. Now.” “ ’kay.” Casey stopped and hammered out a front double bi. 25 inches of his own, in response to Abdul. As always, he felt compelled to go on, adding side chest, front lats, quads, and sent a hand probingly down rippled, hardrock abs. “That good?” “Good, good,” muttered Moster. “You catch on fast. You ever compete, kid?” “Uh…..no……should I? Other guys are so much bigger than me….” Moster smiled. They all think that, at the beginning. “Get over here, plebe,” Abdul called out from the center of the ring. Pedro was standing on a stool, pouring the olive oil over his massive physique, worshipfully slathering him up. Casey in Silhouette Casey stared. “What’s all that….?” he stammered. Moster noted that the white cap hadn’t taken effect yet, but then it had only been a few minutes. “Now, Karim,” said Moster patiently, coming into the light as they approached the ring. “You know Casey is not a plebe.” Abdul started to speak. “Nor is he a cadet. He is now one of you. He makes us The Twenty. You need to accept this,” he continued, walking and speaking easily now as he pulled up the ropes and stepped into the wrestling ring. He approached the angry giant muscle Arab. “And he isn’t threatening you. Casey isn’t going to pull your power away from you.” “That’s not what this is about.” “Bullshit,” one of the men yelled. The others laughed. Abdul glared at them and went on. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Moster, sir,” said Abdul. “I just want to make sure he’s going to be worth my time to train with.” He smiled easily. “That’s all.” The oil was dripping off him onto the mat. Moster said nothing. Casey was now visibly nervous. Still outside the ropes, he leaned in to Moster. “They gonna reject me?” he whispered loudly. “I mean, now?” “No one’s rejecting you,” said Moster loudly. He then turned to the waiting group of musclemen. “Are you, boys?” Something about that ‘boys’ rankled Abdul even further, though Alvarez and Gunst just smiled. The others looked perplexed. “Since when are we boys?” squealed Hension. “Shut up, Hension,” said Chad. “You ever wrestle, boy?” Abdul called out. “His name is Casey. Or Private Rockland.” “I asked you a question, boy. Ever wrestled? Get your butt into the ring.” “You really want all this oil?” sighed Moster. “We’re gonna wrestle Turkish style.” “It’s messy.” “I’ll clean it up, sir!” squeaked Pedro. “Bet your ass you will.” “Yeah, you don’t want a spanking, now, do you?” yelled Lang. He adjusted in his chair, his glutes still smarting from the paddling he’d received earlier that evening. Moster’s cock twitched a little at the suggestion of paddling handsome young Pedro’s hard, receiving little boybutt, a pleasure he had not yet allowed himself, although the teenage boy’s firm little butt cheeks had always been particularly inviting in his kitchen whites. He ignored it for now, however. Later, he thought. Casey shot a look at Moster. “What’s this about spankings?” he asked. Moster ignored the question. “Get in there.” “Yes, sir.” Casey climbed obediently into the ring. Moster watched him closely. The white cap should be taking effect in a moment…. “Oil him up,” commanded Abdul. Pedro ran over to him with the stool and the olive oil, climbed up, and began to pour it all over Casey’s massive physique. The sheer size and beauty of his muscles was overwhelming to the little Mexican, and his own powerful little cock began to bulge in his pants. After a moment, Casey was drenched in the shiny, thick liquid. The two musclemen stood face to face, Abdul in his tight singlet, fearsome muscles gleaming in the light, looming with threatening power. Casey was still in his micro, bulging posers, wet now with slick oil, the top 6 inches of his massive, meaty cockshaft fully exposed, blond tendrils of pubic hair curling with thick radiance. He was embarrassed, humiliated that his huge penis was twitching outwards in anticipation of what-was-coming-next. But then he noticed – Abdul’s oily, pylon-thick tool was also clearly coming to life in the thin singlet. “Good. Now, you got some mighty fancy muscles. But that doesn’t mean much here. We all got fancy muscles.” “You’re not being very polite, Corporal Abdul, “ said Moster, moving to the sidelines. “I think the men ought to introduce themselves before we get into any personal demonstrations of our manhood. Don’t you agree?” Even the ever-present log in lying against Moster’s pants leg was firmly outlined and appeared to be twitching a little, and the thin khaki fabric of his slacks covering it was now smooth and tight. Slowly the 17 others bodybuilders rose from their seats around the ring, one by one. 38 pairs of eyes stared at Casey intently. He glanced at the cocky little Joe Tiffany, and then over at Corporal Schumacher, who was now looking at him expectantly. “Okay, now, boy. This is Turkish wrestling. There are clear rules, but they’re different from American collegiate.” “Hang on,” said Moster. “We’ll get to the Turkish rules of wrestling in a moment. He stepped into the ring and approached Casey, now thick and dripping with oil. The men were now gathered on two sides of the ring, leaning on the ropes, leaning in to see what was coming next. For any other cadet introduced into the ranks, Sergeant Moster would have generally proceeded to paddle Casey’s hard young butt as the formal ritual of initiation. Last had been Private Tiffany receiving the red-hot butt cheek welcome, which he had borne stoically and proudly, displaying the twin globes of burnt-cherry perfection under the paddling. And after all, they had all gone through it, excepting Abdul, of course. Even Schumacher had known the firm, unrelenting hand of Moster on his butt. Hazing was hazing. But tonight, that didn’t seem to be happening. Abdul’s interesting wrestling challenge has precluded that. All were watchful. “Men, introduce yourselves. I was going to do this tomorrow, at Casey’s first workout, but now seems as good a time as any.” He turned to Casey and smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to remember all their names just yet,” he added. “That’s good. I’m not very good with names.” “You’ll know them all, in time.” One by one, each man introduced himself. “My name is Private Leo Jin,” said the Asian man. “I’m 25 and from San Diego. I have been in the Project 8 years. My best bodypart is my forearms.” To prove it, the handsome Asian brought his beefy, fetchingly oversized forearms, walloping with solid muscle and veins, and squeezed the muscles hard. “I’m Private Dan Gunst, and until today, I had the biggest biceps here – except for Sergeant Moster’s.” Gunst flexed his mighty guns and then gave Casey a half-cocked smile. “Guess yours are bigger,” he proffered, respectfully. “I saw that this afternoon.” Moster glanced at him questioningly. “Oh, yeah,” he added. “I’m from Milwaukee, I’m 27, and I have been in the program 3 years. Hi, Casey. Welcome again.” “Hi, Dan!” Gunst sat back down. Moster eyed Casey carefully, wondering when the little capsule might take effect. Casey seemed cheerful and happy. Around the circle they went, each muscleman getting to his feet, politely introducing himself, offering basic information, and then showing him his best bodypart. “I’m Steve Waring, and my best bodypart is my traps.” Bulge. Flex. Steve Waring “I’m Rene LeFevre, and my best bodypart are my pecs.” Surge. Bloom. Bulge. “I’m David Duncan, and my best bodypart are my triceps.” Rip. Bulge. Bloom. Flex. “I’m Schumacher.” He said nothing else but grudgingly offered a front lat spread. Casey nodded without expression. This guy was not to be messed with. Eli Meyer signed with ASL. Casey nodded, showing some intelligence. Moster was pleased. Then Meyer turned around, bent over, grabbed his ankles, and showed off his hams, bulging through the khakis. He turned back and Casey gave him the OK and thumbs up sign. “I’m Chris Hension, and my best bodypart – “ “Is my FACE!” shouted Corporal LeFevre. “I’m a refugee from a lost episode of ’21 Jump Street’!” “Smack me around a little and I’ll follow you forever!” added Chad. “He’s our little boyband musclepup,” explained Blankenship. “Shut up,” yelled Hension, visibly embarrassed once again to be labeled the squad pretty boy. All the men were laughing now. “My best body part is my quads.” He started to rotate them. “And my baby blue eyes,” shouted LeFevre again. Hension was confused and humiliated but continued to show his quads, blooming in his tight khakis. “I think it’s his butt!” said Waring. “It’s okay, Chris,” said Casey. “Your quads are awesome.” Hension looked up, hopefully, and Casey felt compelled to go on. “And I think you’re very handsome indeed.” Hension smiled hugely at Casey, his heart beating a little faster. Gee, he thought. Wow. He gazed at Casey, who was now turning his attention to Private Waring. “I’m Private Ryan Waring, and my best bodypart are my delts.” He extended a powerful arm and began to rotate it. Suddenly Hension spoke up again. “I’m 22,” he blurted out, “and I’m from Toledo!” The men laughed again, and Hension hung his head a little and stuck out his lower lip. Next to him, Chad patted his thigh comfortingly. Casey saw him wink at Hension, who straightened up a little and smiled weakly. Casey’s head was spinning. He was inspired past all understanding by the mind-boggling panorama of muscle before him. And he was part of it. About then, he noticed that the room seemed to be getting a little brighter and a little hotter. He was staring again at Moster’s leg log. “Private Lang,” said Lang. “I’m 28, I’m from Lansing, Michigan, and….” He looked a little helplessly at Alvarez, sitting next to him. “My best body part is……um….” “Your back. Your lats are your best body part,” said Alvarez with quiet encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it’s my lats.” He turned and flared his lats wide. Alvarez clapped him approvingly on his butt. Lang smiled and sat, and Alvarez got up. “I’m Corporal Julio Alvarez, I’m 32, I’m from El Paso, and my best bodypart are my biceps.” He flexed. “Gunst’s are bigger but mine have sick peaks.” He popped them back and forth. “See?” Casey was indeed impressed. “Nice. Sick.” Gunst yelled in good-humored protest and flexed his own guns. Casey looked between Alvarez and Lang. Alvarez glanced over at Lang. “No, we’re not related,” he said. “They’re just joined at the wrist and ankles,” called out Gunst. “More like mouth and cock,” muttered Blankenship loudly, winking at Casey. It was Private Tiffany’s turn. “Casey and I will be meeting privately soon,” he boasted, and made a show of wiping the corner of his lips with his index finger. The men laughed knowingly – all but Corporal Schumacher, who looked down into his lap and seethed a little. Moster watched him intently. Something has to be done about Tiffany. But he didn’t worry. Though Tiffany didn’t know it yet, something was already happening. Casey felt a touch flushed, but his head was suddenly amazingly clear. Suddenly he spoke. “And what’s your best bodypart?” he asked. The stammer was gone, but only Moster noticed it. “What do you think?” Joe Tiffany turned around, bent over and grabbed his ankles. He pulled his gym shorts tight at the crack of his butt and proudly displayed his magnificent bodybuilder glutes. “Cupcakes!” said Gunst gleefully. The men howled. Schumacher made a show of laughing, but all he could do was glare. “Wow,” said Casey calmly. “Very pretty.” Tiffany's Butt after Squats Moster smiled inwardly. Good. He’s responded. And this boy responds well to White Caps, he thought. “No one’s had it yet,” said Tiffany confidingly as he straightened up and turned around, tucking his t-shirt back into his shorts. Then he winked. “Except in group.” “Group?” Casey was obviously perplexed. The men shouted with laughter, which died down sheepishly as, looking around the room, each man eventually shrugged and acknowledged it was probably true. None of them had had Tiffany yet. “I haven’t, anyway,” grumbled Schumacher, and the men laughed again. Tiffany sat back down and ignored Schumacher’s look. “Too bad,” said Casey. “Shame to waste such a pretty little behind.” The laughter died down and the men stared at Casey. No one knew what to say. “What’s ‘group’?” repeated Casey. Silence. On the sidelines, Alvarez raised his head a little. He exchanged looks with Moster. White cap? he mouthed. Moster looked away. Alvarez smiled and leaned in. He nudged Lang in the ribs. “Ow,” said Lang. “This is gonna be good,” said Alvarez in a low voice. “And I’m Karim Abdul. My best bodypart? My whole fucking physique is my best bodypart. As you are about to find out.” He flexed, whipping through pose after pose, his heavy cock bulge, dripping with oil, whipping left to right in his wrestling singlet. Snap. Snap. Snap. Casey could hear it slapping against his thighs through the man’s singlet. “All very impressive,” said Casey, looking pointedly at it. Moster smiled again. The cap had taken effect. “Okay. Turkish wrestling. Rules. One: there are few rules.” Abdul ticked off the rules on his fingers. “Submission: the “crush.” A fighter can get his opponent onto his stomach and then trap him by sprawling on top. If I can keep you down with your face, I can then turn you on a half-nelson for a pin.” “What if you can’t do it?” asked Casey bluntly. “If I can’t crush you, the referee has to begin us again from a standing position.” He ticked off another finger and looked Casey right in the eye. “I am not restricted from placing my hands inside my opponent’s kispet…” “Hunh?” “Your poser. I can also use the waistband to hold you in place. If I yank your poser so far below your hips that you are exposed, I win. Okay. If I can lift you entirely off the ground … “Fat fucking chance.” “Whoa,” breathed Hension. The temperature in the room seemed to raise 15º. Abdul paused, tense, and continued. “…and carry you five paces in any direction, that is a “carrying” pin. Got it?” “Yep.” “Okay.” Abdul looked at Casey. “You wanna go?” “What are we waiting for?” “Let’s wrestle,” said Abdul. He clapped his hands together and strode into the center of the ring. Ever since the mention of ‘group’, Abdul had been a touch shaky – or so Moster thought. Still can’t acknowledge how much he likes musclebutt. To say nothing of getting pissed on,” thought Moster. “Sure thing,” Casey answered, slick with oil and now quietly confident. Pedro scampered to the side of the ring and squatted eagerly to watch. Abdul began to bounce around, heel-toe, heel-toe, flexing his fingers, stretching his arms behind his head, limbering up. “Let’s go, man.” “You got it, man.” Casey hunkered down. “Center of the ring, gents,” said Moster. The men began to circle one another. “You wrestle till one of you gets a pin,” Moster instructed, now in the ring and getting between them. Casey flexed his biceps. “Big peaks, man. Like ‘em?” “Seen bigger,” said Abdul. He crunched forward, did a most muscular, his veins popping like railroad tracks. “How ‘bout you? Like what you see, faggot?” he asked. Casey just smiled, hunkered lower. Abdul palmed the crotch of his singlet. Casey smiled and refused to look down. He grabbed his own crotch, pendulously looming in his bulging posers. “Big handful, man.” “Watch it, boys,” said Moster. “This is a friendly get-to-know-you match.” “I already know him,” said Abdul. Moster snapped his fingers to Dr. Irving, now on the unpopulated side of the mat and with his ever-present video camera whirring. He dug in the pocket of his white lab jacket, wordlessly tossing him a whistle. Casey and Abdul met each other in the center of the mat and stared one another down. Their noses touched. Abdul grinned, ear to ear. Casey followed suit. Both began to gleam with anticipatory sweat. “Wow…..” breathed Hension. His hand shot down into his pants and he began massaging his stiffening tool. Moster pushed the two apart and blew his whistle to start the match. “And……wrestle!!” CLICK HERE FOR PART 2!
  11. Previous chapter: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster Chapter 16: Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After Casey’s first workout demonstration for The Nineteen that afternoon promised to be brutal – and awesome - as he had hoped it would be. He knew he would love every moment of it. He knew it would almost make up for the confusion and fear he had felt the night before. He would be as strong as a god, sailing through every lift, every rep, every set with strength he didn’t know he had. Almost make up for it. Not quite. But maybe afterwards, he could pose for them? Just a little? In the locker room, alone, and about to go before these crazy huge guys once again, he ruminated. He was, if he admitted it to himself, not a little leery about these guys. After all, he had a big black eye. And just about 12 hours ago, thick, creamy jets of cum had shot from18 firehose cocks and plopped down on him while he lay tangled in a sweaty muscle mass mess with Karim Abdul, both of them with swelling black eyes and bloody noses. Kind of a strange introduction to the world of supreme muscle he had been looking forward to for two years – and had been fantasizing about for far longer. “I wonder what Miles would say,” he thought to himself. He had glanced at his black eye in the mirror in the locker room. It was fully open, not bloodshot, just rimmed with black and blue. Not too bad. Actually, it looked fucking hot. He quickly did a side chest. Bam. Nips high. Rivers of striations. Yeah. Lookin good. He was hot. He knew it, too. Or, rather, was beginning to know it. He found his old sweats, thoughtfully hanging up and waiting for him in a large locker with his name on it, which he assumed was his. He noted that the lockers themselves were almost like storage units, not the shameful, small individual skinny things most gyms had. He looked up, slightly startled. Musclemen Gunst and Obatu were suddenly there at the end of the locker row, waiting for them. At first he barely noticed what they were wearing. But then he saw. “What the fuck?” “You ready?” “Uh. Yeah.” “Let’s go, then.” He stripped down fast, found his old jock in the locker, and grabbing his huge cock and balls, shoveled his heavy machine into the pouch. As always, it sagged heavily, groaning softly from the weight of his manhood. He glanced down the row. Gunst and Obatu were blankfaced. Casey threw his sweats on. “Now?” “…..yeah.” Casey slammed the door and waddled towards them, throwing a bathsheet towel over his broad shoulders. “Let’s go lift.” Gunst and Obatu brought Casey onto the workout floor. All of the musclemen in the squad were in attendance, naturally wanting to see how much weight the pretty muscle boy Casey could handle. After all, he may be huge, and all realized he was pretty fucking strong in the ring. He could move fast, and his mandatory poses last night were impressive. But could the dude lift? Could he train?? Dr. Irving stood by with the video camera, fussily taking his precise notes. And Zaftig was there, of course, hanging back, saying nothing, just watching, watching. And now, at least, Casey could remember the dude’s name. Dr. Zaftig. After all, this was the dude who was going to make him huge. He nodded shyly to him. “Good afternoon, Dr. Zaftig.” “Good afternoon, Casey. Welcome to Valhalla.” “Thank you…” “Let’s get going, Casey,” said Sergeant Moster. “You’re keeping us waiting. Again.” “I’m sorry,” Casey said. Moster frowned. No signs of reaction to all the White Caps swimming around in his bloodstream. There were, inevitably, more moments of muscle awkwardness to be had first. First off, Casey was entirely unprepared for the men’s workout gear. His usual workout clothes fully covered him, a ripped and worn outfit of dirty, sweaty baggies, a sloppy oversized sweatshirt that seemed to have been made for a man of 600 pounds, and full-length sweatpants, ragged and much the worse for wear. Even in these baggies, his bulge loomed heavily, swaying from side to side as he came onto the floor. Moster had changed into his full-dress spotlessly clean green uniform slacks, boots, and a skin-tight regulation t-shirt. His mammoth black muscles gleamed with ferocious power, and his crisp, clinging t-shirt outlined every peak, valley, cut, bulge, thick vein and crevice of his astonishing physique. Casey tried not to stare at him. He was oddly drawn to this black mountain of muscle. “I wanna be as big as you someday,” he said softly to himself. The squad, on the other hand, he nervously noted, were all dressed in White Cap Night Valhalla regulation gym gear: ripped, torn and ragged wife-beaters with muscles bulging every which way. Dripping sweat, muscles red and inflamed, their workouts over. No shorts, Army boots, heavy cable socks, and sweaty, swollen, looming Army-green mesh jocks. Bulging packages protruded, looming cocks, also swaying heavily with each muscleman movement, all around the gym floor. “This is how you guys dress to work out?” asked Casey timidly. Okay, so it was still weird. His question was ignored. There was a lot of barely sheathed bulging heavy duty muscleman dick on this gym floor. His own was more modestly covered. If just as bulging. And just as evident. And no one’s on the floor appeared to be as big as Moster’s. Once again he stared for a moment at the man’s obviously huge, looming penis, outlined clearly in his green trousers. He could see the penis corona, even the deep piss slit through the thick dark khaki fabric. Moster sure wasn’t ashamed of his cock. So maybe Casey shouldn’t be ashamed, either. And what Casey couldn’t know is that the men, just having finished their workouts, were delaying their shower sports. White Caps racing in their bloodstreams. And holding back. Not 10 minutes before Moster had sternly separated Blankenship and Lang from some foreplay, giving each man a quick spanking on their bare bottoms before all the other men. Afterward Alvarez pulled Lang back and eyed him dangerously. There would be words between them tonight. Lang was staring at the floor. Blankenship, of course, was grinning. Toothlessly. “How about starting off with some incline flyes?” said Moster. “You need a warm-up set?” “I wanna stretch first,” said Casey. Miles had always taught him the necessity of proper technique. Light warm-ups were part of that, though once he actually started lifting, what constituted a warm-up for Casey might be a final blasted set for another man. “Always smart.” The men stood watching Casey intently. “Don’t you guys wanna go workout somewhere?” he blurted out. “We’re done,” said Alvarez. “We’re waiting for you.” Abdul was staring at him with undisguised hatred. Tiffany was smiling sweetly, butter not melting in his mouth. Schumacher was blank-faced, and all the scarier for it. The others were intent, if blank-faced. Even Hension, whose thoughts were usually betrayed on his handsome face, wasn’t reacting much. He just was staring. They were all staring. Casey shuffled off to a corner of the Marley mat and began his stretch routine, arms swinging, legs kicking, gentle but firm. The men watched him. “He’s bow-legged!” whispered Hension. Loudly. “Yes, we see that,” said Alvarez, mocking the whisper. “I think that’s so hot….!” Casey heard a resounding smack! echoing through the room. “Ow!” Someone had hit Hension again. Casey, his face turned away, had to smile. Apparently the pretty boy got hit a lot. “Um. This takes 20 minutes,” Casey said. Suddenly he didn’t care what they thought. He was going to stretch. He started torso turns, his hands behind his head. Moster spoke. “Casey, we don’t have all day.” Casey turned back to him and repeated himself firmly. “This takes 20 minutes. I stretch for 20 minutes. If you don’t want to watch, don’t.” And he turned back, cupping his big hands together, continuing his torso turns. Moster smiled slightly. Good. The White Caps had obviously kicked in after all. It seems Casey required more White Caps for an effect, and the societal restrictions weren’t so easily abandoned. But the boy was asserting himself, and quite naturally. Zaftig was suddenly next to Moster. “He’s not so easily bullied,” he whispered. “Not like your other men. You won’t have your way with him so easily.” “You don’t think so?” “No, I don’t.” “Well, we’ll see, then, won’t we?” Zaftig frowned. Clearly, Moster wasn’t concerned about Casey digging in his heels at his first workout, doing it his way, defying the Sergeant. “What do you know?” Zaftig hissed at Moster. Moster, never taking his eyes off the teen muscle giant now doing rapid pushups, turned to Zaftig, laid his cards on the table. “The kid has never been worshipped before. He wants it, he needs it. He needs someone to tell him how amazing he is. And he needs musclesex. Badly. He doesn’t know how much.” “I see. It’s your musclesex thing again. Goddammit, Sergeant. This project is about youth and strength and creating the most fearsome army the planet has ever seen. It’s not about sex. It never was. It was about creating the perfect physical specimen. The most extraordinary physiques the world has ever known.” Moster smiled sardonically. “You’ve forgotten, Dr. Zaftig, or perhaps you never knew. Even when you were a young man. Were you ever young?” Zaftig smiled. “Amazing to consider, isn’t it?” Moster continued. “Everything for men is about sex. And bodybuilders? Even more so. And for these bodybuilders? All that times about 200. 500. All these guys want is to be admired. Worshipped. Sucked off. Felt up. Fuck. And, I might add, get fucked. Train, lift, eat, sleep, shit, fight, suck, get sucked, fuck, train some more, fight some more, fuck some more, suck some more, eat, shit, sleep. And,” he added sweetly, “…that’s about it.” “Fuck you, Sergeant.” But now Zaftig was smiling. He knew there was more to it. Wasn’t there? Moster sighed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Zaftig. But that’s what you’ve created here. Millions of dollars poured into fucking machines. But look at the bright side.” He leaned in. “It’s going to make you millions, as well. All of us.” “I already have millions. I don’t care.” “Well, I don’t, and I do.” “By the way, how did the boy get that black eye?” “Looks pretty hot, don’t it?” “Less than 24 hours in the compound and already someone’s slugged him.” “Don’t look too closely at Abdul or Blankenship.” Zaftig glanced over at Abdul, sporting a shiner of his own, and noted the missing teeth of the blond bomber beauty Blankenship. Zaftig groaned inwardly. Another trip to the dentist. He hated having to take the men off the mountain. But there was a dentist in San Jose who fixed up the men regularly, regular hygiene, capping, replaced teeth, crowns, implants, the works, and charged nothing, content merely with big biceps flexed in his face while he sat in the chair playing with his tiny dentist dick. Then, Moster to Casey, “You about done there, boy?” “No, sir.” “All right, then.” The men were getting restless, shifting from foot to foot, now staring at Zaftig and the ever-cool Moster. Alvarez was the only man on the squad who seemed calm and in control of himself. A fact not unnoticed by Moster. Or Casey, for that matter, now secretly watching all this play out for himself. He was beginning to catch on that there was even more to these big dudes than just training, taking this crazy drug, and spanking their monkeys. “Men, time for some biceps curls,” Moster announced. “All of you go do 15 sets of light reps. 25 reps per set per arm. No ball busting, now. Get to it. No more than 25 pounds. I mean it.” He turned back and smiled at Casey. “We’ll wait until The Boy is ready.” Okay, so he was The Boy again. Zaftig wasn’t done. “In a few months the Joint Chiefs will be here for review. I want Casey ready and I want the men at their sharpest, and no funny business. Intensify their training.” He turned away. “You leaving?” Zaftig turned back. “Hell, no” he smiled. “I want to see my latest boy wipe your men all over the floor. Maybe you’ll listen to me then.” Moster nodded. Inwardly he had to admit he respected Zaftig deeply. The man may have been a puny genius with no body, but he wasn’t dishonest, and he was clearly unafraid of Moster. He had no personal need for muscle worship, and never bothered the men. He was, at the end of the day, a partner Moster could trust, if never take advantage of. He admired that. Moreover, Zaftig had never indicated another other than scientific curiosity about Moster’s treetrunk tool. That was a plus on his side, too. Moster turned to Casey and called out. “Okay, you’re done,” he said, brooking no denial. “What’s your starting weight for inclines?” “Um…..180?” Hension, 20 feet away and now doing the ordered biceps curls, stared at Casey. “Damn!” he squeaked. He put the dumbbell down and scratched his barely covered balls. “180?? To start?” Casey looked away, trying not to notice. That boy certainly was pretty. A perfect face. Without realizing it, Casey licked his lips, staring a little at Hension, who, gawking at the muscle monster, inadvertently smiled back, absently scratching his balls. The exchange did not go unnoticed. Lang nudged Alvarez, who nodded sagely. “180 it is. Let’s see what you got.” Moster strode to the bench, grabbed two 180-pound dumbbells as if they were sacks of feathers, and handed them to Casey. Casey took them without a blink, two sacks of feathers. And so the workout began. One by one, the men re-racked their light weights, approached the bench where the giant Casey lay, ready to lift. Casey’s perfect technique was evident from the start. He smoothly lowered his huge bulk onto an incline bench. He raised his arms into position, the two dumbbells easily held aloft overhead. In no time he reeled off twenty reps of perfectly calibrated incline flyes, then peeling off into overhead presses, gently touching the dumbbells one another, then down to the tips of his big brown nipples, outlined in his oversized sweats. His chest bloomed, rivers of sweaty muscle flowed, the pumped pecs seemed to reach to the ceiling as he pumped. “Pow, pow, pow, pow,” he breathed to himself with each rep. Light stains of pec milk appeared on his sweats. “Wow….” breathed Hension. “Do you see that??” “What’s next?” “Do it again.” “Okay.” He reeled off another set. The men watched him stonily, now all gathered around the bench. More pec milk appeared. “Now?” “Do another.” “Sure.” He did another set. Finishing, he clanged the weights to the floor. “Can I work with something heavy now?” Moster smiled. The White Caps had taken effect. He shot a look over at Zaftig, who merely raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Certainly, boy. Take it to 220.” So he was still Boy. “Anyone have gloves?” “Sure, Case!” Lang reached into his bag and tossed a pair to Casey. Casey smiled a little, hearing Lang call him by the same nickname the cadets down the mountain did. “Thanks.” He caught the gloves and slipped them on. Everyone was watching now. The red light of the video cam continued to blink. Standing next to Lang, Alvarez was blank-faced, but not unapproving. In the corner, Dr. Zaftig now had his head tilted back, musing. This boy will go the limit, he thought. No matter what Moster says about what the men really want. This boy is different. He’s pure muscle, and nothing else. No, that was not right. He was muscle, cock, and butt. This boy would be worth millions. And very, very soon. An uncommon sex machine of the first power. Innocent Casey, unaware of the plans being made around him, rose, took the two 180 pound dumbbells, and re-racked them, two sacks of feathers back to the their featherbed. He strode down the line and grabbed two 220s, returned to the incline, lowered his bulk, and reeled off another set of 20 reps, grunting loudly and blowing out air with each rep. More milk flecks appeared on his shirt. He blew sweat and spit, began to groan mightily. “ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh….” When he was finished he set the dumbbells down gently on the marley floor, and looked up at Moster. Absently he wiped the milk away from his nipples with thumb and forefinger. “Nicely done, boy,” said Moster. He spoke loudly to the group. “Notice that Casey does not drop the weights.” He looked pointedly at Jin, who was famous for throwing the weights to the floor after the punishing final set of any lift he did, excepting squats – where he re-racked as noisily as possible, all while screaming. Jin looked back, defiant. “Why do you do it that way, boy?” Casey shrugged. “Way that Miles taught me, I guess. It’s harder.” “Miles?” “Miles Donovan, Raw Weight Gym.” So that was it, thought Gunst. Miles Donovan. He should have known. Donovan was a biceps freak, and hosted many others in his gym, taking their pay-offs for private posing from men who liked to blast big guns in the faces of the hapless, endlessly paying schmoes. No doubt Casey had been a major revenue stream for the notorious Donovan gym, he reasoned to himself. Of course he had to have huge guns. Miles would have seen to it. Blankenship grinned, a front tooth missing and looking all the hotter for it. “Yeah, makes sense, he came from that old horn dog Donovan’s gym. You worked out on the 3rd floor yet?” Casey looked at Blankenship a little blankly. “Um. No.” Obatu spoke up. “Casey is still too young and green for the 3rd floor. Besides, he has been training at the cadet gym down the mountain for the last several months. Haven’t you, Casey?” “Yeah, I guess. What’s next?” “You flat bench?” “Sure. How much weight?” “Let’s see what you can do.” The squad backed away a little as Casey, gripping each elbow and stretching his arms over his head, walked towards a row of flat benches. Gunst despaired a little. He was wrong. Casey wasn’t posing and being paid for it at Donovan’s. Which meant he’d built those mountainous biceps on his own. “Lose the shirt!” squawked Hension. “I want to see your nips milk!” “’Kay,” said Casey. He stopped, slipping out of his sweatshirt, folding it up carefully. Underneath he wore a baggy green t-shirt, which may probably have been at one time a pup tent. “My nipples always make a little milk when I train,” he explained. “See?” He reached under his soaked t-shirt to a nipple, gathered some white liquid, held out a finger dripping with milk droplets. “But it looks like I’m making a little more today.” In spite of himself, Moster was touched by Casey’s innocent neatness with his sweatshirt. And his explanation. “T-shirt too,” said Waring. “Not yet,” said Casey. Moster’s eyebrow raised a little. He glanced over at Zaftig, who nodded. Good. Good. It was all good. The White Caps were claiming his ego. Casey was showing signs he could stand up on his own. “Load up a starting weight of 360 pounds,” directed Moster. “You can handle 300, can’t you, Casey?” “Sure, easy.” Casey laid his bulk down on the flat bench while Waring and Lang placed eight 45-pound plates on either end of the bar. He began to suck in air in preparation. “Hey, can someone wrap my elbows?” he suddenly asked. “Sure. Washington, grab some heavy wraps for Cadet Rockland. Get to it. The man has to lift.” He lifted the bar off the bench and began to bench, pumping his enormous pecs. Now he was working his hardest. He was now more determined than ever to fit in with these huge men. He was going to show them now. The workout continued. Flat bench, declines, more flyes. All pecs stuff. More milk. Throughout the workout Hension, Lang, Jin, Bogarde, Washington, Meyer, Waring, Duncan, Chad, and Corporal Blankenship were cheerful and approving. They howled their encouragement and counted the reps. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!" Throw the weights, Casey!” "Okay to throw them?" Casey asked Moster, holding 600 pounds aloft, just about to bring it down to his milky nipples. He was calm. "If the men want. This time. Throw it when you're done." "Okay." He finished pumping, and instead of reracking... Clang! Casey threw the weight on the floor, sat up, grabbed the plastic bottle and chugged a half-gallon of water. Water poured from the side of his mouth onto his shirt. The men whooped and hollered. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and strode forcefully to the next weight. Immediately the men were counting again. “10! 11! 12! 13! 14! 15!” Clang! Wipe. “YEAHHHH….!” And on it went for 45 minutes of grueling, punishing lifting. Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, LeFevre, and Alvarez and Private McIntyre seemed more reserved. Corporal Abdul just grunted. But he was impressed, in spite of himself. The boy was training harder than he had ever seen. His muscles were blooming, seeming to grow as he watched. Gunst was quiet and watchful. Zaftig was beaming with professional pride. Moster remained aloof and keenly observant. And all the while, Dr. Irving followed every move with the video cam. The cocksure little Private Joe Tiffany cheered him on just as loudly. Casey pretended not to see the evil glint in the muscleboy’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. He’d learned at the Home how to read signals. The Home…..hmmm. A memory appeared dimly, and, just as quickly, was gone. While resting between two punishing sets, Casey was still silently agog at the size of Moster’s muscles. Occasionally he found himself staring at the improbably large mound resting atop his CO’s left quad. The tip of the mound reached to just above the giant’s knee. He noted the other men seemed to be avoiding looking directly at Moster’s leg. Even though they all seemed to be sporting packages of similar size. Damn, their dicks are big, Casey thought. Are they real? And deep inside Casey, a little voice proudly squeaked…..”Wait until they see MINE…” Then he remembered – …..oh yeah.... They’d already seen it. And he had seen theirs, too. Sorta. Between his half-closed black eye. His hand went up, and he rubbed the black eye. Looked at Abdul, and his black eye. Adbul was smiling a little now. Not friendly, but hard - but still, a smile. Casey grinned wearily as he finally finished up with the last set of triceps pulldowns. Private Meyer, a big toothy grinning lighting up his handsome, beaming face, burst forward from the group, and pumped the newcomer’s hand. “Thanks,” said Casey. Meyer nodded enthusiastically. “He can’t hear you,” said Private Waring. Casey looked at Meyer, stricken for having forgotten that Meyer was a deaf mute. “It’s okay, he doesn’t mind.” Casey, touched, shook Meyer’s hand vigorously. Meyer shook his head cheerfully, touching his lips, and shrugged his shoulders to show that indeed he didn’t care that he couldn’t speak. Then he stepped back and proudly flexed his own powerful, round right biceps, smacking them with his left hand, and reached down to grab Casey’s wrists. He pulled his arms up encouragingly and Casey, getting the message, proudly brought his huge guns up and flexed mightily. “Mother fucker!” yelled Lang and Hension simultaneously. The men roared with laughter, and Casey colored a deep red, smiling sheepishly. Alvarez clamped that affectionate paw of his around Lang’s shoulders and hugged him close. But he looked worried. Something was on his mind. Behind them Hension eyed them both steadily, with longing. Meyer kept his hands on Casey’s obliques as if he was rotating his upper body for all to see. “It’s okay, plebe,” said Jin, laughing. “You’ll get to know us all.” While all through the devastating workout he had been stronger than he could ever remember, now he felt – well, almost frail – as if something, suddenly, was missing. “All right, men,” said Moster calmly. “Rec room in 15 minutes. Casey, shower up.” “Yes, sir.” “Men, file out. Casey, come here a moment first.” He glanced at the men, who leaned in, curious as to what Moster might be saying. “Well, Cadet Casey, it looks as if you’ve made it.” Moster spoke quietly. Casey looked up at him, and grinned wearily. “Thanks, Sergeant Moster.” The men gave him a round of applause, Casey noted that even Corporal Schumacher seemed to approve. He lowered his head, modestly grateful. Then Moster turned back to the group. They were still applauding. Casey was embarrassed, turning to go. He didn’t see Moster’s stone face shift into a slight smile. “Men, get dressed. Shower up. No play time. Get to it. I expect you all in uniform, neat and clean, in the rec room, in 10 minutes. Hop to it. Get a move on.” Then, to Casey, “Casey, use my private locker room to shower.” He pointed to a door across the floor. “You’ll find clean sweats in there. They’ll fit. Grab them after you shower. And no jerking off, boy.” Casey, embarrassed that Moster seemed to be reading his mind, nodded dumbly and headed to the door. He was worried again. He had only masturbated once today so far, and on a day like today, he needed a lot more….especially after that worship session with the cadets this morning. He was discovering….something….and his huge cock wanted to know more. But he went, dutifully, into the private locker room, showered, and changed into the clean sweats he found there. Before he left, he checked his guns and his pecs in the full length mirror. Flexing, he breathed to himself. “Damn. I’m fucking awesome.” And with the capsules still not in apparent full-force effect, dressed in baggy trunks and a clean, white light tee, he stumbled his way to the rec room. For what, he couldn’t tell. Probably more weirdness. But now, he was ready. Dr. Irving was there ahead of them all. He had set up chairs for all the bodybuilders in a semi-circle, with the inevitable video cam set up. There was a chair in the center, obviously meant for him. He glanced over at Moster, who nodded and gestured towards the chair. Casey waddled with his bodybuilder’s walk towards it slowly and sat. He looked around with anticipation. “So now what?” he asked. Zaftig took Moster aside. “This boy is gentle. We don’t want to break his spirit. He’s had a tough time and he just wants to make friends. Go easy on him.” Moster’s shoulders stiffened. The veins in his neck popped a little. He looked Zaftig dead in the eye, and said, “Being sweet to him now will kill him later. Is that what you want?” “No.” “Then let me handle it. I know what is best.” “Did you at least give him a capsule?” “Sure,” answered Moster. “He’ll be just fine.” “Doesn’t seem to have taken effect yet.” “He’s a big boy. Blood volume and all. It takes time.” “Fuck you, Moster.” Moster’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he knew not to protest. Zaftig was properly proud of his discovery. “You know fucking well that White Caps P-21 take effect immediately regardless of ‘blood volume’, if you want to put it that way.” “Dr. Zaftig, it’s my turn now.” “It’s always your turn.” Zaftig turned on his heel and left the rec room without further comment. Moster watched him go. The men were sitting impatiently. “All right, men. Let’s get to it.” He turned to Casey. “All right, Casey. Welcome. You’re one of the group now. We’re now….The Twenty.” “Yeah, baby!” “Bout fucking time.” “Tell him what that really means….” said Alvarez. “Spank him!” yelled Hension, and then, before Chad, sitting next to him, could swat him, he said, “Don’t you fucking hit me!” Chad did anyway. “Ow!” yelled Hension. Casey chuckled. “That’s gotta hurt. These dudes seem to hit you a lot.” “You will too, in time,” said Waring. “What did …he….”….um…” “Alvarez,” said Alvarez. “What did Alvarez – sorry – mean – when he said “tell him what that really means?” Silence. Casey continued. “I mean, what does it mean to be one of The Twenty?” Moster smiled. “Yes, let’s talk about that, Casey. Men, why don’t we show Casey what it’s all about?” Then he paused a moment. Casey wasn't reacting. He was just sitting quietly, albeit with great body tension. His muscles were hugely pumped, and Moster could see the fabric shifting as Casey's enormous cock began to uncoil in his sweats. Soon he would be hard. But the boy wasn't moving. Odd. Quietly, he asked, leaning in, “Casey, level with me.” He looked the teen in the eye. Casey couldn’t look away. Inwardly he was stammering. He was looking at Moster's crotch. “No, look me in the eye. Look up. Not down there. Up. How many White Caps have you taken?” “White Caps?” “The capsules. The pills. How many?” He gazed at him levelly. A pause. “Four, I think. Five?” He shrugged, weakly. "i don't remember." "Where did you get them? I gave you one...." "Uh..." Casey didn't want to indict the men on his first day. Weirdness notwithstanding. “Never mind. I can guess." Moster looked back at the group, all standing still, attentive, neatly dressed in their uniforms. And every cock seeming at attention, poling out hugely in their khakis. The men were ready to play. Past ready. Mmmmm. Not much effect on Casey, though, for 5 White Caps. A few moments of assertiveness and a powerful workout, but…..not much. "Are you feeling anything…unusual?” “Well….” Casey paused and looked away. He found himself staring at the men and their looming erections. Jesus. Here it came. Strong societal blockers, Moster thought. "Do you want to have sex? Like now?" No answer. Casey just stared at the cocks in the room. The men were deadly quiet. Then it hit Moster. Of course. “Casey, are you hypoglycemic?” Not so much to his surprise, even the dimwitted Casey knew exactly what that meant. Still staring the the men's rocket crotches, he spoke softly. “......I need oranges or candy bars sometimes.....” “They told you this when you were growing up?” “They told me in the Boys Home. My blood sugar. I have problems.” Of course. That was it. It happened sometimes. He reminded himself he had to mention it to Zaftig. It was the same for Obatu when he first checked in, and then, years later, for Eli Meyer. Since Meyer could neither speak nor hear and his sign language didn't encompass the subject of hypoglycemia, it took them a few days to realize that a cup of chocolate milk worked wonders on the tight glutes of the hot little muscle fuckee Meyer. Give the boy some cocoa and he'd take massive tool after tool up his butt for hours. He called over his shoulder. “Dr. Irving, please step into my office and get an orange. You’ll find a bowl of fruit on my conference table.” He turned back to Casey and smiled a little. “It’ll be just a moment. Then we’ll tell you what The Twenty is all about.” Irving left the room, used to being invisible except when ordered about. Moster stood up, in front of Casey. "It will only be a minute now." The men, behind him, were now pawing the floor like racehorses, ready to rock and roll. Casey, sitting, was now eye-to-crotch to Moster, in front of him. He stared openly at Moster’s enormous bulge in the fly of his uniform khakis, a thick pylon of sheathed cock snaking heavily along the edge of huge quad muscle, and gulped, looking up. Though Moster was the only man in the room without an erection, his penis yet appeared to be the biggest. “Yes, sir,” he stammered. And stared again. His heart was pounding. Moster put a hand on Casey’s beefy shoulder, kneading his fingers slightly into the thick muscle. “Hang on. It won’t be long now.” He turned to the men behind him. “Men? Drop trou.” Zippers unzipped, belts slipped out of belt loops and went to the floor, as the 18 bodybuilders – even Abdul – dropped their uniform slacks to their ankles. Pants down. Around the room. Now all the men were in micro posers. Those massive bulges were unleashed. Looming, heavy, hard, all already pointing straight out. Their cocks almost fully exposed except for the bulging, straining fabric barely covering cockheads. Some of the posers were ready to snap. Casey stared at them all. "Wow...." he breathed. "Men why don't you do some posing for Casey? You've seen his muscles. I don't think he's had the opportunity to see yours." "You, too, Sergeant," said Abdul. Moster looked at him. He paused. "All right, then." He unbuttoned his bulging dress shirt and slipped it off. Casey could almost imagine he could hear the groan of relief of the fabric, suddenly relieved of the need to stretch over the man's massive muscles. But he wasn't prepared for the massive musculature of Moster. Cocks and balls bulged forth, each man spilling half a foot of visible cock into barely sheathed pouches. Casey felt a dribble of precum shooting in his posers. “Arms behind backs!” barked Moster, clearly now the leader of the group. He turned to Casey and became one with his men. The Nineteen placed their hands behind their lower backs. “Spread legs!” All spread their legs wide, shooting their right legs out in choreographed unison. “Prepare!” Fists clenched, crammed in solid obliques. “Front double biceps!” All arms slowly rose. And 40 cannonballs of enormous power ball biceps snapped into ungodly peaks. The men faced straight ahead, all eyes high and level, as if gazing into infinity. “Jesus,” breathed Casey. He fumbled with his crotch a moment. His head was spinning. The lineup of 19 men stood before him, all flexing with massive front double biceps power. The black muscle god brought his arms down strode slowly across the room back to Casey. As he moved, his half-covered organ swayed heavily from side to side in his posing pouch. Behind him, the lineup of men continued to flex without wavering. He stood next to Casey, and impossibly, appeared to tower over even him. Dr. Irving returned with the orange. “Chow down on this, Casey,” said Moster as Irving handed it to him wordlessly. "Men, drop the biceps pose." The men relaxed. Hension snickered. "Yeah, chow down, Casey." Then, warning Chad...."Don't you hit me...." “Dr. Irving, would you get back to your camera, please?” Dr. Irving went back to the video cam, checking his clipboard, and began to tape. The men circled around Casey as he took a big bite out of the orange, and then another, and then another. A moment passed. Casey began to flush, a deep crimson red – and then, just as quickly – the flush faded. He looked up at Moster, and smiled. Broadly. “I’m fine now,” he said. “Casey,” asked Moster evenly, “have you ever sucked cock before?” “No, sir.” “Would you like to?” “Yes, sir. I think I would.” Snap! Snap! Gunst's and Blankenship's posers snapped. Their cocks bloomed free, swaying heavily, ready for service. Gunst stepped forward, but Blankenship elbowed him heavily out of the way. Gunst looked at him threateningly, raised his fist, ready to punch face. Moster stood back. "Easy, men. There's time for everyone. Who should he start with?” he asked the group. “I think he starts with ME,” said Abdul, striding forward, his hands on the straps of his bulging posers. The 14 inch shaft was fully exposed, the tendrils of Abdul's thick pubic hair shining in the rec room light. “Fine with me,” Casey said, still smiling. “How do I do this?” “Don’t worry. It’ll come naturally. Just let it happen.” Abdul took his position in front of Casey and pushed out his powerful hips. As Casey leaned in, Abdul roughly cupped the back of the teen’s head, and pulled him in close. "Get to work, boy..." Casey open his mouth. Wide. "Sorry about last night, " he said up to Abdul, who loomed over him, taking his mammoth cock out of his posers and aiming it. "Wider," said Abdul. "Can I pose for you guys later?" Casey asked. "Sure thing!" squeaked Hension. Smack!! "Ow! What did I say??" "I said OPEN WIDER," commanded Abdul. "Sure thing," said Casey. He opened his mouth wider. "Let's go." And so.... it began. **** Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets
  12. As we both sat in the Sauna, I could tell there was an attraction between us. Me, the gym rat, tight and fit with some sexy hefty mounds of muscle where they were needed most. Him, the huge hairy power lifter thick with muscle all over him, and a nice layer of bulk on top of that. There were about 5 other guys in the sauna with us, but they all seemed oblivious to what was going on, at first. I never had the hots for a bear or big thick guys. I always went after the tight, fit, cut gym rats like myself. Maybe it was the heat mixing with the testosterone in his sweat that was filling my nostrils with a pungent sent of desire and maleness. As we sat there, looking each other up and down, assessing what the other was all about, I got the sense that this was not going to go my way but I still tried to assert my normally irresistible hypermasculinity. Very quickly , there was no doubt from anyone in that steam room as we were not being very secretive about our posturing toward each other. The other guys in the small wooden room were getting quite a show of an animalistic courting, Most of them tried to avert their eyes as much as possible, but I could see that they would sneak in a look every now and then, some even adjusting their growing cocks. It was like a mating documentary of two Alphas from different packs. Secretly thought, even with my Gorilla like flexing and rubbing the engorged muscles of my chest and arms, hiding my actions with falsities of stretching, I couldn't help but feel like I was not "The" Alpha Male here in this game. Normally, I usually had the other little fauna eating out of my rough callused hands, causing them to swoon like the little muscle worshipers they were, but this grizzly was definitely not the subordinate in this forest of heat, wood, muscle and sweat. As I had said, I was quite the cut and muscular specimen, but even with all of my muscle, this bear titan dwarfed me. Sitting there, this guy towered over me at least a foot or more. His shoulders from end to end must have been about 3 feet across. His upper arms looked like it had swallowed a small basketball. His chest and upper torso, I could figure, was at least 55 inches around and his nipples were as large as half dollars with tips that were larger then a nipple on baby bottle. He was covered in a coat of fur over his entire super thick torso, forearms and back. Each strand of hair was coarse like mini trees on rolling massive mountains of muscle, When I looked at his face, all I could see was every picture of Paul Bunyan that I had ever seen. His lips, that were fuller than Jagger's, boar through the carpet of dark face fur. They glistened with the moisture of a combo of sweat and saliva, occasionally licked by a red python that would slowly emerge from it's liar smelling it's impending prey as it helped to re-moisten the cave entrance. Then, as I looked up his worn, chiseled cheekbones, I stopped at his eyes. The brows were super bushy and dark, but not in a uni-brow. Each thick caterpillar sat on it's roof of the housing of the most amazing Caribbean Sea deep blue eyes. The electrified oculars weren't only hypnotic, but endless in their depth and control over everything they looked at. A mass of authority blazed from them and even with all my self assurance, I was lost in their endless victory over my will and pride. In truth, there was no battle for dominance because this beast had his kill before his prey even knew it was dinner. Even as I knew I was killed and about to be eaten by this incredible victor, I never felt so alive and full of a harmonious peace, before. I was beaten, but in an orgasmic bliss from the battle. My inner desires were at the hottest blazing temperature and I welcomed the fire that was rising inside of me. I think that it was a combination of his size, smell and authoritative manner that was hitting every erogenous zone in me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop, my increasing desire with every breathe. There was absolutely no interference from me getting one of the hardest erections I ever had in my life. I tried to push it down between my legs and covered it with my towel, but he knew his power over me had fertilized my inner being of carnal lust and he toyed with it. I was so hard it felt like I was going to explode before anything physically would happen. I could see it in his eyes that he knew I wanted him. He almost smirked at how easy it had been for him to control me. Then, as if to taunt me even further, I watched in awe as he opened up his towel and I got my first vision as his cock began to thicken and lengthen. At first, he sat towards me so only I could see his cock as he gave me a private show. Because, I’m sure if the other men would have seen it, they would have either run for the hills or pounced on him, and I don’t think he wanted to share with them. This was for me. I was his target. His cock, soft, was as thick as screwdriver handle, but as it plumped up, it grew to the size of a small baseball bat. It was easily 7-8 inches long and probably around 7 or more inches around. Slowly, as if to show me it’s teeth, the head glistened as it emerged out from under it’s hood. I licked my lips uncontrollably and I could see his whole cock was actually pulsating with every gush of blood that ran into it. Amazingly though, I could tell that it wasn’t fully hard and that scared and excited me even more. The other men in sauna, seemed to show interest in the bear and I, but it was mostly out of curiosity. Some took off their towels and you could see that they were getting excited, some kept their towels on and groped themselves showing small tents. But, when they didn’t seem to get a response from either the bear or I, they would get up and leave. This happened a few times, but he never got fully hard as other men would come in and out of the sauna. Then, after about 20 minutes, when we had chased the last of the bystanders away, one of the employees and one of my faithful worshipers, Jordon, peaked his head in and said that it was closing time. He must have gotten a look at the bear’s cock, because his eyes jumped wide open and then he licked his lips, turned his head and smiled at me asking if I’d lock up. I said yes and gave him the look of, “Okay, you can leave now.” Jordon chuckled and threw me the keys and said he’d lock the door behind him. Since I was the owners son, I could stay as long as I wished. Shockingly, The Bear began to cover himself and get up as if he was going to leave and I motioned for him, to sit back down, telling him that it would be just the two of us left and he could stay if he liked. The light’s outside of the sauna in the locker room dimmed and we knew we were alone. That’s when this thick papa bear’s cock really sprang to life. He must have released any inhibitions of holding back, because like a fucking rocket, It grew and grew to be thicker than a one of those extra large “Monster” energy drink cans and longer than a coke bottle. It stood straight out and up even with it’s huge size. It looked way too heavy to be able to stand as straight up as it was....It was just sooo fucking massive!! Both my mouth and ass were watering and pleading to me to get fed. I don’t know if it was the heat or him, but I was feeling really lightheaded and I could literally feel my heart as it pounded in my chest to meet with the throbbing of my cock. As I removed my own towel to finally show him my own thick 8″ rod he smiled, and said, “Nice” and then he looked down at his 14″ long monster and said, “better”. As if on cue, a very large and thick pearly drop of precum jeweled up on the tip of his massive head. Instinctively, I threw my towel on the floor and knelt between this colossal beast’s legs. My hands landed on his rock hard powerful thighs and I could feel the power of him beneath my touch. I tried to squeeze them , but it was like squeezing a petrified log. I quickly opened my mouth and let his precum fall onto my tongue before it would be wasted on the hot wood slats below us. It was surprisingly thick as cum and as I tasted his salty goodness, I swear I literally felt electrified by it. Waves of incredible pleasure overcame me and my cock jumped as an incredible hunger rose in my entire body. I opened my mouth wider and took in the thickest man I have ever attempted to suck off. My mouth stretched to almost beyond it’s limits and I thought my lips would split at the sides, but I was able to take him in me. Little by little I was able to get more and more of him into my mouth and with each downward movement of my head I felt more and more passion course through me. I have never wanted a man more in my entire life. What the fuck had I been missing all these years? As I finally got down to fit at least 9 inches of him down my throat, I heard him to begin to growl and moan loudly. My eyes were wild with hunger as much as the rest of me and I happened to look down toward the floor and I saw that I had created my own large pool of precum. “It’s not gonna take much boy, but I’ve got loads and loads for ya…so are you ready for shot number 1?” I nodded and hummed an “Ah huh” and that’s when I felt his huge hands go around and under my arms as he lifted me effortlessly up, twisting me so I was upside down with his cock still in my mouth and my legs on his shoulders. He began to lower me up and down on his cock as he held onto my sides. The man was literally using my body and face like a Fleshjack to fuck me. The power in him was beyond belief and realizing such made me go over the edge as I lost all control and I began to erupt a torrent of cum all over his face, chest, belly and legs. It was literally the strongest orgasm I could ever have remembered having. Even after the cum stopped escaping my cock, I still was having orgasmic convulsions of my whole body. Then I realized, that my lips and oral cavity were numb and I was taking almost every bit of his shaft in and out of my mouth. That’s when the beast began to give me the first incredible orgasm that rose out of him. His whole body began to shake and I eagerly awaited the result. He screamed like an animal in sheer bliss and in a matter of seconds, I literally could feel the force of cum traveling through his cock and as it fired out like a cannon with blast after blast into me. An amazing warmth filled my throat, chest and stomach, but it only slightly ebbed my hunger for him. I had never had anyone cum as much as he did. It was as if the amount of cum that was coming out of that huge body of his was actually a natural thing. Huge body=Huge Cummer. I couldn’t swallow the massive amounts of cum that he was giving me as some of it flowed out of my mouth and down his shaft. When he finished his explosive orgasm, he got up with both of us, kicked open the sauna door and then straddled one of the locker room benches. He picked me up off of his cock, turned me around and sat me on his lap, pushing his huge still rigid cock beneath my balls as it pushed up against my taint and asshole. Then he pulled me to him in a bear hug and kissed me. We kissed long and hard and passionate for about 5 minutes as his frottage of my ass made me become even hornier if that were possible. When he could tell by my moans that I couldn’t take it anymore, he told me to get ready for him. He lifted me up and held me above his vertical rock solid tower cock and he slowly and gently lowered me to just slightly enter me, holding me up like i was nothing but a feather. Little by little he lowered me onto him and If I winced he eased up, letting me get used to his incredible size and then he’d lower me some more. This must’ve took about 10 minutes and the guy never looked like he struggled with my 262lbs of heavy muscle at all. In fact, he seemed to get even more invigorated and stronger. The reason I say stronger was because, as he was getting me acclimated to his cock, I was sucking on his hairy chest and nipples and his chest seemed to get harder and bigger. I’m not kidding. It was simply amazing and unreal at the same time, but I think the bear was actually growing a little. When he finally stopped lowering me, I realized it was because he was now balls deep into me. I literally had all 14 and a half inches of his super thick prick deep into me and there was no pain, only a complete bliss like I had never felt before. Precum was pouring like a faucet out of my own cock soaking both of us. He told me to relax and that he would do all the work!! So, I relaxed my body as much as I could and he began to lift me up and down on him. Starting slow so that he was sure that I was accustom to his size. As my moans got more intense and my ass loosened up to fit him, his speed increased. With every downward movement I began to actually shoot small amounts of precum all over us. Since his cock was so huge it was essentially past my prostate, but with every upward motion he would almost take his cock out, but then thrust down and it hit it causing me to scream in ecstasy and shoot the cascade of precum. I’ve never had a man as big as him in me and I’ve never had a man with so much strength use me as his sex toy. I was a willing but completely powerless participant for this behemoth. He could have done anything to me and I would have complied and realizing that made me to literally let go as I began to, again, uncontrollably cum after only a few more thrusts of his cock up into me. I must have looked in panic at him and he just smiled and said, “No Worries…You’re gonna cum more tonight than you have ever cum in your life…and so am I.” And with that, again I felt the rush of his orgasm travel up his cock and empty into me with so much cum that I literally could feel him filling me up. I know it wasn’t really going into my stomach, but I began to feel so full inside and warm. God, I was so warm with his juice. This beast of a man had completely opened me up to a realm of existence I never knew was possible and I loved every second of it. My eyes had been closed during my last orgasm, but when I opened my eyes to look straight into his and I felt it. It was pure. It was real. It was Love. I knew I loved him. I knew at that moment that He was everything to me. He was everything to all of us. As he gazed back at me, he said, “I know,…I know…I feel it too…We are meant to be. I felt it from you long ago, first when your were in the bassinet at the hospital. Then when I watched you play football, or when you tended to Dad's fields and finally when you first came to Flatbush.” “I love you...Sir” I said and I never had any doubt or worry when those words came out. It was the most natural expression I had every given. “I love you, too. I have for years…'names Matt....I have a little farm just outside of town. You're there now...." He said as he looked deeper into my eyes. "...and I'm your Uncle!!” Steve opened his eyes, sprang up in bed and looked around the dimly lit bedroom. Lying next to him was Lloyd and he was just as amazing as when he first pulled up in the truck. Steve, smiled, not only at the sight of Lloyd, but at the dream he had just had. He fondled his rock hard cock as got up and walked over to look out of the window to the morning that was dawning. He made it. Uncle Matt's Farm. He was finally here. There was a knock on the door. Author's note: I know it seems like a part of the story is missing from where Sam & Jake were about meet Lloyd & Steve out in the woods, but trust me, you will know what happened in that scene very soon. Please tell me what you think so far. I'd really love to hear your thoughts, comments and even wishes for what might happen next. Thanks, NY BEAR!! PLEASE COMMENT BELOW. THANKS.
  13. Guest

    theft The Flexorcist (27)

    Twenty-seven Tomas awoke from his deep and peaceful sleep. He stretched his 40 pound lighter body and mentally ordered his pet to come to his room. He then focused his attention on Connor but only found a blank, resting mind. “He must be sleeping after his fight with Alex”, he said to himself and got up from the bed. He put on his clothes and turned around as the door opened. Anton barged into the room and quizzically stared down at his master. “Are you smaller?”, he asked. “I gave 40 pounds of muscle to Connor to fight Alex”, Tomas replied in a bored tone. “Oh man. Now his bigger than me. Why didn’t you give me those extra muscles? I would have dominated everyone”, Anton said like a toddler being denied a new toy. “SILENCE!”, Tomas bellowed and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Anton’s 580 pound body left the floor and floated in the air. “You’re in no position to question my actions, my pet. You, like everyone else, are at my mercy. I can easily drain your muscles away and cast you in the darkest depths of Hell!”, Tomas said coldly, “Would you like to end like those runts Sean and Keith? Weak, skeleton-like boys without any strength?”. Tomas raised his left hand and lightning shot from his fingertips, hitting the ceiling inches away from Anton’s face. “No. No, I’m sorry”, Anton answered quickly. “I thought so”, Tomas said, “you have a special place in the upcoming ritual, my pet. Since you’re the first beast I’ve created, you’re central in the events at hand. Connor’s only job is to make sure he fulfills his destiny. Now, let’s get to the library and make things ready for the ritual”. Anton crashed down as Tomas ended his spell. He quickly got up and followed his master stepping through the mirror into the library. Aaron had given his keys to Alex and watched as the football player knocked Connor out cold and carried him off to his van. He walked through the now deserted wrestle hall and entered the locker room. He opened his locker but looked up as a big shadow fell over him. Before he could react two strong hands spun him around, grabbed hold of his singlet and lifted him up as his back was slammed against the lockers. Kurt stared the 110 pound lighter wrestler in the eye as he effortlessly held him up. “Where’s Connor,”, he snarled. Aaron squirmed in the bigger man’s grasp, his feet dangling in the air. “Where’s Connor, worm?”, Kurt repeated angrily and smacked the wrestler’s back hard against the metal lockers. “Augh”, Aaron grunted as his back dented the cold metal lockers, “He’s out. Please don’t hurt me”. Kurt groaned in anger; he had looked forward to worshipping Connor’s huge body. His cock hardened at the thought. Might as well have some fun, he thought and dropped the wrestler. “Suck me off”, he said as he ripped off his speedos. Aaron slumped to his knees and stared up at the thickly muscled swimmer looming over him. He knew he was no match for the way bigger athlete and moved in on the hard 8 incher smacking against the steroid bloated eight-pack in front of him. “For every round your cock shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle to me shall be past”, he mumbled softly. These words had just popped up in his mind and it seemed natural to speak them out loud. Kurt looked down and saw the wrestler open his mouth. He rammed his fully engorged 8 incher in it as the other athlete said something. Aaron gagged as the roided up swimmer’s cock invaded his mouth while he spoke the hellish formula. His tongue rubbed along the hard shaft as the last word escaped his mouth. “Yeaughn”, Kurt moaned as his cock exploded the second it made contact with the wrestler’s tongue. He didn’t even have time to blink as the intense pleasure of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had rolled over his 280 pound body. Aaron eagerly sucked the salty cum away, gulping down every drop of it. Warmth was already spreading through his body and he grabbed hold of the swimmer’s thick quads for support. Kurt closed his eyes and let the feelings overwhelm him completely. His left hand grabbed the back of the wrestler’s head and he began shoving his cock back and forth in the other athlete’s mouth. Aaron answered Kurt’s enthusiasm by sucking his 8 incher even harder. He felt his singlet getting tighter and tighter as his muscles began feeding on the swimmer’s size. His delts bulged with new mass, doubling in size as they swelled outward. He looked at his growing biceps atop his thickening arms that held onto the swimmer’s deflating quads. “Yeaughn”, Kurt moaned once more, in a slightly higher voice. The swimmer was totally lost in pleasure as the wrestler gave him the blowjob of a lifetime. He stopped trusting his hips as his quads burned like they did after a long, hard workout. The mild burning sensation mixed with the electric bliss coursing through his shrinking frame. Aaron’s muscles kept beefing up on his growing frame. He felt his calves swelling with hard meat against his hardening hamstrings. His naturally strong quads thickened and began ripping his singlet. His six-pack bulged outward against the overstretched fabric, making tears appear all over it as they swelled to the size of coke cans. His muscular pecs began protruding more and more from his chest, pushing his hard nipples through the now paper-thin fabric of his singlet. His strong hands found more room on the swimmer’s ever shrinking quads. He intensified his sucking on the now 7 incher in his mouth. Incoherent sounds escaped Kurt’s mouth and drool dripped from his lips as various sensations overwhelmed his mind. Pleasure, exhaustion, the mild burning sensation that spread to more and more of his muscles, a tingle of what felt like weakness; it all mixed together into the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Aaron gazed up at the swimmer and a faint smile formed on his lips: his once steroid bloated abs now looked like a runner’s 4-pack; the formerly protruding pecs no longer blocked his view of the swimmer’s face and kept receding into his chest; the deflating quads felt like weak sponges in his swelling hands, his long fingers were almost touching around the shrinking legs; the cock in his mouth was now well below 5 inches and kept shriveling down as it released more loads down his hungry throat. A burning sensation spread in Kurt’s balls as they began protesting from being drained so much. It quickly turned into a stabbing pain that overcame the pleasure of his ongoing orgasm. A loud snapping sound made him open his eyes and look down. His mouth fell open in disbelief: it looked like the hulk was sucking him off. Aaron’s swelling muscles had won the fight against the elastic singlet. The straps snapped and shot loose as the rising traps grew higher and higher, the inflating pecs kept pushing the singlet further and further away from the wrestler’s chest, his thickening and widening lats pulled the fabric backward and outward. The shattered remains draped around his still growing frame as sweat made them stick against and highlight his huge muscles. Kurt stared at the bulging and swelling mounds of muscle on the wrestler’s widening back. He looked down and gasped as he realized where the wrestler’s new size came from: his once majestic, 290 pound body was now a mere 160 and shrinking. He pulled his 4.5 incher from the hungry mouth. Or tried to. Aaron felt the now 150 pound swimmer pulling back his cock. He hardened his hold on the other athlete’s legs, his fingers easily touching around the meager sticks and digging into the now soft muscle, and lifted him off the floor. His tongue effortlessly overpowered the still hard 4 incher and milked out some more cum. Kurt squirmed with all the might left in his weakened body but the huge wrestler’s grip held him in place. His shrinking balls protested with hard, painful, burning stabs as they were emptied from their last, watery drops. He gasped as he noticed that the wrestler’s arms were twice the size of his own legs. His vision went dark and he sank away in unconsciousness as his once hulking body settled in at 90 pounds. Aaron felt the swimmer go limp in his grip. He licked the last drip from the now pathetic cock in his mouth and tossed the once intimidating swimmer aside. The limp, frail body flew across the locker room and crashed down against the furthest row of lockers, failing to dent them on impact. The now 7 feet, 380 pound Aaron stood up and grinned as his big paws roamed the hot surface of his newly grown, hard muscles on his chest. He flexed the protruding rack of beef, making it bounce under his right hand. His left paw explored his eight-pack, tracing in and out the deep ridges separating the strong abs. Sean, Keith and Logan were getting ready to pick up Matt at the hospital as Logan’s phone rang. “Hello?”, he said. … “I thought we could pick him up tonight, doctor?” … “Okay. Tell him we’ll come visit him first thing in the morning. Bye.” Sean and Keith looked at the fallen quarterback. “The hospital”, Logan said, “They have to do some more tests to see if Matt has recovered completely. It will take a few more days before he can leave the hospital.” “I suggest we still leave campus tonight”, Sean stated, “Once Mike and Paul are back from the gym we can take our stuff and move into a hotel room. We have to avoid making contact with Tomas or his gang of muscle freaks.” “Let’s start packing our bags then”, Keith replied and began emptying the closet. Sean and Logan followed his example and soon enough they were packed and ready to go. Tomas and Anton stepped through the large mirror and entered the library. Anton always wondered how his master was able to create these passages. “Just a small proof of my ever-increasing powers, my pet”, Tomas replied to the unspoken question. A faint noise made them look at the center of the vast reading room. A huge, muscled creature was awaiting them at what looked like an altar. “Connor”, Anton said eagerly, excited to discover his new massive size and marched toward the muscle beast his master had grown past his own huge dimensions. “Guess again”, the creature said and turned around. “Alex!”, Anton spat out angrily. Anton noticed how his own muscles clearly outsized Alex’ ones and charged at him. Tomas just stared at the scene and saw his pet storming at the other beast before he could react. “What did you do to Connor?”, Anton bellowed deeply, his voice echoing against the high walls of the vast reading room. He jumped up in the air and launched himself at his adversary. “You’re about to find out”, Alex replied coolly. He made a fist, pulled back his monstrous, 55 inch right arm and threw a punch with all his force. Anton saw the big fist coming at him but couldn’t dodge it as he was mere inches away from his opponent. A loud, sickening, cracking sound sounded as Alex concrete-hard fist collided with Anton’s nose. The 580 pound behemoth flew backward and crashed down several feet away, blood flowing from his flattened nose, knocked out cold by his 500 pound enemy. “Put him on the altar!” Alex looked away from his battered opponent and faced Tomas. He nodded, grabbed Anton, threw him onto his beastly left shoulder and carried him over to the altar. He tossed the 580 pound beast with his back onto the stone altar and stepped back, awaiting further instructions. “Chain him!” Alex squatted down and put the heavy, metal chains around Anton’s wrists and ankles, securing the 580 pound beast firmly atop the altar. “Rip off his clothes!” Alex stood up, his massive quads bulging in the process, and effortlessly ripped off Anton’s skintight clothes, exposing his huge frame. He stared in admiration at the hard masses of beef that protruded from Anton’s body and at the cock, 15 inches of soft meat, that lay over his big bull-sized balls atop the altar. “Have you taken care of the football team?” Tomas’ question pulled Alex from his awe and he faced his master. “I’ve drained Logan’s muscles to get huge myself. I’ve trashed the others during practice. Matt’s still in the hospital and Mike and Paul know who’s boss”, he said. “Not good enough”, Tomas reacted, “I have to be sure they won’t interfere with the ritual. You’re the champion from Hell mentioned in the ancient manuscript. You’ve taken down several men despite them out sizing you, even when I had beefed up Connor some more…” “It just felt natural to take him on”, Alex interrupted, “ The instant he entered my room I just felt an urge to prove I could take him. I didn’t…” Tomas shut him up with a sign from his hand. “No need to apologize, champion”, Tomas said, “I hadn’t read the entire manuscript until then. I thought that Anton was the champion of Hell ‘cause he had defeated Sean and Keith. I already had my doubts when he said that Connor had beaten him in arm wrestling. The true champion would never lose a physical challenge, not even something silly as a arm wrestling. When Connor mentioned your name, I dove into your mind and saw the incredible amount of aggressiveness waiting to break free. I discovered you had always bullied other kids despite your puny size. So I decided to give you the body to match that aggressiveness.” “But why did you make Connor grow after our first fight?”, Alex asked, “You knew I was the champ”. “I wanted a final test to be sure”, Tomas replied with a grin, “I knew that if you could take down a 100 pound bigger opponent, no one would be able to stop you. Why did Aaron revealed Connor’s weak spot, you think? Some infernal inspiration I put into his mind at that time. You’ve trashed Connor three times: in the locker room, in the shower zone and finally in the wrestle hall. And now, you’ve knocked out my pet with one blow.” The smug grin on Alex’ face got wider and wider as he listened to Tomas. “Now that I’ve decrypted the manuscript completely, everything has become clear to me”, Tomas continued, “Sean and Keith aren’t necessary for the ritual: Anton has absorbed their muscles. He’s the ultimate sacrifice needed to set things in motion at the stroke of midnight.” “And what about Connor?”, Alex asked. “You may keep him, champ”, Tomas answered, “I’ve seen you put him in Aaron’s van and know what you and Aaron are up to. Soon I’ll command the armies of Hell and hordes of infernal creatures will carry out every order I give. Until then, I have one final assignment for you. Matt is in room 302 of the hospital. Go and do what must be done. Aaron will take care off Mike and Paul. Then you guys may go to the south and live your life. But be aware: there might be a day when I call you, champ, and Aaron back in action. Now go!” Alex nodded and exited the library, heading toward the hospital for his final assignment. Aaron ended his self worship. The same voice that had ordered him to reveal Connor’s weakness to Alex during their fight, now ordered him turn around. Aaron turned his head and noticed the sound of running water. He hadn’t noticed it before, being focused on sucking off Kurt and then worshipping his own, beefed up frame. He swaggered over to the shower zone and the sound of two voices mixed in with that of the running water. He entered the actual shower area and discovered two heavily muscled football players under the showers at the furthest wall. Mike and Paul were enjoying a long, hot shower after their grueling workout. “Man, doesn’t it feel great being back in the gym”, Mike said to his buddy. “Yeah”, Paul replied, “the pump’s incredible after a week off. I’ve never been this hard after training since my first workout in high school. Feels like I could explode right here.” Mike glanced aside and saw his 275 pound teammate’s rock hard, 10 inch cock pointing straight at the tilled wall they were facing as he soaped his pumped muscles. “You horny dog”, he said laughingly and gently stroked his own semi-hard cock as he let the hot water rain down on his 263 pound frame. “Alpha dog, you mean”, Paul answered grinningly, “biggest, strongest, most muscular and horniest man on the team.” His untouched 10 incher throbbed as he spoke. “We’re gonna ace those practice tests”, Mike stated and kept stroking his own, further hardening cock A shadow fell over them. A big, strong hand grabbed onto their round shoulders and span them around. Before they could react, the strong hand pressed against their protruding chests and pushed their backs against the tilled wall. Mike and Paul stared at the massive, black man in front of them: he outsized them by at least 100 pounds of rock hard muscle that had ripped his singlet to pieces. They felt like deer caught in a headlight and didn’t budge. “For every round your cocks shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle shall be past” Paul’s already throbbing 10 incher exploded instantly and blasted load after load of cum onto the wrestler’s abdomen. Mike’s cock followed this lead and jolted to complete hardness in his hand. After Paul’s fourth load, it began shooting his own man juice onto the abs in front of him. “YEAGH!” Aaron boomed in triumph, closed his eyes and tilted back his head. He heard the football player’s cum splatter against his eight-pack and felt the heat spreading through his 7 feet, 380 pound body. Paul’s horned up body kept blasting out cum at an incredible rate: for every load Mike’s 8 incher shot, his 10 incher produced three. He and Mike stared at their cum drenching the hard abs in front of them while orgasm raced through them. Aaron’s eight-pack was completely covered by the massive amount of sticky cum the football players kept pumping out. Not a single drop of it slid down onto the floor, though. The cum quickly absorbed into his frame, spreading into his muscles to feed them. The warmth throughout his 380 pound body kept increasing, announcing an even more impressive growth than in the locker room. “Augh”, Aaron grunted as his body began its growth into pure godhood. Mike and Paul gaped at the lengthening wrestler in front of them. Their eyes widened as they felt their bodies being stretched upward: the wrestler’s hands pushed them against the wall and slowly travelled upward, pulling both their 263 and 275 pound bodies along on his way toward the ceiling. The football player’s calves flexed into hard, diamond-shaped mounds as they were forced to stand on their toes to accord to the wrestler’s rising. The whole time their still stubbornly hard cocks kept splattering cum against the abdomen wrapped in ripped remains of the singlet. Aaron felt his lengthening slowing down: his body stopped going upward as it reached 9 feet. The warmth shifted from his bones and made its way into the wrestler’s still unchanged, yet already huge muscles. Pleasure wrote itself all across Aaron’s handsome, square and masculinity-screaming face. “Muugh. Yeah!”, he grunted between his clenched teeth as the next phase of his growth began. Paul and Mike noticed and recognized the look of pure ecstasy on the wrestler’s face. They gulped, their tongues scraping in their dry mouths, as they saw the huge muscles on the towering frame in front of them bulging with new mass. By now their balls were completely dry and the infernal spell was transforming their hard earned muscles into cum that escaped their diminishing frames through their blasting cocks. Paul’s 10 incher maintained its higher frequency but since his balls were way bigger than Mike’s, his muscles began shrinking at about the same time as Mike’s. The football players didn’t notice their own decrease as they were still overcome by the feeling of orgasm coursing through them and the impressive sight before them. “YEAGH!” Aaron’s huge muscles soaked up the warmth like sponges. His calves exploded from the back of his long legs as the diamond-shaped muscle doubled in size; his nicely round ass ballooned outward as his hamstrings swelled with rock-hard mass; his kneecaps looked ridiculously tiny and were totally obscured by the prominent and large teardrop-shape that bulged at the edges of his quads; cuts, striations and veins pushed against the paper-thin skin as the cords of muscle in his quads inflated outwards, thickening his long legs beyond the size of a normal tree. Mike and Paul couldn’t believe what they were seeing. A mixture of weakness and fatigue began dominating the orgasm exploding through them. An increasing burn spread painfully in their flexed calves. Mike broke his gaze from the broadening beast and looked down. He inhaled sharply as he discovered his own diminishing frame: his once huge, 263 pound body was now well beyond 200 pounds and going down even further. The wrestler’s big paw now covered his chest almost completely and he could feel the increasing strength as it pushed him harder and harder against the tilled wall. He looked aside and saw that Paul was undergoing the same changes and looked already smaller than him. “Paul! Paul!”, he said to his buddy. Paul didn’t react. His big balls and naturally through-the-roof level of testosterone combined with the insane pump and horned-up state from his workout intensified his trance. He’d been on the verge of orgasm under the shower before Aaron appeared and that had made him very susceptible to the infernal spell. The muscles on his once 275, now 175 pound body were pulled into his balls, transformed into cum and blasted out at high speed as the orgasm of a lifetime overwhelmed him completely. Mike saw the pleasure-filled expression on his buddy’s face and knew he was totally off. He tried punching Paul with his left arm but couldn’t reach him: the wrestler holding them was broadening and pulled them further apart. “MORE” Aaron groaned in pleasure, tilting back his head further and keeping his eyes closed as he savored in the pleasure and warmth of the growth. This felt so much better than his first growth in the locker room. His huge torso followed the example of his legs and grew to godlike dimensions. His cum-drenched abdomen swelled harder and bigger, turning from eight-pack into a 12-pack; the canyons separating the large, cobblestone-sized muscles were at least an inch deep; all the while, they kept absorbing the cum and turning it into fuel for his growth; his half-watermelon-sized pecs, inflated with more rock-hard mass as they turned into and then surpassed the size of whole watermelons; the thick, striated, vein-infested slabs of beef protruded from his chest, looking like two broad pillows shoved underneath the paper-thin, black skin; his round, broad delts pumped up with meat like two balloons being inflated; they swelled larger than cannonballs, the separations between the individual heads of the muscles clearly visible, capping his broader-than-two-wide-doors shoulders with perfectly round, globes of beef. Mike felt his body go weaker and weaker as more of his muscles escaped him through his cock. He knew there was no way he could reach his buddy anymore. He would have to break free from the giant’s hold as soon as possible if he wanted to maintain some of his muscles. The fear of being drained down completely fought with the pleasure in his mind and he felt the cursed orgasm beginning to cool down. The loads of cum blasted less frequently from his cock. He bit on his tongue hard and the pain overpowered the lessened orgasm. His cock began deflating instantly and an agonizing pain stabbed in his drained balls. The second his cock stopped blasting out cum, the hand on his chest released its grip and he slumped down on the tilled floor. Mike summoned every ounce of strength left in his fatigued, 140 pound body and slowly crept toward the exit. Before leaving the shower zone, he looked back and saw Paul’s feet leaving the floor as he shriveled down further in the growing giant’s grip. Aaron had sensed Mike’s spent orgasm and had released him instantly: he didn’t want to lose any time on a dried source. He focused his entire attention on the other football player and kept his eyes shut as he concentrated on the pleasure of his growth. Atop his now beastly shoulders, his traps swelled into pillars of meat that doubled his strong neck in size; the thick vein travelling from the top of his pillow-sized chest over his larger-than-cannonballs-sized delts aside his biceps, began pumping warmth and energy into his arms; his thick, low-hanging triceps jolted lower at the back of his arms, doubling them in size as the horseshoe-sized muscles beefed up with steely hard mass; his biceps simply shot upward, swelling into vein-covered bowling balls of raw power; it seemed like someone was pouring hard concrete into them as they turned into 60 inch orbs of ripped meat; his forearms, now effortlessly holding onto the pathetic football player, tripled in size as the cable-like cords of muscles wove themselves thicker and broader along his long forearms; his paws grew accordingly and half of his right hand now covered Paul’s chest completely. Paul’s incredible orgasm wore down and he opened his eyes. He felt totally disorientated and weak. He could feel his feet dangling in the air and something was pressing hard into his chest and shoving him against the tilled wall. He gasped loudly, a high pitch escaping his mouth, as he saw the huge paw that looked as large as his now pathetic torso. His gaze followed the impossibly wide forearm, marveling at the thick veins feeding the cords of muscle, travelled upward to the mountain-like, yet relaxed bicep, licking his lips in awe, and finally looked up into the face of the god that held him. When the final tingle of growth subsided in his now 9 feet, 700 pound godlike body, Aaron opened his eyes and stared straight into the diminished football player’s eyes. He pulled him closer to his body, his massive 60 inch arm not even bulging: the 75 pound fallen jock felt like a feather in his grasp. Paul shivered in the god’s paw: never before had he felt this weak. Fear filled his mind as he realized that he was completely in the grasp of the muscle god; the man could break him by simply clenching his fist. Fear mixed with lust as his eyes roamed the bulging mounds of hard, striated beef that fought for room on the wrestler’s incredible physique. The god’s deep dark, paper-thin skin highlighted the huge muscles beyond anything he’d ever seen. His now feeble 2 inch cock hardened at the sight. “So, you called yourself an alpha dog”, Aaron boomed. The rich, deeper-than-a-subwoofer baritone echoed across the shower zone, engulfed Paul and vibrated deeply in his body. “Ughn”, he peeped in his now high-pitched, girly voice as his 2 incher pumped a final load from his pee-sized balls and shot it from his shaft. Aaron saw the smaller-than-a-water-drop load coming and caught it on his tongue. “Ah, a final coat”, he said as he felt the effect instantly on his body. “So, mister alpha dog”, he said as he turned his attention back to Paul, “you look more like a weak kitten to me. A bug in my grasp, ready to be crushed.” “No, please”, Paul peeped, “I’ll do anything you say”. Aaron didn’t listen. He simply clenched his fist, breaking every bone in Paul’s pathetic body and tossed the lifeless football player in the furthest corner of the shower zone. He swaggered over into the locker room and marveled as he pulled on his former clothes and they magically adjusted to his new frame. In the library Tomas had everything ready for the upcoming ritual. He had followed the action in the shower zone through the mirror and was very pleased: soon all of his threats would have been dealt with and nothing would stop him from ruling the earth. He looked aside as he heard the sound of rattling chains. Anton regained consciousness after the hard blow to his face. A severe pain pounded in his nose on the rhythm of his heartbeat. He tried touching his battered nose but heavy chains held his arms in place. “Shit, Alex has tied me down”, he thought as he saw Tomas appear next to him. “Ah, you’re awake, my pet”, Tomas said to Anton, “just in time for the ritual”. “Let me go, Tomas”, Aton pleaded, “Alex could be back any minute”. “Alex won’t be back”, Tomas replied, “he’s carrying out his assignment as we speak. He secured you like I ordered him to do.” “What? You ordered him? Why?”, Anton yelled in disbelief and rattled his chains more violently. “You have a special place in the upcoming ritual, my pet”, Tomas answered, “Since you’ve absorbed muscles from both Keith and Sean, you can easily take their place.” “Take their place? How?”, Anton asked while trying to get free, flexing his huge muscles in the process. “Don’t you get it? You’re the sacrifice that will initiate the ritual! Image the supreme honor you have!”, Tomas replied. “Sacrifice?...”, Anton yelled but froze mid-phrase as Tomas rammed his cock into his ass. “Yes, my pet”, Tomas grunted in between violent trusts, “you’re the counterweight that’ll let me open the gates of Hell!”. He shoved his engorged 15 incher back and forth in his pet’s tight ass and groped his thick, bulging rack of pecs. “But… I’ve protected you from that priest. Helped you take down Sean and Keith.”, Anton pleaded, pulling at the chains with all his might. “Yeah, flex those muscles”, Tomas grunted, his 15 incher exploded in his pet’s ass as he felt the incredibly dense pecs harden into concrete-like slabs of beef under his touch. “You’ve served me very well and you know… I’m gonna miss the feeling of my cock jammed up your tight, muscular ass. But your time has come to fulfill your destiny: sink into the darkest depths of Hell to open its gates for my armies of evil!”, Tomas said and pulled his cock from his pet’s ass and went over to the corner of the reading room to get some rest before the ritual, leaving Anton fighting against the chains in vain. “Please, let me go. I’ll do anything you say”, Anton begged in vain. At the hospital, Alex had effortlessly discovered the fire exit like Tomas had explained. He quickly mounted the iron stairs to the third floor and moved to the second window on his left. He glanced through it and smiled as he saw Matt lying on his bed. He silently opened the window and stepped into the room. Matt was actually enjoying his stay in the hospital. He was safe here and the nurses were very kind, especially that 20-something blonde that had helped him this morning. It had begun with her gently washing his battered torso, groping his muscular chest with her frail hands and him flexing them under her touch. By the time she had reached his abs, both of them had been breathing fast and he’d seen the lust in her eyes. He’d gotten up, locked the door and positioned her against the wall and fucked her right there. The light touch of her delicate hands and the excited noises she’d whispered in his ear, he’d sent him over the edge in record time. She’d even came back in the afternoon to ‘check on his condition’. The thought of her made his cock harden, making a tent under the sheets. Suddenly, the sheets were pulled violently away. “Excited to see me?” Matt recognized the deep voice and shivers of fear crossed his 255 pound body. He reached up to grab the alarm but a large paw pressed down hard on his chest. Pain exploded through him as his broken ribs protested against the harsh treatment. Alex grabbed the alarm above Matt’s head and simply yanked it from the wall before tossing it across the room. “HELP! HELP!”, Matt yelled in panic, struggling against his tormentor. Alex grabbed a sheet and shoved it into Matt’s open mouth, silencing his screams. “For every round you’re cock shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle shall be past!” Before Matt could react, his rigid cock jolted to full hardness and throbbed in the air. He tried holding back his orgasm, but as his rock-hard 8 incher was engulfed by the wet hotness of Alex’ mouth, he lost it. His balls churned and began pumping away his mass into the already massive beast looming over him. Alex smiled as he swallowed load after load of cum, his own cock rock-hard in his pants from excitement. He sucked with all his force, teasing and overpowering the shaft with his tongue to force out as much as possible. His growth began instantly. His body sprang upward until it settled in at just over 9 feet. His legs exploded with mass: his diamond shaped calves simply doubled in size, his hamstrings amassing more hard mass below his juicy, rock-hard ass that ballooned into two perfectly round bowling balls of beef, his already tree-sized quads bulged menacingly as the thick cords of muscle forming them, jolted outward with more mass; his tight pants stretched and stretched and adapted to his new size as Tomas had promised. He could see the titanic mass of hard, striated, vein-infested meat through his pants; he flexed his quads, making the outlines and cuts of the hard muscles dance underneath the skintight fabric. Matt tried fighting against the growing beast that was sucking him dry. He felt more and more muscle disappear from his well-trained physique and a great weakness spreading through his body. He squirmed and budged, ignoring the sharp pain from his protesting ribs. Alex did no longer notice the weakening attempts to break free in his own empowering grip. He focused on the pleasure of his growth and let his muscles swell him straight into godhood. His strong 12-pack stretched and beefed up as the cobblestone-sized muscles hardened, deepening the canyons between them even more; his huge pecs pumped up with mass, making his nipples point straight down to the ground and protruding threateningly from his chest, casting shadows over the top half of his armor-like abs; striations, outlined against his protesting yet adapting, skintight shirt, rippled across the wide surface as he breathed in and out. Energy left Matt’s body as it sank below 150 pounds. His struggle in Alex’ grip didn’t even budge the beast’s fingers anymore and the swelling hand atop his battered torso felt heavier and heavier with every passing second and now covered his flattening chest completely and even part of his vanishing abs. Meanwhile, Alex’ inflating monster dick had freed itself from his skintight jeans. It escaped from its fabric prison, pulsing with power as it pointed straight forward along the bottom of the hospital bed. The lengthening and thickening shaft grew past its impressive 20 inches as fat veins pumped more mass into it. It strengthened further with every inch it grew and began pushing against the bottom of the bed, lifting it slowly as the throbbing shaft amassed even more length and girth. Matt tried kicking the giant in the ribs, but his weak kicks bounced off the growing god’s muscular flanks. He gave up the fight and let tears roll over his cheeks as he watched his own body shrivel down to skeleton-like skinniness and felt his bed undulating on the rhythm of the beast’s inflating monster cock. The weak kicks felt like a tingle against his strong obliques and Alex simply intensified his sucking on the shrinking dick in his mouth. His boulder-like shoulders widened further as his hard delts swelled with mass; their perfect roundness dwarfed cannonballs, passed into and just beyond the size of large bowling balls and accentuated his already incredible v-taper further. His body knew his love for his oversized biceps and the epitome of Alex’ growth concentrated on his majestic arms. They had been swelling steadily alongside the instant growth of his other muscles, but now that those had reached their new dimensions, their growth kicked into overdrive. Matt sank away deeper and deeper as his vital energy kept being drained away. He was now well below 80 pounds and every visible muscle had already evaporated from his body. It even took a great effort to keep his eyes open. Black dots danced at the edges of his field of vision as he stared at the swelling god sucking on his now nearly disappeared cock. Alex felt the intense growth of his arms and upped his sucking on the tiny dick; the head of the pencil-thin cock barely made it past his own lips anymore. His triceps beefed up at the back of his arms; low hanging cords of beef that easily withstood the pull of gravity, that screamed power by the cuts and veins decorating them, the size of 10 horseshoes forged together; his biceps mounded upward as rock-hard meat found its way into the orbs, turning them into hideously large, beach ball-sized mountains crisscrossed with river-like veins that outsized Alex’ head as he flexed his left arm to check his canons. He relaxed his arm, grabbed Matt’s puny balls and clenched them hard. A faint grunt, no louder than the sound of a fly, escaped between Matt’s frail lips. The last energy was forced from his body as the god’s paw crushed his balls. Matt passed out, nothing more than a dry mummy, at the same time the god’s 30 inch, monster cock throbbed violently and tipped over his bed as it exploded violently, coating the room with his superior cum. Alex got up breathing hard, put his slowly deflating cock in his skintight pants and headed for the window. Realizing he would no longer fit through it, he hit the wall with his right shoulder, busting right through it and disappeared into the night. Back at Orchid university, Tomas began his incantations at the altar in the library. “Penates meorum, spirites infernae, audite precationam meam! Accipite hanc victima! Da mei imperium exerciti infernae!” Anton put every ounce of strength he could summon of his huge muscles into his struggle against the rusty chains. He wiggled and tore, striations and veins exploding over his immense body in the process, but the hellish irons easily held his 580 pounds in place. He pleaded in panic but his master didn’t listen. Tears began flowing over his cheeks as he felt the altar begin to shudder. “Bestia mea victima est! Fortia per potentia! Aperte portas infernae!” Howling, hideous bats suddenly appeared and circled above the sacrifice on the altar. Anton shivered in fear as the beasts dove to him, evading his majestic body by altering their flight at the very last moment. He screamed in horror as the black bats crapped all over his torso: the stinking fluid burned into him and seemed to pull him into the stone altar. The last thing he saw was his master looking down on him and then the altar gave away and he felt his 580 pounds of muscle plummet into the unfathomable depths of Hell. A deafening thunder rolled over Orchid university, shaking the majestic buildings violently as Anton disappeared into Hell. A shinning, red vortex emerged were the altar had been and hordes of dark, hideously deformed, soldier like creatures jumped from it. They kneeled in front of Tomas, awaiting his orders. “Bring me world domination”, Tomas bellowed loudly. The creatures jumped up and scattered off to all directions; new soldiers jumping from the vortex as the others left the library. Sean, Keith and Logan wondered what took Mike and Paul and headed to the gym to find their buddies. The loud thunder made them jump up and look at each other. “Tomas must have began the ritual”, Keith said, “Let’s hurry and find Mike and Paul and disappear from campus!”. The three fallen athletes rushed over to the gym. They looked around the deserted room and barged into the locker room. The deflated, now 120 pound Mike looked up as he heard the door from the gym open. He weakly extended his skinny arm in the direction of his friends. Sean, Keith and Logan recognized their formerly very well muscled buddy and fear filled them. “What happened and where’s Paul?”, Logan asked as he kneeled down by his teammate. “Aaron stole our size under the shower. He killed Paul. Crushed him in his grip”, Mike muttered weakly, tears flowing from his eyes. Before Sean, Keith or Logan could react, the door of the locker room flew open and several howling creatures threw themselves on them. The weak boys were no match for the hellish legions in Tomas’ command: unhesitatingly the hideous soldiers slaughtered the four buddies and continued their invasion of the university. Alex and Aaron hadn’t lost a single second: once Aaron had drained Mike and Paul, he’d returned to his van, had knocked out the slowly awaking Connor and had driven off. He’d picked up the now humongous Alex at the back of the hospital and they had left town at full speed. A few hours later, they had reached a luxurious villa hidden in the mountains of northern Mexico. “Tomas has rewarded us well”, Aaron said appreciatively as he scanned the outside of the immense villa. “Ah, you have arrived!” Aaron and Alex turned to the car and saw Tomas’ face in one of the windows. “I’ve arranged everything, my champs”, Tomas said, “There are two blind servants awaiting you inside.” “Why blind ones?”, Aaron asked. “They will keep contact with the outside world when they go shopping. They will be unable to reveal your incredible size since they cannot see you. Enjoy your reward but remember that I can call you guys in action any minute. Don’t keep me waiting then or you’ll suffer the fate of my enemies!” Alex and Aaron stared at their own reflections in the car window as Tomas’ face disappeared from it. The two muscle gods entered their new home and grinned as they scanned the room. Alex ordered their two servants to go shopping for huge quantities of food and sent them off. “I’m gonna take a dive in the pool. You take care off Connor”, Alex said and swaggered outside toward the pool. Aaron looked at his fellow muscle god, seeing him strip and dive into the pool. He returned to the van, pulled out the still knocked out Connor, threw the 600 pound wrestler on his beastly, perfectly round, bowling ball-sized shoulder and walked back into the villa. A sudden illumination hit his mind and Aaron strutted toward the basement. As he left the stairs behind, he walked through a large wrestle room, the walls entirely covered with mirrors from floor the ceiling. He lowered Connor from his shoulder and tossed him down on the mats in the center of the room. He continued walking and smiled broadly as he opened the door at the back of the wrestle room: a fully equipped gym with impossible amounts of weights. He left the door open, ripped off his shirt, loaded the bar above one of the benches and began bench pressing 500 pounds, blood pumping into his massive pecs as he blasted out rep after rep. He racked the bar as he heard a faint sound and got up from the bench. Connor regained consciousness and looked around. Disorientation and a slight headache filled his mind as he scanned the room. He got up slowly, realizing he was in a wrestle room but didn’t know where he was. “Good! You’re awake.” The deep, rich, thunder-like baritone that filled the room and rattled the mirrors made him turn around. Connor looked up in awe and surprise at the titanic, shirtless beast entering the room and coming toward him. His eyes roamed the humongous, ripped muscles highlighted by the giant’s paper-thin, black skin. His mouth fell open in disbelief as he gazed up at the strong and squared jaw line, covered by a stubbly beard on the masculinity oozing face. “God”, he muttered as his brain recognized the black teammate he’d tossed around the wrestle hall back at university earlier that day. “That’s the right way to address me: GOD!,” Aaron boomed as he stopped in front of Connor. He grinned as he saw the wrestler scanning the huge mounds of muscle on his godlike frame. “Funny how quickly things can change”, Aaron said, “this morning you’ve ridiculed me in the gym in front of the entire wrestle team…” “I’m sorry”, Connor said in his deep voice, realizing how high-pitched it sounded next to Aaron’s baritone rumble, “I didn’t…” “Then you’ve trashed me in the wrestle hall”, Aaron continued, drowning Connor’s voice in his thunder-like baritone, “I want a rematch”. Connor gulped at these words. He looked up at the one foot taller muscle god’s face. Aaron saw the look of fear in the wrestler’s eyes and smirked. “You were more than twice my weight this morning. I only outweigh ya by a 100 pounds. And you’re already dressed for it. Let’s do this!”, he said coolly. Connor looked down and discovered he was still wearing his ripped singlet. He realized there was no escaping this fight, inhaled deeply and took his starting position in front of the muscle god, trying to ignore how the god’s impossibly wide shoulders eclipsed his own insanely broad ones. “Ready when you are, boy”, Aaron said. Connor’s wrestle instincts knew he had to take this beast by surprise and he jolted into action. He shot forward and grabbed hold of his opponent’s thick, muscular neck with his left hand while his right hand shot upward. Aaron anticipated this move and copied it: the instant Connor’s hand positioned itself atop his neck, his own left paw grabbed the wrestler’s neck, covering it easily; his right paw interlocked with the wrestler’s big, right hand, engulfing it completely. Connor tried to ignore how the muscle god dwarfed him and focused back on the match. He knew his surprise attack had failed and tapped onto his own devastating strength. He pulled with all his might on his opponent’s thickly muscled neck, his 50 inch bicep bulging with power and the cords of muscles on his broad forearms swelling from the effort. Aaron smiled as he saw the 600 pound wrestler’s face turn red from the immense effort. He slightly flexed his legs, making his monster quads harden a bit but easily withstood the superhuman force. Connor grunted from the effort, feeling the warmth spreading through his reddening face. The large paw on his neck forced him to look down as it began overpowering his strong traps and he gasped as he noticed the slowly flexing quads of the god in front of him. He pulled even harder on his opponent’s neck, his 50 inch arm shaking from the effort, but the muscle god didn’t budge. “Oh! You’ve already begun”, Aaron said mockingly and put some tension on his own 60 inch arm, making his paw sink into the flexed traps atop the wrestler’s neck. Connor responded to the attack by fully flexing his titanic quads. The huge muscle bulged outward as the thick cords of rock hard beef swelled into incredible hardness. Panic flickered through his mind as his huge, 600 pound body was slowly dragged toward the muscle god despite his efforts. Aaron grinned as he saw the struggle and efforts turning the wrestler’s face into a beat red, mask of pain. He tapped onto the full force of his 60 inch arm and pulled the giant in his grasp swiftly toward him. Connor didn’t know what happened: one moment he was struggling with all his might to maintain his ground, the next his face slammed into the protruding slabs of concrete-hard, hot meat that protruded from the god’s chest. The huge paw engulfing his own right hand released its hold and instantly a forearm, thicker than a young tree, wrapped itself around his broad lower back like a huge snake across a prey; a hard, cannonball-sized bicep dug into his strong obliques. The paw digging into his neck, slid upward, grabbed the back of his head and pushed him into the deep canyon separating the protruding pecs. Aaron enjoyed overpowering the giant that had played with him a few hours earlier. “Coach was always yakking about technique, but nothings beats the feeling of simply dominating an opponent with raw strength”, Aaron said into Connor’s ear and hardened his hold. Connor tried resisting the muscle god, but his strength could not be denied. He was smacked even harder against the hot masses of hard meat covering the 9 feet frame. His nose was filled with the masculine scent of sweat and musk deep inside the canyon between the muscle god’s pecs. His tongue traced the contours of the striated, pillow-sized muscles, filling his mouth with the salty taste of male sweat as it found the bottom of the deep canyon. Aaron felt the tickly sensation of the slick tongue between his pecs and pulled the 600 pound wrestler harder into his own humongous frame as he flexed his chest. Connor felt the protruding slabs of meat harden, nearly braking his nose by the sheer force they produced. The tip of his tongue disappeared into the deepened striations it snaked along. His hands roamed the impossibly wide back, discovering hard, prominent mounds of beef that bulged from the effort and fought for space on the broad surface. His long cock hardened against the hard mass of the muscle god’s left quad. Aaron felt the hardening snake of meat swelling against his beastly quad. He flexed his leg, overpowering and trapping the inflating cock between his own quad and the wrestler’s one. He felt his own majestic, monster cock going plump. He released his hold and pushed the wrestler down. “Suck off your god, boy”, he said as he ripped off his own pants to free his growing monster. Connor sank to his knees as the muscle god pushed him down. He marveled at the lengthy, black snake hardening quickly between the bigger-than-a-tree-sized quads. His own 20 incher was rock-hard as his hand made contact with the god’s cock. He couldn’t close his big hand around the growing cock’s girth. He tried denting it by clenching his strong fist, but the swelling snake resisted and even pried open his grip as it kept inflating. Aaron shivered as he felt the steely grip clenching around his hardening dick, his divine muscles flexing slightly in the process. “Too weak, boy”, he said as his cock overpowered the strong grip. Connor released the thick cock and it smacked him hard in the face as it jolted upward to stick out straight from the muscle god’s body. He gasped as he stared directly at the 35 inch, thick, black snake crisscrossed with veins. He opened his mouth as widely as possible and took in the cone apple-sized head. Aaron grunted in pleasure as the hot slickness of the giant’s mouth engulfed the head of his monster cock. He grabbed the back of the wrestler’s head and pushed his cock deeper into his mouth. Connor’s strong jaws protested painfully as his mouth was forced wide open to adjust to the thick snake invading it. He gagged as the thick head hit the back of his throat. Less than half of the muscle god’s cock was inside his mouth. He couldn’t even suck the thick, black snake as it completely filled his mouth and pried open his jaws. His legs were suddenly lifted up as two strong paws grabbed onto his quads. He grunted in pain as a hot, broad rod invaded his ass. “Not letting you have all the fun”, Alex said to Aaron as he pushed his 30 incher into Connor’s muscular ass. Aaron felt Connor grunt against his monster cock and shoved it in even deeper; now that Connor was held upright by Alex he could push his dick through his throat and into his esophagus. Connor grabbed hold of the muscle god’s juicy ass for support, his own 20 incher throbbing wildly in the air as his nose was shoved against the black man’s pubes and he felt Alex pubes rubbing against his own ass, impaling him on their monster cocks. Alex and Aaron stared at each other, lusting over and admiring the incredible size they had grown into. They felt pleasure flood their bodies and began fucking the 600 pound muscle beast with full force. Pain mixed with pleasure as the two gods ravaged his body. Connor’s 20 incher exploded onto the wrestle mats as orgasm rolled over him like a tsunami of electrical jolts shooting through his body. His huge muscles contracted and he would have bucked violently but Aaron’s firm body and Alex’ steely grip easily held him in place. The muscle beast’s orgasm sent the two muscle gods over the edge. Alex’ balls contracted and his 30 incher shot load after load of superior cum up the muscular ass it was devastating and right into the wrestler’s intestines. Aaron’s thick 35 inch snake spew its salty load past the muscle beast’s throat, injecting it straight into his stomach. Connor’s own orgasm cooled down after a few minutes but the gods kept filling him with their juices. His strong 12-pack began bloating and his stomach protested as the massive amount of cum inflated it further and further. Cum poured from his ass alongside Alex’ 30 incher as it was shoved in and out; cum flowed from the corners of his mouth dripping against the thick, black snake Aaron was pounding his mouth with. As he felt like he was going to explode, the gods withdrew from his ass and mouth and let him fall down onto the mats covered in his own cum. Connor stared up at the muscle gods towering over him, realizing he had been reduced to their 600 pound boy toy… Meanwhile, the hideous creatures of Tomas’ infernal army were flooding the town were Orchid university was located. Police officers tried in vain to resist the hordes of undead soldiers but were overrun by the continuous stream of hellish legions. Within three hours, Tomas was in full command of the city and sent his armies swarming out all over the state, slaying any resistance they met.
  14. CardiMuscleman

    role-reversal The Student and the Coach

    Part One "Yeah, come on, coach, you've got this in the bag!" James was not the only one cheering at the small, but powerfully built men on stage in the over 60's class of his local bodybuilding contest, but he was certainly the loudest, and with good reason. His coach, Larry, was almost certain to win his fifth regional title in as many years and as he finished off his routine with a most muscular that defied his size, he smiled, bowed to the audience and strode off back stage where his student picked him up and grunted "You may only be ten stone, but this is how much I want to congratulate you!" As he placed Larry on the ground a few seconds later, Larry just smiled and said "Remember, this time last year you couldn't even pick me up, but I thank you. It's nice to get some positive feedback from a student" and with that they went off to prepare Larry for the presentation. Larry and James really couldn't have been more different if they tried. Larry was 69 years old, had been training since his 14th birthday and although only standing 5ft 2 tall and weighing 138lbs, his 38½ inch chest, 33½ inch waist, 13 inch biceps, 21 inch quads and 14½ inch calves looked hewn from granite. James, on the other hand, was not only ten inches taller, but worlds apart. He weighed 220lbs, but with a 46 inch chest, 45 in waist, 13 inch biceps, 23 inch quads and 14½ inch calves, it was obvious that he had a long way to go to match his coach, but that did not dampen his enthusiasm for his coach and what he lacked in muscle, he more than made up for in cleverness. Indeed, it was his idea to create a social media account for his coach's bodybuilding exploits, accounts which were regularly shared by the stars of bodybuilding although James made quite sure that everyone realised that Larry's muscle development was following the "PHS method" of training which Larry explained as the "Porthos, Hercules and Samson" method of training until he couldn't do anymore and without any drugs whatsoever. That evening as the two drove home, James nursing the trophy like a baby, he looked at it and said "Larry, did you really mean what you said last year when I joined your gym. That in the space of three years I could win one of these myself!" Larry chuckled "Of course I did, I mean look at your progress. Your bench, squat and deadlift have increased exponentially from nothing to 104lbs, 94lbs and 84lbs respectively, you can pick me up for at least thirty seconds when you couldn't managed it before, and might I note that you've become more confident as well" and with that smiled at him. "Yes" smiled James, "my naked posing sessions after we train" and with that added, "I can't help myself, I say. After I train I feel, well, like, like the biggest and strongest man in the world, I want to rip off my posing suit and flex, flex, flex" "Tell you what then" smiled Larry, "special treat this evening. Before I tuck into my post contest ice cream, we'll pose down together, naked, and you can show me what poses I should do for my next guest posing session next weekend, Deal?" "Deal!" nodded James, frantically.
  15. Author's Note: Here's a new story after a long time of not writing. I hope to contribute more soon, but check out my commentary below. Please let me know any feedback if you have it. It's always helpful and inspires me to keep writing. TF starts after the *** Becoming A God - A Fight for the Power I pulled my pads off my shoulders and let the sweat shake off my hair. Another solid practice with the football team. My buddy Nick gave my ass a quick slap as he pulled his own T-shirt off, revealing his cut upper body as we headed into the locker room. “What's up Trevor?” he asked, opening the door for me as I headed in with the rest of the team. “Not many games left man,” I said as we worked our way toward our lockers. We were juniors at the local College, a small public school and played D-III. Nothing big, but it was something to keep us athletic as we went through college. The school was old and the facilities felt like something out of the 70s, but it was ours and I was enjoying keeping up the sport even if we knew none of us were going to go pro. “Yeah dude,” Nick said. “Only one year left after this.” He quickly slipped out of his cleats and football pants, drying the sweat off of his legs and compression shorts. “You gonna hit the showers here or run to dinner?” “I going to head back,” I said, peeling off my own compression shorts and giving my crotch a quick dry. “I need to hit the dining hall before dinner closes, I'll shower later tonight. Hey you want to study for Econ later?” “Sure thing,” Trevor said, getting naked and throwing a towel over his shoulder. “I gotta shower now though. Let me know when you're done or whatever I'll meet you at the library.” “By the way,” Nick added, “What happened to Chris? Did he quit the team?” Chris was my roommate, the guy was always quiet, and not particularly nice, but recently he closed himself off. Hardly talked to me or anyone else. “He said he needed to focus on grades. Yeah, I think he quit. But all I ever see him doing is working out. I don't know.” I said. I threw on my boxers and gym shorts and started the walk back. The evening air was cool, fall was closing to winter fast this year. I had a quick dinner and I worked my way toward my dorm and up to my room. I figured I'd get a shower in before studying Econ. I was going to move in with my other football buddies next year, Chris was getting way too weird for me to be friends. I told him he was cutting himself out from the world, he needed to get out more and be social. But lately the guy was just scaring me. He either lifted or was reading old books about gods and the occult. I wondered whether he was reaching a breaking point. I walked into my room and saw Chris at his desk chair, lifting a dumbbell and only wearing compression shorts and gym shorts. “Hey Chris,” I said. “What do you want?” he asked. “You still playing sports? All they did was drag me down, they're going to drag you down, too.” “Dragging me down from what?” I asked. “I enjoy it man, it's fun. It'd be fun if you stayed too.” “I have bigger plans,” Chris said cryptically, a small smile forming around his lips but he kept pumping the iron without looking up at me. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about but I didn't. He was being way too weird and I was afraid of whatever answer he might give me. I threw my clothes off quickly and set them in the hamper. I grabbed my towel and turned back around as I wrapped it around my waist. Chris had set down the dumbbell and was looking at something in his desk. There was a faint light glowing out of his drawerit. I wondered what it was. He quickly shut the drawer. “I am meeting Nick to study Econ later tonight.” I said. “I'm gonna hop in the shower first,” “I'll be waiting for you,” Chris said, turning back to his desk. I couldn't hold back anymore. “What the hell, man?” I demanded. “What is up with you lately. You've been cryptic about everything, are you leaving school, what are you doing? What is going on?” Chris turned to me and with a controlled voice said, “you'll see soon enough, Trevor. You'll see. I have nearly everything I want, now. Nearly.” I grabbed my soap and left for the showers down the hall. I kept asking myself what was going on. The guy was getting weirder and weirder every day. I turned the shower on and unhooked my towel. I nearly wondered if I should even go back to my room. Would he still be there? Was whatever he was doing have to do with me? I looked down at my own body and was impressed with my build. My third year working hard with the team. “Not bad,” I said, flexing my six-pack and biceps. I finished the shower and toweled off, wrapping my towel back around me again. I kept telling myself to walk to Nick or Badger's room, ask them for a spare set of clothes. I should have avoided Chris. But I didn't, I kept walking back to my room, step by step. I opened the door, carefully. No one inside. “Okay,” I told myself with a relief. I shut the door and opened my underwear drawer. It was then that I heard the door open again, Chris forced himself in with a ton of energy. And rage. “It's time!” He shouted as he shut the door. “It's night! The sun is set. You are to be my sacrifice, Trevor!” He shouted again, raising his arms and revealing a green, glowing thing. It was shaped like an athletic cup. That must had been the thing in his desk. It shined a strange, green, electric light that flashed every few seconds. Chris was still in his gym shorts. I could see a bulge emerging from under it. Taking two steps toward me, he said, “This is the way it has to be!” He tried laying a massive punch to my gut but I was able to evade it, “WOAH!” I said, I had never been in a violent fight before. Not one like this, and not one against someone who I thought was my friend. “What the FUCK CHRIS?!?” I shouted. “Get the fuck away from me!” “NO! You don't understand,” the jock said, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me against the wall. “I have to do this. The god of Ahriman is calling me! I want his powers, and he requires a sacrifice!” It didn't matter how outlandish his words were, the jock was trying to plummet me. Hit me, ground me, whatever he could to keep me from scrambling away. I quickly shoved him back. I headed for the door but he grabbed me. Bear hugging me before pushing me to the ground. “Just stay still while I become him!!” He said. Chris kept me pinned with his left arm as he grabbed his shorts with his right and yanked them down. I could feel the jock's dick behind his compressions, not sure if he was hot for me or hot for the cup that was holding in his left arm. I didn't have time to think. I elbowed him and head-butted him on his nose “aww fuck!” he shouted as I made my way once more to the door. I couldn't reach the handle as I felt my body swing back toward his again. He knocked my ankles and caused me to fall to the ground. As I did, my towel finally unhooked itself. He gave me another shove causing my ass to hit the carpet as he hung onto the towel, throwing it behind him. “We both must be naked,” he said as I tried crawling my way toward the door. He grabbed me again and threw me away from the door. Standing again, I tried running toward the back window but Chris once again grabbed me. I was getting weak and tired. “He requires a sacrifice,” he said, standing behind me, pulling me against his body. Chris threw himself to the ground, pinning me underneath him. His dick once more was on my body, getting harder with excitement. I was able to flip him over and pin him down myself, now my own naked body over his. I lay two punches into him and kicked his back, attempting to get myself up but I was growing weak. Chris jostled with me, throwing me back to the ground. And stepping on my legs and he stood himself back up. He then stepped on my abdomen. With force, crunching my stomach and causing me to tense up. “OWW!” I shouted, crunching my abs to protect the stomach. He took his right arm and used it once more to undress, pushing down his compression shorts and revealing his naked self. The guy was a monster, no wonder he could overtake me. His shorts hit my abs. He put additional pressure down before removing his foot, leaving his shorts on my body. I quickly scooted back letting the shorts fall off of me. I couldn't get any further though. The naked jock picked me up and held me with both of his arms. I could feel the cup in his right hand, it was exuding with energy, giving me a feeling of confidence, and power. I liked it, but I was too preoccupied with the jock to do anything about it now. He wrestled me to the ground, throwing me down face first. My package hit the floor. “Ugh!” I shouted. The jock stood himself and rested his foot on my chest as I turned around. I was on the floor and the jock stood above me, just enough pressure to keep me from moving. “It's time, Trevor. I need you for this, know that your sacrifice will turn me into a god, and let me relive the glory of being the most envied athlete around!” He turned his attention to the cup as I struggled lifting his massive foot. “Oh great god of Ahriman,” he said, “I am your vessel, your human for you to bond with. I order you to give me your powers, use me as your host, and share with me in your immortality.” Chris started to chuckle as the lowered the thing toward his crotch. “Yes, I can feel them, I can feel the powers!” he shouted. I had to do something, the cup was starting to spark out with power. My left leg was free. I lifted my body and threw my knee into leg, then kicked his crotch as my foot flew back and hit the cup. “OW!” he shouted, grabbing his dick as the cup went flying out of his hands and toward me. Chris removed his foot and I started to get up but the cup hit my chest. I tried catching it but it slid down my pecs, abs and toward my dick, with every moment increasing the amount of energy and confidence. “Oh fuck!” I said in surprise, falling back to the ground and trying to catch it. *** But it was too late. The cup hit my dick and immediately suctioned onto it. Lifting itself over my dick and balls and turning immediately into a putty substance. “OH!” I shouted in surprise, the thing latching onto me and heating up fast, I could feel its energy quickly pulling itself into my dick, settling into my balls, and changing me from the inside out. Giving new energy and stamina like I had never before felt. I was terrified. What was this thing? “Get it off get it off!” I shouted, still on the ground I was no longer in fear of Chris, I just needed to get this putty mess off of me. Chris was thinking the same thing, but for entirely different reasons. “NOO!” He shouted in defeat, terrified now that the slave was quickly transforming into the master. I tried clawing at the hot pile of buddy over my crotch as is stretched and started swimming its way into my dick. As much as I tried the hot, powerful cup was latched firmly onto me, refusing to budge at all. Chris fell to his knees and smacked my hands off of the thing, clawing at it himself. “NOO!” he shouted again as he grasped and clawed at the cup now beginning to stretch its way over my pubes, around my thighs, and toward my butt. A new surge of energy came over me and I shoved the naked brute aside. “Woah” I told myself, I never knew that I had that amount of strength, it took almost no effort to get the jock away. But I hadn't time to think, the power that it was pulling into my balls was somehow transforming me, it was now pulling out of my balls and into my body. I started involuntarily convulsing, my muscles started spasming. “ARGH!” I shouted as My arms and legs twitched and spasmed, twisting me around to my stomach. I could feel the cup stretching onto the back of my ass. I could also, for the first time, “sense” Chris watching me, as if I knew what he was up to without even looking at him. He was watching as my ass exploded with muscle, locking in a hard bubble butt as the cup stretched itself over it, forming a green, electric-ridden loincloth of sorts. I stood up and noticed with surprise how much muscle I had gained. My six pack had turned to an eight pack and my adoinis started creating a sharp, well-defined V, much sharper than my roommate's. “Argh!” said again as I doubled over, feeling my pecs bounce and flatten out before becoming rock hard. My back started doing the same as my shoulders grew and beefed up muscle mass, stretching down to my arms and forearms. “What the fuck, Chris?” I shouted with rage. “What the fuck is this thing doing to me?!” I stepped toward the brute as my thighs exploded with muscle, causing me to lose my balance as I grabbed the jock, lifting him up with one arm and throwing him against the wall. “WHAT IS THIS THING??” I demanded. “No, wait, wait!” he said, turning from the aggressive asshole into the submissive beggar. “Let me go, let me go before its too late!” “Too late for what?” I shouted, a deeper, more controlled and confidence voice shouted from my throat. My waist rocked around in front of the naked jock; I looked down and I noticed my balls dropping, my dick plumping as the cup continued to fill me with muscle. With it came an incredible amount of confidence. “No,” I ordered. “I don't know what you thought you were doing, but you gone fucked up, little man,” I said, more calm and controlled than ever before. It was then, as my personality began to change, as my mortality, my humanity began to devolve from me, that I felt a new presence emerge within me. Then I understood: the god. The god of Ahriman. He was awakening inside my loins. “Yes,” I heard the voice say. “I am arisen once more.” “Yes,” I said in response, chuckling, “what I am to do?” “This human must be scarified, he thought he could take you, but you won, you are now my vessel. Let me become you. Let us merge by sacrificing this mortal.” The voice responded. I suddenly felt a wave of evil pass through my mind as my body once again tensed up and the muscle on me exploded. I tightened my body. “Oh FUCK YEA” I said, I could feel my body readying itself. It was time. “You're mine. Human.” I said as I started chuckling. I shoved Chris against the wall as the cup connected over my ass crack, completing its formation over its new host. Its new owner. A new loincloth formed over me just as Ahriman wore it. It immediately started crackling with bright, green electricity, emanating a bright, green, hot light from it. I pushed my loins against Chris'. The heat started to sear his body. “NOOO!” He shouted, fearful and out of control. “Oh yes,” I said, controlled and assured. “I can feel your muscle, your stamina, it's time for me to take you, human!” I felt like I was being controlled by another force but it was all I wanted, I wanted to take his body, to take his lifeforce, the twerp was a loser, a bully who thought he could take me and become the god. But I was the one chosen, I was the greater jock, the one who fought, the one who won. He was mine. My mouth watered for his, I wanted to taste him as he dissolved. I dug my mouth into his in a long, forceful kiss, breathing him in as the loincloth took his life away. I could feel his dick shrinking against mine as the beams of light wrapped around his loins and started feeding his muscle mass and stamina into me. It got more aggressive as the jock lost his muscle, the light emanating from my loins and over his body before pulling everything that made the jock the athlete what he was and into me. I let go of his lips and lifted my head in orgasmic pleasure. “YES!” I shouted as my voice lowered, becoming more masculine. More god-like. I could feel him growing smaller, and skinnier, ever smaller as the muscle drained from him. Then, he started cracking as his organs, bones and finally skin dissolved into the green light, wrapping into me as I took in his power. Now the green streaks of light were all over me. The loincloth, taking in the body of Chris, dissolved into a cloud of pure, unbridled power enveloping and transforming me into a muscle-ridden god. The god of Ahriman. “OH YES!” I shouted again, feeling my body open up and take in the powers. I realized I no longer cared about who I was, I was now everything I could have possibly imagined being. And more. I was a naked god, a being who could do anything and now was on a plane of existence where physics and biology and humanity no longer applied. I was a pure, unbridled god. And I was going to live like one. “ARRRGGHHH!” I shouted, flexing my naked, strong, cut body as the powers flung with sheer force back into me, leaving me in control of who I was and what I was to do. “OH FUCK YEAH!” I shouted. “This is it! This is what I'm talking about!” The powers seared into me, leaving me as a human vessel but containing the pure, unbridled powers of a god. My body had tanned, a thin line of brown hair rested on it before growing to a forest over my pubes and legs. My dick was the size of a bottle and my balls were hugely nestled behind it. “HAHA!” I shouted again, levitating myself, finally unbridled from the confines of humanity. My body was restless, it was begging for release, it wanted something, some satisfaction, the god of Ahriman was begging for it. “Man or woman?” I asked. “Both!” it demanded. I levitated and turned myself invisible, phasing through my dorm wall and into the main quad. I could feel other sports teams working their way into their locker rooms, no doubt to strip down. The tennis players were finishing their practice, they were about to hit the locker room. The toned boys felt promising. Then again, a group of girl swimmers were also getting out of the pool. And my old friend Nick, he was walking his way toward the library. But it was then I could hear my neighbor Badger walk out of his dorm. He was the only other guy on our floor at the moment, and no doubt heard the struggle and transformation nearby. “Trevor, hey dude, are you okay?” he asked knocking on my door. I floated back into my room and stayed invisible. Badger opened the door, it was empty, but there lay massive signs of a struggle. “What happened?” He whispered to himself. As he stepped in I flung the door shut with my mind and appeared before him in my form, the naked beast that I was. “AAHHH!” he shouted in fear, seeing someone flash into existence right before him, and someone as intimidating as massive as I had become. “Shh!” I said with confidence, “don't worry my friend,” I said, filling his mind with a hypnotic, dazed trance. “It is only Trevor,” “Trevor,” he whispered, somehow reasoning with himself that I was okay. Badger was a good man, a smart man, and a loyal friend. I had an itch in my crotch though and I could give him a piece of my powers, enslaving him to my will in the process. I asked myself if I should do it. “Why not!” I told myself. “Strip for me,” I ordered. And with it, Badger started taking off his clothes, ready to succumb to my will. Commentary: Feedback is always appreciated. I think I need to ask in a separate forum help writing different stories, and getting my stories posted here. All of my stories are nearly an identical "origin story." A man becomes a super-hero or a super-villain through some immortal artifact or though some science experiment gone wrong. My favorite kinds of story use muscle and "supernatural powers" as key parts of the transformation but I know that the whole "super power" thing is rare on this site. Probably most of the community thinks its kind of lame. I like writing these stories its probably my favorite fantasy, but of course I keep writing the same damn thing over and over. Any suggestions on this story? Others to write? Please let me know, it's always a huge help.
  16. Catch up: Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in penis size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, innocent, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Links to previous chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. Chapter 13: After the Match Casey lay on the wrestling mat, completely spent. His eye was swollen – he’d have a nice shiner tomorrow. His huge, tired muscles gleamed oily red with sweat and scratch and pressure marks from the match. Casey dripped with splotches of oil mixed with muscle cum. Lakes of cum oozed into the oil, painting his raw, vascular physique a creamy, drippy, white, gathering in little lakes in the deep cobblestones of his abs, rolling in thick tides down his lats and onto the mat. “What the fuck?” he asked plaintively. “What kinda place IS this?” He sniffed the air. Cum. Everything smelled of cum. Around and above him the men were zipping up, putting their cocks away, retrieving sweaty, torn clothing. Karim Abdul, the vanquished muscle monster, lay to his left. Enraged, cum-coated, growling. “I’ll get you, kid,” he threatened. He stood, rivulets of cum flowing down from his face onto his massive traps. He started off. He stopped when he got to Blankenship. Blankenship grinned toothily. It didn’t last long. POW!!! Blankenship flew about 20 feet into the air from the force of Abdul’s uppercut punch, his feet never touching the ground. A tooth, suddenly without a home, landed beside him. Out cold. “Where you going, Corporal?” Moster demanded, stuffing his massive, dripping cock back into his pants and zipping up with some difficulty over the bulge. Abdul ignored him, stalking out the room. "Come on, Pedro," he barked to the pretty little kitchen boy, who scampered eagerly after him. “Someone get Blankenship and put him to bed.” Moster sighed, knowing that the muscleman would demand a match of his own the next day. And on it would go, until he was forced once again into public bare-butt spankings to keep them in line. Funny how they’d deck one another but submit meekly to hard paddling on their razor sharp glutes. The men stared a little – though all had seen Moster’s cock before – in fact, all the men had at various points sucked it dry, and had their own faces coated with the steady, unrelenting stream of ropey gism that shot from his deep piss slit. But no one could remember a group scene quite like what had just occurred. Abdul stalked off to the showers, Schumacher and Obatu bent to pick up a groggy, moaning Blankenship. Moster took his clipboard to a desk in the corner of the wrestling room and lowered his rockhard muscle butt into the swivel chair, which sagged and groaned under his mass. Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, who had called Casey a motherfucker, but somehow managed to make it sound good, turned to check out the new muscle kid last time as they passed through the door back to their quarters, where they planned to fuck butt all night. They knew Moster wouldn’t be paying attention. Not tonight. Casey caught their look, and they nodded briefly at him. Lang gave him a half smile. Then he winked. And then they were both gone. Schumacher didn’t leave right away, though. He handed Blankenship over to LeFevre and stood back, watching like a hawk as the others filed out. Then he walked boldly right up to Casey. He looked up at him. “Sergeant Moster has another little honorary initiation ritual on that I think you may find both interesting and rewarding.” He smiled. “We’d like the opportunity to take you through it tomorrow.” “I - I’ll be honored to be a part of it.” “Yes, you will.” “Get out of here, Schumacher,” said Moster with good-natured gruffness. Schumacher looked blankly at Moster, who hadn’t even looked up from his notes. “And it won’t be tomorrow. It won’t be any time soon.” He looked up. “For Casey, that is. However, I’d be happy to accommodate you at any time.” His hand twitched and Schumacher instinctively shot a hand down to protect his glutes. “Yes, sir.” Schumacher left the lab. “Sorry about that, Casey,” said Moster, as soon as he was gone. “Corporal Schumacher gets a bit riled over anything having to do with Private Tiffany. They all have their quirks. You’ll adjust. Those last two men? They were Private Robert Lang and Corporal Julio Alvarez. Those two specimens were brought into the facility only a year ago. Others have come, but not everyone makes it through, and if they fail, then Zaftig releases them back into the general population. In fact, only 1 in 50 make it as far as you have. Now, drop your posers. It’s time I inspected your penis more closely.” Casey slightly rolled his eyes. “Again, sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded, resigned. He understood. It was about his penis, after all. Not his muscles. His dong. His wang. His rod. His cock. His huge motherfucking penis. It was always about his huge motherfucking penis. Moster was watching him steadily, his eyes narrowing. “Is there a problem, cadet?” he asked quietly, after a moment. “No problem, at all, sir.” He slipped his fingers into the elastic band of his torn, micro posing trunks and pulled it out from his body, and slid it down over his quads. Pop….. Smack! His giant penis poured out and slapped down onto his quads just above his knees. Immediately it stiffened slightly. The bell-like cock head bobbed forward once or twice, and the pulsing veins in the shaft began to throb a little more rapidly. Casey was breathing hard now. He was beet red with embarrassment. Moster never stopped looking him in the eye. He strode forward and grabbed hold of his thick penis in his left hand, squeezing the shaft lightly. Casey’s eyes widened in profound surprise. It grew hard in the palm of his hand. His palm glided up and down the warm steely rod 2, 3 times, very slowly. It grew under his hand. “Impressive. How big is this machine of yours?” He stroked it with his fingers. “I see you didn’t cum during the match." He began to rub his heavy hands with practiced movements up and down the boy’s thick shaft. “I – I don’t know, sir.” Casey had begun to sweat. Moster remained cool. “No, I didn’t shoot.” He shuffled from side to side, and his penis slipped out of Moster’s palm. Moster looked up. He took hold of the cock firmly once again. “You seem agitated. You badly need some additional training. Part of what marks this troop is their ability to restrain their emotional responses. And it seems to me your cock is responding emotionally.” Moster continued to stroke Casey’s machine vigorously. “So since we’re going in that general direction, let’s take a few additional measurements. Private Tiffany!” he suddenly called out towards the open corridor door. No response, but Casey made out a figure in the darkened shadows of the corridor. “Private Joe Tiffany. I know you’re out there. Step in here now, Private.” Tiffany appeared in the doorway. The young bodybuilder had removed his t-shirt and stood stripped to the waist. His ripped muscles gleamed in the fluorescent light. He entered the lab and walked bow-legged, a coiled cobra, towards the two musclemen in the center of the room. “Take some additional measurements, Tiffany. You know what I am referring to.” Tiffany smiled. “Yes, sir, I know.” He approached Casey. Looking him squarely in the eyes, he knelt with business-like efficiency before him. When his eyes were level with Casey’s member, he looked squarely at it. “What is the diameter, Private Tiffany?” Moster reached again for the clipboard, all business. Tiffany opened his smiling mouth wide and moved towards Casey’s cock. Casey nearly jumped out of his skin. “What’s he doing?!” “Private Tiffany has an unusual talent. It’s like having perfect pitch. He can take exact measurements with his mouth. He’s never off by more than 1/64th of an inch. Go for it, Private. Enjoy yourself, Casey.” “Flex for me, dude,” cajoled Tiffany sweetly, his mouth hovering just above the head of Casey’s enormous penis. “Come on, man, let’s see those big rocky peaks.” He flicked his tongue out and lightly touched the corona. “Sir…” Casey started to say. “Cadet Rockland, Project Herculaneum soldiers do as they’re told. Private Tiffany will now suck your cock. If you have a problem with this, speak up now. We administer regular oral-stimulation sessions here at Valhalla Labs.” “But ….it’s so gay, sir.” Tiffany snickered. “You’re standing there covered with oil and cum and you’re complaining about this being gay?” Moster stepped forward and spoke evenly. “That’s enough, Tiffany,” Tiffany immediately shut up. Moster turned to Casey. “Muscle is its own sex. Some have posited over the years that sex is bad for bodybuilders. We know better here. Cocksucking is not only pleasurable, it stimulates the psyche. It clears out problems with the prostate. Done regularly and properly it enhances semen production. It sharpens the animal instincts, to say nothing of increasing testosterone production. It also serves to further bond the men.” “You mean everyone sucks dick here.” “Everyone who wants to remain in The Project get their cocks sucked. Not only that, they are expected to suck cocks themselves. Regularly. Is there an issue? Are you frightened?” “No….I…..what if he bites me?” Tiffany gave him a lopsided smile, which he meant to be charming. “I never bite too hard,” he said. “I assure you Private Tiffany knows what he is doing. Proceed, Private.” “Okay…..” said Casey, bewildered. “Let’s see those guns, cadet,” said Tiffany. Slowly, as if hypnotized, Casey raised his arms up into front double biceps. Joe Tiffany smiled like a little boy in a candy store. He flicked a little river of cum that followed a thick vein from the cannonball right biceps to the tri’s. Then he squatted on his handsome haunches. He glanced at the mammoth machine that hung before him, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “This looks like a real jaw-breaker, sir.” “You’ve worked with mine. It’s far bigger. Get to work,” Sergeant Moster commanded, clipboard ready. “Yes, sir. Anything for the good old USA, sir.” Tiffany fingered his Adam’s apple. “Gotta limber up.” He opened his mouth as wide as he could, yawning it four or five times, retracting his teeth behind his lips. He pressed his palm to his jaw and tilted his head, then raised his hands and gently pried his own mouth open to its fullest expanse. He licked his lips until they dripped with spit. Casey watched him intently, still flexing his biceps. His brain was burning. Tiffany approached Casey’s fully erect manhood, gently guided it up to his mouth, parted his lips slightly, and tenderly extended his tongue to lightly flick the big cock head. Flick. Flick. Flick. Casey blinked. Tiffany ran his tongue along the piss slit and probed a little inside. He looked up again. “What’s your preliminary estimate, Private?” “I’d say it looks to be between 14 and 14 -1/2 inches in length, sir.” “Very good. Girth? “9 inches at least.” “Confirm it, please.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany leaned in and oh so softly glided his lips smoothly over the head of Casey’s penis. He closed his mouth and gently held firm. He closed his eyes, as if concentrating. Inside his mouth, his tongue methodically caressed the cock head. Casey was blown away. He stared down at the cocky short muscleman whose mouth was now enveloping the head of his penis. No one had ever sucked his cock before, let alone a man, let alone a muscleman. He gulped. Shit, Casey thought. Shit. I’m gonna cum. “Sir, I’m gonna cum, sir!” he blurted out. “Not yet you’re not. No man in my outfit cums in 5 seconds. Control yourself, cadet. Tiffany, what’s your first assessment? How big is this cadet’s cock?” Tiffany, his mouth full of cockhead, tried to respond. He couldn’t. Even he was surprised at the girth of Casey’s member. “MMgghblrb,” he said. “Gaaggg…mmmmhyrpphhhglub……aaaaackk…” “I can’t understand you when you mumble, damn it. Speak plainly, Private.” Tiffany pulled back for a moment, giving the head a final appreciative lick as it popped out of his mouth. “Yes, sir!” He reported, “The corona, I’d say, has a circumference of 10 and 3/8s inches. That sound about right to you, boy?” he asked wickedly. “I…I dunno…” Casey was baffled. What's a corona? Did he mean his cock head? One thing was sure: he was gonna get this guy. He wants to suck my cock, does he? Okay, then. “Now for the shaft.” He smiled again and whispered up to Casey. “This is the fun part,” he said. “Go for it, faggot.” Casey muttered. Tiffany raised an amused eyebrow, then winked at him and plunged forward, his mouth taking in all of Casey’s massive organ. His lips slid easily over the thick shaft, and somehow – by an instinctive rearrangement of tonsils? and a replacement of his soft palate? his mouth glided smoothly down the full length of the erect penis. When he reached the base, once again he stopped. Inside his mouth his tongue stroked the thick, pulsing cock veins. The penis grew stiffer and began to throb insistently inside Tiffany’s mouth. Tiffany sucked Casey’s cock. Back and forth, up and down, tip to base, his lips glided smoothly over the engorged shaft. Threads of thick glistening saliva appeared along the pulsing veins with each plunge. After 10 deep sucks, 5 very appreciative full-length licks, and a little tongue-and-balls-dancing, he pulled back again a moment, and, his eyes dancing merrily up at Casey, he coated the heavy, hairy testicles three or four final times. “Very nice,” he whispered. “Too bad you’ll have to shave these babies.” Okay, thought Casey. Maybe this guy was an asshole, but he was beginning to enjoy this. Something came alive inside him for the first time in his life. Hey, he thought, I really like this. This feels really good. “How do you like it, cadet?” asked Moster, clearly amused. “I like it fine, sir.” Casey managed to get out. “Private Tiffany, resume sucking.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany went back to work. He sucked deeply five more times, and then pulled back for what he thought was a final time. As Casey’s penis rolled out of his mouth, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He turned to Moster, ready to report. “The shaft circumference is unusually thick. I’d put at just over 9 inches. Length of the erect penis, 14 -1/4 inches from base to tip. Weight, maybe 7 pounds, a few ounces? Give or take.” “Your overall assessment?” Casey was staring, excited beyond words, and getting mad as hell. Why had he stopped? This was just getting good. His erect member lobbed back and forth in the air, protesting, next to Tiffany’s left ear, who had turned to face Moster. Tiffany felt the wind of it as it passed, and studied ignored the whooshing sounds. “Definitely a superior organ. I sense he has not used it much in sport yet, aside from masturbating, but I’d also guess he has to masturbate 4 or 5 times a day. Maybe more. There’s a lot of blood pumping here, and it throbs steadily throughout the sucking process. I’d guess this cock hasn’t been sucked very often before, if ever.” “That’s all you know,” said Casey. “Seems unlikely that such a big muscleboy hasn’t found suitable candidates eager to give him regular blowjobs. There’s lots of men out there who like to suck bodybuilder cock. I suppose women, too. Still, Zaftig said this boy is different. All right, then. You’re done for now. Dismissed. Back to your quarters.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany got up and winked at Casey, wiping his mouth. “See you later,” he said smugly, and sauntered out of the room. Casey stood trembling. “Do you need to shoot, Cadet?” asked Moster, all business. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid I do, sir.” “Get to it, then.” Moster walked casually over to the main table of the lab, put down the clipboard, and surreptitiously picked up a 2-quart beaker. He approached Casey. Casey grabbed his engorged cock with both hands. His body shuddered. He was about to let loose with a mighty blast of gism. Moster was prepared. He strode forward and grabbed Casey’s cock, and in the moment he exploded, he had the beaker ready. He calmly forced the beaker over the cockhead. Casey was stunned, but couldn’t stop his semen from bursting into the jar. “UUUUNNNNGHHH!” he shouted, and his cum flowed heavily out of his shooting dick and began to fill the container with its milky white thick fluid. “UUUUUUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHH!! uuunnnggHHHGGHH!!! YEAH! OH GOD YEAH MAN!” As Casey’s huge body shuddered with spurt after spurt, the cum level climbed, half filling the jar. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhUNHHH ARRRRGGGGGG hhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhh……” Three minutes later, with a last huge shrug, he was done. As he shuddered to a finish, Moster corked the beaker and held it aloft. He swirled the thick liquid in each and smiled. “Not bad, cadet,” he said calmly. “Close to a pint. Pretty good for a first shot. You’ll do better later.” Casey was meek and baffled and embarrassed. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Dismissed. We’ll see you at the gym tomorrow at 0700 hours. Get some sleep, Casey. Good night.” He turned and marched out of the room. Casey wiped his dripping dick with the back of his hand. He picked up his clothes and dressed quickly, forcing his still-hard cock into his shorts. But he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. “Shit,” he said. He stood alone in the center of the room, his ripped posing trunks stretched around his ankles, the pole of his mammoth cock weaving out of control in the air. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. He was going to shoot again. He grabbed his cock with both hands, and fired towards the ceiling. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHH!” he shouted, and, as ropes of semen began once again to fly into the air, hitting the ceiling, painting the walls, and splashing onto the ground. As his cum shot out of his enormous cock head, he was thinking feverishly. He remembered the cum on Abdul’s handsome Arab face. And he had been accepted into The Nineteen. Would they now be known as The Twenty? Casey knew it to be true. He could now be considered one of the world’s finest bodybuilders, if Project Herculaneum wasn’t so top-secret, and he wasn’t even 20 years old yet. He was powerful. He had a future. He had promised. He was in the elite. The last of his cum geyser shot into the air, arced, and splashed heavily on the sopping marley floor beneath him. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands to his sides. So why was he still bothered by something he couldn’t quite figure out? And how come that evil little muscle boy Joe Tiffany looked so familiar to him. Who was he? And why couldn’t he put his finger on it? Casey bent to put what was left of his ripped and shredded posing trunks back on. They barely covered his cock, but he didn’t notice. He waddled to the door of the wrestling room to head back to his quarters for the night. Tomorrow he would move into his new room. He had a lot to think about. He’d have to think about it all.
  17. LJackson

    Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 4 of 14

    Chapter 3 is here. 4 Olly Monday, August 4th Today has not gone exactly as I planned. I was too busy at the weekend to write this, although now I guess I can see I was busy keeping myself busy, finding excuses not to ruminate. I realised suddenly how much my bedroom belonged to the me before I went to Uni. Perhaps it belonged to the me before Friday, too. I binned my Coldplay poster and went to Homebase for tins of paint. They made my arms ache carrying them home — I suppose I wanted to prove something to myself, and failed. I suppose I proved just how weak I am. And I had long text conversations with Sophie, trying to talk her into giving me a firm date to come up to London. Every time she put me off, I felt I knew absolutely for certain that she had found somebody new. A real man. Someone bigger than me. Someone who can carry two tins of paint back from Homebase without wincing, anyway. Someone who's not another man's bitch. I forgot to mention that on Friday, Mr B.'s only comment on the whole situation was that he didn't like to see me dressing casually. I don't know if he somehow thought I'd initiated the dirty atmosphere by showing my elbows in public, I don't know what he thinks, if anything, but because I am basically in his power, I borrowed a pale blue shirt off Anthony. I didn't think he was so much bigger than me, but he must be, because it was flapping around me. I've never felt so skinny, and my body was slick with sweat by the afternoon. All day, in the heat and silence, feeling I could still smell that girl's juices all day, smell that big guy's sweat, I began to lay real plans for what to do next. I could easily get the bus into Lewisham one afternoon, go to Argos, buy a cheap set of weights, and get to work. I could do it in my bedroom and nobody would know anything was different. It would take a few months for me to see some change, but I was feeling committed. I could get Mum to make protein rich meals, without her quite catching on to what I was doing. I didn't ask myself why I wanted to keep it all a secret. I didn't want to admit that it was about insecurity, about being a man and not a boy. I certainly didn't want to think that it was about sex. And yet the whole day, all I could see was that girl lapping at the big guy's crotch. That could be you, I thought. The guy, not the girl. Obviously. I left the library, ready to throw off that stupid outsize shirt and let the fresh air at my body. I was pretty upbeat about my plans and I was just pursing my lips to whistle when I spotted the Beast waiting for me, on the other side of the road. For a second, I thought about running away. Then I knew I had to fight. It would be like swinging a punch at a brick wall, but anything else and I'd feel like the bitch he had made me on Friday. I set my jaw, balled my fists, and crossed the road. The thing is, when he saw me, he smiled. And as much as it was hard for him to do, it wasn't a scary smile. He suddenly looked told off, like a little boy. 'Hey, bro,' he said. 'Hey,' I said, more squeakily than I intended. 'I was, uh, hoping I'd get to see you.' I didn't let myself relax, even if I could. I did a vague shrug. 'Here I am.' 'You got five minutes?' 'Well...' I didn't feel I could lie to him. And I was full of curiosity now. What did he want? 'Yeah, man, I'm cool for another hour. You want to walk in the park?' 'Cool, bro.' I was desperate to unbutton my shirt and let the cool air get to my skin, but seeing him again was a reminder of his enormous, veiny forearms, his biceps like huge sandbags of flesh, and the massive cubes of muscle that were his chest, each one dimpling his t-shirt with a grape-like nipple. I could make out massed curls of dark hair on that chest also pressing on the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Walk along beside him with my scrawny, hairless body on show? No way. We walked across the grass together. His body rippled slowly as he moved. I wonder if I could ever do the same? Of course I could, it's just a matter of will power. I have that self hidden inside just now. I'm the same as him, he just wears it on the outside. His devotion to size, to power, to strength, is obvious, but it's in me too. I feel it burning now. 'I wanted to apologise for last week,' he said. 'No, don't,' I said. He looked at me dumbly. 'Really?' I hesitated. 'Actually, I suppose you're right. I'm just being polite.' We both laughed. 'Polite is too right,' he said. 'You're too fucking polite, and I don't know what polite is, that's what Estelle said. We ought to meet midway. You ought to smack me in the face, for what I said to you, mate.' 'No,' I said. Again, he smiled. 'I can't,' I said. 'I think I recognised something — not everything — but something true in what you said on Friday.' 'You mean, like, you wanted to be my bitch?' His hand was resting lying on his crotch. I glanced at it to try and see if he had a hard-on. Did that sort of thing turn him on? That was how it seemed on Friday. I couldn't be sure, though — I could see now that he was, well, rather blessed in that department. His big cock bulged inside his jeans, his big hand lightly resting upon it as though upon a small pillow, but I couldn't see whether he had an erection or was just big down there. I realised I had been staring at him, somewhat. 'No!' I exclaimed. 'Of course not!' He smiled. 'I have met guys who... said they wanted that.' I gave a nervous laugh. For a minute, all I could say was, 'Wow.' I looked down at my body, swaddled in Anthony's shirt. 'That must be pretty weird.' 'Yeah, of course,' he said. 'But when you look like this, people feel they have a claim on you.' 'I feel sort of jealous,' I told him. 'Ah, who wouldn't be?' he said, and rolled over on his back. 'Yeah, it's nice having people stare as you walk down the street. Who wouldn't want to be a freak like that? I'd hate to be, you know, normal size.' 'You were normal size at school, though, right?' He stared up at the sky. 'I started working out when I was sixteen. I was getting pretty big when we left school. You went off to develop your mind, right? University and all of that?' 'Astrophysics.' He whistled. 'Well, this is my degree, my qualifications.' He felt his right bicep and squeezed it till it was massive. 'Oh, yes...' I ran my eyes back and forth over his body, laid out on the grass, like it was a car he'd built: the product of five years' hard work. 'Why did you decide to do it?' 'This is who I am,' he said. 'I think that's what you recognised, isn't it? Like you said. This is who you are, too, right? It's just nobody can tell because you're little on the outside.' 'It's not exactly like I should thank you,' I said. 'If you had what I had, you could pin me down and give me what you think I deserve,' he said. 'I'm not a violent person,' I said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Doing this to your body — it upsets certain balances. You become more than a man, Olly. Your lusts are greater. Sometimes, the red mists come down...' 'Like Friday?' 'Perhaps I saw something in you too,' he said. 'You saw someone you wanted to humiliate,' I said. 'Yeah, but in that moment, it was fun. It was hot. It was for Polly... sort of. I knew it would get her juices flowing, and fuck me, was I right. We came right here. This patch of grass. The sun was beating down. She got my cock out and she just rode it, man. Just spat all over it and rode it till she squirted.' He grabbed his cock now in memory of that ride. I grabbed my own cock, involuntarily, but probably nobody noticed. 'Later, she told me what a cunt I'd been. I was hardly conscious of it at the time, on a chemical high. She told me I should make it up to you. I told her you'd probably prefer her to make it to you, but then, it wasn't her who did all that shit to you on Friday.' 'No,' I said. 'Anyway, I have a girlfriend.' 'Really, man?' he grinned. 'That's cool. What's she like?' 'Beautiful. Clever.' 'Is she crazy for your cock?' I looked down at my hands. 'She's never actually seen me naked. I was hoping that would happen soon, when she visits from Brighton. I'm not sure she's really so interested.' 'Dude, that's not the spirit.' I shrugged. 'I was actually thinking, if you have any tips, about — you know — lifting a few weights.' His hand was suddenly around my arm, sizing it up. His fist pretty much encircled my forearm, no problem, and it was hardly a stretch for him to size up my non-existent bicep. As he squeezed, his own muscle bulged, almost grotesquely. I could smell the sweat in the hairs on his arm. Then he was reaching through Anthony's shirt and feeling up my chest, which is flat all the way down, clumsily pinching my sweaty nipple through the cotton fabric. He felt my scrawny belly and then my thigh as if appraising a cut of meat. Then he laughed. 'Lots of work to do there,' he said. 'I don't think lifting a couple of budget weights from Argos will quite cut it.' My heart sank. I felt so disconsolate, I stopped feeling angry about the way he'd run his hands over me. Why shouldn't he treat me like that? He was obviously used to dealing with the body as simply flesh. He was the best judge I could ask for. Just a shame he'd judged me so harsh. 'Hey, why the long face, bro?' he said, laughing. 'I didn't say it was impossible. But you're going to have to take it serious. To start with, you have to join a gym.' 'I guess.' 'No, really. You need serious equipment if you wanna be...' I finished his sentence with the only word in my mind. 'Big.' 'That's really what you want?' His voice was soft. A shiver went through me, as if I was in a rocket ship during take-off. 'Yeah.' He punched my arm. 'Knew it, bro. I knew it. Hey, I think we ought to have a session right now.' He was suddenly rigid, half rising off the grass. 'You want to come?' 'Where to?' 'Uranus,' he said, and then burst out laughing when he saw my face. 'It's my gym, dickhead. It's not far fro m here, which is one plus point, and I can get you in for free as my spotter.' 'Don't I need to know stuff to do that?' 'Not today,' he said. 'It'll be good to go there with a friend. I never have before.' I followed him out of the park, back into the village. I was telling my surprise new friend about the gym in East Dulwich, the council one that I'd thought of joining. I thought it might still be too expensive for me, though, even though it was the cheapest option. I was trying to hint to him that I didn't exactly have ready funds to join a place full-time. He didn't seem to be getting the gist, though, just kept telling me stories about his first time working out, how he couldn't live without it nowadays. And in spite of myself, I was thinking: this is the first step. No matter how long it takes for the second step, I'm starting on that road down to maximum size. I already have a guy like the Beast on my side, someone to ask questions, someone to encourage me. No, more than that. A true friend who understands that desire to make your biceps grow, the pleasure in inspiring envy in other guys, the longing to make your belly solid, to make your very grip an object of destruction. A brother in muscle. Maybe even more than that. His gym is in a corner of the village that I've not visited before, near the art gallery The building looks Victorian. There's a big bronze plaque on the wall, but I would never have guessed before now the sort of thing that happened inside. In fact, there was a sort of mystery to the place that made me think the gym might not be the whole story. I'm not sure exactly what I mean — I hadn't tried to put it into words until now. Anyway, it did have a gym inside it, and apparently it's men only. I suppose that is a bit odd, but not unheard of, and I was secretly relieved. I don't want any girls — especially fit girls — seeing me in this state. Only once I've put on some mass. Of course, I could never afford to join the Beast's gym. Its top of the range, high class. But more on that later. He wanted to show me the ropes, he said. Obviously, I couldn't go into the gym in my work clothes, but the Beast keeps a set of gym clothes in the locker room. In one smooth move he pulled off his Uranus Gyms tee and handed it to me. 'It'll do for today at least,' he said. 'Sorry if it pongs a bit.' A dark smell hung around the fabric: I suppose it was just sweat, but it had a sort of animal tang to it. I wondered if he worked with animals somewhere. I wondered if he worked at all. Was he a kept man? I realised I was staring at his naked chest, the dark hair slicked down with perspiration over his massive pecs like a Japanese silk screen print of a forested mountain. His nipples were immense and dark, and something about the smell of the shirt and the way he looked at me, I momentarily wondered what it would be like to put my mouth around one. God knows, I was that worked up about the idea of visiting a gym for the first time. Crazy the way your brain runs sometimes. I peeled Anthony's shirt from my sweat-sodden body, and the Beast looked me over and gave a little chortle. Seeing my expression he said, 'No, but you've got hardly any body fat at all. That's good. You may be scrawny but you'll show the muscle much sooner.' Heartened, I undid the fly on my trousers and pulled them to my ankles. I caught him looking at my chicken legs, and obviously deciding not to comment. He handed me a spare pair of shorts and I pulled them on, tightening the cord as far as they would go to make up for my lack of girth. I looked away as he was changing into his shorts, beginning to worry he was getting the wrong idea. He seemed cheerful, though. I really think he's been working out on his own this past three years. The actual space with the equipment was immediately intimidating. Overhead strip lights cast shadows in all directions. The equipment glinted in the glare, like the beads of sweat in the Beast's cropped hair. To start he had us doing press-ups, just as warm-ups. I remember doing these, no problem, when I was a kid. Well, this time I had a problem. I didn't understand at first, till the Beast pointed out how much more weight I have to press now, even in my minuscule condition. He, on the other hand, moved like a piece of machinery, rising and falling smoothly, a little hiss of breath escaping on every exertion. I tried again and managed about five before my arms crumpled and I fell to the floor. Like I said, that was just the start. Next we did some stretches. That was a lot easier, of course, but still I could feel how out of shape I was, how unskilled, how used to just slouching about. The Beast showed me how to stretch out my chest muscles, how to relax my neck. He got me to lie on my back with a leg in the air, and he pressed against me, ensuring I was stretched as far as I could go. His big dick was pressing against my thigh through my gym shorts, and suddenly I pictured him doing this with his girlfriend. Estelle, he'd called her. The one who had told him he should prostrate himself before me. Well, the reverse seemed to have happened. Did he stretch her out like he was doing me? Do girls have to do that when their men have big knobs like he does? Does Sophia expect that from me? Could I ever stretch her out the way a real man like the Beast could do? I mustn't feel down about this. If I put on muscle it'll make up for my little dick. God, she'll be on heat 24-7, she'll never look at another guy, knowing what I can do to her. What he could do to her now. Yes, I mustn't let him meet her... Next he took me over to the dumbbell bench, standing against a wall of mirrors. He picked up a couple of big weights, 30kg I'm pretty sure, and began doing alternating bicep curls, slowly bringing the weight up toward his shoulder, his forearms suddenly springing out with vascularity, his biceps bulging outward. Well, I thought, I'm not going to try and lift the same as him. I picked up 20kg. Perhaps I should have asked first. I stood beside him, watching him alternating these big blocks of metal, and I couldn't get either of mine even above waist height. My muscles were straining and my arms were shaking and I managed to raise the right one, but the left one just wasn't happening at all. This is real, I told myself. This is strength, and lack of strength. It's not just aesthetic. This is about what you can and can't lift. I put back the 20kg, tried it with 10kg, put that back and started with 5kg. The Beast met my eye in the mirror, and smiled. 'I'll lead you through a routine,' he told me. We did alternating dumbbell curls, and then a set of dips — the kind of thing I did all the time on the staircase when I first arrived at St Edward's, I know it, but something I couldn't manage at all now — to lift yourself up, basically, to rest on your forearms and then lever yourself back into the air. Fortunately, you can set the machine so that it helps you a bit. Naturally, the Beast needed no help. In fact, he looked in danger of buckling the dip station. He showed me how to do pull-ups, too, the reverse situation essentially. I managed a couple, and stood back to watch him pull himself off the ground like a mountain climber. We went back and forth, doing sets on the dip station and the dumb-bells, until I ended up back where I'd been with the too-heavy weights. My heart sank, but he explained that's all part of the process. If you don't push yourself to the point where you can't go on, your muscle will never be torn, never be stimulated, never grow. He knows all about it. He's grown from something much like me into something — dangerously big. Then he took me over to the bench where the barbells stood in racks. This was something else I'd seen on TV. I tried picking them up, testing the weight, and found I was just about comfortable with a 15kg. I lay down on the bench as he directed, and he stood over my face, explaining what I had to do. I looked up directly along the mass of his thighs, the huge mound of his dick in his shorts, the hill of his belly, and the peaks of his chest. I felt like he could have crushed me, harder than that barbell, if he'd wanted to. He grabbed my hands in his huge paws and positioned them precisely on the bar, getting me to hold it directly over my chest so that it grazed my nipples. That was the line I had to keep coming back to. I lifted it high, in a quick smooth motion as instructed, and lowered it slowly to my nipples, the cold iron bar weighing solidly upon them through his t-shirt. I managed to do the number of repetitions he suggested, each time the bar pressing more firmly on my nipples. I could feel a strange sense of power below my forearms, which stayed ramrod straight throughout. I had benchpressed 15kg for the first time in my life! He made me do some wrist extenders then, to work on my forearms, and then back to the bench press. Round and round till the strength in my chest muscles gave out and the bar rolled across my chest. I felt so fucking good. I felt like there was some power hidden in me that was beginning to flame into life. It waned slightly when I saw how much the Beast was pressing. He had to load plates onto the bar specially and fit them into the rack. Then he asked me to stand behind him, just where he had stood before, and he looked up at me from where he lay on the bench. I had to hold the bar, and if I felt like he was losing control of it, I had to heave with all my might and stop it, I suppose, landing on his throat. That neck of his was looking so huge and muscular that I joked the bar would just bounce off it, and he laughed, but he was still businesslike. The first ten reps, he did with his usual machine smoothness. I watched the muscles working in his arms. God, how enormous were they. My own were like bits of nylon compared to knots of rope. He rested, then went for ten more reps, and these were slower, and his face was red and straining. The last of his final ten reps, he gasped and lost control of the weight. It was too heavy even for him. I did all I could to hold it above him, but it was like gravity and decided to take it and I couldn't quarrel with him. He just managed to catch it at the last moment and settle it down on his barrel chest. 'Fuck,' he said. It was an intense moment, seeing him lose control. It was only a tiny thing, the briefest moment, but I felt like he had shown me some of the vulnerability he had forced out of me on Friday. I think any last doubts about the respect between us were quashed in that moment. 'How was that?' he asked, staring up at me with slightly mad eyes. His giant chest was rising and falling as he caught his breath. 'Fucking good,' I told him, with a slightly embarrassed smile. 'Want to do some more?' I nodded. 'You know,' he said, 'I need a spotter here. I always have to ask people, and they never want to. If you're interested, we could work out together all week.' 'Well, I -' I was about to make my excuses, but he cut across me. 'I can get you a free membership, of course. I'm close to senior people in Uranus.' For a second I didn't quite follow what he meant. Then I was grinning. 'Okay,' I said, 'Cool.' 'Let's do some more,' he said. 'Yeah,' I said. He did shoulder presses next. 'My shoulders are shit, mate,' he said, a sad little look in his face. He wouldn't let me disagree. 'You don't know strength yet,' he said. 'You'll see how bad my shoulders were.' He got me put my hands under his biceps for the final rep, so he could go through the burn and lift, even when his arms were tiring. He pressed massive dumbbells over his head, with multiple weights the size of an LP. He grunted and gasped as he went, and again I began fantasising about him and Estelle, and how hard he fucked her. When you're big, do you have to be careful, the power you fuck at? Or do they want you to give them everything you have. God, I want to find out. We went into separate cubicles when we showered off. I thought about him and Estelle and found my dick was rock hard. I had a bar of soap with me, so I sudsed myself up and had a nice slow, slippery wank. The Beast was in the cubicle next to me, and I could see him through the glass. I wondered if I should tell him what I was doing. Is that the sort of thing men do? No, I think they probably don't. He called through to say that he was going to towel himself off, and at the very same moment I spunked up the glass wall of the cubicle, biting my lip. I had to stand there and carefully rinse the cum off the glass. I was careful to wrap myself in a towel after. I don't want him to see how small I am down there. Afterwards, he gave me a protein shake he made himself. He keeps flasks of it in his locker. It was bright red, and it smelt like Hell. It didn't exactly taste like chilled champagne, either, but I love it for that. It tastes like hard work, which is what my life is going to be about from now on. Hard work and dedication, and building myself into my ideal. I saw the Beast's vulnerable side today. However strong you are, you reach a point where something overpowers you. I love that guy, but one day I've decided I'll take him to that point. And then he'll be where he had me, down on his knees.
  18. Chapter One "Oh, you were able to come!" As Roger gave Henry the biggest hug ever recorded in history, his friend gasped "I'm not the Ultimate Musketeer" and as Roger let go he chuckled "Although I could be if you wanted me to!" "We'll save that for the masses!" smiled Roger and with that opened the doors to the SUV and as Henry and Roger piled in all the materials they would need for the Olympia, they jumped in and pointed in the direction of Las Vegas and said in unison "Olympia, HO!" and with that Roger gunned the engine and they were off *** "Your destination is 809 miles away" announced the sat nav as they left Fort Collins "and will take eleven hours and thirty five minutes!" "Wow!" exclaimed Henry, "you do realise that's the same as travelling from where I live to Aberdeen and about two thirds of the way back again. You were right when you said that America was a large country!" "A large country" smiled Roger, "with large men heading to a contest with even larger men!" and with that they both laughed before Roger said "So, how was the flight?" "Flight?" asked Henry, "what flight?" "The flight from the UK to here!" replied Roger "Really?" asked Henry raising an eyebrow, "why on earth would I want to waste money on a flight?" "You never!" gasped Roger to which Henry replied with a chuckle "I did" and with that stated his journey. "I left my home at midnight today" he started, "remembering of course that I'm seven hours ahead of you. I had my luggage with me and so wheeled it down to the beach where I live. Then, and considering it was now a quarter past midnight, I went to the beach hut I have and there I..." "Oh fuck!" moaned Roger, "you did, didn't you?" "...became the Ultimate Musketeer!" added Henry and as he did Roger roared "Oh, fuck, yeah. Go on, tell me what you did!" "Well, after wrapping the luggage onto my back, I dived into the Irish Sea and headed due south west until I got to the Azores a little after three in the morning my time!" "Oh fuck!" moaned Roger, "how fast were you going?" "I'm not sure, but give me a moment" and as he consulted his tablet he replied "About three times faster than an aeroplane, but then I always like to go full throttle when I start!" "And then where?" moaned Roger "Well, I took a right hand turn and headed towards the United States. I think I arrived in, oh, now what was it called?" and with that he looked at the map and said "Ah, yes, here we are, Beverly Beach in Maryland, and that was just about sunrise" "You swum the Atlantic in a little over twelve hours?" gasped Roger "Give or take, yes!" "Oh man, your heart must have been pumping!" "Two hundred and forty beats per minute" said Henry, "about the same as a brisk jog. And from there I ran all the way here" "How long?" moaned Roger, "or should I stop the car now and cum?" "Let's see" came the reply, "I arrived in Maryland at around seven in the morning eastern, so that's five in the morning mountain, we'd agreed to pick me up from the airport at eleven mountain so five hours!" As Roger moaned, he pulled the car over and started scrabbling for something. Pulling out what looked like a drinks bottle, he pulled out his eleven inch cock, thrust it into the bottle and moaned "Speed?" "Three hundred and thirty nine miles per hour" came the reply, "a little under half the speed of sound!" "OOOOOOHHHHHH, FFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!" screamed Roger as he came into the bottle and as he orgasmed panted, "Tell Adam, the next time he visits, take the aeroplane. I don't think I'll be able to stand too many of his go it alone journeys!" "Hear that, Adam" said Henry tapping his head, "on the return journey we book a plane" to which Adam grumped in reply "That's not fair, you know I wanted to swim through the Panama Canal!"
  19. Hey guys! I know it has been a while since I last wrote. The story is pretty much still unfinished but I realized that having all the chapters spread out wasn't helping either. My plan now is to post all the chapters here, edited of course, this being so if you reread you will get a little extra fun from it. I'll also be posting progress pics within the story of the character,Vonny, who is based off of me and has very similar muscle progress. This way you can imagine how the character is growing a little better along with reading. I will also be posting pics from the web of what other characters look like and some scenery in order for you all to fully experience everything. Thanks for being patient and I hope you all will enjoy. Leave a comment if you have and questions or ideas!
  20. I think its a bit shorter than my other entries, but it is my first time writing a scene like this alone. I would appreciate any and all comments to make it better. Chapter 4: As Real as it Gets As soon as they got into the locker room John pulled Mike down and began to kiss him passionately. They kissed each other sloppily, their tongues grazing each other as John pushed Mike against a wall of gray lockers. Caleb smirked as his cock started to twitch with excitement. He took a picture of the distracted couple and sat down where he could secretly watch them. He wanted revenge. First he wanted to take down Mike a peg or two. Or more like a foot. He slid Mike's body down on the phone, causing him to become shorter, but keeping all his muscle. He shrank down to 5 foot 5, but he was wide as his muscles grew in size to fit his shorter stature. The former hulking bodybuilder was now the shorter of the two. The couple adjusted themselves as to comply with the change, but to them it was far too normal. “Now let’s make John a big hulk.” Caleb said as he played with the muscle settings for John. 180 pounds was far to small. He doubled that turning him into a 360 pound wall of pure muscle. John’s muscles twitched as they began to swell. His pecs growing with each heartbeat, creating slabs of pure muscle that pushed him and Mike away from one another. His hands grew larger as he began to rub the crevices of Mike’s bulging muscles. John’s arms thickened as his bi’s and tri’s exploded with growth. His delts and traps swelling, giving him wide shoulders and a thick neck. His stomach rippled as a massive 8 pack emerged from the smoothness that it once was. John’s legs were the last to change, growing to be the size of tree trunks, glutes so tight that they could crack walnuts, and size 13 feet. The last thing to change was their more personal bits. With such a small stature Mike had to get a reward of sorts. Caleb started to increase the size of the bugle in the picture and at the same time the real thing started to grow into its now tight confinement. The bulge expanded with every second, until it was quite obscene. John smirked as he saw the strained workout shorts, and easily ripped them off, revealing a footlong cock, throbbing and drooling precum. John ran his thick fingers over it, giving it a good squeeze before he flipped Mike over and started to rub Mike’s aching hole with his large fingers. John dropped his own shorts to his ankles revealing his own throbbing erection, a nice sized 8 incher. He couldn't wait to get to the showers, he had to take Mike right now. John pushed his throbbing pole against the tight, never used hole. With a grunt he pushed into the virgin hole, eliciting a loud, long moan from Mike. John started to jackhammer into Mike, both moaning as the rapid intensity of John’s thrusts only quickened. The lockers they were using as a wall were rattling with the quick pace of their lust filled romp. Caleb watched all this, his own shorts on the floor as he furiously stroked his own, five inch erection. He he looked at it, he felt he could make it bigger. Opening Reality Bender he took a picture of his own cock. He stretched it out, moaning as it grew longer and longer, stopping at a nice and thick 12 inches long. He moaned as he went back to stroking his own cock with softball sized balls as the other two made love. “I love you bro! I’m gonna bust!” John said as he stopped thrusting, blowing the load his large balls into Mike’s hungry hole. The pressure against his prostate made Mike blow his even larger load all over the lockers. They both sat down on the floor panting as Mike replied “I love you too bro” before embracing the much larger man. Caleb was cleaning up the mess had done all over the wooden bench seat he was on. “I should leave these two lovebirds alone” he thought as he pulled up his pants and started to go back to the gym area.Where he could hear someone yelling from outside the gym.
  21. EcchiMultiverse

    superhero Marvelous Man - Chapter 11

    All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=11TnIR4aIg1Pt_hZeCRSi7f8fBsYphn8zmoEz2lYXRyE) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Chapter 11: Consequences The hallway of the Demon Authority Bureau's fifth floor echoed with the muffled sounds of crashing and cursing. The source of the noises emanated from the closed office of the head of the D.A.B.’s North American region, Director Doug Skye. “Fatherfucker!” screamed the Director. Seconds ticked by as Marvelous Man uncomfortably fidgeted about in front of the door. He stood there; clad with nothing but his jewel-encrusted, golden athletic cup suctioned to his extra large delicates. To his left was his field analyst, Fairuza. Still as a statue, she clutched her book with a strong vice while twiddling the edges of her cream white hijab between her fingers. On Marvelous Man’s right, Gene posed with a relaxed demeanor. Marvelous Man could see his partner’s behavior as an act, as he could feel the bunny demigod emit trepidation. The continuing profanity and smashing finally died down as the doorknob begins to click and twist. The door slowly opens to reveal Puzzles standing behind it. The smoke imp stood straight with a professional poise, while the blended scent of jasmine and lavender escaped into the hallway. Whatever worry he had was held frozen underneath his crystal blue eyes. He gestured with his chin, “Come in.” Taking lead, Marvelous Man ducked underneath the doorway as he entered. Gene and then Fairuza followed behind him. Although Marvelous Man’s legs were mighty with tremendous muscular power, they trembled at the what the Director might do. It took all of the musclebound hero’s willpower to not fall down with each small step he took. The barely clothed hero surveyed the inside of the office to briefly study any notable damages. The interior was still the same as the last time he saw it. A cobalt-colored carpet flooring with scenic paintings and glowing runes adorning the walls. All the furnishings, including the plants and statues, remained intact. Even the cherrywood desk the Director was currently seated behind showed no signs of splintering or impact. As for the Director, small beads of sweat perspired on his forehead, as he drew shallow breaths of exhaustion. It was obvious that he had recently engaged in a physically rigorous activity. He had his hands placed on top of his desk; intertwined with a slight tremble from leftover adrenaline. And his usual Southern gentlemanly smile was replaced with a struggling, neutral flatline. Puzzles’ expression changed into shock the moment he turned around. After letting Gene and Fairuza inside, he hurriedly waddled back to the Director’s desk. Marvelous Man spotted the smoke imp kick the remains of a splintered wooden baseball bat back underneath the cherrywood desk. Puzzles then stared up at Marvelous Man with a look that said, “You saw nothing!” As Puzzles dissipated into smoke and reappeared on top of the desk, Director Skye raised one of his hands and slowly waved it with his index and middle finger extended. The room itself responded to his magical gesture and softly closed the door behind the three squad members. The Director sighed; letting out any building tension he had within himself. “So before we get into the meat of this meeting, I wanted to address a curious elephant in the room,” he said. The Director turned his attention to Gene, “Now, Gene. I am most certainly glad that you had not come back from the mission bare-ass naked. It’s a new record for this being twice in a row.” Director Skye’s eyes then shifted to Marvelous Man. “That being said, what happened to your outfit, Marvelous Man? I distinctly do not remember you wearing...that earlier today,” he said. Marvelous Man stared at the cherrywood desk, “We were fighting a monster, and it was melting into acid. It pulled me into itself, and, well...it melted all my clothes off except for my cup. And we wanted to report our findings as soon as possible, so I didn’t have time to change...Sorry.” “No need to apologize about that. It happens,” sighed the Director, “But I think it’s time we get back to the proverbial meat I just stated a few seconds ago.” He continued, “I’ve went over the statement Fairuza gave to me about how the mission went. There is honestly only one thing we can say about this. Puzzles?” “You all fucked up. That was our only chance to bring down the Skeleton Lord, and now we have no way of tracking him,” said Puzzles. The Director corrected, “We all fucked up, Puzzles. And the root of the stem of mistakes started with me. I had grown too lax with the Nemesis Branch being a safety net if a supervillain grew too powerful. I should have sent in some field agents earlier. Maybe we could have prevented that slaughter. Then again, maybe not. At the very least, you two managed to survive with very minimal injuries.” “Still, none of this looks good on the D.A.B. as a whole. People were murdered by the Skeleton Lord, and he got away. And since the Skeleton Lord committed multiple homicides, this case will have to be shared with the Skyway City police department. But I will say that it's fortunate that the Skeleton Lord has not truly shown any initial signs that his power level has gone up. Unless he can destroy a building in one blow, it’s subjective enough for him to remain a C-Rank. Meaning that we can still handle this case rather than passing it on to only the Nemesis Branch and the other boys in blue,” said Director Skye. Marvelous Man felt embarrassed at himself. Though he survived the ordeal with the Skeleton Lord and his monster, it was still a mission failure. Even with all that muscle and superpowers, he felt powerless at his situation. The Director concluded, “So in the meanwhile, you all are on standby until the Skeleton Lord shows up again. Now if there’s nothing else y’all want to say, then you are dismissed.” With nobody else commenting, Gene took a step forward. He no longer emoted the emotion of trepidation, but rather curiosity. “If I may inquire, sir, what will happen to the deceased? Will there be a funeral held for them or perhaps will their kin be notified of the passing of their lives?” asked Gene. Director Skye shook his head, “No, there will be no funeral for them. And as for their next of kin, we don’t know who was killed. Nobody was keeping track of who was in that homeless group, and the only remains not melted by Marvelous Man that was briefed in Fairuza’s report was...Puzzles?” Marvelous Man flinched at the remark, while the smoke imp picked up a digital tablet that lied next to him. Fiddling it with his cat-like paws, seconds passed by until he found an answer. “Martin Walsh, Boss. No family or known friends that we have to talk to about his death,” reported Puzzles. Gene’s eyes became wide with shock. His hands clenched, as he emitted ripples of anger. Marvelous Man forcibly calmed himself; mentally telling himself that those were not his own emotions. The rabbit superhero protested, “But we must lay them to rest! It is only fair that we carry out such a duty as fellow beings. Will not the citizens of Skyway City be restless upon knowing their homeless have been preyed upon?!” The Director paused; placing a hand over his face. He sighed, as the hand slowly slid down. He looked at Gene with cold honesty. “As far as the citizens of Skyway City are concerned, they don’t give a damn that homeless people were killed. Especially since those people in the subway were rejects from other self-sustaining homeless communities. Matter of fact, some would find it as a blessing that they were murdered. They most certainly will not be missed,” he stated. Director Skye continued, “Now if you want to hold a funeral for them, be my guest. The D.A.B. will not divulge any more of their resources for that sort of thing other than purifying the area to prevent supernatural activities. And with it being an abandoned subway station, gods only knows when we’ll get to that.” The air held still tension, and time seemed to slow down with every heartbeat that rang in Marvelous Man’s ears. Marvelous Man could feel the anger from Gene increasing, as he saw the bunny demigod’s shoulders tense. He wanted to shout at the Director for saying such thoughtless things. He wanted to support Gene’s claim...but no words could come to his head. Marvelous Man did not know the right response to such an event. Saying anything but the right words could hurt them. … No, that’s wrong. This isn’t Sunnysville. Marvelous Man was not in Sunnysville anymore, and none of the people here are soulless androids...he hoped. Marvelous Man flicked his gaze over to Fairuza for any support. She had her head bowed with her eyesight anchored to the cobalt carpet. Fairuza seemed to hug her book tighter; as if trying to be absorbed into the hardback itself. “So be it,” gritted Gene. The bunny demigod stormed towards the door. The anger he broadcasted now came with a hint of sadness. After opening the office door, he slammed it shut behind him with a considerable amount of his super strength. The door instantly glowed and boomed from the impact. The light surrounding the door appeared to be some sort of thin, translucent barrier. Instead of exploding into splintering pieces from the amount of force Gene used, the door remained intact. A glowing rune shimmered on top of the glowing door, as if it were the barrier’s power source. It then faded away a second later; along with the glowing barrier. Puzzles ears perked up upon seeing the barrier. Turning around, he waddled across the desk to where the Director sat. The smoke imp leaned forward and whispered into his master’s ear. Director Skye looked at Marvelous Man, “Mr. Marvelous Man, it has just occurred to me that you have used a new power that has not been stated in your profile. Now regulations would stipulate that you march right into the DMR and update your profile.” Before Marvelous Man could form words in objection, the Director held up a hand. “But. I am willing to look the other away from this issue just this once. HOWEVER. If you use those new powers of yours in public, you forfeit that privilege and will bounce your bubbly muscle ass back into the DMR. Are we clear?” spoke Director Skye. Marvelous Man swallowed. He realized that if he his newfound power were catalogued into his superhero profile, other companies would probably hire him for that purpose. And even worse would that people could be afraid of him. And that elated feeling of inflicting pain onto other people...he did not want to become that kind of person. He nodded, “Yes, sir. Crystal clear, sir.” “Good. Y’all are dismissed then,” said the Director, “Oh, and one more thing, Marvelous Man. Go to the second floor and get cleaned up. You smell like puke.” >>>>>>>>>>> The locker room on the second floor’s Shower and Onsen floor was empty, as Marvelous Man ducked underneath the entrance’s doorway. The musclebound hero was glad to not find Gene in a spit roast threesome again. He did not find Gene’s openly sexual practices disgusting, but he could not help but feel embarrassed when encountering it. Marvelous Man sauntered over towards a random locker on the top row. Pulling open the latch with one hand, he place his other on his golden athletic cup. The muscular hero sighed a mix of relief and disappointment, as his jewel-encrusted cup hissed a suction release. Lifting the cup off, he felt his large testicles wetly slap against his overly muscular, tree-trunk thighs. Marvelous Man then felt cold air caressing his moist, hefty package. As the sweet, musky smell of his cum wafted up to his nose, he inspected the inside of his golden athletic cup. The interior was slathered in layers and ropes of his musky ejaculation. Marvelous Man knew that he experienced some emissions during his return to the D.A.B. and his meeting with the Director. But he was so stressed from the recent events, that he hardly noticed. He questioned if that was why he was able to maintain his composure after poisoning the Teratoma, when he would usually run away until the feelings of anxiety cleared. Placing the cup inside the teal locker, he then closed it. Marvelous Man made a mental note to clean the golden athletic cup later when he arrived back at home. More than likely, he would do it after he was done being Justice. He wanted a break from superhero work, as it was starting to become a bit too gritty for his mental health. >>>>>>>>>>>>>> Slowly thumping his heavy body into the shower room, Marvelous Man found the area occupied by Gene on the other side of the room. The bunny demigod was standing underneath an activated showerhead and had his back turned to the hulkish hero. Marvelous Man could not sense Gene’s broadcasted emotions, and Gene gave no acknowledgement at Marvelous Man’s presence. The white rabbit ears drooped heavily with being wet from the shower. It was as if the bunny demigod was lost in thought. Hot water cascaded off of Gene’s naked body; streams of water filling in the hard crevices of his musculature. Unlike Marvelous Man’s inflated muscles, Gene’s muscle anatomy was more compact. All that flesh wound tightly and twisting into each other like ropes. He reminded Marvelous Man of marble human sculptures chiseled with realistic skin folds and flexing sinew that made it seem alive. There was so much power within this smaller person that Marvelous Man could now appreciate even more. Though the only place that was not hard with compact muscle and sinew was Gene’s buttocks. A layer of fat encompassed the bunny demigod’s glutes to give it a round, bouncy appeal. The water itself bended around the derriere; as if it were cupping the cheeks in worship of the rabbit adonis. However, that soft layer still quivered under the might of Gene’s muscular bottom whenever he lightly swayed underneath the showerhead. Marvelous Man spoke up, “Uhh, Gene?” The rabbit superhero turned around to face his caller. He gave a small smile, but his eyes betrayed that action by reflecting hints of sadness. “Greetings, Marvelous Man. Have you come to cleanse yourself with the shower?” he asked. Marvelous Man nodded while heading towards the showerhead next to Gene. Like the tiny quakes he gave off with each weighty step, it vibrated throughout his body. Every action causing his excessive muscles on his thighs and pecs to jiggle; almost as if he were stuffed to the brim with semi-solid mercury. He replied back, “Yeah. Director Skye told me I smelled like puke.” Gene paused for a moment. His eyes fluttered with the attempt to recall a memory. “Yes, like your culture’s saying goes, he does not beat around the bush,” said Gene. Standing next to the bunny demigod, Marvelous Man turned the shower’s handle on. Hot water sprayed onto his protruding pectorals; breaking off into multiple miniature rivers that travel around the pec shelf’s curved angles. While pleasing to a voyeur’s eye, it was another annoyance for Marvelous Man that he had grown used to with products not accustomed to his size. He was too tall for the showerhead to naturally spray him, and he was too big and wide for the water to reach every part of him without trickling down the upper parts of his expanded anatomy. Gene’s ears twitched to attention. It seemed as if he had felt Marvelous Man’s frustration. He looked up at his partner, “Is there something that troubles you?” Marvelous Man was about to say no, when he realized a problem in his current situation. “...I don’t have any soap. You got any on you?” asked Marvelous Man. Gene stooped down for a second before standing up straight again. He grinned, while he held a green and yellow body wash bottle in his hand. He inquired, “Do you have any discretions with the honeysuckle scent?” “Naw, it’s fine. I like the smell of those flowers,” smiled Marvelous Man. Gene replied, “I am most glad to hear that. Please sit down, so I may apply.” Marvelous Man’s eyebrow rose, as he slightly tilted his head. “Huh?” he said. Gene stated, “You are too big to lather yourself, am I correct? I have brothers as big as you, and they need help with the lathering of their backs. Their muscles are too big to be flexible enough to reach their backs.” Marvelous Man felt embarrassed. It was true what Gene said. Nowadays, he had to use a long body brush to apply any body wash on his backside. “Y-Yeah. Thanks,” said Marvelous Man The bulky superhero complied and sat down in a seiza position. His tree-trunk thighs laying on his calves, and his round, ample buttocks resting over his heels. With his back arched straight and sitting at a lower height, the water was finally able to spray his whole being. He was glad for the help, but it felt uncomfortable to seem vulnerable to a person he wanted to be equal to. Marvelous Man’s shoulders twitched, as he felt a thick amount of cold gel squirted onto the base of his neck. After the application, Gene rubbed his hands into the body wash gel. The rabbit superhero kneaded the soap across Marvelous Man’s bulging, muscular traps and around his shoulders. Gene’s fingers at first felt bony and rough. But seconds after their maneuvering, they became a gentle massage. A light moan escaped Marvelous Man’s lips, as tension evaporated from his affected muscles. Every part of him that was touched felt like it became a malleable clay of pleasure. However, one part of him beneath his torso became an unbreakable cylinder-shaped clay of pleasure. Marvelous Man gave himself a mental headshake. He needed to focus and say what he wanted to say to Gene. He spoke up, “I...I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what Director Skye said. It was really harsh, and he should’ve at least helped a bit. With the funeral, I mean.” The bunny demigod stopped his lathering for a moment. He softly smiled and resumed his scrubbing. “I am not sure why you feel the need to apologize. But I appreciate the sentiment,” said Gene, “What the Director said reminded me of what the elders of my tribe have said. That outside of our country, the rest of the world is strangled by chaos.” With the top of Marvelous Man’s back completely soaped, Gene applied more honeysuckle-scented body wash on the hulking hero. “In my tribe, every person is important. All of my brethren serve a role that can benefit everybody or at least an individual. Outcasts do not exist,” he continued. Marvelous Man hesitated, “But...isn’t that cause it’s a tribe? Tribes are much smaller than countries like the U.S. And with so many people in these big countries, there isn’t enough resources for everybody to be important. Outcasts are kinda unavoidable.” “Then perhaps the breeders should be more mindful on the quantity of their offspring,” retorted Gene. Marvelous Man grinned, “Are you trying to tell people to not have sex? Because that’s kinda impossible.” “I suppose that it is hypocritical of me to say such things,” giggled Gene. The sitting superhero laughed at Gene’s comment before calming down. Marvelous Man could feel Gene rubbing the soap onto his lower back. Each thick ridge of muscle softened; turning his back into a map of sensitive bliss. At every knead, his mind became soft and sweet like cotton candy, and his hard erection ached for release. He needed to voice his true intentions to Gene before he was too stimulated to think. He cleared his throat, “I, uh, I also wanted to say that...if you’re serious about having a funeral...I’d like to help out. With whatever you need...and stuff.” “I accept your assistance. But as of this moment, I would like to focus on other things. I still feel displeased from the most recent event,” said Gene. Marvelous Man nodded, “Um, Sure...sure, okay. Can I ask you something? Last one, I swear.” “Proceed,” replied Gene. Squeezing his thick thighs with his hands, Marvelous Man gathered what courage he could. It was becoming harder to speak as his back muscles melted at the bunny demigod’s touch. His heartbeat began to increase from the struggle of pronouncing his next words. He hesitated, “Would you…would you go out with me? I like you a lot even though we just met. Would it be okay if we went on a date, so I can get to know you better?” The rabbit superhero ceased his scrubbing. “Hm? Ah, this is an attempt at courtship, yes? No man has ever asked me out on a ‘date’. I have always wondered what it would be like to do such things as enacted by the outside world’s media.” said Gene. He paused for a second, as Marvelous Man’s heart raced. The bunny demigod smiled, “Yes, I would like to be taken out on the date. It sounds like an amusing activity.” Marvelous Man was elated. He felt like he could do endless super jumps. It was a simple act of asking; but to Marvelous Man, it was a giant step towards adulthood and being an individual. Now he truly thought of himself as a marvelous man. “Now perhaps I can take this chance of getting to know your body better,” said Gene. The rabbit superhero leaned forward; his tight body and hard erection pressing against Marvelous Man’s lower back. Gene’s arm snaked underneath Marvelous Man’s swollen lats. Maneuvering his hand in front of the musclebound hero’s cobblestone abs, he grabbed Marvelous Man’s swollen sexual muscle. Squealing in surprise, Marvelous Man’s flight power activated by reflex. The surprised man propelled forward into the air. With no thought of direction or stopping within the next second, he slammed straight into the tiled walls. Next Chapter
  22. I originally published this on the old evolution forum, April 7, 2013. The TFs start after the row of ************** You're Trent, you're the star receiver on the high school football team. It's your senior year. BOOM! You smack your buddy during scrimmage and quickly scoot by him as you break through the defense during practice. Like second nature you turn your nimble and quick legs, maintaining a high speed as you run backwards waiting for Jon, the team quarterback, to pass you the ball. It slides easily into your hands and you make yet another touchdown. Coach blows the whistle during practice calling you all back to the sidelines. “Damn Trent, you're too good for our defense!” Coach enthusiastically says, glaring at the brutes on the defensive side, “you boys need to work harder, we got a big game next week. Okay let's call it a day, nice work gents.” You always enjoyed practice, it was less tense than games and fun to hang out with your buds, plus no need for full-on uniforms today. You slip off your helmet and undo your shoulder pads, leaving you in a cut white t-shirt and your gym shorts. You head over to Jon doing the same, “nice pass man. I think we're gonna kick ass this season.” Jon smiles as he pulls his shirt over himself, satisfied with practice for the day. “Yea man I think so too. We're getting pretty good. Top of our game.” You look at the QB's cut abs and protruding pecs. “Been working out Johnny boy?” you ask, chuckling. Feeling the need to show off yourself you too casually slip off your shirt, revealing a similarly cut body but with the addition of a deep grooved adonis belt, V extending into your cut abs. Jon laughs, the two of you equally impressed with yourselves. Senior year and it doesn't seem like life can get much better. You're a complacent and ignorantly happy jock. You're in all honors classes, getting near-straight As, a star football receiver, a great body, a solid if jerky personality...you wouldn't have it any other way. Walking by the cheerleaders you and Jon give the girls a smile. They chuckle and wave back, soaking in your bodies with their eyes. Behind them the guy cheerleaders admire you too, smiling without being too obvious about their own homosexual feelings. “Which one are you taking tonight?” you ask Jon, the two of you trading around a few of the cheerleaders as sex partners for the last few weekends. “I think the dudes are into us too,” he answers ignoring you. “Nothing wrong with that, I know I'm sexy to both.” The two of you trudge into the football locker room where most of the team is already in place undressing from practice. You and Jon settle onto the bench and pull off your shoes and socks, tossing them in your locker. Clayton, another receiver on the team, walks over in his compression shorts. “Bet you fellars won't flash yourselves to the cheerleaders outside. They all standing out in the parking lot since the door's still open. Dare ya to walk across the opening bare nude.” You turn around and notice half the team looking at you, wondering if you'll follow through. Alex, a linebacker adds, “they'll do it, they love getting naked!” You and Jon smile before together, like clockwork, casually remove your compression shorts, standing back up and casually showing off your cut bodies and obnoxiously large packages. The two of you walk without towels toward the front door, you in the lead. Turning your head but being careful not to show your package you wave to the ladies down below, guys behind them gawking at your awesome body. To tease further you and Jon decide to turn in uniform, fully showing your naked packages. The girls oogle and blow kisses before the two of you laugh and walk back. “You owe me, Clayton,” you shout, proud enough not to need any kind of payback for the dare. “We're fuckin' BEASTS!” Jon shouts as he slaps your ass. You take a shower and throw on your briefs and another pair of clean gym shorts, throw on your shoes and another cut t-shirt. Yes, it's good to be the big, bad jock, you think to yourself smiling. Looking around at your teammates you're reassured in your friendship and kinship with your fellow jocks, too. They may vary in personality and athleticism but together you share the camaraderie of being jocks. Jon gives you a light shove against the locker as he drops his towel and begins pulling out his clothing. As you watch the naked quarterback get dressed slowly, deliberately strutting himself as long as he can, you wonder if it's your athleticism that brings you and your friends to be so suavely cocky. Four years ago you wouldn't have really cared to be naked, but now it's not only second nature, it's something you thrive on, and you earn a lot of attention and respect for doing so. “So, which of the ladies are you taking home tonight?” you ask as Jon ties his shoes. “I fucked a guy last night,” he says casually, not caring if anyone judged him over such a statement. “One of the cheerleaders?” you ask back, surprised at his blunt answer. “Yea man, that one junior, Drake? He loved taking it up the butt. Cindy was right there with him. She stepped in as soon as I was done with him. One dude followed by one chick. Probably the craziest thing I've done...” he answers grabbing his backpack. “Jesus,” you say, astounded, “what was it like?” “It was sex!” he answers back cockily, “it's a place to deposit some sperm and orgasm, that's it. Tonight it'll probably be Cindy and Kendra if I get them both. That Kendra is an elusive fox, makes me want to hunt her down more and more.” As the two of you leave the locker room and carpool home, you check out the high school that is your domain, your rule of the world. The hot, dry air feels good on a night like tonight. High fiveing fellow jocks on the track team you wind your way to the parking lot and see a group of nerds, also seniors, rolling some dice on the ground as they play their nerdy card game at a nearby picnic table. Most of the time you consider yourself a nice guy, but these dweebs were too much of a fun opportunity to pass up, so you give them a visit. “What's up duudes?!” you say innocently as they conspicuously put their game away, hiding it. “Nuthin'...” they murmur, hoping you'll leave them alone. They try not to look at you, intimidated by your presence, but you stand there smiling, and as you notice them look at you, you feel a certain amount of admiration and jealously flow from them, giving you too much pride. Jon drops his duffel bag in front of them and it lands on the table. “I wanna play a game!” he shouts, walking around the nerds. “What'll it be, Kevin?” he asks one of the nerds, a smart kid but socially awkward, with a bow cut of blonde hair and tiny specks. “Nuthin, man, don't you have somewhere to be...” Jon ignores him. “Something a little personal,” he suggests, zipping open his bag, “something called...” he slowly pulls out his dirty jockstrap as he stands right behind Kevin, “Stuffed face!” Jon slams the jock into Kevin's face as he holds him into a headlock. The four other nerds scatter and run away while the helpless Kevin stays attached to the dirty jock. The kid struggles to no use. You feel bad for him and nod for Jon to let him go, giving the poor nerd a chance to breathe. “You fuckin animal!” he says, between breaths. “Fuck yea I'm an animal!” Jon responds laughing. You grab Kevin's shirt as he tries to leave. “Where you goin' buddy?” you ask, still asserting yourself while giving a good cop attitude. “You're gonna be fuckin sorry one of these days,” Kevin said, “You think you rule over me now, but it won't be long...” he says cryptically. You hold him for a moment longer, “what do you mean?” you ask more seriously. Jon walks around, yanking off his gym shorts and showing a large boner under his boxers, “I'll get it outta him,” he says, putting Kevin in another headlock and prying his jeans down to his knees. Jon was never bashful about his bisexual and domineering tendencies but you never knew him to be this savage. In fear and anger Kevin shouts “Fuck you! The Zets will have our revenge!” and you shove Jon to set the poor kid down. Holding him in place, you wonder what he means by that term. “Zets?” Jon gives a look of frustration as he pulls back his gym shorts. Seeing others emerge from the high school you give him a look that you just saved his skin. “Tomorrow...you'll...be....sorry,” Kevin says, and with that you let Kevin go as he runs away into the forest behind. “What did he mean by that?” you ask Jon as he drives you back home. “Fuck if I know, I coulda gotten him to tell you.” Jon trails off as you think about the word he used, “Zets.” Trying to find any connection to the Zets, you start to see online accounts of some type of pendant called Zets being used on Greek warriors. Searching through your old history books you find info on the mythology of the ancient Greeks and read about Kratos, the god of strength who carried with him a pendant of Zets. Realizing that the basic info won't be enough for you to understand what Kevin meant you delve deeper into the mythos of Kratos, who he was and what he did. You find that small tribes of the Greek peoples in island settings off the mainland believed that their warriors were not of their land, the land of the mortal, but from a distant plane of existence, one fueled by Kratos, the god. These warriors were immortal, strong, well-respected, and were distinctly identified by the diamond-shaped amulet they had inscribed into their chests. This wasn't simply a tattoo but an actual artifact that seemed to be a part of their bodies, and one that they could hide within their bodies or use on their chests as a weapon. You go onto read about how the Kratos warriors often ruled the clans on the islands and for many years conquered and ruled neighboring lands using their powers. Reading over the material gets you excited about the prospect of living as one of these men many years ago. “How incredible...” you think to yourself as you continue reading. The etchings of the men in the textbooks are truly spectacular, and accounts report that they were always naked. “Sounds like me already,” you joke to yourself as you read over the powers that the warriors held, which seem to embody the control of every aspect of space and time, physics and biology. The entire mythos of Kratos himself was based around these Zets pendants. The pendants may have been extraterrestrial, or extra-universal, in such a way that to what the Greeks seemed as god-like powers were actual alien technology. Powers of some extraterrestrial race. Forgetting about the mythical and impossible facts that the research alludes to, your mind drifts to what the nerd was talking about when he said “you'll all be sorry.” “Maybe he can summon a warrior using one of these amulets,” you think to yourself. “I need to see if I can find one, if I can summon one myself,” and you sketch a copy of the diamond-shaped amulet to take to school for the next day. Throughout the day you notice the nerd Kevin give both you and Jon longside and evil glances as he roams the school hallways. On the way to P.E. You even notice him suspiciously looking at you, following you as you walk to the locker room. Knowing something is wrong, you warn your football buddies Jon and Nate to leave school with you and head to the car before practice. “I want to find that Kevin kid and see what the fuck he's all about,” you suggest. “Shit yea, let's do it,” Jon agrees, “we don't have practice till 4 anyway.” At 3pm you follow Kevin to the locker rooms for the gym, for guys who weren't on any sports teams. You knew it would be empty as no one wants to hang around after school on a Tuesday, and assume that whatever Kevin is up to it's definitely no good. You signal for your buddies to wait and hide behind the staircase as you seal the door and peer at Kevin. He throws his backpack in a locker and quickly looks around before pulling off his shoes and socks. “That punk's never changed in school before!” Jon notes, making an insulting point to note that the kid never gets naked unlike him or you. “He's up to something,” Nate concurs, watching the nerd go down to his boxers before pulling out of his backpack two triangular shaped but elaborately carved rocks. Kevin examines them closely, weighing each rock in his hand with respect. “That's the fuckin amulet,” you whisper, “we gotta grab him now!” The three of you quietly and briskly sneak up behind Kevin while still holding the rocks. “Grab him!” you shout and Jon and Nate enthusiastically grab the nerd in both hands, causing him to drop the rocks. “Fuck!!” he shouts, “let go of me motherfuckers!” They back him against the opposite row of lockers and hold him in his place as he kicks and screams. “HEEELP!” he shouts, but with the locker door sealed and no one in that corridor of the school, you know his pleas are futile. “I read a little about the Kratos warriors last night,” you say seriously as Kevin continues to struggle. “I knew that if we didn't come down here and investigate we'd probably regret it.” Trying to read Kevin, you can't tell if you're scaring him as he continues to fight his way out of your buddies' arm locks. “You know I can't let you do anything that would hurt us. You'd only hurt yourself, and your school...” you try to reason as you want to figure out what this kid was up to. Tired of beating around the bush you ask him directly, “Did you find a Zets amulet?” the words 'amulet' scare the kid and he freezes. Eyes wide Kevin simply says, “No” as he stares at you in fear. “Because if you did,” you answer, “I can't let you summon some creature to come and hurt me. That wouldn't be very nice would it.” You take a step back and cross your arms examining the kid. Looking down you see the two triangular rocks on the ground. “This isn't the amulet is it?” you ask, picking them up and weighing each in your left and right hands. “These rocks...what are they?” you ask, showing them to Kevin still wrapped by your buddies' arms. “They're just...just rocks,” Kevin answers, trying to be as innocent as possible. “Just something for geology class, now let me go!” he pleas. Ignoring him you continue, “because, if you have the amulet, then I'd like to see it. Is this the amulet?” You hold up the rocks, reading the nerd so easily and surmising that you have the amulet. Jon chimes in with a sinister smile, “what is it?” he asks, “what was this punk trying to do with it?” You answer, not trying to sound like too big of a nerd yourself, “What he said yesterday struck me a little bit. He said 'we'd be sorry' which a nerd would never say without some sort of help. I thought he might have found something important that he could have used against us. Now I think I might be right...” “What could this punk have done?” Jon asks. “Could it...uhh...hurt us?” “I don't think it matters now that I have it,” you say, giving Jon and Nate a small smile. Turning your attention to Kevin, “I thought the amulet was diamond shaped,” you say, comparing the two rocks. “That you could summon...” “Don't do it!” Kevin answers back desperately. “Man, please don't do it, you won't let me live if you do it...” “Do what?” You answer, looking back down at the rocks, smiling at the fact that you're finally getting the nerd to talk. Moving them around in your hands you realize putting them side by side turns the two triangles into a diamond. “Oh shit,” you say, concluding the puzzle, “this thing is the fucking amulet!” You admire the rocks as you realize what it is. “What does it do if I put them together?” you ask Kevin. Kevin is now nearly crying as his desperation overflows. “I don't know, man...” he says, “don't do it, please!” Jon gives him a light but tight punch to his gut to get to him talk. “Answer him, Kevin!” he shouts. “Argh!” Kevin yelps before answering, “you...you become one of them, man! But please don't!” “What do you mean one of them?” anticipating his answer, you start to get excited, “wait...could it be true?” you think to yourself. “A warrior! A warrior jeez no...now please don't!” Kevin continues to plea. Your smile widens at his words. It is true! You can actually become an immortal and almighty being by putting together these rocks! What incredible power. As you slowly start to merge the rocks you begin having visions of these powers, of the muscular and naked splendor that these warriors beheld, of the powers they contained within them and could selfishly use for whatever they felt and desired. You would be the one and only warrior of this time, a newly formed and immortal being for the present world. “Jesus...” you whisper as lusts and dreams encircle in your thoughts. You wouldn't only become a warrior, you would become the very powers that the god Kratos held within him, and more. You would become pure power. “Trent,” Nate says, a bit confused and worried himself but still holding Kevin to the locker wall, “what is that thing?” “It's power,” you answer as the visions clear from your head. “Powers I'm about to gain.” “Are you fuckin serious?!” Jon asks in excitement, actually believing you. “Can I have some too?” “I think so,” you say. “Dude,” Nate warns, “watch out, you don't know what that thing can do...” “Looking back up, reality seeping back in but realizing you're still in possession of the amulet you tell your buddies, “hold that nerd there. I'm about to become a true god.” “NOOO! No NOOO!” Kevin shouts again, struggling with all his strength but unable to move against your buddies who pin him against the lockers. Your hands shake in anticipation of the transformation you dream of having. You smile at Kevin and tell him, “what? did you think you were capable of harnessing these powers? Of abusing them?” you ask him, showing him the rocks. “What makes you think something like this will be bestowed upon you?! You practically told me, gave away, that you had the potential to gain these powers! But you're too late, you gave away the secret! And anyway you're mistaken, man. These powers weren't created for nerds like you. These powers are for someone like me. A man of masculinity. A man of strength.” You speak almost channeling the warrior you feel you will become. You lift your shirt and show your six pack. “Do you have one of these?” you ask him? “Do you have the dick of a beast? If not then step aside, because I'm taking advantage of the powers of the gods. I am becoming one...” You laugh at the realization of your assertiveness, which you admit to yourself is silly. But who cares? Knowing that the warriors were bare, and wanting to be in your natural state for the transformation, you pull off your t-shirt and drop it to the ground before kicking off your shoes, triangles held tightly in your palm. Smiling at your buddies, and making it apparent the transformation is about to happen to you, you pull off your socks and slide down your gym shorts, leaving you only in your briefs. Kevin stares at your already cut body with both respect and fear. The tent in your briefs shows your excitement as Jon and Nate are still confused by what is to happen. But Kevin simply whispers, “no” in sadness, sad that he didn't get to possess the powers first. “Shoulda acted a little faster, nerd,” you say condescendingly. You walk close to him to make him particularly uncomfortable and with assertiveness say, “Now I am going to become what you've always wanted, and you'll never get to have it for yourself.” You look at the stones again and feel the powers of the warrior. The anticipation becomes too much, too pleasurable. You're body is going to become magnificent. You smile at your buddies as they and you anticipate the changes to come. You can feel the amulet almost speaking its power to you as you clutch it in your hands. “You boys ready for this?” you ask your friends, glancing back at Kevin with an evil smile, “fuck yea man!” Jon answers, “let's fuckin do this!” Nate says nothing but nods his head in approval, hoping nothing catastrophic happens to him. You take a few steps back from Kevin and your buddies, enough for a view for all to see and take in. Turning back around you tell them “You know what I always say? If you're gonna go all out, mine as well do it right!” **************************** You slip your fingers under your briefs and feel your hard butt. Slipping your hand to your crotch you position your shrinking boner before casually, slowly push the briefs down to your ankles, bending your knees to get them down your legs before standing back up, showcasing your large and low package as you get completely naked. You pick up the briefs and toss them to Kevin's face as a joke. They slap him and land on the ground. “Trent...” Nate warns, “watch out man...you don't know what that thing can do.” “I know all it can do. And what it will do to me,” you say, staring at the two pieces of rock as you move each one into your right and left hands. “I just need to put them together.” “Hurry up, man!” Jon encourages you in eager anticipation, “let's do this before someone catches you!” Kevin's screams have subsided to sobs as he accepts the unfortunate fate that you will become the warrior and he will be there only to witness. “I can feel the powers beckoning me,” you say, arching your arms above your head you slam the stones together and let go. To your amazement the single amulet floats above your head, exudes a bright white light and begins spinning very quickly. You don't even have time to set your arms down again before the spinning amulet begins spraying bright white electric bolts directly down onto your body, showering you with a wealth of powers your mind had never even comprehended before. “Argh!” you scream as you bend forward, the powers pushing your body involuntarily as they integrate into you. You look down to see yourself rapidly changing, morphing into a new being. Your upper body immediately expands horizontally and vertically as new layers of muscle grow over your already cut body. Pecs grow out as abs form a complete and deep eight pack. Your back snaps back as your shoulders grow outward, new lines of sinew creating an extreme amount of muscular girth. You examine your biceps through the power-ridden light as they too grow out, new layers building upon themselves. Your forearms start to grow hair as it raises up your biceps, into your pits and over your chest. As a treasure trail grows down onto your waistband you feel your adonis belt grow out too, creating a deep V groove as your ass pushes a pronounced bubble butt, rock hard to match your muscular back. Soon your quads grow out as the hair covers them too, creating thick football like muscles over your legs. You look up at the guys and see them still holding Kevin, but all fascinated by the naked beast being born before them. “I'm fucking grooowwwwing! YES!!! HAHA!” the muscular powers are too much, you're overcome by the love of the immortal warrior you are becoming. Soon your most powerful growth hits you as you feel your balls pulling into your body to begin their change. As you feel your testicles rid of your old mortal semen and turn it into something more, you notice the electric powers emerging over you give you bright flashes of transformative attractiveness. You begin to feel and read the minds of those around you, and understand that your witnesses can see you changing too under the bright cloud of power, but they see your mortal body become godlike under the powerful lights that cover you. “Oh YES!!” you shout again as your package begins to weigh down, growing balls matching the growth of your body as your pecker too grows down and becomes large and strong. The sparks of electricity engulfing it only further grows and graces it with the powers of the warrior. As your body begins to finish it's biological and muscular growth the white light begins to darken to a gray, then a black ominous color as it clouds and forms a magnificent and dark energy circle. “Powers...” you say as your voice deepens, knowing what is to come. The amulet descends into you as the powers it bestows shifts from that of muscular growth to that of actual power. Pure, unbridled, supernatural powers. You begin to feel the powers of the amulet as it continues descending toward you. You begin to feel the powers as the cloud finds whatever orifice it can integrate itself as it climbs into your newly formed muscular body. You can feel your friends witness your power gaining as they see the outline of your immortal body through the gray cloud light and electrocute with pure power. Soon your mind leaves the confines of human thinking as you begin to understand everything known and ever known about the universe. As the powers integrate into the vessels that have become your new muscular body, you begin to understand what they do and how you can use and manipulate them. You feel the power of transformation, animate and inanimate, come into you, you feel the power of immortality, to survive not just time but injury of every sort. You feel the power of possession as you can take on whatever form you wish to possess whoever, or whatever, you wish. You feel the powers of mind control and reading, of ultimate stamina, of control of all matter from the subatomic level. You feel the power to share your powers or pass them onto others, or to drain mortals own lifeforce to further grow your own energy and power. You take your last needful breath as your lungs morph into a vessel for your powers, you blink your last organic eyes as they turn into the seeing instruments for the ultimate being. You see from and exist in all directions as you feel your body become a vessel for which to exist in this universe. The amulet itself lodges into your chest as you scream with pleasure “YEEEESSSS!” you scream as your voice deepens to an immense, masculine pleasure. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!” you laugh as you assert your newly born self. “I...AM...POOOOWEEEERRRRRR!” you shout as the black cloud of power bestows you with the last of its light, the last of its electric force and seeps into the amulet now engrained into your chest. With a dramatic and loud air, the cloud seeps into your body and leaves you there, a newly transformed and immortal specimen of the most perfect kind. Still flexing your arms, you lower them and inspect your body. Every inch of it is perfect. You feel the powers within you. The transformation was in fact everything you dreamed and more. You lift your feet and see a burnt imprint on the concrete below, what was leftover from your formation. You lift your head and smile at the three mortals ahead of you. “Oh yea this feels good...” you say, smiling as you take two steps towards them. The three of them are not sure whether to be terrified or in awe, you can feel their thoughts racing in their heads as try to figure out what to do, but they're simply stunned and amazed by the beast before them. You feel Kevin come to his senses as he frees himself from his captors' grip, them too in awe to care about Kevin, and begin to run away. “Where do you think you're going?” you say with a chuckle and, using your mind, you lift his feet off the ground and pull him magically back. He continues to try running but cannot as you drag him back to between your friends, them still inspecting the naked beast before them. “Stay,” you say, and you bend the locker metal to form handcuffs and lock his hands into the metal. “Don't move,” you order, forcing his limbs to become too weak to do anything as he helplessly struggles to undo himself. “Dude,” Jon says taking a step forward, “what...are you?” “I am power,” you answer, feeling his awe of you, “I am the amulet of power, and it is me.” Jon reaches his hand out to touch the amulet, and in doing so he connects to your mind and gets a mortal glimpse as to what it's like to be you. It's too much for him and he grows a large boner under his shorts. “I want it,” he says, staring at the amulet, “give me some of your powers, anything, I'll do anything!” he says, removing his t-shirt and kicking off his own shoes. “Me too!” Nate answers, hypnotized by your beastly body. He steps next to Jon as he removes his gym shorts, showing the excitement under the boxers in the form of a long tent. You know you can transform them into whatever you wish, and you're tempted to feed your power of strength to them. Or you could posses them, or drain them of their own mortal strength. Still thinking like a mortal, Jon looks back up to you, pleaing with his eyes to do anything to gain a chunk of your power. “What do I need to do, man?” asking you desperately, “should I get naked?! Just say it and I'll do it!” Nate adds, “Whatever it takes man, yea, like Jon said, I'll do anything too. I don't need to be everything you are, just a little bit, man, just a little something.” “What do we do with him?” you ask your buddies, pointing to the resigned but terrified Kevin, tethered to the lockers behind them. “Whatever you want, man,” Jon says, distracted by your body. “What do you want to do?! You're the boss now...” You think to yourself, 'the big, bad jock finally got what he wants. I can do anything, do I really give the jocks the powers and we rule? Or do I thank the nerd who allowed me to become this god? And bestow my powers unto him?' You look back to your friends and see their cut and sculpted bodies. These guys worked hard for what they earned, even if they were jerks about it. These guys are capable of being in the state that the powers require, which is unapologetic nudity. These guys are already sculpted and their powers will only further their physique. They can handle the powers better than the nerd, and after receiving the powers they will become prime demi-god servants. You magically release Kevin's shackles and approach him, keeping him weak so he won't run away again. “Look at me,” you say, and he raises his head. “Do you like this body?” you ask. He looks you over and you feel his jealousy and sadness exude. “What do you fuckin think?” he said. “Do you want these powers?” you ask, stern as before. “Fuck you!!” he shouts, spitting on your chest. You laugh. “That's not the way to treat a god, I could have made you immortal.” You heat your chest to evaporate the spit and turn from him, reshackling him in the process. “Okay, friends, time to become demi-gods.” “Alright!” Jon shouts and Nate smiles. “Let's do this!” You turn back around and face everyone, Kevin now struggling again to escape, “this kid wasn't respectful of the warrior I am, time to show him who's boss...” “NOOOO!” Kevin shouts again, but you seal his flesh over his mouth so he cannot speak. “Take um off boys,” you say, “let's gain some powers.” In an equally enthusiastic swoosh, Nate and Jon remove their boxers and kick them to the far side of the room. Their anticipation of the powers they are to gain completely free them from any embarrassment of being nude. “You're gonna be sorry little dude,” Jon says walking close to Kevin and giving him an evil smile. “See you in a minute...” Jon walks back over and holds his arms at his side. “Let's fuckin do this!!” You dissolve yourself into a dark gray steam, dissolving until your body is no longer made of material and exists purely as a cloud of smoke. Equally controlling two waves of the steam, you work your way toward Jon and Nate, standing and ready for you to integrate your powers into them. You crawl over their bodies and up and over their heads, forcing them to turn around for Kevin to witness their transformations. After covering their bodies you begin crawling into all orifices you can find, climbing into their ears, nose, ass crack and pecker. As you crawl through their bodies you leave chunks of powers to integrate into their cells and transform them into the pure-power essence that now comprises your own essence. You withhold from them powers of possession and their own ability to spread powers, simply giving them immortality and the power to transform into any entity and consume the bodies of mortals. But as you leave your essence you control it to integrate into their cells, forcing their muscles to grow outward and become strong, immortal containers for their powers. Kevin watches in fear as the same muscular transformation that just happened to you now happens to two more jocks who are becoming equal to you in looks and stamina. Jon begins laughing at the transformation as his abs grow into an eight pack, his biceps bulk up and his pecs grow out like cannons. “Fuck yea!!” he says, finally able to experience the transformation himself. Nate looks down at his blonde-hair covered legs and see them blow out like footballs, quads increasing in size as he gains more hair as he grabs his package for it to contort and grow to match his growing body. Both jocks laugh as they continue transforming in pure-power pleasure. Their backs crack, muscle grows, their asses grow out into a shapely and rounded bubble of steel, hair grows on their chests and down their treasure trail to their newly formed warrior packages. Their transformations become too much as they grab each other's shoulders their dicks begin to grow. “Ohh!” Nate shouts as pleasure wraps over him. “It's too much!” Jon smiles in pleasure as his balls pull tightly against his huge, muscular body, transforming his package into something otherworldly. You exit their bodies and form back in smoke that floats above the locker room, watching the men continue to change. “HAHAHA!” they maniacally laugh as their bodies infuse their powers and their semen changes to their new godly selves. As their transformations end the naked jocks briefly check themselves out before turning their attention to Kevin. With an evil smile Jon says, “you're our's now, kid.” Kevin's shackles undo and he's lifted by the naked jocks and thrown onto the floor. Nate grabs Kevin's boxers and rips them in half before using his mind to force the nerds onto all fours on the floor. “Please don't do this to me!” Kevin shouts as his glasses are kicked off by Jon's foot. The two jocks smile as they begin tugging their massive dicks. “Time to consume the mortal...” Nate says as the two jocks strattle him on the front and back. “Take it, nerd.” Jon commands as he shoves his dick in his mouth. Nate does the same from the rear and together, in unison, they begin pumping. “You feel that?” Jon asks, smiling, “our seed is going to be a poison to him, as soon as it enters him it'll dissolve him, and his lifeforce will be our's...” “Fuck yea!” Nate says between gasps, “I can feel it coming!” “Yea, heh...” Jon continues, “me toooo. Oh! Fuck yea...3...2...1....” Together they blow their loads right into Kevin, he coughs once or twice but the pressure is too much and his body begins intaking the poison. The jocks keep themselves square on him, not moving an inch as they pump him full of their fatal seed. “Watch him...” Jon whispers as the two jocks look with complete interest on their little lab rat. Kevin's eyes roll back into his head as the black substance begins dripping from his mouth. His mouth opens as more of Jon's seed, a black oily substance leaks out of it. As his eyes roll into his head, leaving dark gaping holes, Kevin's body begins seizing as it shakes short, fast burst of seizure. His back snaps as it liquifies and he begins losing any hard mass that made up his body. His legs and arms give way to liquid, lifeless flab as his weight drastically reduces to a black liquid. The jocks keep his body propped with their hard cocks as the body's skin begins breaking into deep cuts across his back, ass, arms and legs. Oozing out of his body, it completely begins to breakdown into the same black substance he was injected with, running and dripping over his skin before climbing its way back to its owners. “Come to daddy...” Nate whispers as the black oil climbs back over his dick and into his pecker. “Mmm...fuck yea...” Jon whispers as the same happens to him. As the substance travels back into their bodies, the jock's balls begin growing as it takes in the liquid. Then it spreads throughout their bodies, increasing their muscle mass while giving them new levels of stamina they never before thought possible. “OH YEA!” They shout together as the last of the body-turned-liquid climbs back into their own massive bodies. The jocks snap their backs back as they feel the last of it climb into them and open their eyes to see all that's left is themselves. “Oh yea,” Jon says, “we really are the fucking dominating beasts of our time...” As the jocks' dicks die back down to flaccid states, you pull your steam back together into your warrior-like body and make yourself known to them again. “Master,” Jon says, turning to you in his newly formed body, “you've given us the gift of the immortals, what can we do to serve your will...?” You smile before casually answering, “you already have, you have begun consuming the human entity. Now we will consume the humans, procreate, and create our own kind to take over and rule this planet once and for all...”
  23. Check out Parts 1 & 1.1 first to keep track: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2085-muscle-buddies-chapters-1-15/ After making the playoffs at the end of the football season, Jeff wants to come out to the rest of the guys on the team, but Dustin keeps telling him that it isn’t going to help him if he does. After celebrating their last home game with the team, Jeff spends a little bit of time in the locker room having a ‘conversation’ with Dustin. The two studly teens laugh as they horse around near the lockers rolling on the floor and playfully punching each other. Without realizing it, they can hear a deep voice rumbling above them like they are trying to clear their throat. The two young men stop moving and look up at them. The man has a look on his face that makes them wonder if he is mad or not as they stand there with their arms in a dominant stance. The rest of the team has already showered and is leaving the dressing area to go home to prepare for the next game at this point. Dustin jumps to his feet and starts to move away from Jeff but not before the man grabs him by the arm. The man turns to look at him and points to the nearby bench. Dustin goes to sit down immediately afterwards. It turns out that the man is the coach that saw the two teenagers having sex before the football season began. He is also the assistant coach of the football team. The man is incredibly muscled, much larger than he was back when he caught them together. He turns back around and reaches down to pull Jeff up to his feet. The stunned teen is shirtless since he hasn’t yet showered from the game. The coach walks up to him and looks him straight in the eyes before pressing his immense body up against Jeff’s. He knows that the teen has tried to avoid him for weeks because of what happened that night. He grabs Jeff’s hands and puts them on his huge ass which is hugging his tight jeans. Dustin watches intently and even lets out a few moans. The coach grunts a few times before wrapping his arms around Jeff and picking him up. He starts using the muscled teen like a dumbbell curling him and lifting him up and down above his head and directly in front of his face. The man’s groomed beard brushes up against Jeff’s crotch each time to make him react. The coach eventually stops lifting him to watch the young man’s crotch pulse inside his football pants. He leans in to smell Jeff’s musk before running his tongue along the crotch. Dustin knows he should do something, but he finds the whole situation too hot. Jeff isn’t exactly trying to stop the man either since he has had his eye on the coach for as long as the season has gone on. Feeling his own cock stirring in his pants, Dustin gets up to go over and join the other two. He puts his hands around the front of the coach’s chest and pulls on the polo shirt he is wearing, ripping it open down the front which immediately makes the man drop Jeff onto the ground. He turns and yells at Dustin making his huge hairy chest flex as his pecs and abs swell. The force behind the pump makes the sleeves on his shirt shred as his bicep peaks appear through the fabric. Dustin doesn’t get far before he is tackled on the ground by the man. The man tells him to punch him in the chest which Dustin does without a second thought. He laughs and tells him to do it again as it pleases him greatly. He rips the rest of his shirt off and grins as he flexes his upper body again. He forces Dustin to rub his muscles and orders him to say how much he wants his body. Jeff is now scooting behind the coach and rubbing his crotch up against the older man’s ass. The man turns and orders him to take his pants off so he can see how much of a man he is becoming. Without much coaxing, Jeff pulls his pants and jock off to show his engorged cock which has been leaking precum for quite some time. The coach moans as he leans down to swallow the thick pole down his throat. Jeff yells in delight feeling his cock tickling the man’s throat. Dustin reaches underneath and up to unzip the man’s pants to pull them down. The coach’s huge bubble butt stares him in the face as the man’s nine-inch pole dangles towards Dustin’s legs. He pulls the coach down on to his face and shoves his tongue inside the man’s hole making the hugely muscled daddy moan as he continues to work Jeff’s cock over. Knowing that the muscled teen can’t hold out too long, he starts jerking Jeff rapidly as he pulls his cock out and looks up at the teen’s face smiling the whole time. He commands Dustin to keep rimming him as he playfully punches Jeff’s powerful chest with his free hand. Feeling the teen’s balls swelling to twice their size, he runs his tongue along Jeff’s slit hoping to summon the giant load from inside. Jeff can sense the flood moving into his cock and shoves his rod down the coach’s throat which surprises the huge man. He grips the huge teen as Jeff unloads down his throat making the coach moan deeply feeling it fill his insides. Dustin runs his hands along the man’s balls and cock feeling it tense like it is about to explode itself. He stops rimming the coach and slides his body down in time to feel a giant river of cum hitting his face and head. The coach flexes his massive legs and lowers his huge rod down onto Dustin’s mouth trying to get him to open it. He pulls Jeff’s cock out to tell him to do it or he will force him to take it up his ass. After resisting a few seconds, he gulps the hairy muscleman’s cock down and swallows what is left flowing from it. The coach grunts in satisfaction after finally doing what he has fantasized about all this time. He pulls his cock out of Dustin’s mouth and gets up. He pulls up the jeans he was wearing and grabs his shredded shirt before going into the shower area. The two muscled teens stare at each other and wonder what the hell just happened. They both smile before getting up from the locker room floor. Jeff walks over and sits beside Dustin. He leans in to lick the coach’s cum off the teen’s face and moans tasting the spunk before kissing his lover’s lips and holding him in his arms. They both think that their secret is safe with the coach, but they may have to do this again to make sure he keeps it hidden. If you enjoyed this, then read the next two chapters as well: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2102-muscle-buddies-chapters-2-3/
  24. CrisKane

    The Boost

    Jay's new year's resolution was to get in shape, but it was already late January and he hadn't made much progress. He had always been a spindly beanpole without much interest in sports or working out, and it had never really bothered him much. In fact, he enjoyed having a metabolism that allowed him to eat pretty much any crap he wanted without gaining an ounce. Despite his sunken chest and scrawny arms, his ex-girlfriend had always insisted that she liked "skinny boys". Then again, she always claimed to to like his reddish-brown hair and pale complexion, right up until the day she dumped him for a tall, blond, tanned surfer who looked like he had just stepped off an Abercrombie bag, only he was in color. Jay had discovered one problem with taking up exercise in his mid-twenties was that he had never built up much endurance. Even though he made a concerted effort to get up early each morning to come to the health club before work, he found that his energy waned quickly once he got there. He would plod along on the treadmill for a while before he grew winded and pooped out, sometimes venturing toward the weight machines in a futile attempt to beef up his twig-thin limbs but barely working up enough of a sweat to merit a shower. It didn't do his already low self-esteem much good to start off each day surrounded by the extremely buff dudes who populated the place. Seriously, every guy here looked so jacked, Jay wondered if there was something in the water or a radiation leak. One morning, after a particularly unproductive session, Jay was on his way toward the exit, fondly pondering the sausage and egg biscuit he planned to buy on his way to the office, when he heard the whiz of a blender echoing his direction from the gym's juice bar. Jay realized that he was not helping to reach his fitness goals by stuffing his face with a pile of grease every morning, so he spun around and headed back to grab himself a smoothie. He waited behind a wall of muscle who was practically busting out of his orange stringer tank. With a bleached-blond flat-top, the guy reminded Jay of that Russian boxer from that one "Rocky" movie, just not as oily. He was handed a jumbo styrofoam cup by the guy behind the counter, and pushed his way past Jay without even registering his presence. The counter guy was not as inhumanly built as ol' Flat-Top but annoyingly handsome, with dirty blond hair, riveting blue eyes, a model's cheekbones and a firm jaw upon which he kept a carefully maintained two-day growth of stubble. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the pump of his biceps and thickness of his pecs. He let loose a gleaming white smile as he saw Jay approach. "Hey, what can I get you, buddy?" Jay jerked a thumb toward the departing steroid case and joked, "I'll have what he's having." The guy behind the counter squinted at Jay uncertainly. "Not sure you could handle what he ordered." Jay decided not to explain that he hadn't been serious and turned his focus to the menu on the chalkboard behind the counter, wondering why all of the drinks had such stupid names. Perhaps just to embarrass the customers when they ordered them? Jay opted for the least cringeworthy flavor. "Can I just get an Orange Delite?" "Sure thing," said the clerk, assembling the ingredients with a flair for showmanship, even tossing a scoop of frozen yogurt from behind his back and over his shoulder, then deftly catching it in the pitcher of the blender. Just before he was ready to mix the concoction together, he paused and glanced back at Jay. "Do you want a boost with that?" Jay shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I need one." The guy gave Jay a long look. "Gotta say, you look pretty tired, my man. You could really use something to kick up your energy level a notch." He pointed toward a plastic canister heaped with deep red granules. "What are you talking about, like caffeine or something? I don't want to be jittery at work." The guy waved his hands dismissively. "Nah, this stuff is totally safe, completely natural. Just gives you a pleasant buzz that keeps you revved up all day." When he noticed that Jay was still wincing with uncertainty, the guy sweetened the deal. "Tell you what. I'll toss in a scoop for free today. You come back tomorrow and tell me how you liked it." Jay shrugged. "Well, I guess I can't argue with free!" Before he had even finished the sentence, the guy was dumping a scoop of the red powder into the blender and whipping up Jay's drink. He poured it out and handed it across the counter to Jay, who took a cautious sip. Not only was it delicious, but he felt a definite tingle across his taste buds, a bit like the explosive burst of a mouthful of Pop Rocks. Jay nodded approvingly and handed over the money for the drink. The guy rang up the transaction and placed the change in Jay's palm, grasping his new customer's hand in a firm shake in the process. "I'm Max. Nice to meetcha." Jay swallowed a mouthful of smoothie and gave his name in response. "All right, Jay. Look forward to getting your full report tomorrow!" Jay could feel the first effects of the boost kicking in by the time he reached his car. It was subtle but he definitely sensed an extra spring in his step. By the time he reached work, he was greedily sucking the last drops through his straw. He raced over from the parking lot to hold open the lobby door for Francine, the pretty young receptionist, who was arriving at the same time. Jay had long harbored a bit of a crush on Francine, but he knew she was dating a bearded outdoorsy type who sometimes showed up at the office reeking of Old Spice and B.O. Francine stepped into the elevator and held the door open for Jay, but Jay informed her that he would take the stairs today. In the two years he had worked here, Jay couldn't recall anyone ever mounting the seven flights between the lobby and the office except during a fire drill, but today Jay felt like he had energy to burn. He bounded into the stairwell, taking the steps two or three at a time. When Francine's elevator arrived on seven, Jay was already waiting outside the office suite with his arms folded, trying to look nonchalant and conceal his heavy breathing. Jay volunteered to start the coffee, usually one of Francine's tasks, although he had no need for any himself this morning. He was already sufficiently buzzed from the boost. He sat down at his cubicle and dug into his work, finishing all of his assignments for the day by eleven a.m. He would usually take advantage of a lull by surfing the internet or playing computer solitaire, but he was far too restless. Instead, he roamed the office, asking if anyone had anything he could help them with. Jay's middle-aged boss Henry overheard this and gestured Jay into his office, handing him a thick folder and saying he needed a summary of its contents written up by the end of the day. Jay eagerly grabbed the folder and said he would get right on it. He dove right in, his attention so riveted on the task at hand that he worked straight through lunch, not even taking a break for a snack or a leak. At three o'clock, he brought Henry the finished summary, still warm from the laser printer, then informed Henry of a (non-existent) dental appointment that he had forgotten to mention earlier. Henry was so astonished by Jay's sudden productiveness that he gladly let Jay take the rest of the afternoon off, promising to read through Jay's work overnight. Jay pulled off his necktie as he ran down the seven floors to the lobby. When he stepped outside, he inhaled deeply, relieved to have escaped the stuffy confines of the office. He was still so pumped that he considered heading back to the gym, but decided instead to go to his car and slip on his workout clothes for a quick jog in the nearby park. It was a cool day, but Jay found the brisk air invigorating as he chugged around the running path. He wasn't setting any records -- he barely outpaced an elderly woman out for a stroll with her walker -- but, for the first time in memory, he was honestly psyched to be exercising. He rewarded himself for his productive day by swinging into a sports bar, still sweaty in his black tank top and gray sweat pants, and filling up on Buffalo wings and a pitcher of beer. When he was done, he headed back to his apartment with the intention of catching up on the "Downton Abbey" episodes that were piling up on his DVR, but once he sat down on his sofa, his energy level plummeted. He was dozing in a matter of minutes, not waking until he heard his alarm sounding in the bedroom at 5:30 the following morning. Jay felt miserable, an unholy union of utter exhaustion and the worst hangover of his life. He could barely lift himself off the couch, and crawled his way into the bedroom to shut off the buzzing clock. He was tempted to blow off the gym, but he felt the need to complain to Max about how shitty he felt. At least he was still in his workout clothes and didn't have to expend any effort changing. He stuffed his work clothes into his gym bag and dragged himself out the door. Max spotted Jay the moment he entered the club, an eager smile plastered on his too-perky-for-six-a.m. face. When he noticed Jay's demeanor, Max's expression shifted abruptly to one of concern. "Dude, are you feeling okay?" "No, 'dude', I'm not," Jay said, his voice prickly. "You should have warned me that I'd crash like this." Max cringed. "Ooh, sorry, yeah, I forgot to tell you, the first day does take a lot out of you. But the good news is, the effects are cumulative. The more the boost builds up in your system, the less extreme the drop-off. But tell me about yesterday? Didn't it feel amazing?" Jay couldn't deny how jazzed he had felt throughout the day. "Yeah, it was awesome, just like you promised, but I don't think it's for me. I don't think it's good to be walking around on an artificial high." "Dude, I told you, this shit's a hundred percent natural. Here, let me give you another freebie. See if it peps you up through your workout." Jay began to object, but Max waved a finger his direction. "Uh uh uh, you listen to your old doctor Max here. This is just what you need." Soon, he had whipped up a frothy Orange Delite and was handing it to Jay, who felt it would be impolite to refuse. The moment he took a sip, he felt foolish for hesitating. The cloud of fatigue that had been wearing him down lifted almost immediately. Jay gave Max a thumbs-up, and Max shot back a "told you so" grin. Jay dumped his gym bag in the locker room and polished off the smoothie before heading to the treadmill, where he managed a full thirty-minute sprint without getting winded. He then made his way to the weight machines and found himself easily lifting weights that were overtaxing him the week before. They were still comparatively miniscule, and he felt embarrassed each time he stepped into rotation with some top-heavy lifter and had to reduce the stack by a full hundred pounds before he did his set, but by his own standards, he had made a remarkable improvement. He could honestly feel his muscles growing tight, and between sets, he focused his attention on the guys around him, studying their movements for tips on improving his form. Jay was so wrapped up in his workout that he didn't even notice the time until he glanced at a clock that read 7:45. He couldn't believe he had been exercising for close to two hours. Although he normally would have become frantic at the realization that he was now unavoidably late for work, Jay felt remarkably unperturbed. There was nothing he could do about it, he told himself, so why stress out over something he couldn't change? Instead, he took a luxurious shower, dressed himself slowly, and stopped by the smoothie bar on his way to the exit. "I think I'll try the Choco-Mocha Loco," he declared to Max. "With a boost." Max looked at him skeptically. "Another boost? On top of the one you already had." "I feel like I burnt off a lot of that in my workout. I wanna keep this feeling going." "Oh-kay. You're the boss." Max set about gathering the ingredients. "But no more freebies, okay? I insist on paying for this one. So, how much will it be?" "Large smoothie is $7.99. Boost is another ten. So, $17.99." Jay gulped, surprised to discover that he was about to pay eighteen bucks for a friggin' milkshake. Then again, ten dollars seemed like a bargain for the feeling the boost gave him. He gladly forked over a twenty, putting the change into Max's tip jar. Max smiled appreciatively and handed Jay his drink. With a second scoop of the powerful substance surging through his veins, Jay felt ecstatic. He took the stairs again, bursting with so much energy that he overshot the seventh floor by five flights before he realized his mistake. He strode into the office with absolute confidence, and rather than ducking the wrath of his boss, he walked straight into Henry's office and said, "Sorry for being late." "What?", said Henry, glancing up from his schmeared onion bagel, spitting particles of cream cheese onto his desk. "Oh, no problem. Listen, Jay, hell of a job on that summary. Really impressive." "Thank you, Henry," responded Jay with an uncharacteristically cocky grin. "I'm glad to see you showing some initiative." Henry studied his employee curiously. "What's different about you? You lose weight or something?" Jay barked a laugh. "With MY body? I sure hope not. But I have been working out every morning." "Oh. That must be it," Henry said with a nod. "The wife keeps telling me I should get in shape, but..." Henry shrugged and slapped his palm across his expansive belly. The resulting concussion echoed around the room. "Maybe you'll have to let me in on your secret." Jay just smiled and went to his cubicle, eager to dive into work. But unlike the previous day, Jay found it hard to stay focused on his tasks, as his thoughts kept drifting back to how good that morning's workout had felt. He squirmed in his chair, the words on his computer screen blurring into gobbledygook. His palms grew clammy, and drops of sweat beaded up on his forehead. He popped his top shirt button and loosened his necktie, feeling straitjacketed in his Oxford shirt and Dockers. He slogged through his assignments the best he could, but he found himself longing to get back outside. Maybe he could go for another run at lunchtime. He ducked out for lunch twenty minutes early, changed clothes in the car and hit the running path, vowing to take it easy but soon finding himself taking long strides and whizzing past other joggers. He wondered why he hadn't taken up running when he was in high school, as he was finding the adrenalin rush addictive. He loved the feel of his hair blowing in the breeze, the cool air rushing past his skin, the envious glares of the slowpokes he was passing. When he returned to his cubicle, munching on a power bar from the vending machines, he was drenched in sweat, still wearing his tank and sweats. He had hoped that the run would clear his mind, but he had even more trouble grasping what he was reading than he had in the morning. Besides that, he was distracted whenever he glanced down at his arms, which shone with perspiration and still retained their pump from that morning's workout. He kept flexing his arms, unable to get enough of the sight of stony biceps rising in rigid semicircles beneath his skin. He was in the middle of checking himself out when he noticed Henry out of the corner of his eye, hovering at the entrance of the cubicle. "Yeah, Henry, what can I do you for?" Henry looked uncomfortable as he whispered, "It's nothing personal. It's just that...some of the other employees are complaining." "What about?", asked Jay, swiveling back and forth. Henry leaned closer, but backed off, wincing. "It's just that you...you kinda stink." "Really?" Jay lowered his nose toward his armpit. He definitely detected a musky scent, but he kinda liked it. "Sorry, I went running over lunch." "Yeah, about that. I'm all for you getting fit and everything, but this really isn't proper office attire," he said, waving his hands toward Jay's tank, sweats and sneakers. "Well, I woulda showered if we had the facilities, but..." Jay shrugged his rounder-than-usual shoulders. "I couldn't exactly put on my office clothes and smell 'em up." "Yeah, I know. Look, don't worry about it for today, but how about from now on, you restrict your workouts to before and after work?" Jay wasn't sure he could endure a whole workday without breaking for exercise, but Henry had always been a decent guy and treated him well, so Jay agreed. For the rest of the afternoon, Jay continued to struggle with his work. He knew what he was doing was routine, the sort of stuff he could usually breeze through, but his heart just wasn't in it today. He handled what he could, but his attention drifted further as the day dragged on. When five o'clock hit, he left a few folders in his inbox so he could tackle them in the morning when his mind was fresh. On his way out, he couldn't help but notice that Felicia couldn't keep her eyes off him as he strode through the outer office, his bare arms swinging at his sides. He found himself winking at her, which felt odd. He'd never been a winking kind of guy, but it just felt right all of a sudden. It warmed his heart when she smiled back. Jay swung by Whole Foods on the way home, stocking up on groceries more appropriate for his new regimen. Once he got home, he whipped up some grilled chicken and settled in at his computer. After glancing at his emails and Facebook, his gaze drifted to the file which held the bookmarks for his favorite porn sites, but he found that nothing was holding his interest for long. Instead, all he could think about was getting back into the gym in the morning. He searched online for tips that would make his workouts more productive and grew envious of the shredded models on all of the fitness sites. He stripped off his tank and stared in the bathroom mirror, disappointed that the modest gains he had seen during the day had all but faded away. He chided himself. "What the fuck did you expect? You work out for one day and suddenly you're the Rock?" He switched off the computer and flopped into bed before eight o'clock, totally wiped out. When his hand slammed onto the buzzing alarm clock at 5:30, Jay felt weary but, just as Max promised, not quite as miserable as he had been the morning before. Today, however, he had no hesitations about heading into the gym. There was no way he could get through another day without a little boost. Or two. "Two?", Max asked. "You sure you can handle that much?" "I did two yesterday and I was fine," Jay told him, writing off his distractedness on the job as part of getting acclimated to his new routine. Jay consciously puffed out his chest so it better filled his crisp white tank, knowing he still had a lot of hard work ahead of him if he ever hoped to get as toned as Max, let alone the more shredded adonises parading around the gym. He was almost giddy as he slid twenty-eight dollars across the counter to cover his Razzleberry Extreme, slipping Max an extra five for a tip. He guzzled his drink so quickly that an ice-cream headache pierced his brain. As he waited for the cold-induced agony to subside, Jay reminded himself, "No pain, no gain." Jay didn't have to wait long for the rush of the boost to kick in, and soon his legs were flying on the treadmill. He pushed himself to forty-five minutes, unsure whether to attribute his euphoria to the boost or to the "runner's high" he'd heard so much about all these years but was experiencing for the first time. At any rate, he was thoroughly pumped when he finally stepped off the treadmill and, instead of using the weight machines, decided to wander over to the free weights, where the serious bodybuilders congregated. Jay held his shoulders back as he approached the dumbbells, attempting to hoist a pair of sixties before realizing they were far too heavy for him. He worked his way down the rack, testing each lower weight unsuccessfully until he finally managed to budge the thirty-pounders. As he strained to curl them, he heard a lumbering voice from behind him. "You're not doin' it right." Jay glanced in the mirror and saw the guy with the blond flat-top looming behind him, his absurdly jacked muscles fully visible in his black mesh tank. Flat-Top waddled closer on his bloated legs and gripped Jay's upper arms, adjusting their positions. "Try that. And do each rep slower. You'll feel the burn more." "Uh...thanks," Jay said. He raised his right arm gradually, immediately noticing the difference. He glanced into the mirror and nodded appreciatively. The big guy just smiled back and walked over to a 200-pound barbell, which he hoisted over his head with a scream and a grimace. Jay became completely engrossed in his workout, his attention focused intently on the effect each exercise was having on its targeted muscle group. Flat-Top would stroll past from time to time to check on him or offer advice on proper form. Two days ago, Jay couldn't have imagined ever talking to this guy, but now he felt, if not accepted, at least tolerated, despite the vast disparity between their physiques. On one such pass, Flat-Top leaned close to Jay and murmured conspiratorially into his ear, "So, you on the boost?" Jay was flustered, nearly letting the weights slip from his hands. How did the guy know? "Uh, yeah, maybe, a little," he said with an apologetic tone. "Ain't it awesome?", asked Flat-Top, flashing a gap-toothed grin that made the he-man look momentarily like a goofy kid expressing his excitement over a new Christmas toy. Jay nodded, then turned his attention back to his triceps, pausing mid-curl when he had a sudden realization. Flat-Top must be on the boost too! After all, the first time Jay had noticed Flat-Top, he was getting a smoothie from Max, one that Max had said was too much for Jay to handle. Holy shit, how much of the stuff must it take to get as ripped as Flat-Top? Just the thought that he might eventually grow to such a massive size was enough to stiffen Jay's cock in his sweats. He was relieved that they were too baggy for his hard-on to be noticeable. He found himself wondering if the boost had the same notorious shrinking effect on your junk as steroids. He was satisfied with the answer he got from glancing in the mirror at Flat-Top's reflection, as a zucchini-sized lump was clearly outlined by his body-hugging compression shorts. Jay shook his head to get the visual out of his mind, wondering how he had reached the point where he was checking out other guys' bulges. Jay thought it could be wishful thinking, but he could swear that his arms were looking heftier. His shoulders looked distinctly round, a marked change from their usual boniness, and that telltale weightlifter's vein was now faintly visible over the surface of each of his biceps. This only encouraged him to keep pushing himself, moving up to heavier weights with each set. Logically, he ought to be feeling fatigued, but surprisingly his stamina seemed to be growing the longer he worked out. He was so engrossed in lifting that, before he knew it, it was closing in on ten a.m. How was it possible that he had spent four hours at the gym? He knew he couldn't simply waltz into the office two hours late without facing repercussions. Plus, he really was not in the mood to spend the rest of his day imprisoned in that cubicle. Jay headed to the locker room and checked his cell phone, which had three missed messages from Henry. He didn't even bother to listen to the messages before he dialed his boss. Henry sounded exasperated when he picked up, demanding to know why Jay hadn't called him back sooner. Jay spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding even deeper than he had planned to make his ruse sound authentic. "I'm sorry, Henry. I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible head cold, so I slammed some NyQuil and I musta shut off my ringer, 'cause I didn't hear any of your calls come in. I really don't think I can make it in today." Henry paused before reluctantly saying, "Okay. Take it easy and feel better. But from now on, you leave your phone on. A bunch of us here were worried about you." Jay smirked. Yeah, I bet "a bunch of you" were worried. He thought of the way Henry had asked about his weight and had seemed so nervous when Jay was wearing his tank in the office the day before. He wondered if Henry was checking him out. He knew Henry was married and all, but that didn't mean shit. Jay chuckled. As if he would be interested in some old, out-of-shape guy like Henry when he was surrounded by so many hotter, younger guys at the gym. Jay hung up, delighted that he now had the whole day ahead of him. He was tempted to go back on the floor and lift some more, but surely four hours was plenty for one day. A nice, long shower sounded tempting, so Jay stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist and headed toward the shower room. Rounding the corner, he immediately collided with someone. "Oh, sorry, dude," said a familiar voice. Jay took a step back and realized it was Max, totally naked. As fit as Max looked fully clothed, it was nothing compared to seeing every facet of his finely-wrought musculature on display. His skin seemed to be shrink-wrapped around every curve of his well-defined muscles, without a trace of a tan line. Max took a long look at Jay and said, "Whoa, Jay-man, look at you! I guess you COULD handle two scoops!" As Jay looked down bashfully, he noticed just how pumped he had gotten from his long workout. His whole body seemed to have swollen, and a cleft had developed down the center of his abdomen, branching out to the sides in the beginnings of a six-pack. "Yeah, I guess so," Jay said, his voice still surprisingly raspy. He felt his erection rising, tenting his towel enough that Max must have noticed it. "Very impressive," Max said, placing his palm over Jay's shoulder and sliding it down until his thumb grazed the slope of his biceps and his fingers wrapped around Jay's triceps. Jay's first instinct was to pull his arm away from this unwanted contact, but for some reason he didn't mind Max's touch. He noticed Max's unencumbered cock growing plump and tilting slightly upwards. Jay's brain struggled to comprehend the possibility that a seemingly regular dude like Max might be turned on by guys or, even more unbelievably, might be turned on by Jay. "I gotta go," said Jay, unconvincingly, his voice cracking as if puberty were reasserting itself a decade late. He tried to step away, but Max maintained a firm grip on his arm. "Do you? Really?" Max flashed his winning smile and his blue eyes locked in on Jay. "'Cause I could swear I just heard you calling in sick." Max's hand grazed across Jay's pecs, then down his rudimentary abs until his fingers came to rest along the edge of Jay's towel. Jay's breath grew shallow, while his pulse raced. Goddamn, he realized, Max looked even more handsome at such close proximity. Although Jay was straight, he couldn't deny the attraction he was feeling for Max at that moment. It occurred to Jay that Max wasn't just a good-looking guy, he was objectively prettier than any of the women Jay had ever dated. While Jay couldn't really understand the strange feelings he was experiencing, they were strong and impossible to ignore. He stood frozen in place, unsure what to do next. Max handled the decision making, taking Jay by the hand and dragging him into the sauna. He shut the door behind them and posted a "closed for maintenance" sign to keep out intruders. The dry heat was making Jay lightheaded. His knees buckled, but Max kept a firm grip on Jay's hands to keep him from falling down. Max yanked the towel away from Jay's waist and smiled approvingly at the sight of Jay's bobbing erection. Although Max couldn't be sure how well-endowed Jay had been before starting the boost, he hadn't possessed the swagger and confidence one would normally expect from someone packing such a hefty slab of meat between his legs. Besides, Max had seen the boost's effects first-hand so many times that he could easily identify its exquisite handiwork. Jay's eyes were glazing over as Max leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Don't be afraid. This is all perfectly natural." At the sound of those words, the final shreds of Jay's resistance melted away and he surrendered to his physical desires. He cupped his hands around Max's bristly cheeks and planted a succulent kiss on Max's soft lips. Jay's cock indicated its approval by tilting toward the ceiling and oozing out a dollop of cum. Max cupped and fondled Jay's balls as his tongue migrated into Jay's mouth. Max guided Jay to one of the wooden benches along the side of the room, gently pushing him downward to a seated position so Jay was at eye level with Max's rigid cock. Jay began to salivate at the sight of it hovering right in his face. He gazed up, his eyes silently pleading for permission. Max just nodded, and Jay leaned forward, lips open as he slid the other man's rock-hard dick inside his mouth. Jay had never done this before but, to quote Max, it felt perfectly natural. Max stroked his hands through Jay's thick brown hair, clutching its strands and gently sliding Jay's head back and forth. He had known on first sight that Jay would be an excellent target for the boost. Anyone who radiated that much shyness and insecurity would be much more receptive to the radical changes brought about by the boost. Max knew that the powder's rapid results had an addictive allure which would quickly leave Jay craving more. He had also known that the boost's most notorious side effect would soon permanently alter Jay's deepest desires, just as it had for so many before him, such as Chuck, the behemoth who Jay thought of as "Flat-Top". Three weeks ago, Chuck had been even shorter and meeker and more frail than Jay had been. Now Chuck had undergone a total transformation into a ferocious muscle beast who, when he wasn't pumping iron, spent his days prowling the city, attempting to quench his insatiable desire for dick and discovering that someone as shredded as he had become didn't need to search for very long to find a willing partner. And then there was Max himself. Max had been a collegiate swimmer engaged to his high-school girlfriend when he was first exposed to the boost five years ago while seeking a safe, legal substance that would give him an edge in the pool. He quickly succumbed to its allure, exploding with two hundred pounds of solid muscle before plunging off the deep end into a lost weekend of cock-centric debauchery that lasted six months. When he finally bottomed out three years ago, turning tricks and committing petty thefts for the sole purpose of scrounging up the money for his next hit of the red stuff, he was befriended by a dashing young businessman who took Max into his home and nursed him back to health. His benefactor gradually cut back Max's intake of the boost to a maintenance level that sustained the trim, nicely-proportioned physique Max now sported and set Max up with a job behind the smoothie counter at a local gym that he owned. Max figured he owed the businessman his life and was willing to do anything for him, even if it meant luring new customers into using the boost, despite what Max knew personally of the consequences of excessive use. Easily half of the club's clientele had been turned onto the boost by Max, and they owed their hard bodies and ravenous sexual appetites to it. Max had long suspected that his mysterious guardian was also the manufacturer of the boost, since he could get his hands on unlimited quantities any time he wished, but Max felt powerless to say anything. If he didn't do as he was told, his supply could be cut off immediately and he would once again be back on the streets, doing whatever it took for his next boost. Jay, of course, knew none of this. He just knew that nothing had ever turned him on as much as feeling Max's mighty meat against his tongue. Jay wrapped a free hand around his own cock, stroking it furiously, the pre-cum euphoria already more dizzying than any full-blown orgasm he had experienced. He felt something warm and viscous squirt against the roof of his mouth, followed by a larger blast which shot straight down his throat. Jay nearly gagged, but kept sliding Max's shaft between his lips as it throbbed in rhythm, pumping out so much cum that it began to dribble out the corners of Jay's mouth and trickle down his chin. Jay's cock fired off a torrent of jizz which squirted upwards onto Max's taut abs and dripped downward, sizzling as it hit the sauna's hot wooden slats. Jay leaned back his head, spent but satisfied. His smiled blissfully, unaware that the boost was deadening any parts of his brain which didn't immediately involve what would become his new twin obsessions, working out and fucking guys. By now, Max knew how to spot all the signs of this final stage of the transformation. Tension evaporated from the body, leaving the user feeling completely chill, even in a sauna. This total relaxation relaxed the facial muscles, which not only made the user happier and feel more at ease but inevitably made them look more handsome too. Finally, the eyes intensified in the vibrancy of their color, while the light behind those eyes noticeably dimmed. Max still retained a faint memory of having been smarter once, but he never could recall exactly what kind of information used to clutter up his mind. Whatever it was, he never seemed to miss it. His interests may have narrowed, but the absence of intellectual distractions let him devote his full concentration to his body's more elemental cravings. Max looked down at Jay with a kindly grin. "Did you like that?" Jay tilted his head up, his lovely face beaming dopily. "For sure!", he replied. His brain felt pleasantly fuzzy, like his skull was filled with cotton candy. Noticing the trail of cum still trickling down Max's torso, Jay leaned forward and placed his tongue on Max's salty skin. He gradually rose to his feet, licking up the mixture of his own cum and Max's sweat as his tongue navigated over the bumps of Max's abs and the smooth crevasse between his pecs. When he reached his full height, Jay discovered that he was now eye-to-eye with Max and nearly as ripped. There was nothing better than being a big strong guy, thought Jay, aside from fucking a big strong guy. Max unlocked the sauna door and led Jay into the shower room, so they could clean off. Jay took particular delight in lathering Max's body and scrubbing him down. Returning to the locker room, Jay sat down beside his locker, struggling to remember his combination. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled out his work clothes, but the sleeves of his shirt were now far too narrow to accommodate his thickly-muscled arm. He managed to insert most of one forearm before the seam split loudly. "What are you doin', man?", Max asked. "Aren't you gonna work out today?" Jay puzzled over that, realizing Max was right. What was he thinking, coming to the gym and then forgetting to work out? Man, he sure was feeling dumb lately. He wriggled free from his ruined dress shirt and began to pull a white tank top over his head, but even that was too constraining for his broad chest. "Looks like you need some new clothes, my friend. Tell you what, I'll take you shopping after we're done working out." It just so happened that one of Max's benefactors' business was a big-and-tall menswear store, and Max had brought them dozens of loyal customers over the years. He tossed Jay an XXL shirt and roomy basketball shorts. "Here, you can wear these for now." Before working out, Jay insisted on getting a double-boost smoothie, indicating no memory that he had already had two boosts that morning. Jay ducked behind the counter at the juice bar and whipped up a Pina Cool-ada, handing the cup across the counter and saying to Jay, "That'll be fifty bucks." That seemed kinda pricey to Jay, but he couldn't honestly remember what he had paid before. All he knew was he desperately needed that boost in order to achieve the results he desired. He didn't have enough cash, so he put it on his debit card. As Max knew better than most, once you were hooked on the boost and chasing that rush, no price was too high. The key, his mentor had taught him, was to charge the maximum amount possible without drawing undue attention to your actions. There was a reason the boost wasn’t officially on the menu board and was never rung up on the register. Jay slammed down the drink in a single gulp, then roared, "Let's fuckin' do this, bro." He gave Max a fist bump, then he marched purposefully toward the free weights. Max followed behind, admiring the way Jay's new muscles rebalanced themselves in an intricate dance with each stride and the way his prominent glutes bounced inside his shorts. Jay and Flat-Top alternated sets, egging on each other to ever-increasing weights. Flat-Top was already impossibly shredded, and Jay seemed determined to catch up to him as fast as possible. Max hung back, sporadically doing a few light curls to keep himself toned but not overdoing it, knowing that moderation was the key to preventing him from relapsing. He was happy with his physique, although he could still appreciate the sight of others pushing themselves to the max. When Jay went into work the next morning, he brought with him a box full of free smoothies, compliments of the gym. He wore a white polo shirt which snugly hugged the contours of his torso and cargo shorts which showed off the sinewy bulges of his calves, eliciting stares of wonder and gasps of disbelief from his co-workers. They wouldn't be his co-workers for long, as Jay already planned to submit his resignation. He no longer had any interest in his job and, although he didn't realize it, had lost the intellectual capacity to do it effectively any more. No, he planned to spend his days at the gym from now on, hanging out with his new buddies and perfecting his bod. The other guys at the gym had been very cool and welcoming to him, even though he still had lots of work to do before he was quite in their league. Jay wasn't worried about no longer having a salary, because Max had said he would cover Jay's expenses, including the hundred dollars he owed for every boosted smoothie he drank. All Jay had to do in return was recruit new members into the gym and sing the praises of the boost. That shouldn't be a problem for someone as uninhibited and outgoing as Jay, who rarely talked about anything other than the gym. He was literally a walking, talking billboard for the results that could be achieved there, with a brand new tattoo of the gym's name arching across his traps. Jay walked into Henry's office and placed a large smoothie in the middle of his desk. "You wanted to know my secret? There it is!" Henry looked at the drink, then up at Jay, who had somehow grown phenomenally during his "sick day". The face was still recognizable, although somehow more handsome, perched atop his thickened neck and broad bodybuilder's physique. Henry's jaw hung slack, speechless. "Go ahead," Jay's voice boomed as he gestured toward the drink. "Trust me, you'll love it." Noticing Henry's hesitation, Jay said, "Don't worry, man. It's totally natural." Henry found it impossible to defy the commanding figure hovering on the other side of his desk. He took a cautious sip. It was definitely tasty. And it had an indefinable zing that sent a charge through his body the second it hit his tongue. He was impressed. "Mmm. I think I could get hooked on this." Jay grinned. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He could already envision Henry's gut melting away, his double chin vanishing, his wrinkles fading, his comb-over filling in... Why, give Henry enough boost and he could be downright fuckable. Francine sidled up beside Jay, gently pressing her hand against his upper arm. "Think I could get one of those, Jay?", she asked with a slight purr in her voice. "Sorry," Jay said, looking down with mock regret. "I only brought enough for the guys." * * * Jay escorted his former boss Henry into the health club like a proud tour guide showing a foreign dignitary around the White House. Henry was awestruck -- not by the building, which was a bit run-down and grungy, at least compared to the slick and sanitary big-name chain gym his wife had bought him a membership to a few years ago (and which he visited a handful of times before deciding he was a lost cause). No, what caught Henry's eye was the clientele. He was practically getting whiplash noticing all of the stunningly well-muscled guys circulating around him. The place was hard-body heaven. Henry only had a single boosted smoothie the day before, a freebie that Jay had given him at the office, and his response was essentially the same as Jay's after his first one. Henry had become incredibly energetic and productive on the job, his instincts keener and reflexes sharper than he had ever experienced. Even colors and sounds seemed more vivid than usual. This was followed by a wave of overwhelming fatigue that set in with a vengeance around suppertime. All afternoon, the rejuvenated Henry had hoped to surprise his wife Diane with an uncharacteristically vigorous night in the sack, powered by his sudden surge of virility, but he was already snoring on the sofa before Vanna lit up a single letter on "Wheel Of Fortune". Diane dutifully dragged her near-comatose hubby into the bedroom and hooked him up to his sleep apnea machine, where he remained deep in slumber until dawn. So much for romance. When he awoke in the morning and stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom, seeing his reflection in the mirror was a crushing reality check. He may have felt like a dynamo the day before, but staring back at him in the mirror was his familiar 46-year-old self, with sagging jowls, an ample gut, and graying strands stretching desperately from one ear to the other in a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to create the illusion of a full head of hair. He may have felt like a million dollars yesterday, but this morning his body would be lucky to fetch twenty bucks on Craigslist. And that would only be for the chemicals. Henry's brain was about as functional as a six-pound wad of bubble gum, so when he first heard the doorbell, he had no clue who could possibly be paying him a visit at six a.m. In his bathrobe and slippers, Henry shuffled to the front door, where his former employee Jay stood in a blue tank top and ripped jeans, jacked arms arcing outward like steroid-fueled parentheses at his sides, bountiful bangs descending across his forehead. "Ready to get pumped?", Jay asked enthusiastically, reminding Henry that he had agreed to come to Jay's gym for a complimentary workout. Henry attempted to weasel out, claiming extreme exhaustion, but Jay insisted that Henry's attitude would change once he actually got there. What finally changed Henry's mind was the promise of another smoothie like the one he had so enjoyed yesterday. He hastily tossed a plain white t-shirt, sweatpants and his grass-stained lawn-mowing sneakers into a paper bag, kissed his dozing wife on the cheek, and followed Jay's car to the health club. Entering the club, Henry figured he must be the oldest man in the place by a wide margin. He knew he was twenty years older than young Jay, and Jay had grown even more youthful-looking since he had started coming here. Henry had been amazed by how swiftly Jay had transformed, with the meek and anemic non-entity from the office exploding practically overnight into the strapping, confident stud now preening beside him. He didn't expect those kind of results, but if there was even a chance that this place could help Henry lose a few pounds or look a smidgen younger, he wanted in on the secret. Jay led his new recruit to the juice bar, where Henry saw the dazzlingly rugged Max standing at his post, dipping as he leaned back against a shelf, sneaking in a few reps as he worked to keep his triceps in top condition. Jay was sure that Max would be pleased that his first recruit was such a potential gold mine. Thanks to an errant accounting document that was left in a copy machine and promptly circulated throughout the office, Jay knew Henry's exact income down to the penny. Given Henry's pedestrian wardrobe, ten-year-old compact car, and modest suburban home, Jay knew Henry must have socked most of that salary away in savings. Now that Henry's first taste of the boost had lit the flames of a desire to become hunkier, he could afford to pay handsomely to achieve handsomeness. Although Max had been excited when Jay texted him that he had "reeled in a big fish", Max was less enthusiastic now that he saw Henry in the sagging flesh. He wasn't a lost cause by any means. If you looked past the wear-and-tear of parenting and a half-century of a sedentary desk job, there were still traces which suggested that Henry was probably a decent-looking guy in his youth. But at middle age, Henry was, to put it charitably, a fixer-upper. Sort of like New Orleans, post-Katrina. For this kind of heavy lifting, Max knew that even the boost would need a boost. "Henry, this is my main man Max," Jay boomed proudly, gesturing toward the man who manned the blenders. "Just tell him what flavor you want and he'll mix you up another one of those incredible smoothies." Henry would definitely need something to perk him up if he was actually going to exercise at this godforsaken hour. He surveyed his options on the blackboard behind Max's head with the worried gaze of someone scanning the menu for something suitably bland and recognizable on their first visit to a Botswanan restaurant. "Is the Peach Perfection any good?" "What part of 'Perfection' don't you understand?", asked Max with a charming grin that put Henry at ease. Henry watched as the master tossed together a combination of peaches, frozen yogurt, skim milk, and a scoop of some kind of red powder. He excused himself to the back room and returned carrying a fistful of what looked a bit like cranberries, only they were a deep, inky black. "What are those?", asked Henry warily. Max just shrugged impishly and winked. "Mystery ingredient." With the press of a button, the berries were obliterated into tiny bits swirling through the frothy liquid. After thirty seconds, Max poured the results into a cup and handed it to Henry, who took a cautious sip. He definitely recognized the enticing tingle he had experienced from the previous day's sample, but also detected something extra, something intoxicating that seemed to go straight to his head. The mystery ingredient, no doubt, as he'd never gotten that kind of ecstatic rush from a peach before. Henry nodded his approval and pulled out his wallet. "Delicious! How much do I owe you?" "That'll be ten dollars today." Henry had no idea that the key word in that sentence was "today". Max's rates for his smoothies were notorious fluid, varying from customer to customer, but he knew to start out low with a newcomer. As their need for the stuff grew more urgent, prices had a curious tendency to skyrocket. Henry didn't flinch at the price, although his tightfisted nature showed itself with the twenty-five cent piece he dropped in Max's tip jar. Max just smiled politely and said, "Thank you," knowing that Henry would soon be coughing up the Benjamins once his craving for the boost became sufficiently desperate. Jay ordered a double-boosted Banana-Rama Ding-Dong, which Max happily put on Jay's account. Henry was relieved that the locker room was empty as he changed into his workout clothes. He tugged at the hem of his extra-large t-shirt, embarrassed that it failed to cover the entirety of his gut, and he hastily wiggled his pale, pudgy legs into his sweatpants. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Jay pulling on a newly-purchased, form-fitting sleeveless tee which left no question about how toned every inch of his upper body had become. Stripping off his jeans, Jay revealed a surprisingly hefty cock, flopping freely in the absence of underwear. He shimmied a pair of compression shorts over his thickly muscled thighs and stuffed his dong inside. Studying himself admiringly in the mirror, Jay twisted his body in an amateur's approximation of warm-up stretches. "Ready, Henry?", he asked with a sparkle in his eyes. Until this recent metamorphosis, Henry had always assumed that Jay was straight, but the young man was now sending off a barrage of signals that even the ordinarily gay-blind Henry could detect. Diane frequently teased Henry about his adorably naive shock whenever some "OB-viously" gay movie star would come out of the closet. Henry always figured he just wasn't hip enough to pick up the signs. Besides, as an overweight middle-aged office manager, he didn't figure he was in much danger of finding himself on the receiving end of unwanted advances from Doogie Howser any time soon. Henry and Jay began their workouts on side-by-side treadmills. "Just start off slow and find your pace. Don't worry about keeping up with me," Jay advised, the voice of several days' experience. "Not much chance of that," Henry chuckled with self-deprecation as he struggled to figure out the control panel. He hadn't seriously jogged since sometime in college, so he was anticipating nothing more than a leisurely stroll, but as he gradually picked up speed, so did the boost surging in his veins. As his feet thudded on the conveyor belt, his belly and man-boobs jiggled like cranberry sauce with each step. He watched enviously as Jay's long legs whipped back and forth, his blindingly-white Nikes making only brief contact with the treadmill during each stride. Henry focused his energies and chugged onward, mentally setting himself the seemingly impossible goal of someday being able to keep up with the kid. After a blistering thirty-minute dash during which he had become lost in the techno music flowing through his earbuds, Jay cooled down to a trot. He had glanced over periodically to check on Henry's progress, impressed that the old guy had stuck it out so long. Grimacing with determination, Henry was still lumbering along, his cheap t-shirt clinging to his skin, rendered nearly transparent by the sweat pumping from his pores. "Great job, Henry! You've definitely earned a shower." Henry panted and shook his head, splattering the treadmill console with a cloudburst of perspiration. "I'm gonna...keep going...some more," he blurted out between gasps for air. "You done plenty, man. You don't hafta prove anything to me," Jay said reassuringly. "It's...not...for...you," Henry panted, pointing his thumb toward his chest. Jay was impressed by Henry's commitment, and even more awestruck by the powerful properties of the boost that could be giving Henry such endurance. He strolled over to the juice bar to inform Max of Henry's stick-to-it-ive-ness. "Not surprised," Max said softly. "He's got a lot of youthful energy to keep him going." Jay wasn't as quick a thinker as he used to be, but he caught Max's implication. "What, you mean the berries? Why, what do they do?" Max just stared into the distance, with no intention of explaining further. Jay grew pissed. "You mean you got somethin' good and you're holdin' out on me? How come?" Max muttered so only Jay could hear him. "Because you don't need it. Your buddy Henry's got two decades of road miles on him that you don't. So unless you have a desperate urge to return to your glory days of being a five-year-old, you'll steer clear of the berries." That stern warning was enough to make Jay back off. He was too in love with his body and his life to mess with anything dangerous. Except for more of the boost, of course. Jay ordered a Strawberry Chia Forever with a single boost, just enough to recharge him up for a session of pumping iron in the free-weight pit. Jay swelled with pride as he watched his protruding veins snake across his buff arms while he did curls. Seeing his massive quads stretch the elasticity of his clinging shorts, he knew that his devotion to leg crunches was paying off. In the dim chronology of his boost-warped mind, he took it for granted that he'd been perfecting his body as a gym rat for years and would have howled with laughter if anyone had informed him that he had been thin as a twig just four days ago. Although not everyone at the gym was on the boost, those who were lived in a strictly A.B. world -- After Boost. It was as if their lives before encountering the miracle powder had never happened or were, at best, a faint memory from long ago, quite literally another life. They had quit their jobs, they had drifted away from family and loved ones, and they defined themselves not by who they had been but by what they had become. After an hour of heavy lifting alongside his ripped buddy Flat-Top, Jay grew curious about Henry. He couldn't believe that Henry would have left without at least swinging by to thank Jay. To Jay's surprise, Henry was still plowing forward on that same treadmill. He even seemed to have gained steam, moving more briskly than before, mopping his abundant sweat with a soaked towel. Jay brought over a fresh towel and a bottled water, which Henry took appreciatively without slowing his pace. "Jeez, man, take a break. It's not like you hafta get in shape TODAY!", Jay said, although that appeared to be exactly what was happening. Henry was still husky but had easily sweated off fifteen pounds, and his eyes burned with determination to keep the process going. He even looked a bit younger, although Jay figured that was just the natural result of dropping some weight. Still, seeing such marked and immediate improvements in Henry bolstered Jay's enthusiasm for going out and drumming up more customers for the gym. Jay suggested to Flat-Top that they hit the beach and search for potential new recruits. Flat-Top didn't need much convincing. When he wasn't perfecting his physique at the gym, Flat-Top loved nothing more than hitting the sand, catching some rays, strutting his stuff, and ogling some Speedos. Jay urged Henry to take it easy, then headed to the showers with Flat-Top. When Henry finally did tucker out, he wobbled to the juice bar, smiled victoriously at Max, and promptly passed out, crumpling into a heap on the floor. Max rushed from behind the counter and knelt down to check for a heartbeat, relieved to hear it kathumping along at a healthy rate. He roused Henry back to consciousness and gave him some water to sip. Max chided Henry for overexerting himself, even though Max knew full well that Henry would have been nearly powerless to resist the boost-and-berry-driven imperative to push himself further. Once he felt rejuvenated and rehydrated, Henry shuffled to the locker room and slowly peeled away his sopping t-shirt, revealing the magnitude of what his mini-marathon had accomplished. His gut had receded to more of a paunch, and his arms had lost some of their gelatinous qualities. He was a long way from being beefcake, but if this was what he could expect from a single workout, tomorrow could not arrive soon enough. He wished Jay still worked for him so he could give him a promotion just for introducing him to this place. He'd have to find some other way to show his appreciation. It was mid-morning, and Henry could not face the prospect of a boring day trapped at the office. He called in sick for the first time in years, liberated by a sudden sense of freedom. He headed home and busied himself with all of the repair jobs his wife had been urging to take care of for months or, in some cases, years. After a productive afternoon during which his energy remained sky high, Henry luxuriated in a long hot shower, invigorated by the droplets pelting his skin. His cock chubbed up as he lathered himself thoroughly, but he didn't want to squander a good erection. It would only be fair to save himself for Diane. He pulled on his favorite Hawaiian shirt, amazed by how loosely it hung on his frame, and was able to squeeze into a pair of Dockers he had outgrown three years earlier. Diane immediately knew something was strange when she pulled into the driveway and saw Henry's car, as he had not arrived home from work before her in at least a decade. As she entered, she was greeted by unexpected aromas from the kitchen, where Henry was busy preparing spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, one of the few meals he had ever learned to cook on his own. She stood in the doorway, silent and wide-eyed, as her husband bounded excitedly around the room, boisterously singing "That's Amore", humming to fill in the gaps for the lyrics he couldn't remember (which was pretty much everything other than "That's Amore"). Finally noticing his wife's arrival, Henry dashed across the room to plant a tomato-and-basil-flavored kiss on her lips. "Hello, honey," he sang in place of "That's Amore", and danced back to the stove to resume stirring the sauce. Diane was so stunned by his uncharacteristic exuberance that his weight loss didn't even register. She just knew something was different. "What has gotten into you, Henry?", she asked, but Henry just smiled and kept on sing-humming. She walked over to help him, but he poured her a glass of Chianti and demanded that she take a load off and relax while he finished fixing dinner. During a leisurely meal, Diane told anecdotes of her taxing day and Henry vaguely described his, telling her little more than that he felt "marvelous" and "like a kid again". The more she looked at him across the table, she could swear it looked like he had lost weight, but she had been on enough diets over the years to know it was impossible to drop more than a handful of pounds of water weight in a day. She figured his fresh appearance must just a pleasant byproduct of his unaccountably chipper attitude. Whatever had caused this boost in Henry's mood, she wasn't about to complain. Uncorking a second bottle, Henry insisted that they leave the dirty dishes until the morning and maneuvered Diane to the sofa for some heavy petting. He was friskier than he had been the night before, and had no concerns about his energy plummeting, but as he nuzzled his wife's neck, something felt off. Much as he wanted to please Diane, his dick was staying soft. On top of that, unfamiliar thoughts began to assault Henry's mind. Images flashed and then vanished, at first so brief that he couldn't identify them, but they were distracting enough that Diane could sense his concentration waning. "What's the matter, honey?", she asked. "Nothing," Henry assured her, although he was not so certain. As he held Diane's face in his hands and closed his eyes to kiss her, a single image finally gelled in Henry's mind. It was Jay in all of his newly-buffed splendor. Standing completely naked in the locker room. With an eight-inch erection. Pointing straight in Henry's direction. Henry was shaken by this vision. He was even more unnerved by the realization that his penis, flaccid until that moment, had sprung to life, stiffening inside his boxers. "Oh, Henry!", Diane gasped as she felt his hardness press against her thigh. Early on, Max had insisted on being up front with his customers about the radical changes that the boost would impose on their brain and their hormones. It was never an issue with his gay clients, as the boost only intensified their pre-existing preferences and markedly heightened their erotic pleasure, but he had felt morally obliged to alert straight men that the boost would permanently reconfigure their sexual orientation. Max's boss had frowned upon this level of honesty, not wanting to cut off potentially lucrative sources of revenue. In the end, Max had realized that giving the warning was ultimately pointless. Even those who strenuously objected and put up some kind of struggle against their newfound desires would inevitably surrender, their overwhelming craving for the benefits of the boost proving far more powerful than even the most virulent homophobia. Max himself had been something of a bullying asshole toward two teammates on his college swim team whom he had learned were gay, although his attitude evolved quickly once they began to supply him with the red powder that they promised would do wonders for his performance. Now, all these years later, Max had only the faintest of memories of having once been attracted to women, while the teammates who had been the targets of his abuse were now two of his oldest and dearest friends. Max had no idea why the boost made its straight users gay and its gay users gayer, although he suspected the surge in testosterone that it caused was at least somewhat responsible. He did know that the triggering event for the irrevocable transition was invariably the same: one's first post-boost orgasm. Henry's mind mounted some resistance as his brain was flooded with more thoughts of Jay and Max and the other shredded specimens who had surrounded him at the gym, his visions fragmenting into isolated close-ups of straining biceps and striated quads and ripe ass-cheeks and upward-arching cocks. There was still a tangible allure to Diane's warm body pressed against his, still a nostalgic familiarity to the scent of White Diamonds perfume on her skin, and he knew he was still intellectually in love with this woman with whom he had shared the past quarter-century, but these intrusive thoughts had become too persistent -- and too arousing -- to ignore. Once he stopped fighting them, he ejaculated immediately, pumping dollop after dollop of thick, warm cream into his undershorts. The energy swiftly ebbed from Henry's body and he collapsed on top of Diane, the events of the day finally taking their toll. Diane squirmed out from under her bulky husband, sighing with disappointment at the speed with which their romantic evening had come to an end, although it was far from unprecedented. As Henry began to snore, Diane adjusted him on the couch so he would be more comfortable, tucking a comforter around him and bringing out his sleep apnea machine. The spark may have left their relationship long ago, but she still doted on the big lug. Meanwhile, as Henry slept, the boost set about reordering his priorities. * * * Jay moseyed into the gym around ten the next morning, mirrored sunglasses shielding his eyes from bright light. He and Flat-Top had spent a productive day of recruiting at the beach, their exposed physiques providing ample evidence of the gym's benefits. They had lured in over a dozen new prospects with the promise of a free workout and a sample smoothie. Jay knew at least two of them would be arriving in a short while, as soon as they and Flat-Top finished showering together back at Flat-Top's condo. Jay had been invited to join them, but he had already fucked himself raw the night before and was desperately in need of a boost. Jay had no idea how much alcohol he had consumed the night before. His improved metabolism meant that a great quantity of booze was required to achieve even a slight buzz, so he must have downed a couple bottles of tequila to end up as blotto as he had become. Dim memories of dim nightclubs filtered through his head. He could recall flashes of colored light and the cool sensation of dry-ice fog against his shirtless torso. He remembered feasting his eyes on a buffet of delectable dudes, and being the object of innumerable devouring stares and roaming hands. The two twinks who had accompanied them back to Flat-Top's place came back to him as little more than nimble blond and ginger blurs, but he knew the four of them had stayed busy most of the night as Flat-Top taught Jay the joys of versatility. Jay had awoken this morning wracked with unfamiliar aches, feeling as if every orifice had been stretched beyond its intended limits. Since he had started on the boost, Jay had never waited as late as ten o'clock to get his morning jolt, and its absence in his body was killing him. His colossal hangover was merely miserable icing on the agony cake. His energy had dwindled precipitously, his impressive bulk had softened noticeably, and his extremities were riddled with the pinprick sensations that preceded numbness. Desperate for his fix, Jay staggered the final twenty feet toward the juice bar before flopping onto the counter, spread-eagled as he begged Max, "Blueberry Bonanza. And make it a triple." Max felt a twinge of guilt as he saw Jay so strung out, but he also knew there was only one remedy that would satisfy him. Max chastised Jay, "As happy as I am to see you shed your inhibitions, we do have health codes around here." He shooed Jay off the counter and whipped up the drink in record time. Jay guzzled it down greedily, purple trickles leaking from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Jay's spirits revived, he filled in Max on the previous day's recruiting successes, but he found his attention drifting toward the gym floor, where a dark-eyed young stud in a black tank top and knee-length black shorts was scoping out his surroundings. He had thickly muscled arms and a broad chest, but slimmed down to an enviably narrow waist and the lean, perfectly toned legs of a disciplined runner. His jaw and cheekbones were precision sculpted, and a wild, undisciplined thatch of chocolate-brown hair jutted over his forehead before curling back like a breaking wave off Malibu. Jay figured he had to be a newbie, because there was no way this guy could have escaped Jay's notice. Even before the boost had altered his predilections, Jay would have fixated on this guy out of pure envy. To Jay's amazement, the kid's face lit up the moment he spotted Jay. As he sauntered coolly toward the juice bar, all of the sexual confidence Jay had gained from the previous night's conquests faded into anxiety as he fretted over what he could possibly say to this adonis. "Jaaaaaay!", shouted the young man, beaming as he rushed over. He wrapped his python arms tight around Jay and easily hoisted the considerably heavier man off his feet. Jay shot a baffled glance at Max, who was stifling a chuckle. "I don't blame you, boy," crowed the young man. "I don't recognize me either!" The voice was instantly recognizable, but bubbling with an unfamiliar zest for life. The tan Jay had gained from his day at the beach blanched instantaneously as his brain grappled with the realization that the lanky hunk squeezing the breath out of him had emerged from the great white whale that was Henry. Even after witnessing Henry's treadmill endurance test, Jay could never have imagined that Henry's lump of coal could have been refined into such a diamond. Could such immaculate bone structure really have been lurking beneath Henry's jowls and wrinkles all along? How had the sparse shrubbery on Henry's head sprouted so spectacularly overnight? Jay's own boosted body seemed like a minor overhaul when compared to how Henry had been super-remodeled into a supermodel. Henry lowered Jay back down to the floor, then spun around so Jay could get a complete look at his wide v-shaped back, his buoyant butt, his firm, wrinkle-free skin. "Can you believe this shit?", he asked, yanking on his unwieldy mop of hair, giggling with delight when it remained attached to his scalp. "I feel like a kid again, but I never looked half this good when I was young. Isn't it a-fucking-mazing?" Words were eluding Jay. All that emerged from his mouth was one long "Uhhhhhh...", but it still managed to convey his approval. As Henry slept, his body had undergone extensive renovations. When he awoke to this phenomenal discovery, he made his way quietly out of the house, careful not to wake Diane, and drove directly to the gym. Max prepared him a smoothie with a double boost and two handfuls of berries, for the reasonable price of thirty dollars, which Henry paid without blinking an eye. Once the smoothie got into his system and he began to exercise, Henry's improvements had only become more and more refined. "I've been here since five a.m., and every time I check myself the mirror, I look better. It's like watching Michelangelo carving David out of an ugly chunk of marble. Only I was the ugly chunk of marble. And now, I'm David!" Jay's head was swimming, only in part because he no longer knew who Michelangelo was. "Hey, what do you think about David?", Henry asked excitedly, conducting a quick poll of Jay and Max. "Think about him for what?", Jay asked. "For a name. For me. I sure as shit don't feel like a Henry any more, and I sure as fuck don't look like one." "I dunno," Max chimed in. "You ever seen that Henry Cavill?" Max wolf-whistled and his eyebrows leapt. "Naaah, Henry's an old man name," Henry insisted with a dismissive wave of his hands. "I feel like a David now." Jay was still grappling with the whole situation. "So you're just gonna go into work looking like this, and tell 'em to start calling you David?" Henry burst out laughing, the picture of youthful rebellion. "Fuck that. I'm not going back to that shithole. If I spent one more second cooped up behind that desk, I think I'd fucking die. No, man, I'm following your example. THIS is my life now!" He spread out his arms, his mighty wingspan stretching wide to indicate the whole gym. His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm for his future. "All those years of slaving away, stashing away my money for a rainy day. Well, it's finally raining, honey, and..." He broke into song, "It's raining men! Hallelujah!" He spun Jay around in a few sloppily improvised dance moves, effectively disproving the cliche that homosexuality correlates directly with a knack for choreography. Jay backed away, feeling personally responsible for how radically Henry had changed. "So if you're not going to work, what ARE you gonna do now?" "Now? You mean, like right now? Well, I got at least one idea." With that, he stared seductively into Jay's eyes. Jay had never realized that Henry's eyes were so mesmerizing, so deep and dark, especially at the office where he kept them imprisoned behind glasses that, from all appearances, he no longer needed. Jay felt unable to look away. Without taking his eyes off Jay, Henry asked, "Hey, Max, can Jay and I use your back room for a bit?" Max expressed amused annoyance. "You want to have sex behind the juice bar? What is it that you guys don't grasp about health codes? Go find yourselves someplace more fuck-friendly." "Well, we could go get a room somewhere," David said with a grin. "I just wasn't sure Jay could wait that long." "Huh? What?", Jay said, suddenly aware that his rigid cock was straining inside his compression shorts, stretching so far down the right leg that the head was in danger of poking its way to freedom. When he looked back up, Jay's conflicting emotions over what had happened to Henry were swept away, replaced by a single crystal-clear thought. "Fuck me, David."
  25. Guest

    theft The muscle frat (1)

    One "Come on. One more, buddy!" Brad grunted from the effort, his face beet red as he curled the 100 pound barbell up. "10", he groaned between his teeth as he completed his rep. "Nice job, man", Brock said as he helped his buddy lower the barbell back down and place it on the floor. Both aged 21, the two had been friends ever since their first day in kindergarten and had always been in the same class up until university. Even then, they had both chosen Orchid University. After setting their first steps in the gym at age 15, they had continued working out together on a daily base and joined their high school's football team. Now they we're both among the star players of the university football team. Brad controlled his fast breathing and looked down at his former roommate grabbing the 120 pound bar from the rack. "Come on, final set!", he said to his buddy as he sat down on a bench, exhausted from their workout and took a sip from his shake. "Fuck yeah!", Brock growled as he began curling the barbell with perfect control. "Grow", he said to his arms, his big biceps swelling with every rep as more blood flowed into them. "8, agh, 9, agh, ten…", he groaned, "gimme a spot, man!". Brad got up from the bench and stood in front of his roommate. He placed his fingers underneath the middle of the barbell and assisted the movement. "Come on, one more!", he said to encourage Brock. "Eleuhven…", Brock grunted. His body trembled as he lowered the barbell back down. "Tweuhlve". Brad's eyes widened as his roommate went on to complete twenty reps before he helped him put the barbell down. While Brock grabbed his towel from the nearby bench, Brad looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He grinned and raised his right arm in a flex. The pumped bicep hardened atop his meaty arm, blue veins snaking along the muscle. "How big are those guns?", Brock asked as he emptied his shake and looked up at his buddy. "Just under 18 inches pumped", Brad replied and hardened his flex some more. Brock moved next to his friend and raised his right arm to copy his pose. His bicep, pumped and red from the workout, mounded upward as he brought in his lower arm. The peak pushed against his skin and a web of blue, thick veins fed the steely orb. "Nice man", Brad said while he stared at the obviously bigger arm. "22,5 inches all pumped", Brock stated with pride. "Let's hit the shower, man", he said as he relaxed his arm and strutted toward the exit. "Yeah", Brad answered. "So, any other news?", he asked as he caught up with his buddy. "I told ya a million times, man: I'm not the president of the frat. Just be patient", Brock said and patted his buddy on the back. "I've been waiting for an invite ever since we've got here three years ago. You got in during the second semester of our freshman year. This year is my last shot", Brad went on. Ever since Brock had been allowed into the Dexameni-frat, the most exclusive frat on campus that housed most of the top athletes, he'd been jealous. He'd been checking his locker for an invite every day since his best buddy had gotten in. Brock turned to face Brad, grabbed his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. "Your chance will come, buddy. Be patient!", he said in a loud tone to cut off Brad. He released his friend and continued his way to the locker room. Brad sighed, knowing his friend was right and followed him inside. The locker room was completely deserted. They took off their sweaty workout gear in silence. Brad was down to his boxers and reached for his locker when he noticed the little black envelope. "No way", he mumbled and took it. His hands trembled as he ripped it open and read the piece of paper inside. You've proven worthy to join the ranks of the Dexameni-frat. Report to the frat house this Friday at 1900h "Good news?", Brock asked, keeping his back to Brad as he stripped completely. "I'm in!", Brad blurted out. "Told ya to be patient, buddy. I'm glad for ya", Brock replied and strutted toward the shower zone. He turned on the shower and let the hot water cascade down on his muscular body. He looked aside to Brad standing under the shower to his right. "Did ya bulk up during summer?", he asked, "Ya look bigger than last year". "Yeah", Brad answered, "I'm up to 182. I'm catching up, buddy". Brock smiled at the reaction. Even though Brad was a tad taller, 5'9 to his own 5'8, their bodies looked different. Brad had the muscular physique of a ripped fitness model, while he had the heavily muscled look of a bulky amateur bodybuilder. "Still some work ahead, buddy. I've gained some mass too: up to 229,3 pounds." Brad turned to his side and faced his buddy. Every muscle on Brock's body looked fuller than his defined ones. "Ready to burst through the 230 mark, he big guy. We'd better change your nickname from B-rock to B-wall", he said. "My abs look better though." He caressed the grooves of his ripped six-pack. A smug grin appeared on Brock's face when his friend used his nickname. He'd always liked being called b-rock; it made him feel even bigger than he was. "Ya know what they say", he said playfully, "abs on a skinny guy don't count". He flexed his abs in response, making his somewhat protruding muscle gut harden. "You're lucky we're friends. I should have kicked your ass for that remark", Brad stated with a smile. They always fooled around but he knew his buddy always had his back. "Kick my ass? You and what army?", Brock answered in an amused tone. He turned to his right and faced his friend. Brad's defined muscles gave him an athletic look. His own muscles were clearly fuller and rounder, his shoulder's half again as wide than his buddy's. "Think ya could challenge the b-rock?", he asked as he threw a most muscular. Brad stared at his 229 pound friend flexing right in front of him. The bulky muscles hardened all over his broad frame: his thick arms digging into the rack of pecs atop his muscle gut, his meaty quads pushing against each other. "At least, I'm taller", he said with a smirk and stood tall to stretch out his 5'9 frame. "Ya have to have something to attract some female attention", Brock replied playfully, " otherwise no one would notice ya next to me." He relaxed his pose and gently punched his friend in the shoulder. "Na. You're lucky to have your big muscles. Your ugly face scares off anyone", Brad answered. "Thanks for helping me get in the frat. I really appreciate it, man", he said and thankfully patted his buddy's broad back. "I'm happy I could help. See ya on Friday for the initiation", Brock said as he turned off the shower and strutted away from the shower zone, water sliding along the crevices of his bulky muscles. Two days later, Brad made his way over to the Dexameni-frat house. His legs quivered slightly with every step he took and his stomach clenched together: it felt like his first day of school again. He looked up at the façade of the mansion he'd passed nearly daily since he's been on campus. Two flexed, muscular arms were painted on the wide door and the name of the frat of his dreams sat atop it: DEXAMENI. Brad inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and stepped up toward the entrance. He knocked three times and waited. What seemed like an eternity passed before the heavy wooden doors opened squeakingly. A muscular, bare-chested figure appeared in the dark corridor. "Come in!", a deep baritone boomed. Brad sighed, he had recognized Brock's deep voice and eagerly entered the frat house. "I'm glad it's you, Brock", he said, "I'm…". "Silence!", Brock rumbled, "you only speak when spoken too! Follow me!". Brad jumped up as the heavy doors closed behind him and by the harsh tone of his best friend. He nodded and followed the big guy through the long, dark corridor. Brock opened a door on his right and entered, his smaller buddy following right behind. "Strip down to your boxers", he said and folded his meaty arms in front of his protruding pecs. Brad obeyed and stripped off his clothes until he was standing in his American flag boxers in front of his friend. "So what's next?", he asked. "SILENCE!", Brock roared. Brad shivered, his friend's deep baritone rumbling inside his stomach. Brock led his friend into another room and made him wait by the door while he stepped up to the center of the room. He stopped at the base of a wooden staircase that led to an altar with a throne behind it. "O great leader", he said as he looked up to the figure in the throne, "I bring you a new recruit that wishes to join the ranks of our noble frat." "Bring him before me", the leader replied. Brock walked back to the door where Brad was standing and brought him to the center of the room. Brad's heart pounded nervously but the feeling of his buddy standing behind him, comforted him. "Step forward, brothers", he figure on the throne said. The other frat members appeared from the shadows and formed a circle around Brad and Brock. All of them were bare-chested like Brock and looked at Brad. Brad looked around and recognized Orchid University's star athletes. Their muscular torsos glistened as if they had been oiled up. He saw two of his teammates from the football team, the three top wrestlers and some other athlete's he didn't know which sport they played. He looked up at the figure on the throne and recognized him as the captain of the swim team. He wondered why the clearly smallest guy in the room was the leader of the frat. Keith, the frat leader, stepped from his throne and looked down at Brad. "Everyone that wishes to join the noble DEXAMENI-frat needs the advocacy of a senior member. Step forward he that backs this recruits acceptance!". Brad looked around nervously, but none of the frat members moved an inch. He felt his heartbeat going up, seeing his long awaited dream shattering before his eyes. "I support his candidacy!" Brad inhaled in relief as he heard Brock's voice and felt his buddy's paw atop his shoulder. "Very well", Keith said, "You have the support you need, recruit. Now let's see if you're truly worthy of joining the noble DEXAMENI-frat!". Before Brad could react, his boxers were yanked down and he stood fully exposed amidst his fellow athletes. He felt the blood race to his face and his cheeks started reddening. He moved his hands to cover his cock but two frat members moved in and tightly held his arms at his sides. He felt Brock's left paw grab his side and steady him. He inhaled deeply as his best friend's right paw grabbed his soft cock and began stroking it. He felt his cock harden and swell inside the strong paw that clenched around his inflating shaft. Within seconds he was rock hard. He looked down and saw that his fully hard 8 incher was completely engulfed by Brock's meaty paw. He noticed the tension on the corded muscles atop his friend's lower arm as the paw kept clutching his cock. His breathing fastened more and more as he felt on the verge of orgasm. "UGHN", he groaned as Brock gave his rock hard 8 incher a final, very hard squeeze and his balls spewed out their load. Six heavy blasts shot from his cock in an arch through the air before splattering down several feet further. He felt his muscles relax but the strong grasp of the two frat members that were holding his arms, kept him upright. He sighed in relief as Brock released his softening cock and grabbed his sides with both hands to steady him. "Seven feet and nine inches far", Keith said, "He's worthy of joining our noble DEXAMENI-frat!". The other frat members cheered as their leader grabbed the chalice from the altar and moved in front of Brad. He nodded at Brock. Brad felt his buddy release his right flank and grab his half-hard cock again. "Ughn", he grunted as his cock was stroked back to hardness. His drained balls stabbed in protest as a second orgasm was milked out of them only minutes after the first. His entire body went rigid as the warm, meaty paw grabbed his balls and clenched them together. Three watery loads leaked from his nearly fully hard cock into the chalice Keith held at its end. He would have collapsed as Brock hadn't grabbed his left armpit so secure him. He looked down and saw his buddy pull up his boxers before the warm right paw grabbed his other armpit. A feeling of relief went through his exhausted body. Keith shook the chalice, held it above his head for all the frat members to see it and placed it back on the altar. He turned around and looked back at Brad. "Welcome to our ranks, Brad!", he said, "now, let's party!". The frat members howled loudly and left the chamber. Bard followed them, not caring he was in his boxers. The feeling of finally being part of the frat filled him with joy.
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