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Chapter 1 The night sky erupted in a blinding flash, followed by an earth-shattering boom. Ollie's world spun violently as the car careened off the road, metal screeching against asphalt. "Mom! Dad!" Ollie cried out, his voice hoarse with panic. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils as he struggled to move. "I can't... I can't feel my legs!" Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the chaos. "Hey! Can you hear me? I'm coming to get you out!" Brock's muscular form appeared at the shattered window, his open flannel shirt revealing a glimpse of his impressive chest beneath a tight tank top. With a grunt, he wrenched the door open. "Easy now, kid. I've got you," Brock said, his strong arms wrapping around Ollie's slender frame. "What's your name?" "O-Ollie," he stammered, wincing as Brock pulled him free. "My parents... they're still inside!" Brock's eyes darted to the front of the car, assessing the situation. "I'll get them. Just stay put, alright?" As Brock turned back toward the wreckage, a deafening explosion rocked the night. Flames engulfed the vehicle, the heat searing against their skin. "No!" Ollie screamed, trying to lunge forward despite his immobile legs. Brock caught him, holding him back. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry," Brock's voice cracked with genuine anguish. He fumbled for his phone, dialing quickly. "This is Dr. Brock Steele. I need emergency services on Route 7, about 10 miles outside of Millbrook. Car explosion, two fatalities, one injured teenager." Ollie sobbed against Brock's chest, leaving streaks of blood on the white tank top. Brock's arm tightened around him protectively. "Listen, Ollie," Brock said, his tone urgent but gentle. "The ambulance might take a while to get here. I'm going to drive you to the hospital myself, okay? We need to get you checked out." "But my parents..." Ollie choked out. Brock's face was a mask of sympathy and determination. "There's nothing we can do for them now. We need to focus on you. Can you trust me?" Ollie looked up, meeting Brock's intense gaze. Despite the horror of the situation, he felt an inexplicable sense of safety in this stranger's arms. He nodded weakly. "That's good, kid. You're being real brave," Brock said, scooping Ollie up as if he weighed nothing. "My car's just up the road. We'll get you help, I promise." As Brock carried him away from the burning wreckage, Ollie caught another glimpse of the man's muscular chest, peeking out from his partially unbuttoned shirt. Even in his grief-stricken state, Ollie couldn't help but notice the strength and warmth radiating from Brock's body. "Stay with me, Ollie," Brock's deep voice rumbled. "Keep talking. Tell me about yourself." As they made their way to Brock's car, Ollie's world narrowed to the sound of that voice and the feeling of those strong arms around him, a lifeline in the midst of unimaginable tragedy. Ollie's voice trembled as he spoke, his words punctuated by quiet sobs. "I... I just graduated high school. Was supposed to start college in the fall." Brock carefully maneuvered Ollie into the passenger seat of his car, his strong hands gentle as he buckled the seatbelt around the injured teen. "That's great, Ollie. What were you planning to study?" "Medicine," Ollie replied, his voice distant. "My dad... he was a doctor too. Always wanted me to follow in his footsteps." Brock's heart clenched at the pain in Ollie's voice. He reached over, giving the young man's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I'm sure he was very proud of you." As Brock sped towards the hospital, Ollie stared blankly out the window, tears streaming down his face. "I can't believe they're gone. What am I supposed to do now?" "One step at a time, kid," Brock said softly. "Right now, we focus on getting you better. The rest... we'll figure it out." They pulled up to the ER entrance, Brock jumping out and rushing to Ollie's side. He scooped the teen into his arms once more, carrying him through the automatic doors. "I need help here!" Brock called out, his voice commanding attention. Nurses and doctors swarmed around them, peppering Brock with questions. "Car accident. Possible spinal injury, multiple lacerations and contusions. Parents DOA at the scene," Brock rattled off, his tone professional despite the urgency. Ollie found himself being transferred to a gurney, the bright lights of the ER ceiling flashing above him. He reached out, his hand grasping for Brock. "Don't leave me," he pleaded, his voice small and frightened. Brock caught Ollie's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, Ollie. I'll be right here." As the medical team wheeled Ollie away, Brock's reassuring presence never wavered. Even as doctors and nurses worked to assess his injuries, Ollie's eyes remained locked on Brock, clinging to the strength and comfort the man provided. Hours later, Ollie lay in a hospital bed, his body bandaged and his heart heavy with grief. Brock sat beside him, still wearing his blood-stained tank top, his flannel shirt discarded somewhere along the way. "Why did you stay?" Ollie asked, his voice hoarse from crying. Brock leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Because you needed someone. And because... I know what it's like to lose everything in a single moment." Ollie's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. In that instant, he felt a connection to Brock that went beyond mere gratitude. "Thank you," Ollie whispered, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "For saving me. For being here." Brock reached out, gently brushing a tear from Ollie's face. "You're not alone, Ollie. I promise you that." As Ollie lay in the hospital bed, his eyes drifted to Brock, taking in the man's appearance. Despite the blood stains on his white tank top, Brock's muscular physique was impossible to ignore. The fabric stretched taut across his broad chest, hinting at the powerful pectorals beneath. His shoulders and arms were equally impressive, the muscles flexing with each small movement. Even in his grief-stricken state, Ollie couldn't help but notice Brock's rugged handsomeness. The man's chiseled jawline, strong features, and kind eyes created a striking combination. However, given the tragedy that had just unfolded, Ollie felt no stirrings of arousal, only a deep appreciation for Brock's presence and support. Brock's appearance exudes raw masculinity and mature allure. His face is chiseled and handsome, with strong, defined features that hint at his 42 years. Dark, expressive eyebrows frame intense eyes that seem to hold depths of experience. His jawline is sharp and masculine, covered in a light dusting of stubble that accentuates his rugged appeal. Fine lines around his eyes and mouth add character, speaking to a life lived fully. His hair is short and neatly styled, dark and thick, cut close on the sides with a bit more length on top. It's the kind of no-nonsense cut that requires minimal maintenance but always looks put-together. Brock's body is a testament to his dedication as both a scientist and personal trainer. His frame is large and imposing, with broad shoulders tapering down to a solid core. His chest is expansive and well-developed, straining against the fabric of his shirts. His arms are thick and powerful, veins visible beneath the skin, speaking to both strength and vascularity. How I imagine what Brock would look like at this point of story, but less muscular, no abs, less body hair Model reference https://www.instagram.com/sergey.nyzhnyk/ A knock at the door drew their attention as a nurse and doctor entered the room. "Hello, Ollie," the doctor said gently, glancing at his chart. "I'm Dr. Patel, and this is Nurse Johnson. We're here to check on your injuries and get you started on treatment." Ollie nodded weakly, wincing as the nurse began to carefully remove the temporary bandages applied in the ER. Dr. Patel examined each wound, her skilled hands probing gently for signs of deeper damage. "The lacerations are fairly superficial," she noted, "but we'll need to clean and stitch a few of the deeper ones. Any pain or discomfort, Ollie?" "My legs," Ollie said, his voice strained. "I still can't feel them properly." Dr. Patel's expression turned serious. "We'll need to run some tests to assess the extent of the spinal injury. An MRI and CT scan will give us a better idea of what we're dealing with." As the doctor continued her examination, Nurse Johnson began cleaning and dressing Ollie's wounds. Brock watched, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his deep voice filled with genuine care. Nurse Johnson glanced up, offering Brock a small smile. "Just being here is helping, sir. Support from loved ones is crucial in the healing process." Brock nodded, his eyes meeting Ollie's. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them - Brock would be the support Ollie needed, even if they had only just met. Dr. Patel finished her assessment, making notes on Ollie's chart. "We'll get you scheduled for those scans as soon as possible. In the meantime, try to rest. Your body has been through a lot." As the medical team left the room, Brock moved closer to Ollie's bedside. "You heard the doc, kid. Rest up. I'll be right here if you need anything." Ollie managed a small nod, his eyelids growing heavy. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the night's events finally caught up with him, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. Brock settled into the chair beside Ollie's bed, his muscular form seeming to dwarf the small hospital furniture. He watched over the young man, a silent guardian ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. In that quiet moment, a bond began to form between them, a connection forged in the crucible of shared tragedy and unexpected compassion. As the day progressed, Ollie found himself being wheeled through the hospital corridors, the sterile walls and fluorescent lights blurring together. Brock walked alongside the gurney, his presence a constant comfort in the unfamiliar surroundings. "We're taking you for the CT scan now, Ollie," Nurse Johnson explained gently. "It's a painless procedure, but it's important for us to get a clear picture of your spinal injury." Ollie nodded, his hands gripping the sides of the gurney. The fear of the unknown weighed heavily on his mind, compounded by the grief that still consumed him. Brock seemed to sense Ollie's anxiety. He placed a large, comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "You've got this, kid. I'll be waiting for you when you're done." Ollie managed a weak smile, drawing strength from Brock's unwavering support. As he was positioned on the CT scanner, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of Brock's hand rather than the cold, clinical atmosphere. The scan seemed to take an eternity, the whirring and clicking of the machine filling Ollie's ears. When it was finally over, he was returned to his room, exhausted and emotionally drained. Brock was there, just as he had promised. He helped the nurses settle Ollie back into bed, his strong arms gentle and reassuring. Dr. Patel arrived shortly after, her expression serious as she reviewed the scan results. "Ollie, the CT scan shows significant swelling around your spinal cord. While there's no evidence of a complete spinal cord injury, the swelling is putting pressure on the nerves, which is likely causing the numbness and weakness in your legs." Ollie felt a wave of fear wash over him. "Will I... will I be able to walk again?" Dr. Patel met his gaze, her eyes filled with compassion. "It's too early to say for certain. Spinal injuries can be unpredictable. But we'll be starting you on high-dose corticosteroids to reduce the swelling, and we'll be monitoring your condition closely." Brock stepped forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "What's the next step, doc?" "We'll be admitting Ollie to the hospital for further treatment and observation," Dr. Patel explained. "He'll need intensive physical therapy and rehabilitation to give him the best chance at recovery." Ollie felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the weight of his situation crashing down on him. Not only had he lost his parents, but now he faced the possibility of never walking again. Brock seemed to sense Ollie's distress. He sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular frame dipping the mattress as he took Ollie's hand in his own. "Hey, look at me, Ollie. You're not facing this alone. I'll be with you every step of the way." Ollie met Brock's gaze, finding strength and comfort in those intense eyes. He nodded, swallowing back his tears. "Thank you, Brock. I don't... I don't know what I would do without you." Brock smiled softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of Ollie's hand. "You don't have to worry about that, kid. I'm not going anywhere." As the hospital staff bustled around them, making preparations for Ollie's admission, the young man clung to Brock's presence like a lifeline. The road ahead was uncertain and filled with challenges, but with Brock by his side, Ollie felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. Ollie lay in his hospital bed, his mind began to wander. The trauma of the day mixed with the strong painkillers, creating a hazy state where reality blurred with fantasy. He found himself imagining Brock as the muscular daddy figure he'd always secretly dreamed about. In his mind's eye, Ollie saw Brock's powerful arms wrapping around him protectively, those broad pecs pressed against his back. He imagined Brock's deep voice whispering words of comfort and love, calling him "son" in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Ollie's cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and desire. Here he was, in the midst of tragedy, entertaining these forbidden thoughts about the man who had saved his life. He tried to push the images away, but they clung to the edges of his consciousness, a tempting escape from the harsh reality of his situation.
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This is my first complete story. Some of you have been reading this in the Unfinished section of this forum. It's now finished, so I'm posting it here. Thank you to those people who have already given me positive comments on this story. They will undoubtedly encourage me to write more stories. The story has six chapters. Some of them have gay themes, others straight themes, and others bi. I have made some very slight edits to the original six parts that were posted originally, to hopefully improve the story slightly, when it comes to grammar and continuity. Hope you enjoy my story! ------------ BLACK HULK Chapter 1: Kris meets Black Hulk Everyone gasped when he entered. He swaggered slowly to a deckchair, with his belongings, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. This was not odd, since we were in the hotel indoor pool, me and around six or seven strangers. What made everyone gasp was the sheer amount of muscular development this man's body was presenting to our senses. To me, those muscles were instantly recognizable. They belonged to Henk Kuria, or, as everyone in the porn industry called him, Black Hulk. Winner of the past three Mr. Olympias and a long string of other bodybuilding contests, Black Hulk stormed into the bodybuilding scene in 2020 as a 6'4, 380lbs unknown 20-year-old from Kenya. That year, he not only easily defeated, and humiliated, the then Mr. O. Phil Heath, but has won every bodybuilding contest he entered. The incredible thing is that, according to the latest news from the IFBB, Black Hulk weighed an astonishing 420lbs in last year's Mr. O., with a barely comprehensible 4% bodyfat. How do I know this? Well, I've jacked off at least once everyday as soon as my eyes feasted on this giant monument of musculature back then in 2020. So much, so that this year I decided to travel all the way to Las Vegas to witness this guy live. I truly am a huge fan of his. Not just for his giant muscles, but also for his lifestyle. A few months after he won his first Olympia, Black Hulk came out as bisexual. At first, there were rumors that the IFBB would retract his title, but soon common sense prevailed. At that time, Black Hulk started to feature in a lot of porno movies, some straight, some gay, and some bi. The astonishing thing is that, as time went by, not only did his incredibly huge muscles became bigger and bigger, but also, visibly, his cock and balls grew in unison. In his first porno, fucking Lela Star, he had a very respectable 8 inch cock. In his last, not only did he grew 40lbs of muscle since that first porn flick, but also 2 inches of cock; moreover, his dick is visibly much thicker. This last porno was a reverse gangbang, where Black Hulk fucked 20 women in 2 hours. One after the other, every woman roared in an earth shattering orgasm, begging him to stop. Then, in the end, he climaxed on all of them at once, in a cumblast that lasted a full minute. Needless to say, this porno flick proved very popular. The gay porn community have now asked him to film a gay-themed similar flick, with 20 men. Anyway, Black Hulk is here, a few feet away from me. Apparently, he decided to use the services of the same hotel I was in, during his stay in Las Vegas to undoubtedly conquer Mr. Olympia for a fourth time. My cock instantly grew rock hard in my swimtrunks; luckily I was in the pool, so nobody noticed. What also helped somewhat was the fact that every other person that, up till that point, were with me in the pool decided to pack their things and leave. Maybe they were disgusted by his muscles, or by his well-known overly sexualized lifestyle, who knows. Fact is, I was the only one to witness him casually removing his towel from his overly-muscular waist, revealing a swimsuit that was clearly struggling to contain the massive cock and balls inside it. Then he proceeded to jump in the pool, with a grace that beguiled his enormous frame. This was too good an opportunity to miss. I had to talk to him! But... I completely froze! "Hey man, nice traps" a heavily-accented voice said. It took me a while to realize that Black Hulk has just spoken, and, further, that he was referring to... me! "Uh... fuck. I mean... uh... thanks" I stammered. "I'm... I'm Kris... I'm... uh... sorry, I... big fan... I... I..." "No need to be shy around me, Kris" he grinned, his teeth's sparkling whiteness contrasting sharply with his dark black supermuscular body. "You must work out? I like your traps a lot." Black Hulk is complementing ME? Wow, this must be a dream. "Uh, thanks, uh, yes, I do..." That was all my brain could muster. "You've got a nice package down there too", he continued, grinning even wider. Instinctively, I turned beet red, and tried to cover my erect genitals. Damn, I must be so erect that he could notice from above the water. "You are indeed a big fan." he continued. "Am I responsible for some of your orgasms?" "ALL of them" I blurted out loud. "Since your first Mr. Olympia win, I haven't orgasmed to any human being except you." That was the brutally honest truth. "Good. I like sexy fans like you. You here to see me win another Olympia, right?" "Yes... yes I am. Nobody comes close to your hypermuscular body." "Indeed, nobody does." He climbed out of the water. "Come here. Feel my body. I don't bite." Suddenly, like a wild animal overcame with lust, I jumped out of the pool and started squeezing all of his bodyparts. Those traps, that seemed to go all the way level to his ears. That barrell neck, thicker than the circumference of his head. Those huge shoulders, so monumentally massive and defined. Those impossible biceps, that, even relaxed, seemed like somebody had stuffed a melon inside them. Those triceps, that protuded so far out of his arms that they almost looked like biceps. Those forearms, so incredibly thick, thicker than a normal man's legs. Those pectorals, incomprehensibly thick and full shelves of muscular power. Those abdominals, looking and feeling like eight slabs of diamond-hard bricks on his tapered down waist. Those lats, popping out so ridiculously wide of his back that they seemed like almost having a life of their own. That unbelievable back, so thick and defined and wide and massive. Those quads, impossibly muscular and immense, so massively muscled that I couldn't even hug one. Those calves, scarcely comprehensible slabs of meat, each bigger than my own pecs. Those glutes, protruding out of his hips even more than his monstrous back muscles. Every single bodypart of this incredible human specimen required your constant attention and worship. I found myself squeezing, feeling, massaging, sometimes even licking each and every one of his bodyparts. "Mmm, you really like my body, don't you Kris? This year, I weigh 440lbs, 4% bodyfat. That's another 20lbs more than last year's Mr. O." He moaned contentedly. I was slowly turning him on. "How do you do it, Black Hulk?" I asked him I licked one of his nipples, then continued "I mean, I'm proud of my 5'9, 190lbs body, but I have to work really hard to stay in shape. You look godlike all the time. I'm squeezing as hard as I can and it feels like squeezing a marble statue." "Man, you want my body so bad. Your lust for me is actually turning me on" moaned the superbodybuilder. "Let's go to my room. It's more private." He dried off, and re-wrapped his towel around his waist. Even like this, the towel was slightly tented... his cock was indeed half-hard. "You sure? I mean... yes, YES" I almost shouted. I hurriedly dried off and wrapped my own towel around my waist, concealing my own totally erect cock that had been straining my swimtrunks for the past half an hour. As we were leaving, a family entered the pool premises. The mother and the father were shocked by the dimensions of my idol, and they were relieved that we were leaving. Their son, who couldn't have been older than 7 years old, pointed at him and said "Look, Mommy, it's the Hulk!" We exited the pool amid the voices of the mother and father trying to explain to their kid that my idol wasn't the Hulk because his skin wasn't green. It took us around five minutes to reach his room at the twenty-first floor. During those five minutes, a million thoughts raced through my head. Are we going to have sex? Will this be just a worship session? Am I dreaming? Whatever it was, I thought how blessed I was to be with the man of my dreams, even if this was, indeed, a dream. We entered his room, and I closed the door. The room was huge, almost like an apartment. I was marveling at the beauty and size of the room, when I felt him hugging me from my back. Then he whispered, in that sexy accent of his, "Let me give you a pre-show." He allowed me to turn around. His cock and balls were now visibly straining his swimtrunks more than before. He started to practice his posing routine in front of me. Now I already described to you his incredibly huge muscles, how massively thick, huge, hard, and bulging they were. That was when he was relaxed. When flexing them, his muscles really came alive. When he did a crab pose, his already enormous and thick pecs inflated outwards like balloons, except that they were even harder than before. I found myself getting so hard that I had to take off my swimtrunks, because they were hurting. He slightly gasped when he saw my erect cock, probably because it was leaking precum. He did a back pose, copying Ronnie Coleman's signature pose, where he would spread his lats more and more, until he reaches their maximum spread. Except this man's back was infinitely thicker and infinitely wider, to the point where, in his final lat spread pose, his fists couldn't even reach his relatively small waist. I moaned slightly in response, as my precum was forming a small puddle below me. He then turned sideways, and here his absurd thickness was made clear. My eyes traced through his neck and traps, going outwards through his immense back muscles and monstrous pecs, to then narrow down to his waist and well-muscled abs, to then stretch out absurdly by his impossibly thick glutes and monumental quads. He started doing his signature pose, where he slowly flexed his right bicep, making it turn from a melon, to a bowling ball, to a watermelon. As my eyes bugged out, witnessing the incredible flexing of his bicep, I was absolutely sure that bicep couldn't grow any bigger, but then he grinned and effortlessly flexed it further, making it probably as big as a basketball. I lost it; I started to cum powerfully all over myself, at the sight of this incredible display of musculature, all without ever touching my dick. So powerful was my orgasm that most of my cum hit his forearm, bicep and right quad, even though I was a good two feet away from him. My cock was an erupting volcano that was being kept in check for far too long, resulting in a more massive eruption than usual. My orgasm took about seven seconds to complete. It was, easily, my most satisfying orgasm ever. "God, that's so hot" he murmured, as he scrambled to remove his own swimtrunk, which only succeeded in tearing it off his hulking body. His own cock was now rock hard. "I made you cum just by flexing my muscles... that's the hottest thing I've ever witnessed." he moaned. His cock was covering his navel and his midsection, probably around a foot long and as thick as my wrist... no, probably even thicker. His balls hung low, and looked as big as the rest of him. I came closer to him, rubbing my own cum along his quads, then my left hand cupped his balls. They must have easily been five times bigger than mine, maybe even six. My right hand managed to just encompass the huge girth of his erect cock. Then I started to stroke it, caress it, marveling at its incredible size. "Harder, Kris. Use your full strength with me! Do not hold back!" the massive superbodybuilder implored. "Yes, yes, certainly, I apologize, Black Hulk." "Do not apologize. I like you a lot, Kris. Nobody has ever turned me on as much as you have done today." I started to nibble on his left nipple, which was almost the size of a small penis, while I simultaneously pinched his right nipple and jerked his amazing cock with my hands. He moaned in delight. "Ohh yes, you're good at this" Black Hulk moaned. I'm GOOD at this? This is my very first sexual encounter with anyone, and fate wanted that my very first sex session was to be with the biggest, most muscular bodybuilder on the planet. "Please, don't stop" he continued. I rubbed my hands against his abs, with all my might, in the meantime licking and biting them. I tasted his savoury sweat and a bit of my own cum. His huge cock became even bigger, as it almost hit my head. "FUCK, that's it, I HAVE to fuck you," he roared. He lifted me up like I was a rag doll. He let me face his gigantic upper body while pointing his giant dickhead towards my ass. "Hold on, hold on, Black Hulk! Please... please... be gentle... this is my first time." I felt his massive dickhead penetrating me. Surprisingly, it didn't feel as uncomfortable as I thought. Using just a fraction of his hulk-like strength, he pushed inside me, using his own precum as lubricant, until most of his cock was in. "Relax," he whispered in my ear. "Let go of me, balance on my cock alone, feel how even my cock is super powerful." I did as he told me, and indeed, his cock managed to support my entire weight. I also felt some liquid squirting inside my ass. "Are you... cumming?" I asked him. "That's my precum, Kris. It squirts as far as most people's cumshots. It will help with keeping your insides nice and moist for my cock to slide easily." "Wow, you're amazing, Black Hulk!" I hadn't finished saying this completely... he grabbed my ass and pushed his cock partially out of my hole and pushed it back in, slowly. "Did that hurt?" he asked. "No, no." "Good. Enjoy the ride. Cling to wherever of my body you like!" I grabbed his giant pecs as he started fucking me, first slowly, then faster and faster. At some points, he was almost hitting my prostate. My dick went rock hard again, as I realized that I was completely at this monstrous hulk's mercy. Soon, he started to moan louder, and his body started to glisten with sweat. His glistening muscles flexed several times as he edged closer to orgasm. Then he hit my prostate, sending me into an instinctive orgasm, and... "Oh GOD, Kris, I'm CUMMING... OH... OOOHHHOOHHH... Fuck YEAH!" My butt was blasted repeatedly with this incredible man's cum, in an orgasm that must have taken a full minute. Then, slowly, it abated, and his breathing became more normal. "Ohh... phew, that felt really good Kris." He disengaged his cock off my ass. Surprisingly, none of his cum rolled out of my butthole, and I did not feel bloated or anything. "Uh... where did your cum go?" I asked him. "Is this normal?" "I honestly have no idea" he told me, concerned. Then it hit me. A massive spasm all over my abdomen. Then all over me. Then it went as quickly as it came. Perhaps it took two seconds, tops. "Fuck, what was that?" we asked, together. ---------------- Chapter 2: Mysterious Bodily Reactions We looked at each other, stunned. "Did... did it hurt?" the overly-muscular black bodybuilder asked, after a protruded silence. "No, no. It felt... weird, though. Like there was something inside me stretching my body parts. But now, I feel fine." "You sure?" the muscle monster mused. "Really, Henk, I do." It was the first time I called him by his real name. The hulking muscleman smiled faintly, in approval. "Look, today has been unbelievable getting to... know you better, Henk. You fulfilled my utmost dreams, and more. I'll never forget this day, ever. But now, I'm sure you need to prepare for tomorrow's prejudging and Saturday's contest." "Yes, I do, Kris. But I have an offer for you. Would you want to be backstage tomorrow and Sunday, with me?" "You're kidding? I'd really, REALLY love to! But, I'm not, uh, very well-acquainted with... being back-stage." "I just need you to apply oil on my body. You know, to make my muscles show more. I'm sure you'll do very well in that regard, after how you worshipped me earlier." The huge muscleman winked and grinned. "The rest, leave it up to me. You in?" Rubbing Black Hulk's giant muscles with oil? Who in their right mind would refuse such an offer? "Of COURSE I'm in! I'm just afraid that I'll be turned on all the time by your..." "Good. That's exactly what I want." Black Hulk grinned again. His grin is so hot, I thought: pure white teeth atop a sea of bulging black muscles. "What do you mean?" "You'll see tomorrow." I wanted to ask him why such a successful bodybuilder does not have a team of trainers, nutritionists, sponsors and spokespersons, but I decided not to raise this issue. Still, this IS a little weird. He seems to be all alone in this hotel, after all. The other Mr. Olympia contestants are probably answering questions in press conferences, whereas Black Hulk is in a hotel fucking a stranger... "Oh, and another thing. You're free to come to my room any time while you're staying in this hotel," continued the multiple Mr. O. winner. "Likewise, Henk. Listen, I'm starving. Shall we get something to eat?" "Yes, there's a buffet going on. It started while we were... swimming", the massive black bodybuilder winked. "Let me shower first. I still stink of your cum." He laughed. "Okay, I guess I'll go shower in my room and come back," I said. "No you won't," the immense muscle mountain quipped. He lifted me up with one arm. "You'll shower with me. Why waste water? Besides, you can lather my back much better than I can." "Oh, I can lather every INCH of you, not just your back" I moaned, getting horny again at the prospect of showering with the man of my dreams. He carried me to the shower, and opened the water. We lathered each other. He was right: his upper body was so wide that he couldn't ever lather himself at various places. I paid extra attention to each of his bodyparts, rubbing them with shower gel repeatedly. Even though I had orgasmed twice in the past half an hour, I found myself getting hopelessly horny again. He showed me his massive biceps again, flexing them for me, making them basketballs of power. "Fuck, man, those biceps, they make me rock hard every time. They're so FUCKING immense," I moaned. He placed my cock between his super thick left forearm and his giant left bicep, and flexed the bicep around my cock. Needless to say, this had a very quick effect: my cock blasted another copious amount of cum all over him. He smiled. "It's my turn now" I told him, as I recovered from my third orgasm in thirty five minutes. I grabbed his cock and gave him a good handjob. The cock rose to its barely-believable length and girth. Then I took his cockhead in my mouth; it was as big as a fucking apple. I sucked him as hard as I could, while simultaneously jerking it off with all my might and fondling his oversized balls. He started to moan louder and louder, until finally I was rewarded with a mighty roar, accompanied by a large stream of cum blasting out of his cock, hitting the sides of the shower with impressive force. His orgasm took about half a minute to abate, which was incredibly amazing, considering that only half an hour before he was spraying cum for an entire minute. We finally headed off the shower. I dried off and wrapped my towel around myself, when I noticed something. "Hey look, that's weird... I don't have any hair anymore! Like, no hair on my chest, my forearms, my legs, my armpits... I don't even have pubic hair!" I touched my head and face. My hair and stubble were still there, thankfully. "Hmm... that IS strange..." the black muscleman mused. "You're... you're kinda like me, now, with no hair below your neck at all." "That's different - you probably waxed it for the contest. Right?" "Uh, actually I didn't. I don't have any hair on my body. Below my head, that is. Maybe... that's what your spasms did to you earlier... still, why would your bodyhair disappear so quickly?" The overly-sized muscleman was deep in thought. "Don't worry about it. I'll get used to it. And, maybe it'll grow again. I'll pop out to my room to wear something. We'll meet near the elevator," I said. A few minutes later. I was next to the elevator, wearing shirt and trousers. I saw him coming, and was stunned again. He was wearing a white T-shirt with the words 'BLACK HULK' embroidered in black, and blue shorts. However, they were so tight on his bulging mountains of muscle that all of his muscle beneath the fabric could easily be traced, including not only his immense pecs, but also his abdominals and his nipples. His shorts expanded ridiculously around his superhuge quads and glutes, each overinflated muscle group threatening to rip it off at any moment. "Jesus, Henk, your clothes leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, don't they?" I murmured. "They don't. I had made these to order when I was 410lbs, a year and a half ago. Now that I'm 440lbs, they are juuuust a little bit tight," he teased. We entered the restaurant and took a plateful of the buffet food. People actually stopped and stared at the huge muscleman. Some murmured something to themselves, others turned to their friends and nudged them to take a look at Henk. I felt proud that I was next to him. Nobody in the whole world has an amorous partner as hot as mine. I was really starving, so I visited the buffet several times, like four or five times. The massive bodybuilder did likewise. I noticed that he was not much choosy with his food; he was eating carbs, protein, fibre, milk products... he was enjoying everything. That's weird, I thought: this guy is going to be in the world's biggest bodybuilding contest tomorrow, and he's not even trying to eat well for it. What I soon found weirder was how my appetite was not satiated, even after eating 7 platefuls of food. Even Henk said he was full after taking seven plates of delicious food. On the other hand, my stomach felt like I barely even started. "Man, you eat even more than I do... that's impressive," the black muscle mountain mused. "I'm surprising even myself... I usually just take three plates, tops, including dessert," I said. "What's happening to me? I'm still starving!" "I honestly have no idea... good thing we have this buffet going on... you can keep eating without paying extra!" Black Hulk said, glancing towards another table. Looking in the direction he was glancing at, there was a young woman sitting down, eyeing both of us, but especially staring at my idol. "You know her?" I whispered. "I don't think I do," confessed the huge bodybuilder. "She wants me badly, though, judging by how she's looking at me. I know that look. Bet her panties are soaking wet!" He laughed faintly at his own joke. "I'll go get another plate of food," I said. "Cool. I'm good. I'll wait for you." As I filled my plate for the eighth time, I actually felt a little bit jealous. But then I remembered that his superhuman musclegod is a well-known pornstar... it is to be expected that he's not into one stable sex partner. Just then, I noticed the top button of my shirt had popped off. That's strange... even my sleeves are filled more than before. It seems like my body is getting bigger. Well, of course it is... I must have eaten close to 8000 calories in the past hour or so. But, my waist was still as trim as ever... it's like the extra weight has gone to my... pecs and arms? I went back to my restaurant seat, noticing that, in the meantime, Black Hulk was in the company of the girl that was eyeing him earlier. "Uh, excuse me, I'll go to the bathroom quick," I quipped, then immediately raced to the bathroom close by. * * * Everyone gasped when he entered. He swaggered slowly to a restaurant seat, accompanied by a man who must have been in his mid-twenties. This was not odd, since we were in the restaurant buffet room, me and around six or seven strangers. What made everyone gasp was the sheer amount of muscular development the former man's body was presenting to our senses. To me, those muscles were instantly recognizable. They belonged to Henk Kuria, or, as everyone in the porn industry called him, Black Hulk. This guy was, in a word, freaky. I've always secretly loved professional bodybuilders. My female friends somehow always found them 'gross' or 'disgusting', and, in front of them, I agreed. But, secretly, I get wet whenever an overly muscular man flashes past my eyes. And Black Hulk wasn't just overly muscular. He was, like, twice as big as the biggest pros. This guy's muscles were astonishingly huge... really, there was no comparison. It was like his muscles had muscles of their own. And he was BLACK. I LOOOVE black men. They look so virile. His skin was really, really dark, too; he was one of the blackest men I had ever witnessed. That made him even hotter, in my books. I had searched for his name ever since I stumbled upon the first porno I watched that featured him. He fucked Lela Star senseless in that porn flick, and the poor girl with the comically enhanced butt just didn't know what hit her. She must have felt like she was being fucked by a bulldozer. And then, his orgasm, showering all over her body... his cumshot was easily that of 10 men combined. After that flick, Lela Star actually took a six month break from porn, citing 'personal issues'. But the stage was set. Black Hulk had stolen her limelight, and that light is still shining brightly. Indeed, he not only shot several other porn flicks, with men, women, or both at once, but he became even bigger, and his orgasms even longer and more powerful. Some people started to question how real his orgasms were, although most did not care. The porn industry made sure to mention that none of what they're filming was staged or faked. And, in most nights, I end up shoving a cucumber in my pussy, fucking myself furiously, wishing that cucumber was Black Hulk fucking me into oblivion as I watch him on my phone in my bed. Anyway, Black Hulk is here, a few feet away from me. For some reason, he happens to be in the same hotel I'm in. Maybe for a new porno shoot? Who knows. I was staring at him. He was wearing a white T-shirt, with the words 'BLACK' and 'HULK'. The word 'BLACK' was stretched all around the top of his enormous pectorals, while the word 'HULK' was below it, in the middle, with his two nipples on either side of the word. Fuck, his T-shirt was so tight that even his nipples were visible; that's insane. His pectorals must be much bigger than my own breasts. That's really saying something, as I wear a 34M cup size. I'm a chubby 5'7, 175lbs woman with a 48-32-40 figure. You either love or hate my body. Some guys find me disgustingly fat, while others just adore my voluptuous body. I've had a few one-night stands with men from the latter category, and they have honestly given me much-needed self-confidence about my body. This made me accept what God has given me, and now I flaunt what I have, rather than try to hide it. Which is what this incredible male specimen a few feet from me certainly does; that T-shirt he's wearing just makes him flaunt the godlike upper body he has. Fuck, he's even hotter up close than in the pornos. My juices were flowing. Just then, the guy he was with him stood up to take another plate. I decided to show slightly more cleavage, to see if the giant black bodybuilder noticed. He did, and smiled. I smiled back, then stood up and came next to him. "Hi, I'm Chloe, nice to meet you, Black Hulk." I extended my hand. He took it and kissed it. "Likewise, Chloe. I'm Henk. You've got a very naturally beautiful body, miss." He smiled. "Thank you. Nowhere near close to your magnificence, though," I said, my heart racing. He likes me. Helikesmehelikesmehelikesmehelikesmeeee... "You're a fan, Chloe?" asked the god, known to us mortals as Black Hulk. "Yes. Big fan of your, uh... movies. Big fan of your huge muscles. You're the best!" I enthused. "Thanks, dear. On holiday?" "No, business trip. I'm a journalist, working for the website CoolnHot.com. I'm assigned to write an article about the gambling and entertainment industry here in Vegas, by witnessing them first-hand. I return home tomorrow morning. You?" "I'm here to win the Mr. Olympia contest for the fourth time." I stared at him blankly. I never heard of a Mr. Olympia contest before. "What's that... a pornstar award?" I asked, innocently. Black Hulk laughed. "No, no. It's the biggest bodybuilding contest in the world. I've won it three times already. I'm here to win it for the fourth time. It starts tomorrow and ends Saturday." Just then, Black Hulk's friend returned, and told us he was going to the bathroom. He left the plate on the table and rushed away to the lavatory. "Who is he?" I asked, curious. "He's Kris. A REALLY good friend. He's responsible for making me look good during the contest while I'm backstage. Mostly by rubbing oil on my body." Wow, I'd love to do that, I thought. "You'd like to do that, don't you?" the massive muscleman asked, grinning. "Uh... yeah... admittedly, I'd love to." How did he know what I was thinking? Am I really that easy to read? "Then come to my room... I will let you do that, and more." He winked at me and smiled again, flashing those pure white, sparking teeth. "That's if you've finished eating, of course," he added. "No, no... I'm finished. But... what about your good friend... Kris?" "I'll just leave a note on the table that I had to leave suddenly. Come on, I'll pay for your meal." Just then, he stood up. "Oh, uh, you don't..." I stopped midway through speaking, as I witnessed his 6'4, 440lbs supermuscular frame towering over me. "I mean, uh, thanks," I corrected myself. The black god endowed with the most immense muscles I had ever seen went to the counter and paid for three meals. He then scribbled a note and left it on the table. I was actually impressed that his thick, muscular fingers could still hold a pen relatively easily. "Let's go, my room is in the twenty-first floor," Black Hulk cooed. People stared at us as they walked out of the restaurant and into the elevator. My panties were practically soaked now. I was worried that some wet spot would be visible down my dress, especially since there was another couple with us in the elevator. Their eyes bugged out when they saw the mountain of muscle that was with me. I felt proud of my catch tonight... I was sure this one-night stand will be my best one ever. We arrived at his room. I guess it was some kind of executive suite, because it was much larger and spacious than my room. I closed the door behind me, and immediately sneaked in his bathroom, removing all my clothes. I was never so wet and horny in my life. I tiptoed out, and, before he had even turned around from placing the door key on the desk, I rubbed his massive back, and whispered: "Ready when you are, Black Hulk." ---------------- Chapter 3: Chloe Sex and Muscle Growth He turned around, surprised at my directness. His deep brown eyes scanned my naked body from top to bottom. They approved of what they saw. "I'm always ready, Chloe. You have a very curvy, beautiful body. It reminds me of the beautiful women from my home country. Except your white skin, which I find very appealing," the muscular pornstar said. He put his well-muscled arms around my nude lower back, inviting me to draw myself even closer to his titanic body. I gladly accepted the invitation, and began to grind my entire body, especially my ample breasts, against his hulking, bulging muscles. My head could only reach his monstrous pectorals, so I cradled it between them. He moved his hands towards my round butt, and squeezed them. Being so close to him, I felt his cock starting to stir. "You like my ass, huh?" I cooed as I lifted his T-shirt, willing him to remove it. This exposed his fantastically muscled eight-pack abdominals. I started to squeeze them, but they felt like hard bricks. They were so thick that I could insert my entire index finger in the space between each of the brick-like abdominals. "Holy cow, you're a fucking muscle brick shit-house. Your muscles are even bigger than they look in your pornos," I continued, in absolute amazement. He said nothing; he only grinned at me. Then, his right hand moved towards his T-shirt. Tugging it from the bottom, he tore it off his ridiculously overdeveloped upper body like he had been tearing off toilet paper. His entire upper body was now exposed, and I almost fainted. From the position I was, I could see two enormous orbs of pectoral muscles, each as big as a gravel sack. I rubbed them slowly. They were dense, thick slabs of power; no wonder he could rip off this oversized, yet barely-fitting T-shirt so incredibly easily. The minimal effort he produced to tear off his T-shirt off his body made his arm visibly bounce... it looked as big as one of my buckets I use when I wash my apartment's floor. It was my turn to get speechless. I felt my vaginal fluids roll down the inside of my thighs - I was THAT turned on. My breathing grew heavier. He then gently lifted me up, so that my eyes were level with his. His grin was confident, cocky. He was definitely my first one-night stand that could lift me up so easily, as if my curvy, 175lbs body was as heavy as a book, to him. He lowered his head and sucked my right nipple, which I felt was as big as one of my lipstick bullets. Instinctively, I lowered my head back in ecstasy, as I felt his lips leave my right nipple to plant themselves on my left. I started moaning loudly, wishing him to ravage my pussy with that huge cock of his, that 10 inch monster I always fantasized would, one day, be sliding inside MY pussy instead of the pussy of some random plastic-surgery-filled pornstar. He placed me back on the floor. My eyes were transfixed on the ridiculous bulge between his massive thighs. He removed his shorts, freeing his massive cock from its confines. It immediately sprang upwards, hitting my abdomen in the process, then started to lengthen and thicken further. He had no pants beneath the shorts. Finally, the magnificent dick eased its growth. It pointed directly to my face; I imagined it telling me that, since I was responsible for waking it up, it was going to fuck me really hard. It looked bigger than 10 inches, and thicker than the cucumber I practise with when watching his porn flicks. My sexual arousal has never been this high. My mind was completely blown away by this god. I felt my juices trickle down my thigh and reaching my knees. "You told me 'ready when you are' earlier. Well, I'm definitely ready NOW," Black Hulk announced. He lifted me with one arm and placed me on his bed in a doggy position, with my ample butt facing him. I then waited for him to insert his giant black fuckstick inside my waiting pussy. I felt him do precisely that a moment later. His cock felt really hard and filled up my vaginal walls completely, but I was so well lubricated that there was no pain at all, just ecstasy. "Oh God, you're so big, you fill me up so much. Fuck me, fuck me HARD!" I shouted in delirium. He didn't need my compliance. I felt his hands grab my ass, then he started to fuck me senseless. Each push of his cock inside me felt like a mini-orgasm. I started shouting obscenities, strings of dirty vulgarities that my mind was stringing up there and then. I was nearing an earth-shattering orgasm, so my slurs were becoming more and more high-pitched. In response, he fucked me faster. That was it: my eyes rolled backwards and my mouth made an exaggerated 'OOOOOOOHHHHHH' shape as I climaxed powerfully, my vocal chords trying to keep up with the intensity of my orgasm. He slowed down, waiting for my orgasm to subside, then picked up the pace once again. I felt his cock throbbing even bigger inside me, probably triggered by my insane climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckk, FFFUUUUUCCKKKKK OOOOOHOHOHHHHOHOHHH GODDDDDDDD FUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I shouted as another orgasm hit my senses. He slowed down again, then restarted his relentless pussy drilling with that insane cock he has. I've seen him do it several times in his porn movies; how he'd fuck a girl repeatedly, sending her into countless orgasms, until she literally couldn't take any more, and then, and only then, he ejaculates. I used to think that a lot of editing was involved for that to truly happen. It turns out no editing was required; this man, or should I say, god, knew how to please a woman in a complete, entire way. "Fuck... fuck... Hulk... HULK... BLACK HULK... PLEASE... no more... oh god... you're so good... but please... no more... that's more than enough... fuck... so much cock..." I finally told him after my latest mind-blowing orgasm. I must have orgasmed eight, nine, ten times, I don't remember. He slowed down, then proceeded to slide his cock off my pussy. "No, Black Hulk, what are you doing? I want you to fill my pussy up with your seed." "You sure?" "Yes, I am. I'm on the pill, and I've had my period six days ago. It's safe. Please fill me up with your seed. I beg you. It would make me complete." Black Hulk obliged. He inserted his still rock hard, massive cock inside my vagina. He started to fuck me yet again, but this time, his technique was subtly different. This time, he was doing this to pleasure himself, not myself. Soon I heard him moan louder and louder. I figured he was getting close to orgasm, as his fucks became quicker and more powerful. Finally, I felt him insert his cock completely inside me, almost together with half of his balls, and he roared loudly. I felt my pussy being blasted by an incomprehensible amount of cum. His orgasm lingered on for what seemed like a full minute. During this time, his cock was spewing cum non-stop. I felt my belly actually expand a little bit as my internal organs tried to accommodate this insane amount of cum that was being introduced to them. Finally, his orgasm abated, and he sighed contently. My belly went back to its usual form, and he disengaged his gigantic organ off my vagina. I turned round slowly on the bed to face him. He was covered in sweat, which I found really hot. I opened my legs to allow some of his cum flow out of my vagina, but, surprisingly, none did. "Hey, what the hell? Where did all that cum go?" "I... I have no idea," Black Hulk said. He looked concerned. Then, I suddenly felt it. A massive spasm all over my abdomen. Then another one all over me. Then several spasms, one after the other, shaking my entire body. I continued spasming like this, for what seemed like an eternity. During all this time, I couldn't speak, nor move, nor do anything except spasming, although I was completely conscious. Then, finally, as I was expecting another spasm hitting me, it did not come. I waited and waited, but nothing happened. I must have spasmed for, like, an entire minute. Black Hulk looked at me, and uttered "Oh my god!" * * * I went back to my restaurant seat, noticing that, in the meantime, Black Hulk was in the company of the girl that was eyeing him earlier. "Uh, excuse me, I'll go to the bathroom quick," I quipped, then immediately raced to the bathroom close by. I looked in the mirror. My pecs were definitely bigger. I felt them, and confirmed my suspicion: they were not only bigger, but firmer, denser. Removing the remaining buttons of my shirt, my eyes analysed my abdominals. They looked more defined. My arms looked like they were tighter around my half-sleeve, too, and, although I wasn't feeling uncomfortable yet, my trousers looked tighter around my quads. I smiled. I redid the buttons of my shirt - well, all of them except the top one, which popped earlier - and went back to the restaurant. Strangely, my massive bodybuilding friend was nowhere to be seen. When I went back to our table, there was a note: "Something came up. I paid for your meal. See you tomorrow. BLACK HULK." Something came up, huh? He's probably fondling that bitch's huge boobs right now. Oh well, he's a pornstar, after all... I wolfed down the plate that I had filled up earlier, the one I had left on the table. I was still hungry. Like, REALLY hungry. I revisited the buffet table many other times. Each time, I devoured the food like I had not eaten for weeks. After five more plates, another button popped off my shirt. I decided to undo all the buttons at this point. People were leaving the restaurant, it was getting late. I continued to relentlessly gulp down plateful after plateful of food, amid occasional tears of fabric from my short sleeves or trousers. Finally, after eating about 30 plates of food, I was satiated. Mind you, it felt like I've just eaten a salad, but, at least, I wasn't hungry anymore. I stood up to leave, when the kitchen staff manager stopped me. "Sir, you have to pay." "Uh, my friend paid for my meal already." "Yes, he did," he explained, glancing at my upper body, partly concealed by my tattered shirt, then at my face again. "But, uh, you ate much, much more food than I had ever seen in my twelve years of being head of this restaurant. So we thought that, uh, you'd pay again? It would still be a bargain for you, you know." He sounded sheepish, which was something I never got from other people before. It was as if he was afraid talking to me. "Uh, sure, I understand. Here, I'll pay twice as much as the price bill. You deserve it, the food was delicious." My hands reached out for my wallet. In doing so, my right bicep involuntarily flexed, causing my right sleeve to rip completely. The restaurant manager gulped. "No, no, no... uh, you know what, we're fine. We're glad our service was to your satisfaction. We're good. You may leave." "Take this as a tip," I insisted, handing him seventy dollars. "And I'll be sure to recommend your restaurant to my friends." "Thank you, sir. Much appreciated." He took the money and hurried back to the kitchen, relieved. I proceeded to go back to my room. People stared at me as I walked. Part of my shirt and trousers were in tatters, so I thought that's why people were staring. I arrived at my room, removed my clothes, and looked at the bathroom mirror. The reflection depicted on the mirror shocked me. I looked like a professional bodybuilder. My muscles, even relaxed, were round and hard. Nowhere close in size as those of Black Hulk, but easily as big as those of the bodybuilders from the noughties era. I looked like Jay Cutler in his prime. No wonder people were staring at me, and no wonder that restaurant manager was stuttering. I started flexing, and my muscles responded beautifully. My biceps were particularly huge, perfect peaks of muscle flesh. My pectorals were thick and heavy. My abdominals were massive and well-defined. My quads were twice as big as before, and even my cock looked bigger. I felt it grow and harden as my eyes feasted on my own, hot, muscular body. I marveled at its size... easily two inches bigger than before, both in length and in circumference, and completely hairless - like the rest of me. My balls felt fuller and bigger, too. I then noticed a bathroom scale tucked away in the corner of the hotel room. I reached out for it, and stepped on it. My eyes couldn't believe it when the needle stopped at... 260lbs. My brain was trying to comprehend my new mass. Even if I assumed that the scales were not calibrated correctly, it still meant that I had somehow gained 70lbs of mass in a few hours. Even weirder, from what I saw in the mirror, all of this mass was added to my muscles and cock, and none of it went in my body as fat. "Wow," I finally gasped. "I look incredible." But, what caused this? My mind started to recall the earlier events of the day. Then I remembered. The spasms. The cum somehow magically disappearing inside me. Black Hulk! His cum must have done this to me. I didn't mind this at all, of course. In fact, I was grateful for this gift that he gave me. But, I had to go back to his room to have some answers. Problem was, I did not know what I was going to wear. Nothing fit me. I then decided to wear the swimpants I was wearing in the pool earlier. It was still wet, so I wrapped a towel round my waist. People won't ask too many questions, seeing me like this. It would look like I was going for a late pool dip. I arrived at his room. As I was going to knock on his door, I heard muffled voices speaking inside. One of them was of a lady, and she sounded upset about something. Then I heard Black Hulk's voice, seemingly trying to calm her down and reassure her. In the next few minutes, her voice took a different tone, and she seemed much more amiable. I heard them approach the door. "My clothes still fit me," I thought I heard the lady say. "I look really hot!" "You were hot before, too," I heard Black Hulk's voice say, "only now you're even hotter." "I'm ready. Let's go," she said. I decided to knock on the door, otherwise I'd be accused of overhearing their conversation. "It's me, Kris. Am I disturbing?" The door opened. Black Hulk was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, identical to those he wore with me at the restaurants, but, this time, the colours were inverted: the T-shirt was blue and the shorts were white. Then a lady appeared, who I recognized as the woman we met at the restaurant. She looked slightly different, but I couldn't put a finger into how. "Uh, hi Kris. This is Chloe. We were just... OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?" ---------------- Chapter 4: Chloe's Transformation "I grew." I flexed a bicep. With little effort, it became as big as a grapefruit. "I grew a LOT," I continued. "And I wanted to ask YOU, man, what happened to ME, because YOU caused this." "Don't waste time, sexy," the girl who Black Hulk introduced as Chloe mused, "I have already asked him how he did THIS to ME, but he claims he does not know." With that, she lifted her dress, and I gasped. Her breasts were still really big, but now her belly was gone. Instead of it, she had a flat stomach, with visible, but faint, abdominals. Her arms looked narrower and more toned, as did her legs. "He transformed me into a fitness model," she continued, "just by, uh, having sex with me. I started to spasm uncontrollably, and when that was over, my body fat had melted, except for the fat in my breasts and butt." Wow, I thought to myself. What the fuck? "Listen, I already told you that I don't know what's happening. It's the truth," the immensely musclebound, black musclegod said. "And you - and I -love your new look, anyway." "That's besides the point. I look too hot, now, to work in any normal job. Do you think I can continue to be a journalist with a body like this?" she said. "I told you already, you can be my spokesperson. And you agreed, didn't you?" Black Hulk replied. "Yes, I did. And I'm looking forward to it. It gives me an amazing opportunity to be close to you. Although," turning to me, "Your friend Kris here is HOTTT too. Wow, look at that body!" "Thanks, Chloe, but if you're trying to seduce me, it's not working. That's not how I swing. Sorry to disappoint," I smiled. Honestly, however, she did look incredible. Perhaps I could make an exception with her... "Pity," she uttered. Then she changed the subject. "I'm starving to death here. Let's go eat something. Isn't that why we were leaving?", she said, as she lowered her dress again. "Hold on a minute," I said. "What did you say? You're hungry?" "Awfully so. I feel like I haven't eaten for an entire month," she answered. "Well, the same thing happened to me. I don't know if this super muscle god," - referring to Black Hulk - "told you, but we had steamy hot sex earlier today." I stopped, reminiscing those incredible, orgasming moments. "Anyway, my body also spasmed a bit, though only for a couple of seconds. Also, all of my body hair disappeared. Then, I started feeling REALLY hungry. I've just finished eating, actually. More than thirty platefuls of buffet food. And I could eat more, if I wanted to... after all that food, I feel like I've eaten a salad. That is how I got all these muscles." "Wait, so... if I eat, I'll grow muscles?" she mused. "Probably. Judging from what happened to me, anyway." Turning to the massive bodybuilder, I said, "that's why I came to your room, Henk, to demand an explanation." "And I don't have any," Black Hulk said. "I'll repeat what I said to Chloe. I'm as puzzled by what happened to each of you as you are. Honest to God." "So, let me get this straight. If I eat, I'll become big and muscular?" Chloe repeated. "This fitness body is hot, and I can certainly live with it. But, me being huge and buff, like both of you... I don't know if I can handle that. But... I'm SOOOO hungry, dammit!" "Look, uh, maybe it doesn't work the same way for women as it does for men" said the black, musclebound god, to try to calm down the situation. "Come on, let's go. I know of a place close by that offers huge servings; if you eat it all, you get it for free. You need to eat first, Chloe, then worry about what you look like later." "So THAT's how you solve this problem, huh?" snapped the lady. "I eat first, then worry about how I look like later?" "Have you got a better idea?" the insanely muscular hulking man answered, quietly. Then he continued, "Look, if it helps, I did not want to be this big, either. But I did become this big, and I learned to embrace my body." "What do you mean?" I interjected. "You started going to the gym to get bigger, right?" Black Hulk paused. Both my pair of eyes and Chloe's were on his. For once, we were not looking at his outrageously muscular body stretching his T-shirt and shorts to their absolute limits. Then, he broke the silence. "Would you believe me if I told you that I never set foot in any gym in my entire life?" "WHAT???" me and Chloe shouted simultaneously. "Look, man, that's simply not possible," I continued. "Nobody grows a body as huge, dense, and bulging with muscles as the one you possess without lifting stuff. Then again..." I paused, then continued, "nobody grows 70lbs of muscle in a couple of hours, either. So many weird things happened today that what you've just said could also be true!" Black Hulk nodded. "Is that how much you grew?" asked Chloe, still shaken by the events that have unravelled in the past few hours. "Yes. That's how much I grew." I answered. "I weighed 190lbs this morning. Now I weigh 260lbs." "Wow... then I will REALLY become buff, if that happens to me as well," Chloe mused. "Say, I wonder how much I weigh right now." She stepped on the scales, which, unlike those in my room, were actually easily accessible in this one. "Wow, I only weigh 145lbs. I lost 30lbs!" "Really? Then maybe that's what the spasms were doing... they were melting away your fat," I suggested. "Maybe that's why I did not spasm as much as you did, too." She was probably going to retaliate my last suggestion that she was fatter than I was with a tirade of verbal abuse, but then she felt her tight stomach rumble. "Hey, can we continue discussing this later? I kinda need food URGENTLY." "Sure. You're coming with us, Kris?" Black Hulk asked me. "I'd love to, but nothing fits me. Can I lend some clothes?" I asked. "I could, but I'm 6'4 and I outweigh you by almost 200lbs. You're only, like 5'9." "I don't mind. I can still wear something." Black Hulk rummaged in his luggage. "Here, try these," he told me after extracting a yellow, full-sleeved, shirt and black shorts. "I was going to give them to a lucky fan next Sunday. They're from my first ever Mr. O. win, when I was 380lbs. Sorry, that's the smallest item of clothing I've got." I went to his bathroom, and tried them on. They were definitely too big for me, even though I was a veritable bodybuilding specimen myself. But there was nothing better to wear. I adjusted the sleeves to fit on my body as well as possible, and came out of the bathroom. "This will have to do. Let's go." We hurried to the restaurant, which turned out to be a pizza place. The decor contained a few pictures of past Mr. Olympias. In the middle, there was a picture of Black Hulk from last year's contest, triumphantly flexing his left arm, a barely comprehensible basketball of power, and clutching the trophy with his right. Some of the other clients greeted the arrival of the man, who seemed so revered in this restaurant. The owner greeted us, too, and shook Black Hulk's hand. "Good to see you, Paul," the musclegod said to the owner. "This is Kris, and she is Chloe." "Nice to meet you all. Hope you enjoy my food! Today I've got the Black Hulk pizza. We usually serve it to a group of 6 to 8 people. If somebody of you eats it alone, he... or she... gets it for free!" "I accept the challenge," said Chloe promptly. "My, my, lady, you have a huge appetite," smiled Paul the restaurant owner. "Mind you, if you lose the challenge, you'll have to pay for the pizza. It's worth $80, but, since you're a friend of Black Hulk, I'll give you a discount." "She won't lose," said Black Hulk the person, grinning. "Me and Kris here will split another Black Hulk pizza. What do you say, Kris?" "That's fine by me," I said. "I guess we can manage that." "Cool. Two Black Hulks then! One of my servers will be right back in a moment with your pizzas!" He hurried to the kitchen. "Look, Chloe, bill's on me, so don't stress if you lose the challenge," the supermuscular hulk told Chloe, softly. "But, I'm rooting for you!" "I WILL win the challenge! I've never been so hungry! I swear if I don't have food in front of me in fifteen minutes, then I'll eat both of you alive!" She laughed at her own joke. She looked happy, and raring to go. I smiled at her joke. I was happy too. Today's events made me happy. I was grateful for today. In the space of a few hours, Black Hulk turned from a distant idol to a close friend, who gave me an incredible gift; the gift of massive muscle size. Actually, he gave me another gift: the gift of friendship. I looked at him, at that body, and smiled. Shit, looking at his magnificent, supermuscular, bulging body never gets old. My cock stirred in my pants. The pizzas soon arrive. They were indeed HUGE. They couldn't fit together on our table, so one of the servers combined another table close by to ours. The server bringing the pizzas was a girl. She gave one to Chloe and split the other one. "I'm Amanda, your server" said the girl. "I'll be making sure that none of you boys will be helping the lady with her challenge. Especially you, Black Hulk. Pleased to meet you, by the way. You are even bigger than the pictures suggest." "That's what everyone tells me. Pleased to meet you too, Amanda. I'll be a good boy; I won't help Chloe here in any way!" Black Hulk answered, winking at the girl. The moment her pizza was served in front of her, Chloe began wolfing it down. It was a bit hilarious, in a way, seeing this 145lbs, 5'7 woman eating such a huge pizza. Not only was the pizza huge, but it was also topped with lots of ingredients: pepperoni, minced meat, artichoke hearts, tomato, peas, onion, green pepper, olives, and, of course, cheese. Me and my impossibly-muscular friend started to eat ours. The pizza was, indeed, delicious. Chloe was on a mission, eating a quarter of the pizza before we had even eaten our first slice. She didn't say anything, just ate and ate and ate. Amanda, for her part, had her eyes transfixed on Black Hulk. His upper body bounced and flexed involuntarily as he ate the pizza. She saw the bulging pecs and arms, and swallowed hard. She went in a dream-like state, as if she was thinking about a raunchy situation - indeed, her face turned slightly red. "Amanda, you should keep your focus on Chloe here, you know..." the monumental musclegod told her, grinning. "Uh, yes, sure, sure, I'm completely focused on what she's doing," the girl stammered. But she really wasn't, of course. She was mesmerized by Black Hulk, the supermuscular god of male bodybuilding perfection. Chloe was already on the sixth slice of the 16-slice pizza. She had already eaten more than two person's worth of food. By contrast, I was on my third slice, and Black Hulk was on his second. I watched, fascinated. It looked like her dress was slightly tighter around her bosom and shoulders. While eating her eighth slice, there was the sound of tearing fabric. Chloe seemed not to notice, and continued eating. Glancing at her, I noticed that her dress had ripped slightly from her back. She continued to eat and eat, amid more tearing sounds of her clothes. Black Hulk only ate two slices, then said he ate enough. I managed to eat six slices; not bad, considering I had eaten so much only an hour before. Now, however, I was really full. We could only stare at Chloe eating her pizza and, seemingly unbeknownst to her, growing out of her clothes. Meanwhile, the server girl, Amanda, was barely noticing what was happening to Chloe either. She was still apparently daydreaming about Black Hulk's gigantic slabs of muscle being proudly displaying through his overstretched clothing. She couldn't stop staring at him. I saw her grinding her feet together. Wow, Black Hulk's effect on some people is so strong. But, really, I understand Amanda's reaction to him; after all, I had a similar reaction to him, and probably so did Chloe. Chloe was now two slices away from eating an entire Black Hulk pizza. Her eating rate was steady; she never once took a break. I understood better than anyone how she was doing it, since I went through the same thing a few hours before. People were now approaching our table to witness this busty 5'7 woman manage the feat set by the pizza owner. I noticed her arms were now not just toned, but there were clear biceps, and even triceps, where none were before. She was much wider, too, which was part of the reason why her dress was ripping from her back. Finally, she did it. The last morsel of the pizza was consumed. Everyone cheered. Hearing these sudden cheers, Amanda snapped to her senses, and congratulated Chloe. Sensing that her job was done, she hurried back to help with the other tables. "That's amazing, Chloe. You ate a pizza made for 8 people!" I enthused. "I... I'm still hungry. Can I eat what's left of your pizza?" she meekly uttered. I gasped. "Uh... sure, sure. That's okay with you too, right, Henk?" "Yeah, go ahead. Better not let it go to waste. I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime," said the immensely muscular man after which the pizza was named. Just then, Amanda came out with a tray of drinks for some other table, and noticed the enormous bodybuilder walking to the bathroom. She quickly served the table, then hurried to meet Black Hulk before he entered the restroom. He somehow was not surprised by her; he looked like he was actually waiting for her to meet him there. She entered a staff-only room and invited the huge musclehulk in. After a while, I decided to investigate. "What's taking Black Hulk so long? I'll go see if everything is okay," I told Chloe. Of course, I knew what was happening. I went outside the door marked 'Staff Only', and immediately I could hear moaning and heavy breathing, and an 'oh my god, you're fucking huge!'. Yeah, as I suspected, the black musclegod was making out with the waitress. I went back to my seat. Chloe was almost finished with her pizza. "You okay, Chloe?" I asked her. "Yes, Kris. I'm starting to be full. After eating this last pizza slice, I should be satiated" she said, happily. "You know that you grew, right?" I asked her, softly. "Yes, I know. I actually liked it. How my body was making my dress small. How it couldn't contain it. It felt so good. In fact, I WANTED to grow muscles." I was taken aback by this confession. Just then, Black Hulk came back, looking sprightly as usual. Amanda was close behind him, slightly red-faced, but smiling widely. I went next to my massively muscled friend. "Hey, I know what you did back there," I whispered in his ear. "Yeah, she wanted to see me without my T-shirt. I obliged. Then she grinded her pussy against my right quad until she orgasmed loudly. That's it," Black Hulk whispered back. "After what happened to you two, I'm more careful now," he continued. "Okay, I'm satisfied now!" said Chloe suddenly, chewing the last morsel of our pizza. "Thank you, Black Hulk, for the free pizza, it was delicious!" "Sure, Chloe. I guess it's time for us to go back to the hotel, then. Let's pay and leave," Black Hulk said. He winked at Amanda. She came quickly. He gave her a hundred dollar bill. Paul the restaurant owner came by, to make sure we were satisfied by the food. After assuring him that we indeed were, we left. It was late, almost midnight. Chloe's dress was barely managing to hold her visibly wider frame. I still had a million questions to ask Black Hulk. How did all of this happen? Was it true that he never went to the gym? How did he get so huge, then? Was he somehow affected by someone's cum, the way his cum affected me and Chloe? As I was pondering these things, Chloe suddenly turned to me and said, "Hey, Kris, uh, you have already gone through what I'm going through. Would you mind if you sleep in my room tonight? My room has a double bed, because they couldn't find me a room with a single bed. I... I just want to make sure that nothing happens to me, you know?" "Uh, sure, sure Chloe," I answered. Then, referring to the black, tall, musclebound bodybuilder, I continued "Good night, Black Hulk. And thank you. Today was the best day of my life." "You're welcome, buddy. See you tomorrow at 8. We have breakfast together, okay? And see you too, Chloe. I'll extend your stay a couple more nights, from my own money." And we parted ways. Chloe and I entered her room. It was almost identical to mine, except it had a double bed, as she said. Almost immediately, she removed her dress, shamelessly in front of me, and went in front of the mirror. She gasped at her new, muscular body. Actually, so did I. I'm gay, but this woman was packing so much muscle that this was actually turning me on. Then came a huge surprise. She turned round, removed her bra and her panties, and cooed, in a really sexy voice, "You've feasted your eyes on MY body. Now let me feast my eyes on that sexy bod of yours, Kris." ---------------- Chapter 5: Kris and Chloe Make Out I was taken aback. "Uh, Chloe... you know I'm gay, right?" "Tell that to the bulge between your legs, honey," she replied, pointing to my crotch. "Besides, I only wanted to see your body, not to fuck me." "Fair's fair," I said. And, with that, I removed my oversized shirt, and my shorts. These clothes had made me forget how massively muscular I had become. "Jesus, Kris, you're fucking massive." Chloe's jaws dropped. "You look even bigger than before." "Yes, that could be the case, since I ate almost half a pizza, rememb..." "Oh, shut up. I don't care. All I care about is being in this sea of bulging, sexy, thick, hard muscle." With that, she started feeling my traps, my shoulders, my pectorals. On every bodypart she felt, she moaned appreciatively. "Shit, you're built like a brick shithouse. You're so hot. You're making me so fucking horny," she murmured. This was an absolute first for me. Usually, I'm the person who says these kind of things to another man. This role reversal was unexpected. However, I felt horny, too. Really horny. This woman was turning me on so bad. Her hands traversed my abdominals, a six pack of ripped musculature, then my butt, composed of incredible, striated glutes. I slowly removed my pants. I had to. She smiled. "For a gayboy, you're really turned on right now," she laughed. "Shut up." I admit, I was hurt by her comment. "Good, I hurt your pride. That's what a real man..." she started, but I stopped her. I shoved my half-hard cock in her mouth, and forced her to suck it. Even though she was considerably strong, she was no match for my much bigger strength. "Mmmmmphmphmmphmmphmmppphh!" she complained. The more she struggled, the more turned on I got. Her eyes bugged out as my cock expanded in her mouth. Suddenly I was apprehensive, and let her go. She lashed out at me. "What the FUCK, Kris?" "I... I'm sorry, Chloe. I don't know what hit me. I swear..." "Shut up, silly. I actually LIKED that. A lot. I like it when you're rough. Hey, I can take a beating!" she smiled, as she flexed her biceps, turning them into considerable mountains of female musculature. "In fact," she continued, as she went down on her knees, "let me show you how much I liked that." She took my now hard cock in her mouth, and started to suck it, while her hands tugged at it with all her might. "God, oh GOD, yes, that's good, baby... so, so GOOD. Fuck, you're so good," I was murmuring non-stop. She disengaged her mouth. I was rock hard. My cock felt really huge and thick. Bigger than ever. Probably because it was. "Let's get to bed, honey," she cooed. We did. The double-bed creaked as it took the mass of our considerably developed bodies. I put a finger in her pussy. It was soaking wet. Chloe moaned, and bit her lower lip. "Let me be on top," Chloe whispered. "Let me ride you. I know, this must be strange for you. Sorry about earlier, calling you a gayboy. You're an incredibly handsome man with unreal muscles. You turn me on so bad. I say silly things when I'm turned on. Let me make it up to you." She plunged her soaking wet vagina on my superhard cock. It felt great. My cock felt like it was being sucked by a thousand tiny mouths. So this is what a pussy feels like, huh? I thought. Hmm, that doesn't feel half-bad. In fact, it feels fantastic. Chloe started to ride me. Her ample breasts bounced with each of her thrusts. I was never enamoured with female breasts at all, but now, they suddenly looked really hot. In fact, Chloe looked fucking hot, from head to toe. And not because she was a muscle beast. She was hot because she was a really, really sexy human being, like Black Hulk is, only in a very different way. Her moans got quicker and higher-pitched, as she neared orgasm. Wow, I thought, a woman is going to orgasm because of me? That's so hot. I saw her eyes roll backwards, then her mouth let out a really loud moan. She was in orgasmic bliss. She orgasmed hard. Her body shook all over. Her orgasm was long. It took, like, more than half a minute. All the while, she was convulsing in sexual delirium, and moaning, almost shouting, in delight. Now I'm not obviously an expert in fucking females, but I thought that this wasn't normal. Seeing her climaxing for so long because of me turned me on SOOO much, though. I couldn't believe it. My body, my power, my muscles, must have done this to her. What happened to me? Why am I fucking a woman? Why am I enjoying it so much? Before a few hours ago, my sexual fantasies always involved being with a huge, muscular guy fucking me from behind. Well, I still find that fucking hot. But now, my fantasies are also including people worshipping my muscles and sucking my long, thick, hard cock, which then fucks them hard until they orgasm uncontrollably. Yes, I want to fuck this super sexy, hot woman HARD. "Oh fuck, that orgasm was so intense... your cock is so good! God, that orgasm continued to roll and roll, like a wave... I never felt anything like it!" she enthused, when her orgasm finally subsided. "Now it's my turn, sexy!" I told her. I sat up and grabbed her from her ample back, making her huge breasts squish against my upper body. She was very muscular, but I was stronger, and could easily lift her entire body in this way if I wanted to. Then I started to fuck her, pushing my cock inside her moist pussy. She appeared to like this; her eyes closed and her mouth went slightly wide. I continue fucking her, upping my pace little by little. Soon I felt my orgasm nearing, and I started moaning, first slowly, then more frequently. She sensed my climax was near. "Shoot inside me, honey, gimme your sperm!" I did. And how. "Oh, fuck, FUCKKKK, OHHHHH I'm CUMMINGGG! OHH YESS, OHHH, OHHHHH... it's still going... OOOHHHHOOHHHOHHH SHIIITTT! Ohh god, GOD here it COMESS AGAIN HOLY SHITTT... OHH FUCKK IT'S NOT STOPPINGG! OH MY GODDDD! OHHHH GOD YESS!" I came buckets. My orgasm must have taken way more than half a minute, perhaps even a full minute. It felt so intense, so amazing, so pleasurable, so powerful. That was, undoubtedly, my most satisfying orgasm of my entire life, easily topping my three powerful orgasms I had with Black Hulk a few hours ago. "Holy fuck, that felt REALLY good! I also felt it, the orgasm coming in waves of sexual pleasure." I was almost laughing with pleasure. Chloe was also grinning widely. She disengaged my cock off her pussy. A pool of my hot, white cum poured out of her vagina. "You know, Kris, I thought 'here we go again' when you cummed inside me. Your orgasm felt very similar to Black Hulk's, both in duration and in intensity. But no, your cum was not absorbed inside me, like his did. That's... that's a relief, I guess." "It is," I confirmed. "I never came so much in my life, though. Not even close. Black Hulk must have given us more than one gift. It's not normal for your orgasms to take that long, right?" "No, it's not. It left me completely satisfied, though. It felt better than 10 of my usual multi-orgasms." Then, she looked at my body, again. "God, you're so hot. Your muscles are so thick, so bulging with power. You fucked me there like I weighed nothing to you. Even though I feel very strong myself, and weigh considerably more than an average woman." With that, she climbed out of the bed, and lifted the end of the bed, with myself on it, supporting the bed on only its two front legs. "Wow, girl. You ARE strong. I'm sure many men are incapable of doing that," I enthused. Chloe placed the bed back in its original position. "You know, that surprised even myself," she admitted. "Is there a scale here? I want to find my weight." "If this room is like mine, there should be one stowed away behind the corner of the room, near the door," I said. "Ah yes, there it is. Here goes nothing." She stepped on the scales. "180lbs. Wow, I gained 35lbs. Probably more, since this is my naked weight. Holy shit." "You know, Chloe, your body is not biologically possible," I suddenly said. "What do you mean?" "Your breasts are beautiful and large. So is your butt. On the other hand," I continued, "the rest of your body is completely devoid of fat. This is clear from how apparent are your muscles. Now, that's impossible, because, when females gain or lose fat..." "... they gain or lose it in their breasts, first," Chloe continued. "Precisely. In fact, many female bodybuilders look like men for exactly this reason. To make their muscles visible, they need to lose fat, and they end up literally without breasts. That's why some of them resort to plastic surgery to augment their breasts back. But you... your breasts are enormous, and are mostly fat, and your hips are still very female-like. That's... biologically impossible." "Another gift from Black Hulk?" "Probably. Man, I have so many questions to ask him tomorrow." I then climbed on the scales myself. "Hmm... 270lbs. I gained 10lbs from the pizza restaurant." "You know, I think I'm ready for another round of powerful sex," teased Chloe, as she rubbed my back, feeling its rippling, muscular power. And we spent the rest of the night fucking, fucking and then fucking some more. * * * My phone woke me up. It was 7:30am. Yesterday was a great day. I met two incredibly beautiful persons. I fucked them hard. The sex felt incredible, way better than the sex I perform in my porn movies. They grew after I fucked them. That's weird; that never happened with any of the porn actors. Maybe because I never orgasm inside porn actors - that's strictly prohibited in my contract. Let's hope they don't ask too many questions about that. I stretched my monstrous, black arms and climbed out of the bed. I hope Chloe and Kris wake up in time. You see, I asked the receptionist to extend Chloe's stay for two more nights before I slept yesterday, from my own money. The receptionist rejected the offer, because her room was already booked for today by somebody else. However, he arranged that Chloe switch to my room, so that it becomes a two-person room from a one-person room. I accepted this change - after all, it's cheaper too. So, after asking the receptionist for her room number, I went to tell her the news. However, I heard moans of sexual pleasure when I arrived at her door. She was probably having sex with Kris. So I decided to tell her the news when we meet for breakfast tomorrow. Suddenly, my cellphone rang. "Hello?" "Hi, is this Mr. Henk Kuria?" "Yes, speaking." "Good morning, Mr. Kuria. I'm Tony Halep from the IFBB. You have been chosen for a random doping test ahead of your participation in the Mr. Olympia contest this weekend." "Uh, okay, and what does that... entail, exactly?" I asked. "We'll need you to provide a urine sample by noon today." Shit. That's bad news. Like, really, really terrible news. "Hello? Mr. Kuria? Are you still there?" "Yes, yes, uh, Mr. ... Halep." "We can collect the sample from backstage, don't worry. The prejudging starts at 7pm, as you know, but I'm sure you were going to be here earlier... unless you do a no-show like you did yesterday for the press conference." "Uh, yes, Mr. Halep... I'll be there... at noon," I stammered. "Good. See you then, Mr. Kuria." "Uh, see you." And the line went dead. "Shit, I'm in trouble. Better wake up the others." I said to myself. I dressed quickly, feeling my monstrous, black, hyper muscles stretch the T-shirt and shorts to their limits. I paused... shit, the clothes hugging my huge muscles always feels so good. Then I hurried to Chloe's room, and knocked on her door. "Chloe, Kris, wake up. It's me, Henk." No response. I knocked harder. "Chloe! Kris! It's 8 in the morning. We need to have breakfast together, remember?" Still no response. "Come on, Kris! Chloe! Anyone! Wake up!" as I banged on the door, hoping for someone to wake up. Well, I must have hit on the door a bit too powerfully, because it suddenly gave way, and it fell into their room with a loud bang! The sound was deafening, but, strangely, whoever was inside did not budge. I decided to enter. "Kris? Chloe?" But there was no one there. Then I looked at the door, flat on the ground. There was a number written on it: 427. "Shit, I'm on the wrong floor, I should be on the fifth!" And, with that, I ran the stairs to the fifth floor, and double-checked that I was in front of the right room. 527. Good. I knocked on the door. "Chloe! Kris! Wake up! It's me, Henk." No response. "Come on, Kris, Chloe, please." Then I heard Chloe. "Uuuhhhh... can't we sleep a little more... we're tired." "It's 8 in the morning. Come on. We need to have breakfast soon." The door opened. Chloe was still naked. Her body was perfectly muscular and curvy. She was, simply, a goddess. I never saw another woman as muscular as her, not even among the female pros. At the same time, her figure was sexier than any female pornstar I fucked. She was stunningly hot and massively muscular at the same time. I entered, and closed the door quickly. A massive stink greeted me... the stink of dry cum. "Fuck... did you... holy shit, you both stink of cum." "We do. But we're gonna shower quickly," said Kris, as he woke up. He, too, was naked. He looked gloriously handsome and muscular. Certainly the second biggest muscleman in the world, second only to me. His cock rivalled mine in terms of size. "Good to see you, Black Hulk." "Wow, Kris. And I swore you were gay." "I was. But have you seen Chloe? I mean, holy shit. She's, like, perfection incarnate." "She is. And, so are you, you know." I said. "All thanks to you, man. You still haven't told us how you did it." "I'll tell you today. But first, can you shower quickly? And no more sex, for now, please. Although, admittedly, you do look like a sex god and a sex goddess." "Yeah, let's shower. But we need to buy some clothes that fit us," said Chloe, as she entered the shower. Kris followed her, and they showered and rubbed each other's bodies with soap. This, of course, turned them on considerably. They started to touch each other's sexual organs. But then they decided enough was enough for that day. They turned off the shower and stepped outside, drying in the towels. "Guys, I have a problem." I confessed. "Long story short, I need to provide a urine sample by noon." "Yeah, so? We have ample time to have breakfast, go shopping for clothes, and then go to the contest by noon," said Kris while drying off his huge muscles. "You don't understand... I cannot give a urine sample!" I told them. "Uh... why not? You didn't take... drugs, didn't you?" Chloe said, as she dried her ample breasts. "So THAT's what you didn't want to tell us, huh?" "No, no, of course I didn't," I said. "You took a diuretic this morning. Right? Is that it? Honestly, these diuretics rules are bullshit," Kris mused. "It's not that, either." "Then, what is it?" they asked, together. "Because... because I haven't urinated for the past three and a half years." ---------------- Chapter 6: The Origin of Black Hulk (Three and a half years ago.) I met Chitundu a few weeks ago. He was tall and handsome, with a nice, ripped body. I was actually slightly taller, at 6'4, but I was skinny, and weighed only 155lbs. But he liked me. We were a gay couple, in a country, Kenya, where being gay is punished harshly. I've heard of a friend going to 10 years imprisonment because they caught him having sex with another man. Another gay couple were beaten to death. Indeed, that gay couple was us. We were enjoying ourselves, in a barn. After rubbing each other's bodies and turning each other on, Chitundu penetrated my ass. It felt great, being fucked by my soulmate. But then, suddenly, the barn door burst open, and four men, armed with sticks and tree branches, started beating us left right and centre. They insulted us, calling us things like 'filthy pigs', 'homos', and 'nasty animals' as we succumbed to their beatings. Soon, I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was still in the barn, covered in blood. I tried to move, but it ached horribly. They must have broken a few of my bones. I tried to see if Chitundu was there with me. Somehow, I managed to spot him. He was motionless. "Chitundu! Chitundu!" I called him, weakly. But he didn't respond. "Help! Help us! Please! We were assaulted! Help!" I tried shouting, but my voice was feeble. I was trying hard to stay conscious, but I drifted away again. When I woke up, I found myself on a bed, in a make-shift clinic. I was alone. Somebody must have found us, and took us to some kind of hospital. I had bandages all over. "Hello? Hello?" I called. Soon, a white man dressed in white overalls came in. "Oh, you're up, thank God," he said, in an American accent. "What's your name?" "Henk. I'm Henk." I answered. "Do you have family?" "No, I don't. My parents were both from Kenya, although my Dad had Dutch ancestors. My family died in the polio plague, though, a few years ago. I live with Chitundu, the other guy. Who are you?" "You're in very bad shape," he said, ignoring my question. "You've got a broken arm, a broken leg, and at least three broken ribs. You also have countless bruises and cuts, some of which are infected, and others starting to get infected. Unfortunately, I don't have the necessary tools and equipment here to mend you adequately." "Where am I? Where's Chitundu? And who are you?" I asked him. "That's not important right now. What's important is that you're safe here, for the time being. I'll soon try an experimental cure on you. It's the only way you can heal completely, but it's never been tested on anyone." "Wait, I don't want an experimental cure!" I cried. "It's either this, or you die by the end of the week," the white guy in white overalls said firmly. "Okay, okay then. Please, I don't want to die. I've only just turned 20." "If you believe in my methods, you won't die, Henk. Trust me," the white man said, smiling faintly. "Now, I'll soon administer a rectal suppository." "What's that?" "It's medicine that is administered through your rectum... your... butthole," the mysterious white man said. "This is very modern, cutting-edge technology. I travelled from America to Kenya because my studies show that Kenyans' DNA should accept this medicine better than the DNA of any other person coming from a different country." He paused, then told me, "I need you to help me turn you over." With a lot of pain and suffering, I managed to do a quarter-turn. "That's enough. Thank you, Henk," as he produced a bullet-sized device. He quickly literally shoved it in my butt. My butt muscles accepted the device, and it was inside me. Suddenly, I started spasming uncontrollably. Each spasm was really painful, due to my broken ribs. I started shouting frantically in pain. But, after a while, the pain started to subside. Eventually, after about ten minutes of spasming, the pain had disappeared completely, and the spasms soon stopped. "How do you feel now, Henk?" the white man asked. I turned around to face him. "Much better. The pain is gone completely. In fact, I think I've never felt better." "Good, Henk, I'm glad. The experimental medicine was a success. It should have mended all your broken bones, and healed you completely." I started touching my arm, my leg, my torso. No pain at all. "Wow, it must have! It just works... just like that?" "Yes, just like that. That's the miracle of science," he said, smiling. "I'll need to keep you here for some more tests, but the initial impressions look very encouraging." I suddenly remembered my friend. "Where's Chitundu?" I asked again. The man in the white overalls sighed. "I'm sorry, Henk. He's... gone." I started crying. I lost the only acquaintance I had. "I'm really sorry," the white man tried to console me. "I couldn't do anything for him. He was already dead when I found both of you." Then I felt it. A big stomach rumble. I clutched my stomach. "Do you have something to eat... uh... Doctor?" I asked, amid tears still rolling down my eyes. "I'm hungry." "Sure. In fact, I have something better," the man in the white overalls said. "I predicted that you should feel really hungry after the medicine has performed its... uhm... magic. So I'm going to give you food through a pipe from your nose to your stomach. I'll be monitoring you, don't worry." The man motioned to a large tank, which, apparently, contained food in liquid form, and drew a thin pipe out of it. I winced slightly as the pipe got through my nose, but it wasn't that bad. The man in the white overalls switched on the tank, and that was that. "I'll be in the next room. Please, for your own safety and well-being, do not leave the room. Even more importantly, under no circumstances should you remove the pipe from your nose," the mysterious man said. "Thanks, doc, for saving my life," I told him. He smiled faintly, and left. I tried to be motionless, but soon I was getting bored. Even though I was still naked, I was, at least, covered by a white bedsheet. I started feeling a bit awkward in certain positions, so I tried to shift my body to be more comfortable. After a little while longer, I was feeling... more built? My arms were not twigs anymore, but were getting a bit more manly. My pectorals weren't practically non-existent anymore, but were filling up nicely. My stomach, which was a washboard, was now getting slight hints of abdominal muscle. I was growing muscle, at a steady pace. This wasn't stopping, either. I was getting bigger and bigger. I shifted my legs a bit further away, because they were thicker and were hitting my balls. This felt really good. My arms were now quite thick, and my biceps were now much more prominent. My pectorals were big and strong. At this point, I thought I was as big as Chitundu. But my growth did not stop. Even my bedsheets now took a different shape, due to my bulging muscles beneath them. "This feels so good," I said to myself. I felt my cock getting bigger. I was getting turned on. I started to slowly stroke it, under the bedsheets. I was surprised how huge it felt. I moaned softly to myself, as my strokes became faster. All the while, my muscles were still getting bigger and bigger; I was as big as a fitness trainer now. "God, I'm gonna cum!" I murmured to myself, so turned on by my own expanding body. And cum I did. An orgasm that soaked up my bedsheets completely, that lasted at least half a minute. I must have been moaning really loudly, because, mid-way through my orgasm, the man in the white labcoat returned, alarmed. "Oh, my, you're masturbating!" he said. "That's a relief... I thought you were moaning in pain. Oh my, that's an astonishing amount of semen... I've never seen anything like that in my life. Wow." The white man's jaw dropped. Then, when my climax had finished, he said, "Let me change your bedsheets." I had, indeed, finally done blasting cum, but I was still growing muscles. I sat up on the bedside, naked, with my increasingly muscular body now plainly visible. The man in white was shocked. "What is happening here? This is an unexpected side-effect," he said, more to himself than to myself. He hurried to change my bedsheets, and I covered myself again. "Sorry I masturbated. But, my growing muscles... feel so good," I said. "Tell me, Henk, are you still hungry?" the white man asked me. "Yes. Still hungry." "Okay. Try not to masturbate until the machine finishes its job, okay?" "Okay, doc," I sheepishly said. "By the way, my name is James, and I'm actually a molecular biologist." And, he left. I was getting turned on again. But, I resisted the urge of touching my dick. My muscles were still getting bigger. My biceps now looked as big as volleyballs. Touching them, they felt amazingly powerful and hard. My pecs were like two sacks of gravel. It was like somebody was pumping them up, inflating them like balloons. Except they were hard as diamonds, not soft and squishy. My abdominals were like six... no, eight, perfectly-placed, hard bricks. My thighs were like monstrous barrels. I was wider, too, to the point that my shoulders and biceps couldn't fit under the bedsheet anymore. Finally, my hunger was abating. James, the molecular biologist, or so he claimed to be, returned. "Hello, Henk. Everything alright?" "More than alright. I feel like a god," I truthfully answered. He switched off the machine, and removed the pipe off my nose. Almost all the liquid food inside the machine was gone. I had somehow absorbed all of that food inside me, during the past hour or so. "That's it, then. Good as new. Literally," James said. "I wish I'd keep you a little more while I do a few tests on you, to see exactly what caused this... muscular side-effect, and if other side-effects manifest themselves in due time." "Sure. I don't have anywhere to go now. Might as well stay here. And I don't have any clothes, either, so it's useless to leave," I said, matter-of-factly. James not only did a few tests on me, but treated me like a son. He bought me clothes and brought me meals. Another side-effect he noticed was that I never urinated or defecated anymore. It seemed like any food and drink intake was being completely used to sustain my body, to grow bigger muscles and to produce sperm - a lot of sperm, for that matter. He also noticed that I did not have a single hair below my neck. Looking at my skin under a microscope, he noticed that I had no hair follicles at all, from my neck downwards. His medicine must be completely focused on improving my body all the time, and it had no reasons to produce by-products like body hair and feces, he theorized. Once he was finished with his experiments, he proposed that I fly to America with him. Since I had no family in Kenya, I gladly accepted. My passport and visa took a little while to be issued, but, finally, me and James were in America. I started working in construction. My workmates were astonished by my strength and muscles. I could lift stuff with one arm that required the strength of two men. One of my workmates, Steve, was gay. He once literally threw himself on my body while I was showering. I fucked him and came all over his body. That was the first time I was the one doing the fucking, rather than being on the receiving end of a fuck. It felt so good. Steve loved it, too; he told me he was never so turned on in his life. This 'love affair' continued for a little while. After earning a bit of money, I could afford living in an apartment alone. It was hard leaving James, after what he has done to me. James understood, but asked to keep in touch. I agreed. People stared at me wherever I went. Once, a lady stopped me while walking outside my apartment, and asked me where I worked out. I told her that I didn't. "Jesus, you've got crazy genetics, honey. You should become a pro bodybuilder!" she suggested. "Bodybuilder? What's that?" I asked, curiously. The lady was surprised. Then she told me, "Google it, honey. You'll know." A minute later, she was inside my apartment, and I was fucking her senseless. She orgasmed several times, and I erupted my dick's contents all over her naked, curvy body. It was at this point that I realized that I was not necessarily gay, but that women turned me on, too. Especially women who literally drooled over my incredible, mountainous, enormously muscular black body. I did follow her suggestion. Pictures of men and women with huge muscles emerged off Google. But none had muscles bigger than mine. I dwarfed even the biggest, most muscular bodybuilder. I learnt that there were contests for bodybuilders. The most prestigious one was called 'Mr. Olympia'. I decided to take part. The IFBB were shocked by my size, so they decided to throw me in as a wildcard. Guess what: I won the contest, beating 9-time Mr. Olympia Phil Heath comprehensively, coming literally from nowhere. People started calling me 'Black Hulk', and it stuck. I became an overnight sensation. I did magazine photo shoots, interviews, documentaries... the list goes on and on. I even starred in a movie cameo. People couldn't get enough of my size. They couldn't believe that I was a 6'4, 380lbs supermuscular man with only 4% bodyfat. Men and women, young and old; everyone wanted to know about me, or drool over my hypermuscular body, or both. The photo shoots exposed something else about me: my dick, apparently, was much bigger than average. This prompted some porn houses to call me, asking if I would consider being a pornstar. I told them I'd do it, for the right price. And so my first porn movie was born, where I fucked this woman with an outrageously big, but fake, ass, called Lela Star. The camerapersons were astonished at my stamina, and how my cock stayed hard throughout the whole shoot, without me needing to take breaks or taking substances to keep my penis hard. Lela Star later confessed with me that it was the first time that she orgasmed for real, on set. I took that as a big compliment. Two hours after the porn flick shoot, I was fucking her again, in her house. My sexual stamina was insatiable; I could perform amazing sex after only half an hour of having my cum erupting from my huge dick. After the success of my first porn movie, more and more porn producers asked for my services, including gay companies. I accepted the gay porn acts too, automatically revealing to the world that I was bisexual. The IFBB called me after this, telling me that my bisexual lifestyle was 'damaging their reputation'. I told them, with contempt and disgust, that, apparently, the fact that Mr. Olympia is a pornstar does not damage the IFBB's reputation, but the fact that Mr. Olympia fucks other men does. Year after year, I continued to grow bigger muscles, albeit at a slower pace. On average, I was gaining 20lbs of muscle every year. And in 2023, as a 6'4, 440lbs ultramuscular bodybuilder, I walked in this hotel to participate in my fourth Mr. Olympia contest. * * * I ended up withdrawing from the contest, and resigning from the IFBB as a professional bodybuilder with immediate effect. That was the first thing that Chloe had to do as my spokesperson: announcing that I was not going to produce a urine sample and withdrawing from the contest, citing lack of transparency in doping tests. As a former journalist, she knew what kind of questions journalists ask, and she handled the press brilliantly. I was enormously proud of her. Although maybe, some of the journalists could have also been a little intimidated by this muscular spokeswoman... An uproar ensued, with people furious about having bought tickets for the Mr. O. to see me in action, only to see me announce my withdrawal. Most of them blamed the IFBB for their hypocritical way in which they do doping tests. In order to calm down the situation, I suggested that I could do a free posing routine after all the contestants do theirs, a routine which did not have anything to do with the contest; it was just a bit of entertainment for the public. The IFBB liked this idea, and, after negotiating the right price, I agreed to do it. I got Kris with me, backstage, of course, to 'rub oil' on my massive, bulging, huge muscles. Kris wasn't out of place among these contestants at all; he was easily as big as the biggest Mr. O. contestant there. Mamdouh Elssbiay, who most people called 'Big Ramy', came over and expressed sadness at what happened to me. He also congratulated Kris on his physique. I sincerely wished him all the best during the contest. "You know," he told me, "thanks to your withdrawal, I'm really in with a shot this year. But I'm not sure if I'll win it next year, if Kris here decides to participate." Long story short, Big Ramy did end up winning that Mr. Olympia contest for the first time. In so doing, the Mr. Olympia trophy was transferred from an African man to another African. But the plaudits went for me. The audience erupted in applause when I set foot on stage, and shouted 'Black Hulk, Black Hulk' repeatedly in support. Chloe suggested to wear my posing pants a little lower than usual, to reveal juuuuust a little cock, to spite the IFBB. After all, I was doing this just for fun, not to compete. The audience loved it. I wowed them with my physique as much as I could. As I was leaving the stage, the audience erupted and wanted more. I got back to the stage and did my customary bicep pose where my bicep inflates bigger and bigger and BIGGER. Some of the audience audibly gasped at the impossible size of my flexed bicep. Then I left the stage, this time for good. When I returned to the hotel, I was informed that the security cameras on the fourth floor detected a person of my size ripping off the door of room number 427... ---------------- Epilogue It's been four years since that Mr. Olympia contest; since Kris and Chloe received 'the gift', as we started calling it. I grew even bigger since then. Still at 6'4, I now weigh 500lbs of solid, massive, freaky, black muscle beef. I settled down with Chloe and Kris, and we three live together in my apartment. They are both incredible human specimens in their own right, not just physically, but also emotionally and, why not, sexually too. So I thought, why not? My job is now full time as a porn actor, sometimes even shooting 'amateur' footage with Kris, Chloe, or both. Life is good. Kris is now a superhuman god of muscle development. Incredibly, even though he's only 5'9, which is more than half a foot less than I'm tall, he weighs a scale-crushing 510lbs of incomprehensible slabs of immense muscle - 10lbs MORE than I do. His secret? Well, he still eats well and goes to the gym regularly - unlike me. His muscle development is really insane. The Internet calls him 'Blond Hulk', and I find it quite appropriate. Due to how much shorter Blond Hulk is than I am, his muscles appear much, much bigger than mine. Of course, sex with him is as insanely hot as his muscles, if not more. Recently, he fucked me, rather than vice-versa, and then I fucked him back. It's good to finally have someone with the necessary muscle to fuck Black Hulk; I kinda missed the feeling of being fucked from behind. Kris never competed as a professional bodybuilder, partly because the IFBB dissolved itself a year ago. More on that later. Chloe is also an incredible muscle specimen. She now weighs 225lbs, which, on her 5'7 frame, is really quite a sight to behold. Her muscles are really dense - probably denser than mine or Kris'. She's still got two magnificent orbs of breastflesh jutting out of her pecs, and her biologically impossible hourglass figure is still definitely eye-turning. She's still my spokesperson - now for my porn endeavours, though. People call her 'Curvy She-Hulk' online... I kinda like it! Of course, our lives does not revolve solely into having just us three as sex partners, fucking each other. Part of why we're in this porn business is our extremely sexual lifestyle. We cannot do otherwise; 'the gift' forces us to have frequent sex, or, at the very least, masturbate often. When Kris, Chloe or I go out to eat alone, or go to buy some new clothes, or whatever, it's not unusual that one of us picks some hot guy or girl and give him or her a bit of sexual bliss. If we really like the person, Kris or I ensure that we orgasm inside their pussy, or butthole, thus giving that person 'the gift', slowly turning them into a veritable god or goddess - just like I did to Kris and Chloe four years ago. Interestingly, we recently discovered that Chloe can also give 'the gift' to her sexual partners. It turns out that her ample breasts ooze out a liquid when she's sexually excited, which, when drunk by a person in the right amounts, gives 'the gift' to that person. This allows Chloe, like us, to give 'the gift' to both sexes. We three are, of course, all bisexual. Indeed, that's one other side-effect of 'the gift', we learned - it turns that person bisexual, no matter what sexual orientation he or she leaned to prior to receiving 'it'. Slowly, 'the gift' started to become more widespread. People receiving 'the gift' - which we started calling 'gifters' - of course, fucked other people, due to their heightened sexual desires, spreading 'the gift' like wildfire. Many people, males and females, started becoming hugely muscular humans literally overnight. The professional bodybuilders training night and day in the gym simply couldn't compete anymore. This prompted the IFBB to dissolve bodybuilding as a sport for good. Moreover, the ideal female body perceived by the world at large slowly started shifting to the one that Chloe, and all female 'gifters', possessed. And James? We did decide to meet James, to ask him to study the process of how 'the gift' works. While doing so, James became totally obsessed with Chloe's incredible beauty, and - long story short - he received 'the gift' himself from her. One aspect of 'the gift' that was puzzling James was pregnancy - or lack of. The amount of semen produced by male 'gifters' was about 10 times as much as normal males did, and female 'gifters' had the perfect, ideal vaginal shape to accommodate these males. Moreover, the sperm count of male 'gifters' was astonishingly high, at around 800 to 1000 million sperms per millilitre, with close to 100% rapid progressive sperm motility. Female 'gifters', on the other hand, ovulated more frequently than non-'gifters', and did not have periods. In spite of all this, it seemed like male 'gifters' were incapable of impregnating female 'gifters' at all. After studying this anomaly for long, James finally managed to crack this mystery too. Incredibly, male 'gifters' couldn't impregnate female 'gifters' alone; there needed to be the semen of TWO different male 'gifters' in the vagina of a female 'gifter' for pregnancy to happen. This was confirmed to be true when me and Kris impregnated Chloe the same night that James made this discovery. Our family is expecting our first child; the first child in the entire world that will have two Dads and one Mum. Will we tell the story of our child, and of our future children, in the future? Who knows... time will tell. THE END
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There's been some requests for the continuation of the Containment story. Though I haven't written anything on that one for a while. It looks like I've only posted parts 1-3 here. So here's is a couple of short chapters that I have written but not posted here for whatever reason. I'll try and write more soon. If I have posted these chapters here before, sorry for the repeat. A big thanks to those who have expressed interest. A.T. Containment Part 4 Bruce was utterly stunned by Samson's new strength. He lay on the ground gaping at the man that had just decisively manhandled the incredible Hulk with such ease. He shook his head trying to reorder his addled thoughts as he finally managed to catch his breath enough to try and struggle to his feet. Bruce managed to roll his hulking green form over in order to push himself up, but even that small effort caused darkness to bloom around the edges of his field of vision. The Hulk was still so oxygen deprived that he remained on the verge of succumbing to unconsciousness. "Allow me, Bruce." He heard Samson's voice, which sounded far away, but immediately he felt the waistband of his all but indestructible trunks cinch tight around his waist as Samson grabbed hold of the back of the Hulks trademark purple attire and with a single unstoppable arm, hoisted the Hulk up into the air where the jade giant dangled like an exhausted trout on the line of a victorious sportsman. The Hulk's superhuman recovery rate was kicking in but it would still be a few minutes before he would be close to full strength again. "Damn you, Leonard. Put me down." "After you spill it, Bruce." Samson casually flipped the Hulk into the air in a way that spun him over onto his back, catching and balancing the larger man with that same single arm. Only now, Bruce flailed like an overturned turtle, supported by Samson's hand at the small of the Hulk's back. "I can't wait to hear all about how you got yourself spanked, including who did the spanking." Samson turned and started carrying Bruce back toward Northwind. Unable to do anything against the utter indignity of his situation, the Hulk crossed his arms in a sulk. "Telling you that means going back on a promise I made to someone, Leonard." Bruce explained carefully. Samson came to a Halt. "Not that I'm reneging!" Bruce added quickly. "Just keep that in mind. I'm asking you for a little discretion here." "I understand." Samson said, and continued walking once more. "So who was it?" Samson asked with the enthusiasm of a gossip monger. "Blonsky, Marko...?" "If only." Bruce sighed dejectedly. "His name is Christopher O'Mally." Samson halted once more, his brow furrowed. He gently placed the Hulk on his feet and steadied him. "Who?" "He's a mutant. He may be the most powerful mutant that has ever existed." Bruce explained. "What's the nature of his power?" Samson asked. "Vastly augmented musculature, with correspondingly vast strength." Bruce continued. He felt his own strength surging back to full and stretched his arms and shook out the rapidly dissipating aches caused by overexerting himself against Samson. "He can also generate some kind of elastic molecular cohesion fields, but it's a minor ability compared to his strength." "Why have I never heard of him?" Samson inquired. "He's just a kid, barely eighteen years old. His abilities have only recently manifested themselves." Bruce explained as he continued on toward Northwind, Samson fell into step beside him. "You mean there's high-school aged guy running around out there with enough muscle to go toe to toe with the Hulk." Samson asked in amazement. "More than enough." Bruce confirmed gravely. "In raw power, he's even further beyond the Hulk than the Hulk is beyond the average human. That's why what I plan to do here at Northwind is so important. There is simply no one on the planet capable of containing him." "Well," Samson grinned. "Recent developments may have changed that." He added, bouncing his pecs cockily. "Emphasis on the 'may have'." Bruce answered. "I don't think it's wise to take the kid on with anything less than the absolute maximum amount of power we can muster." "I think I've just proven that I am the maximum amount of power we can muster." Samson responded. Bruce shook his head. "Leonard, as I've told you, I've developed new techniques that will enhance the gamma-augmentation process. In conjunction with the Hulk's more powerful base-line strength, this will assure that performing the procedure on me will yield the best results." "Well, I'm certainly up for applying your new protocols to boost my own augmentation, but I'm not convinced that you are a good candidate." Samson shook his head. "The bottom line is still this, Bruce; You've had too many relapses - too many long periods of having no control over the Hulk. It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to exponentially increase the amount of destruction the Hulk is capable of." We don’t have time to argue about this Leonard, I’ve got technicians and specialists on the way to Northwind right now to help me configure the gamma-scope’s collector in order to implement the new protocols. On top of all that, Chris has taken it into his head that he’s going to become some kind of real-life comic book superhero and the kid has got a major chip on his shoulder. He might mean well, but he lacks the temperament to wield that kind of power. I’ve convinced him to hold off until we’re sure what the extent of his strength is. So far I haven’t been able to ascertain his limits, if he has any. Samson crossed his arms, intrigued. “Really? What kind of tests have you been doing with him.” “None with any scientific rigor. Basically I’ve just been sparring with him as the Hulk. So far it’s all just a stalling tactic until I can find a way to counter his power and keep him in check. But he’s pushed me beyond even the Hulk’s ability to quickly recover several times. If you rile him up, he’s not above meting out punishment as he sees fit. He’s quickly becoming a law unto himself. The last thing the world needs is his type of vigilantism with that much power behind it.” Bruce pressed his hands into the small of the Hulk’s back, stretched and grimaced. “I’ve got to get back and do what I can to keep him in line until things are ready here at Northwind.” “I think I should go with you.” Samson offered, too eagerly for Bruce’s liking. Suddenly an idea occurred to Bruce. Samson was fascinated by a couple of things currently. One was the idea of testing himself against Chris, (which Bruce was determined to prevent, as learning that his mutant status had been revealed to yet another person might send Chris off the deep end) the other was further enhancing his own strength with the new gamma infusion process that Bruce was intent on implementing with the Hulk. Bruce decided to use one desire against the other. “Leonard, the kid trusts me and that’s one of the precious few reasons I have any influence over him at all. Besides, since I need to get back to New Mexico and keep him entertained, I need someone I can trust here to manage Northwind and keep the project on track.” Samson’s eyes narrowed as he listened. “As we’ve already established, I’m no physicist.” “But you are good with people. You know how to motivate and manage conflicts.” Bruce pointed out. Bruce suspected that Samson knew full well that he was being manipulated. But he also knew full well that Samson would take the first opportunity that presented itself to subject himself to Bruce’s new gamma infusion process. And the best way to get that chance was to be on top of everything that was happening at Northwind. Manipulation or not, Samson wasn’t going to pass that opportunity up. Samson grinned knowingly and slapped Bruce on the back just a little too hard. “Anything I can do to help out, Bruce.” The Hulk stumbled forward under the impact and Samson shoved to keep the Hulk moving along as he fell in step beside him. As they both headed back to Northwind, Samson decided to gather as much information about Chris as he could on the way. “So, Bruce. Before you leave, I want to hear everything you can tell me about young Mr. O’Mally.” Part 5 The Incredible Hulk slammed into the pale-colored sand. His broad back absorbed the brunt of the impact. His lungs felt as though though they had just exploded with the force of it. As he momentarily lay flat on his back, he clawed up hand-fulls of the white gypsum sand, squeezing it in his hands before forcing himself to scramble back up onto his feet. Fighting on this stuff was proving even worse than fighting on concrete or bedrock. At least those things would shatter upon impact, dispersing the energy. Hitting these dunes seemed to reflect every erg of impact energy directly back into his massive body. He cast anxious glances all around, trying to locate his opponent. Maybe an eye-full of the stuff might slow the kid down. He thought better of that as he let the sand sift away through his thick, green fingers. Such a dirty tactic might only make things worse for him if it ticked Chris off. The Hulk had no idea how far across the desert that last punch had hurled him. He’d blacked out a little. His phenomenal healing rate had brought him back to consciousness in a fraction of a second but even so, he’d been aware of tumbling through the air for an unsettling amount of time before crashing down amid the dunes. A sonic boom rolled across the desert. The Hulk scanned the sky expectantly with superhumanly keen eyes and found what he was looking for. A few miles away, he could make out Chris as the teen hurtled skyward in a straight line, his head swiveling in search of the Hulk. Apparently the kid had lost track of his sparring partner. The Hulk saw Chris make his position and grin. He strongly suspected that when the young man fell back to earth after his faster-than-sound leap, another would carry him to the Hulk’s position in short order. Bruce Banner, whose mind was currently ascendant in the powerful body of the Hulk, looked around in vain for some kind of cover. Finding none, he decided that a leap of his own was probably the best way to keep himself out of Chris’s reach and buy a few moments to catch his breath and think. He watched carefully as Chris slowed to a stop and then began to plummet back to the ground. At the moment just before he began to accelerate downward, Chris pointed directly at the Hulk, smirked and then pounded his right fist into the palm of his left hand. A full second later, Bruce felt the compression wave from the power of that gesture of intimidation, even at this distance. Expecting the kid to immediately launch himself into the air on a trajectory that would bring him down on the Hulk’s current position, Bruce decided not to be around when he arrived. As soon as Chris dropped out of sight behind the surrounding dunes, the Hulk launched himself into the air with the most powerful leap he could execute on a course at ninety degrees to the line between himself and where he’d lost sight of Chris. As he accelerated upward, Bruce turned his head to look in Chris’s direction. He didn’t like what he saw at all. “Damn it!” He cursed, then started pin-wheeling his massive, muscular arms, trying to reorient himself in midair, so that he could be as prepared as possible for what he knew was coming. Chris hadn’t jumped after all. Two giant fountains of white raced toward the Hulk across the dunes, one on each side of Chris as the boy sprinted across the desert, kicking up massive amounts or the white sand in his wake. His massive arms and legs were a blur of motion as they worked to propel his supremely muscular frame at a phenomenal speed. “He’s just too fast.” The Hulk lamented, knowing that as fast as he was moving, Chris was moving many times faster. He was going to be at the Hulk’s landing point waiting and there was no way the Hulk could stop himself. What was almost as unsettling as the powerful teen’s strength and speed was the way he was starting to out-think the brilliant physicist. Certainly, combat strategies weren’t Bruce’s strong suit, but the way Chris had just anticipated and countered his plan to leap out of reach left Bruce feeling that he was being toyed with on yet another level. As he fell to earth, Bruce tracked along as best he could, keeping Chris in sight as the kid overtook and passed him. Chris skidded to a stop then turned and with a big wolfish grin, struck one of those infernal muscle-man poses he was alway practicing, waiting for the Hulk at the exact spot where he was destined for impact. Bruce hated it when the cocky teen hit one of those ridiculous poses. He knew they had names but he’d never had the interest to learn any of them. The one Chris currently assumed prominently exposed his impossibly broad thick chest. At least this meant Bruce probably wasn’t in for a direct attack. Chris usually did the body-builder pose thing as a way to demonstrate how unmovable he was or how ineffectual the Hulk’s attacks were against his hyper-muscular body. Not that this isn’t going to hurt. Bruce acknowledged at the last second before he collided with Chris’s exposed torso with all the force of the Hulk’s mightiest leap. The Hulk’s massive frame slammed to an immediate bone-jarring stop against the massive shield-like muscles of Chris’s exposed chest. The young man didn’t move a millimeter as the booming thud of the collision rolled across the desert. A sound that started as a cry of pain and ended as a breathless wheeze was forced from the Hulk on impact. Before the stunned Hulk could start to slide downward after losing every iota of momentum to Chris’s immovable body, the teen brought his arms up and wrapped them around the Hulk, pinning him in place. “Going somewhere?” Chris taunted. “We had a deal. This session, you’re supposed to do more attacking and less evading. You’re the one who said I need more experience with hand-to-hand combat, right?” When the heavily breathing Hulk didn’t answer immediately Chris bear-hugged him a little more firmly. “Right?”, he repeated more forcefully. The Hulk began nodding frantically and gave Chris’s back two quick slaps as a way to indicate that he understood and for the boy to release him. Chris did so, and the Hulk stepped back wobbling a bit on his massive, but quivering legs. He stooped, placing his hands on his knees for a moment as he caught his breath. Bruce sometimes wished the Hulk’s healing ability wasn’t quite so effective. Maybe if the bruises, contusions and broken bones Chris dealt him didn’t fade so quickly the boy might have a better sense of how much damage he was capable of causing the Hulk. Then again, having to deal with such injuries in a prolonged manner might not be worth any compassion they might or might not engender. Bruce stood straight and stretched out the Hulk’s thickly muscled, aching body. He had indeed suggested sparring with Chris, hand-to-hand. But it was more a ruse to keep the young man occupied than a result of any real concern about his fighting technique. After all, what did skill matter when you were completely unstoppable. Bruce examined the massive eighteen-year-old as he stretched. Chris had taken to trying out different types of costuming as he eagerly prepared for his plan of assuming the life of a superhuman hero. Today he wore mid-thigh length, skin-tight shorts made from the same material as the Hulk’s nearly indestructible and remarkably elastic purple shorts. Today’s selection was jet-black, however. A gold infinity symbol inside a white circle was printed on both the front and back of the shorts. Bruce found the display of the symbol on the young man’s bulging crotch to be in bad form, but since there wasn’t a shirt to this particular costume, there weren’t really too many other places to display a logo. Bruce continued to stare in astonishment. No matter how many times he was confronted with it, Chris’s physique invariably left him bewildered. The kid was shorter than the Hulk and on one level seemed slighter somehow. His waist, wrists and ankles seemed no larger than anyone else his height, but those muscles! They were every bit as huge as the Hulk’s own and seemed even more impressive as the Hulk’s massive trunk and joints didn’t contrast so much with his great green musculature. Overall the kid looked more like Doc Samson. Bruce winced inwardly at the thought of Samson. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to keep the psychiatrist away from Chris. He’d only managed to keep them apart this long by agreeing to put Samson in titular charge of the gamma-scope reconfiguration project at Northwind while Bruce was away keeping Chris occupied. He knew that Samson was angling for a way to make sure he was the subject of the full effect of the augmented gamma-scope enhancement and not the Hulk. It was the reason he couldn’t resist the offer to be involved with the project. Bruce still wasn’t sure how he would thwart Samson in this. He’d just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. Chris noticed Bruce staring, obviously lost in thought and not really paying attention to what he was looking at. There was something he didn’t like about how his reluctant mentor kept lapsing into such mysterious ruminations. Surely he knew better than to be up to something Chris wouldn’t like. He decided to snap Bruce out of it. He flexed the muscles of his upper legs. Already massive quads and hamstrings surged to a size that dwarfed even the Hulk’s once unmatchable leg muscles. Bruce gaped as Chris demonstrated the degree to which he could, when he wanted, flex his muscles to a magnitude that beggared comprehension. His train of thought totally derailed, Bruce turned his attention to Chris’s face to find the boy staring at him impatiently. “Come on, big man.” Chris goaded as he raised his fists in front of himself like a boxer. “Let’s get back to it.” Bruce knew better than to hold back. Sometimes it was hard for the kid to tell, but if he suspected that the Hulk wasn’t coming at him with everything he had, he got down-right mean. Bruce didn’t want anything to do with Chris’s mean-streak. Hoping against all reason that surprise might gain him some small edge, Bruce lunged at Chris before he had even finished his sentence. Massive green knuckles thundered against Chris’s densely muscled abdomen driven by a punch that would have obliterated granite. Bruce gritted his teeth against the pain of the recoil as the force of his own punch nearly broke his arm. Chris just chuckled. “Good one. Didn’t even get a chance to flex down.” Bruce didn’t let up, moving with speed surprising for the Hulk’s size, he whirled and brought his elbow crashing into Chris’s Jaw. He quickly followed through turning until he was facing Chris again, he then grabbed Chris by the kid’s shoulders and using that leverage, pulled his knee up into Chris’s abs, hammering them again, before pushing off to reestablish some space between the two of them. The knee the Hulk had driven into Chris’s abs almost gave out and Bruce cried out in pain as he forced his leg to hold his weight against the throbbing pain of his deeply bruised joint until it healed. Chris sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t see the point of this. Why do I need to learn how to defend myself against punches that I barely notice.” The Hulk raised his hand trying to placate Chris until he caught his breath fully. But the kid’s impatience only seemed to grow. “If the Hulk himself can’t even land a punch on me without breaking something then I think I might be ready to take on a super-bad-guy or two, easy. What are we wasting time here for?” Wincing, Bruce approached Chris, his limp decreasing with each step. “I’m not really the measure of the kind of power you might find yourself up against. The Hulk is never at full strength with me in control.” “I know that.” Chris agreed,testily. He grabbed Bruce roughly, clamping his powerful hands around the Hulk’s thick upper arms, Chris hoisted him off his feet and shook Bruce to emphasize his every word as he continued. “But big green and stupid won’t come out and play anymore, will he?” Chris shook Bruce harder with each word, as though he was trying to shake loose the Savage Hulk persona inside of him.” Chris dropped Bruce back to the ground as a child would discard a toy with which he had grown tired. “Besides, I’ve already proved that I could handle everything he could throw at me so again, I’m asking what you think this is accomplishing?” Bruce hesitated as he got his argument in order in his head. “Once people hear about you - once they see you in action, word is going to get around. Believe me, I know what it’s like to have every character with biceps bigger than his own head gunning for you.” “Sounds like fun.” Chris grinned, cracking his knuckles. “THEN I’M NOT GETTING THROUGH!” Bruce shouted, getting in Chris’s face. He was taking a big chance, but the kid’s inexperience was really his only weakness - the only thing that Bruce could exploit. To Bruce’s relief the kid narrowed his eyes but didn’t retaliate. He had Chris’s attention. “There are guys out there who make the Hulk look like a creampuff.” Bruce declared, lowering his voice only slightly. “Yeah, I’m one of ‘em.” Chris responded even while not quite coming out of the cowed state that Bruce’s shouting had placed him in. “Yeah, you are, but what happens when you go up against the Gladiator? Or the Champion? Never heard of them? You might want to Google ‘em. Or any number of the true bad-asses out there that not only have ridiculous power at their disposal, but know how to use it?” Bruce threw his hands in the air and stalked away from Chris. “But fine! I thought you were through getting your ass handed to you at every turn in life, but if you are determined to let it happen again then fine! You are on your own.” Bruce stood with his back to Chris, waiting to see if the kid was going to buy in. This tactic was one Samson had worked out with him after Bruce had given the psychiatric specialist his best profile of Chris’s personality. Samson suggested the tactic as a last ditch effort if Chris started getting restless or impatient with Bruce’s stalling. And it worked. “Alright.” Chris declared from behind Bruce. “I guess you know more about this stuff than I do, so I’ll take your advice on it.” Bruce turned to look at Chris, but said nothing, pretending to consider whether or not to continue “helping” the younger man. “Good.” he finally answered. Chris flashed a grin. Then he was on Bruce, lifting the Hulk into the air by the throat. “Just wish you weren’t such a wimp!” He declared as he pulled back his right arm in preparation. The Hulk had just enough time to take in the spectacular view of that mountainous biceps flexing up as Chris bent his arm. The teen might have bought Bruce’s line, but he was going to make the man regret raising his voice to him. The punch the boy then dealt the Hulk snuffed out the brute’s consciousness for nearly a full day, depositing him somewhere in the badlands of eastern Arizona.
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This is the second in the short Hulk series. Hope you like Roommate Hulk Ethan banged through the door of the house. "Chris! Chris! I got some stuff in the truck I need help with?" No response, "Chris?" Ethan went back outside. Yep, Chris' car was in the driveway. He had just broken up with his girl friend, so maybe he was in his room sulking. Ethan grabbed two bags out of the truck and headed inside. He heard a noise from Chris' room and put the bags down to go check on him. As he approached the closed door it was jerked open from inside and there stood Chris. 5'10 lean and athletic, but he had an odd smile on his face. Ethan laughed, "Man you startled me. Come help me. I found some great workout stuff we can use." Chris folded his arms, "Don't need it." Ethan was kind of shocked, "What? We both want to get big! I thought this would help you with...." "I said, I don't need it." All 5'5 of Ethan Thomas flared up. "What are you talking about? Why is your room all dark?" "You ask too many questions, little man. I fixed everything." Ethan started to get a little pissed off, "I just spent $200 on stuff that we can use for working out. You say you don't need it, fine! I'll just finish unloading and put it in my room." He turned to go and suddenly Chris shoved him from behind. Ethen slipped an banged his head against the wall. "Ow! What was that for? Why are you being an asshole?" "Wanna fight me?" "No. I want to unload the...." Chris shoved him again before he could finish and Ethan went down hard this time. "Fuck! Go away" Chris smirked, "Hit me. I can take it." "I don't want to hit you" Ethan turned and ran out the door to the truck. What the hell was going on? This was supposed to be his best friend and it's like he had been replaced by a creature from "Invasion of the Assholes" Ethan got the last couple of bags and started back to the house. He was going to just put them in his room and he got to the door, but Chris was just standing there blocking the door with that same smug look. "Hit me" he said again. Ethan snarled, "It is very tempting, but I just want to go to my room, then go to the gym" Chris snatched the bags from his hands and grabbed Ethan by the hair and dragged him inside then flung him on the floor. Ethan fell face down and lay panting trying to control the rage he felt right now. Chris shouted, "I want you to fight me. Get up you worthless little...." He was cut off as Ethan rolled over to face him. His eyes had turned white and the little 5'5 frame had started to swell. Chris said, "About damn time. I knew this would work." Ethan only felt rage and had not noticed that something was different. He snarled, "Get the fuck away from me!" And heard his own voice drop in pitch. He gasped. Chris finally smiled, "Yeah, bro. It's happening" Ethan felt the rage wash away and an intense feeling like his whole body was having an erection. He turned to face the full length hall mirror and stared. Chris was grinning behind him, but that was getting more difficult to see as he was inching higher and higher. Ethan's shoulders were widening and stretching his shirt, which pulled free of his jeans. The exposed abs were thickening like cobblestones and getting covered in a treasure trail of black hair. His arms felt tight in their sleeves as biceps and triceps ballooned until the short sleeves erupted. A thick network of veins snaked across his body. His lats flared out and with a loud rip the back of the shirt gave way. Ethan gasped loudly, and Chris laughed, "Fucking A dude. This is awesome!" Ethan turned to face him and the front of his shirt exploded as two massive pecs spilled out and pushed his nipples towards his feet. Lower ripping sounds occurred as his thighs broke through the seams on his jeans forcing him to widen his stance. Ethan suddenly made a face like he was in pain and Chris looked concerned for the first time. Worried maybe about the strain on his friend's heart. He reached for Ethan and said, "You ok?" Ethan grimaced and growled, "We...we....wedgie...ahhhhh" and with a loud rip his hugely muscled butt burst through the back of the jeans and split his boxers apart. Chris snorted in laughter. but then gasped. He had to look up now and saw that Ethan was beginning to turn green. There was a pop as the front of the jeans split open and a large 12" snake rose up to full attention. Chris backed against the wall. "Dude...this....this part wasn't supposed to happen....just....." Ethan opened his mouth but only a loud roar came out. The last of Ethan's clothing gave up and fell to the floor. What had once been a slender 5'5 handsomely nerdy youth was now a 6'5 700 pound green behemoth. The creature picked Chris up by the shoulders and threw him on the floor. Then roared. Chris rolled over and tried to scramble away but the creature was faster rumbling forward causing plaster to fall from the ceiling and walls. Then it glared at Chris with an odd smile and suddenly rolled it's eyes. Chris saw the precum leaking out of the dick and knew what was coming and tried to cover himself. With a loud roar the creature suddenly shot volley after volley across the living room hitting the ceiling and walls and covering Chris. Then it sank to the floor and whimpered. Chris made a face, "ew" he was covered in sticky greenish cum that smelled musk. He looked at the creature which appeared to be smaller and had lost the green color. Chris sat up and shook some of the worst off, then made his way over to where the creature sat. It looked up and growled at him. Chris put his hands up in a soothing gesture. "It's all right, bro. I'm not gonna hurt you." He sat down next to the creature and put his arms across its shoulders. He could only reach to the middle of Ethan's back but gradually could feel more and more. Soon Ethan was only around 5'8 but still around 300 pounds. He looked a little embarrassed and tried to cover his crotch. Chris laughed, "That's a little late" "Dude...I.....dude...." Chris smiled, "It's ok man" The pecs were slowly pulling back up to Ethan's chest. The arms grew smaller.The traps pulled down away from Ethan's neck. Finally with a last gasp, Ethan's eyes turned back to their normal blue color. "Dude...what just happened?" Chris smiled, "Did you like it?" Ethan shook his head in confusion, "What?" "This" he gestured to the ripped clothes and the general mess. "Look I found this site on line that called itself wishingdjinn.com. I figured, 'What the Hell?' I knew you always wanted to be big so I wished for it. " "If you wanted to see me naked, why didn't you just get in the shower with me? It would have saved some damage" "Yeah, well I didn't know about the green part. I figured you would just, ya know turn into a bodybuilder or something." "Well can you un-wish it?" "Sure I guess. Let's go back to my room and.....dude, you ok?" "I still feel kind of weird. I don't think I'm back to normal" "Let's go to my room and check on the computer" They went into Chris' room which was lit only by 2 candles and the PC screen. A picture of a smiling Djinn head was on the monitor. The screen had the label "Thank you for your wish. It is granted. Only one try per user" Chris went to the screen, "What do they mean one try? I need to refresh the page. I want to be big too." He hit the refresh button. The browser loaded, then came up with "404 Site not Found" "WHAT?!?! I need to un-wish my friend. I didn't want him to be the Hulk or anything...." refresh....404....refresh....404...."Damn it I want some muscle too" refresh....404....refresh....404...... "Dude" he heard Ethan call from behind him. "What?" he turned around. Ethan was standing on the scale with his back to Chris. "This says I'm 175. I was only 136 a couple of hours ago. I'm still not normal." Chris was staring at Ethan's muscular butt. He felt kind of odd. "You look pretty hot" then covered his mouth. Ethan turned around to look at him, "What did you just say?" Chris was bright red. "I...I....I've never felt this way before but...." Ethan smiled, "I like you too" Chris saw Ethan's dick start to harden up again, although this time it was a more normal size. He felt his own crotch stir at the site. Ethan walked over to him and Chris let him hug him. Then slowly hugged Ethan back. Chris kissed Ethan on the cheek. "I .....I love you....screw Nicole" Ethan smiled over Chris' shoulder. Then he closed his eyes and kissed Chris back on the cheek. He lifted his head to look at Chris and opened his eyes, which had turned white.....
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Since all criminal organizations ceased to exist, petty crimes became an increasing unsolvable problem. Dad and his personal task force sent more people to prisons than ever before in history, and now all other nations, even Russia, were willing to accept his divine intervention to solve their own problems. With that, bureaucracy and paper work increased exponentially as his powers. For more formidable his powers were, dad couldn’t be in two places at once and shit was always happening. Also surely, his godlike powers wouldn’t change human behavior. The economy was bad and bad behavior was spiking again, at least since dad started to bring justice for all. At a long red table with dozens of nobel prize scientists and analysts, wall street attorneys, bankers and some of the wealthiest people in the planet, they sat with me all too anxious or nervous for not having a single positive report to give him. He was also three hours late, we had no clue when he might appear, increasing the apprehension. My seat was beside George Mills, an Oil Tycoon, arguably the richest man in that table, four-comma club, looking at his watch and answering messages repeatedly ‘god is not here yet’ he typed, he seemed to be on the edge with sweat falling down his crooked nose. ‘Where the fuck he is? Taking a tan?’ In spite, he cracked his phone on the table. Everyone stop to look at him, after the silence after his rage, he apologized, even if dad wasn’t there to hear. Actually, and that’s the thing: dad was taking a tan. Dad also couldn’t hear us since he is in space… taking a tan. It usually took an hour for him to reach the Sun and come back. Lately, he could travel faster, his velocity record was 1/4 of the speed of light, ‘the equivalent of 1000 tons of rocket fuel’, the scientist said in wonder to me. Lately dad was spending more time there hovering our home star, sucking it, as if his batteries grew as much as his herculean proud pectorals. When he had Superman levels, and a Superman-level physique, Sun’s light over a day would only give him a small surplus for more heavy-duty feats, like lifting a building or to impede an ocean liner from sinking. Little by little, the ability of absorbing pure energy from the Sun started to grow together with him. Closer and closer of the Sun he went, which the output per inch raise exponentially as you come closer. Now he baths in the giants waves of plasma hitting his massively huge torso like a water park. Wandering my eyes to outside, at the seven-stars hotel’s Versailles-like garden and the blue sky above it, I noticed the sunlight to flick, yes… the whole sky seemed to flick like a bad fluorescent bulb. With my mouth went wide open as I walked to the terrace where I could see the press and the big crowd behind the gates and the cops, also looking up at the sky empty of clouds, all scared and asking each other of what we saw, the cops included. There was no clouds, or planes, or anything. Just the perfect blue sky… and then it happened again, more intensely, like complete darkness… our eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough, looking at the far horizon domes of dark engulfed it all. Like everyone else, started to search answers over the internet, the side of the hemisphere noticed the Sun’s light abrupt oscillation, many entering in panic that our Sun exploded or something. People sent twitters with photos of record-breaking auroras in the artic, the whole planet stop to understand what dad’s tan was becoming to be. Of course, at that moment, all astronomers pointed their instruments to the Sun, including amateurs and people with pinhole projectors to see eclipses, the internet flood with pictures, and everyone could recognize the muscular outline blocking the sunlight, we all could recognize his torso blocking the light. They were estimating that dad, from his position between the star and Earth, was of the size of Manhattan, increasing by a kilometer from his last record in his size-shifting power. Which this… it also meant he was naked. His second-skin uniform could stretch only up to four times his current size, it was a power he avoided to use in public. Not that would stop leaking pictures… And of course, he must know people were watching. I bet that there was the gigantic bone out there. Like a bodybuilder in heat, he flexed the classics, his traps, doing crabs. All inhibition and humility had vanished like dust in the wind, “deal with it”, was what dad said to the critics that his body was becoming too obscene for public display, and anything that weren’t shiny spandex looked wrong on him. TV news tried to avoid to show his body at family’s dinner time, just his neck and shoulder would emasculate most male viewers, or making them to sigh uncomfortably. Every guy I knew was super-gay for dad, they couldn’t hide it anymore. Then, satellites photos from space started to emerge, dad’s left bicep projected a diffuse shadow that covered most of North America. The earth stood still trying to comprehend such hyper-power. Of course, in the red table the breaking news all over TV and Internet just made them all to feel smaller. He could destroy everything by just slamming his body over the planet, to tear out the atmosphere just with his breath. We were all at his mercy, and no wanted Derek Armstrong to be unhappy. Still, dad hated sycophants. It was struggling difficult for most people to come up to talk with him, dad wanted people that defied his opinions, and it was increasingly rare; he hated weak, subservient yes men that populated every place he went. Dad always listened to the Devil’s advocate. I was actually surprised of his tolerance over the people and blogs that constantly criticized his actions. After a while, he stopped his posing and vanished from the screens, the show was over, I guessed, but some ten minutes later, some astronomers found ionized disturbances in Venus atmosphere, as if half of the planet was catching fire. An european probe space mission orbiting Venus was able to take pictures of the event, explosions of thousands of nukes being deployed in jet streams of white-purple hot energy, which I could identify immediately as dad’s heat vision. ‘Is that him?’ A scientist asked me, not believing on such power magnitude dad was showing to the universe. ‘Soon, our star won’t be enough for him’. I said to him. Ever since dad went out to space to take a tan, his muscles would come back pumped, veiny, and his eyes shining white from the overcharge. His patience would drop to absolute zero in this state, his mood would swing like an axe pendulum, he would become restless and impulsive until the overcharge was absorbed or spent. It could last hours or days, everyone avoided his path, including me. No one touched yet the food. No one had the stomach, it was a bad decision to make a meeting just after his tan. An hour later, we heard his signature sonic boom making the ground to vibrate. Everyone looked up at the sky again and there was dad hovering over the pebbles, they all holding their phones to capture the moment of his 8’7 monument of muscularity slowly approaching them, letting them see his last upgrade, more mass, more power. Even the burly men eyed up at him like shy schoolgirls. He was measured 8’4 before this last tan. While he had attained size-shifting powers, dad couldn’t stay smaller than this new plateau, and now, by absorbing energy directly from the Sun in larger and larger straws, he was growing like ever before. I could see that he was wearing the latest skintight armor uniform. The new one had an irradiance purple-blue effect that you see in butterflies and some exotic fishes, designed to give a shimmering contrast to the smallest muscle and making any bulge to shine and sparkle. Nowadays, he had no shame at all of his absurd unattainable muscularity, he had the confidence of a peacock. “Sorry for the disturbance, citizens. I can assure you that our Sun is fine,” he said with his powerful voice for all to listen, his thunderous voice seemed to come from all sides. Then, from half a mile away, he turned and gave me a paternal wink. I just waved my hand as usual. Sometimes I think he does that only to show that he always has his eyes on me... and those eyes were shining like lighthouses, the solar power overcharging his body leaking like holes in a dam. Before I could react, in a bursting blast of wind he was here, in front of us in the terrace, bigger than ever before; everyone went suddenly dead silent, I could hear a pin if it fell on the floor. Dad had no time to spare on dumbfoundedness, “So, shall we begin?” He walked inside to the red table and we all followed his ass, I mean, his steps. Like anyone else at the table, I avoided to bring any issue about his beaming glowing eyes, it was super-menacing. Yet, his warm smile and perfect white teeth left the people somewhat at ease. Everyone using ties but dad, he had a leotard. People concentrated on the task at hand but mostly they found themselves speaking to his loaf sized pecs; seated they had them at their eyes level, but besides that, his pecs dominated his chest nowadays, they were so proportionally larger, wider and heavier than the rest of his immensity, that were ludicrously distracting. To add to injury, those huge pecs didn’t rest… it was not only their size and shape, they seemed to have a life of themselves and manifested spontaneously, when he shifted his position, or thought of something funny they would bounce inadvertently. The bigger he got them, more bouncing mass, they flexed in greater fashion, he could not move a finger without a reaction from them. At times, he played with people’s senses by flexing them, removing them out of their trance, or making their eyes to follow his pectorals to jump side to side, like a tennis game. He has been doing this with guys as well… which was super awkward. He thought that this would be a good lesson to make people more respectful of his body. “We have a lot to talk today… but I will let you to talk first. You seem pretty nervous to me.” Dad said as the wise super-giant-hero he was. A hot executive, all flushed and probably all wet down there, was at his right and nervously started to read the briefing of recent developments. 'Since the last reunion of the FATE committee, the general unemployment grew…' 'Wait.' I asked to stop, since no one was asking. All eyes turned to me; I was the fiftieth guy in the row from dad’s right side of the table. 'Dad, we just need to know, did you do something with Venus?' He laughed, “Did you guys saw that?” 'Some people reported that saw Venus flashing like a star, and then a space mission around the planet took some photos… tsunamis of fire and plasma backed half of that planet.' “Yeah… it was blast.” He said while stretching his arms, his muscles lazily dancing around and eclipsing each other, “I couldn’t come back in that state to Earth. It was more power than I could handle, I didn’t want to devastate humanity with a sneeze.” He let tiny arcs of energy to flow between his fingers. “I need more size to control it better...” He said closing his fist and bringing his battleship of a bicep into a peak, while we all gulped in unison. Of course, no one brought the issue that he could dump all that energy into deep space instead of barbecuing one of the few planets we had. “Since you already brought it, I might have the most remarkable event to report.” He stood up, our necks bent to follow his pecs, I mean, his face. “Perhaps the most important event of all humanity… after me and my powers, of course…” The bootlickers laughed at his half-true dad-joke, he rested his hands over the table, his shoulders and arms so wide that overshadowed the two hot execs by his sides, giving us all a new perspective of pecs. “I might have encountered extra-terrestrial intelligence watching us.” ‘Oh, God’ was the default answer. “Yep.” He said. “Sometimes having such a good vision has some drawbacks. I can see more stars and galaxies than the Hubble telescope, and because of this it was hard to focus of such small speck of deflective light thousands of miles away. Probably they thought that I couldn’t see them running away from me.” ‘Did they see what you did to Venus?’ I asked, I was the only one there to have balls to make questions. “Surely. That was how I discovered them. Whatever it was, they were scared, running like a rabbit. So most undoubtedly I… we can terminate it, if it is a threat.” ‘You did noticed something before, didn’t you?’ I asked him. “Yes, on my trips to the Sun to recharge my powers, I usually blast some steam before returning Earth, like chasing city-sized asteroids and pulverizing them so they are not a hazard to the planet anymore. I should film for you guys, it is quite a fireworks show. Anyway, I saw something like an UFO before, but this time I have no more doubts. There is life out there. We need to tell the people.” Dad said, and it was the right thing to do. This information shouldn’t be under secret. ‘Do you think there is a chance that they are benign?’ “I can’t tell. They might be… but possibly are just like us, with good apples and bad apples.” ‘There is any chance that your actions out there might have attracted them here?’ One of his pecs flexed involuntarily, “Yes… there is a chance.” ‘Shit… dad… if they are bad apples, people will blame you for bringing them here.’ “Shit.” He said in realization. “You are right, son. Let’s leave it under secret until we have more information. Under regulation 3-O-5, I have the Congressional authority to terminate anyone accountable for leaking FATE strategic affairs… so mouths shut.” Suddenly, the general unemployment became a petty problem.
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Mr. Olympia 2100 The 135th annual Mr. Olympia was just minutes away from beginning in Sin City as audience members filed in to the large performance hall while the contestants were backstage, pumping up their massive physiques for the years' ultimate presentation. Oil was being rubbed all over their bronze skin with final touches being made to their poses and routines. It may sound like the same old song and dance at the current time, but what isn't realized is how much this competition has changed since it started back in 1965. The most notable for sure is the size of the competitors; back in the day someone weighing 240lbs with a 5'10" frame could easily be dubbed a champion if they had the right conditioning, however, this year the smallest athlete is weighing in at 408lbs at 5'6". The amount of lean muscle tissue on these men was unimaginable, but with science it was only inevitable. The result of these impossible proportions stemmed from the heightening bodybuilding craze that started in 2015 which came shortly after federal and state legislation lifted all bans on anabolic substances, with no regulating rules that followed. This subsequently allowed the pharmaceutical and supplement industry to boom like they never have before, creating new and improved drugs and products every year that would enhance and promote a muscular physique. Of course the competition was fierce as these companies fought for the highest sales; a new, more powerful drug would replace an existing product within months. Billions and then up to trillions of dollars were invested in creating these new enhancement drugs while ensuring maximum potency. If one company struggled or were unable to make an improved product for sale, another would just take its place, along with the profits. No strength sport was left untouched. Players in the NFL had become gigantic beasts while MLB fans got to see their hometown hero belt out 140 homeruns in one season. Even high school sports took a hit; it wasn't uncommon to see a sophomore running back flexing his 21" biceps after a touchdown. This, fueled with the nations unquenchable thirst for sport and athletic glory had turned the country's athletes into bulging monsters with a drug industry that was still seeing a 30% increase in sales every year. Much can't be said for the rest of the country's issues, including infrastructure and healthcare as priorities changed, but that would be a digression. Back in the convention hall, the announcer entertained the crowd that was eagerly waiting to the see the impossibly jacked up men, posing in their tiny briefs. Just as he finished up his corny jokes and thanked the sponsors, a large curtain raised as fog rolled out with streams of laser lights bouncing every direction, the huge tanned and oiled up men all waddled out in a single file order in a slow manner, blocking out most of the light from the back. Their thighs so large it would be literally impossible for them to stand with their feet together. They all were short of breath and already starting to show signs of perspiration as they hit the stage light with the cheering of the crowd; smiles greeting them all. The men were huge, grotesquely so. Their arms stuck out their sides from the thick lats that wrapped around their backs, the same arms that they weren't able to use to even touch the opposite boulder shoulder. And despite how large their thighs were, they still could not see down past their pecs, even if they tried to reach their necks over, the massive traps that were holding their heads up wouldn't permit. The lights gleamed off their huge oiled up bodies as they stood in line, smiling as they faced the audience that greeted them with applause and countless number of photographs. It appeared that this year's contest was going to be a very close match against the ten competitors, which is until everyone saw Aaron Stevens take the stage. By far the largest man standing there that night, in fact, he was the largest to ever compete in the Mr. Olympia. Packed into his 6'3" frame was 625lbs of lean solid muscle. His conditioning was amazing; skin so tight over his body every curve, every crevasse, and every detail was exposed. Even his skin condition was near perfection, smooth and color matched beautify to his jet black hair. As he started the mandatory poses, each one of his massive, thick muscles bulged and popped...each looking like they were a person of their own. He was already scoring high points, his physique was simply unbelievable. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aaron had always had a knack for size. He was an all-state athlete in high school with football and track, ending his senior year at 250lbs. By that time he had received full scholarship offers from over 15 schools, eventually settling at Michigan as a defensive end where he helped send the team to three Rose Bowls in his four years there. Things were looking to become bigger and better for Aaron, including his body. He would leave the collegiate arena just over 330lbs. But after four years of playing, Aaron was beginning to lose interest due to plain boredom. He had always enjoyed the training more than the actual events he played throughout college. Despite being offered contracts to play for various professional teams, he found a job as a personal trainer, doing wonders for the clients that sought him out. This was also where he met Steve Heinz, a former Olympian many years ago who happened to be a member of the same gym. In his retirement Heinz had become a rep for Alltech Labs, the largest pharmaceutical and supplement manufacture in North America. Steve saw Aaron as the perfect poster boy for their products, good bone structure and handsome facial features with a body that was large, well balanced, and proportional. Getting into bodybuilding was exactly what Aaron was looking for. Training with Steve for three years had already turned Aaron into an NPC champion, plus the free drugs supplied to him, he placed in at least the top three with every contest. He was getting bigger and thicker with each show and people were noticing. His thighs had expanded tremendously, not to mention his glutes which had made it impossible to wear any type of jeans. Whatever pants he did wear would wear out within weeks due to his thick thighs rubbing together, despite him having to waddle when he walked. His dress shirts all had to be modified to accommodate his growing chest, shoulders and arms. Aaron's pecs swelled up so much that his nipples were faced downwards, basically from his chest growing over it-self. His delts had rounded and grown so much that reaching behind his back had become impossible, but his biceps have to be given credit too for impeding on his range of motion. But it didn't matter, all he needed to be able to do was train, eat and flex...although others could always help him eat. Aaron quickly made his way up in the ranks of the bodybuilding world, already winning his past seven shows he had finally qualified for the Olympia. One year out, he was at a solid 450lbs, but was determined to put on even more size before then. It was the same time Alltech came out with SX9, the most potent anabolic agent to date. Aaron was the perfect candidate, he'd tried every other drug they had produced and hadn't succumbed to the side effects, but this would send him to his genetic extremes. Other manufactures were already in the works of producing similar compounds, perhaps not the exact quality, but very close nonetheless. Aaron had disappeared out of the limelight after qualifying, receiving a full-time sponsorship to strictly focus on training and meals as all Olympians required; he would eat all day almost around the clock. The only breaks he'd take were to train intensively, practice posing, hygiene upkeep, and sleep. He had no social life of any kind and was deprived of any entertainment...he enslaved himself to bodybuilding. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He muscles ballooned in the past year, the biggest he'd ever been...the biggest anyone has ever been. For Aaron, it was completely worth it. He stood and flexed there on that stage, knowing he was the biggest, the hardest, and the most complete. With the start of his individual routine, his arm went out to the side as he performed a side chest pose with his huge left pec flooding out to the side, bigger than a king sized pillow, but of course much, much denser. It was pressing firmly against his tensed bicep that would put a ripe whole watermelon to shame, while at the same time showing off his thick trap the looked like it was swallowing his head. And not even the angle of posing at his side could hide his tremendous back musculature as it bulged out from behind his arm. His lats looking like a thick meaty cape as he elevated his arms into a double bicep. Aaron put one foot forward as he flexed his gargantuan thighs, which were bigger than two huge wine barrels made out of marble. Marble that was chiseled away to reveal the deepest cuts and separation while at the same time preserving the fullness and contours of the muscle bellies. He finished with flexing his glutes, which looked like two huge fleshy wrecking balls welded together. Aaron bowed to the audience before waddling off stage. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The announcer then asked all contestants back to the stage for the X-round. A relatively new category in bodybuilding started about 25 years ago. The egocentrism that could be found in all sports, especially bodybuilding, had finally given way to a part of the body that was often neglected in the spotlight: the genitals. It would have been hard to believe that so many drugs would be developed to promote huge, massive muscles without giving attention to having a huge, massive cock. Yes, scores of drugs were made to appease this interest, ones that actually worked. And it didn't take long for there to be training protocols for developing huge shlongs. Machines such as stretchers and pumps could be found in gyms for such purposes. It would be typical for bodybuilders to have training splits of chest, back, shoulders, legs, arms, and cock. The men came back on stage, their huge packages straining their posing suits to death that were already tight from their massive muscles. This round is a repeat of the mandatory poses in flaccid and fully erect sequences. Some of the contestants pulled their posers off over their ankles, some tearing them with one quick tug. Aaron pulled his posers a little tighter on the sides as he forcefully flexed his huge glutes, causing them to snap off as his cock and balls swung down after losing their fabric support. The competitors completed their poses with their johnson's swinging and dangling below their ripped midsections. Not one man there was less than 10" soft. But Aaron had them beat at fourteen. They then stood facing the audience again as the judges tallied up their points. The announcer then told them to present their erections as the cocks all began to swell and lengthen. They began hardening to full mast with big mushroom heads, tight skin, and beautiful arches in the shafts, all pulsing with life. Aaron definitely stood out from the group; his was so full and balanced with perfect texture and color. There wasn't any adult in the audience that wouldn't want to touch and feel it. Everyone turned back once again as stage crews hurried out, pulling long stainless steel trofts with them as they placed one in front of each competitor lengthwise. The final part of the night was the volume collection. The men all kept their erections as they received a squirt of lube in each hand. They began to rub and stroke their thick cocks as their breathing rates all increased. Big hands connected to freakishly huge arms pumped away at their hard-ons with the sound of the sticky lube squishing against their skin. The audience looked on in amazement. It wasn't long though before their faces started to show signs of an impending orgasm. This wouldn't be surprising as many refrained from any sexual activity weeks before the show to make sure they would maximize their output; their balls had swollen to huge levels with most having cantaloupe sized testicles or bigger. The man on the end was the first to go, giving a grunt with a nice stream of white creamy cum as it spattered in the steel troft; crew members rushing over with squeegees to collect it in the measuring containers. Soon a few other competitors blew with big sighs of relief and deep moans of pleasure. The man next to Aaron, Ken Marshall, who was his closest competition that night, grimaced as he fired a payload far into the container, the biggest yet. He grinned at his achievement, flexing his free arm at the crowed. But it victory flex didn't last long as Aaron was ready to release; he moaned and grunted as every muscle on his body tensed and pumped. His cock and balls were so swollen it was a wonder what would explode first. He arched back in reflex to the stimulation as he shot a full thick jet of cum, shooting so far it went past the troft, splattering and spraying on some of the judges. There was so much that despite overshooting, there was plenty left to collect. The amount actually overflowed the measuring container, dripping to the floor as one of the crew wiped out his troft. The final round was over as the judges discussed the scores for several minutes. They eventually called out the three finalists to name the winner as they stood up on stage still naked. Third place was announced as Jeff Lagwell with the crowd applauding as he performed a few flexes and stepped back with his trophy. Soon it was just Aaron and Ken, but everyone knew the winner before the last round as it was no shock was Aaron's name was called. The crowd went wild as he flexed and posed his champion physique. He was given the overall trophy, the first place medal around his neck for best physique and best cock. He also won the volume and distance categories. Aaron stood and posed more as thousands of photos were taken of him to flood the sports media. He was the newly crowned muscle king. Jeff and Ken were quickly escorted across the stage into large devices that looked like stockades, if fact they were. They both were placed in, with their heads and wrists locked in. The devices forced their posture into a kneeling position as their huge muscled asses stuck out into the air while a few of the stage crew came up and began wiping very generous amounts of gooey lube around their holes. It had become customary at the end of the Mr. Olympia for the winner to demonstrate his alpha male dominance by fucking the two runner ups. Aaron's dick began to grow once again, becoming nearly two feet when fully erect and thicker than a large canning jar. Taking off his medals, he started to smear more lube all over his shaft as he walked up behind the bound bodybuilders, grabbing Jeff's ass. Aaron began to slip his heavy meat inside as Jeff let out a heavy groan, feeling as if he was having a stake driven through him. He pushed in further, pumping and thrusting, fucking his tight ass hard. It felt like an eternity to Jeff as he could only sit there and take it. Aaron started to feel the orgasm build within him and pulled out, giving himself a small rest to save his juice for the second place finisher. He then geared up and headed for Ken as he burrowed in, stuffing himself deeper and deeper. Ken was about to scream out loud but was gagged right before he could utter out a moan. Aaron rode the big muscle boy's ass, his huge balls swinging and slapping below. He could feel it; he was ready...Aaron roared with ecstasy as he flexed a most-muscular pose while gripping into Ken's huge glutes. Aaron's hefty and second load of the night filling Ken to the brim. He pulled out, still throbbing, and giving a hard slap to Ken's left ass cheek. Aaron waddled off the stage as a couple stage crews picked up his awards and followed. The two men were released from the stockade as they collapsed to the floor in exhaustion, panting and covered in sweat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aaron walked off stage, meeting with various Olympia personnel and getting more pictures taken. He was in the best condition he had ever been in his life, something he would keep that way. He was about to inducted into the Mr. Olympia hall of fame, a place where he would be forever remembered as one of bodybuilding's greatest. But it needed to be completed the same night, as the process now is not so ordinary. Winners of previous Mr. Olympia's that occurred more than 20 years ago have had very shortened life spans. Some living only days after the show before developing systemic organ failure; one actually collapsed from just walking off stage as his heart exploded. The super-drugs they were taking all had their downfalls, but to them it was all worth it, just the chance to be the biggest, and most masculine man for that brief shining moment would equate to many years of living. But since then, there has been process developed by a German chemist that found a way to embalm a living person into a perfectly preserved figure. It was a wax that would be injected into various places on the body at one time, causing them to become petrified, leaving them exactly the way they were before their last breath. It was a much better fate then waiting for one's one body to give out. Each contestant understood this before entering the competition, but each looked forward to it. To them it meant that their hard work and dedication would last forever. Ten different IV's were placed into Aaron as he stood on a posing platform. He was given touch ups to his skin and any imperfections modified. He began to give himself an erection as it pointed high and proud, just as the wax began to flow into his veins. He could start to feel it, his body was starting to feel incredibly heavy and go numb. The competitor was to pick his favorite pose, as Aaron of course chose the double bicep. Flexing and posing in perfect posture, he gave his best smile and looked straight ahead and took one last breath. The hardening agent in the wax began to solidify as Aaron's entire body became stiff and solid...and then motionless. He looked just as if he were on stage, showing the judges his massive physique. The huge Aaron statue was carefully wheeled to the next process, where he would be coated in layer of solid gold. It was meticulously applied in a thin, yet durable coat. Perfectly applied as to not hide any of his separation's or cuts. He was cooled and polished to bright finish before finally being taken to the Hall of Champions were the previous winners had all been placed in successive order; Aaron being the biggest of them all. He was placed, standing tall with all his medals and trophy placed at a small pedestal below his feet including a biography with additional photos; huge body with cock and all. Here Aaron would remain, to motivate future contestants and captivate onlookers with his immense muscularity; his figure to be enshrined here forever. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A group of tourists walked through, admiring the physiques of history. One teenage boy lingered back. With his 20" arms, who also appeared to be ready to explode out of his shirt, leaned against the giant marble pedestal, looking up at Aaron's hugeness and saying to himself, "That's gonna be me someday."
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For those who need to catch up: Part 1 & 2 Part 3 & 4 Part 5 Part 6 Now for the continuation of College Hulk: Jonas finished up his last notes and headed back to the house. Hopefully, Steve would be done and they could go grab a bite to eat and talk through their dilemma. They needed to find out how they wound up in their room, what happened to Tony, the whole damn crazy ordeal. He got to the room and unlocked the door and opened it. There sat Steve and unexpectedly, Craig. They looked like they had been having quite the conversation. "Am I interrupting something?" Steve shook his head, "No, you got here just in time. We need to talk. Close the door" "No shit, Sherlock. What is Craig doing here?" Craig riled up a bit, "You don't have to talk like I'm not sitting right in front of you." "Sorry, but Steve and I have some...uh....things to talk about." Steve sighed, "Craig knows...he..." "WHAT?!? Why did you tell him?" "I didn't 'tell' him. He kind of...well he sort of....found ...out" Steve finished kind of weakly. Jonas shut the door then turned and glared at the two of them. "How, exactly....oh my God. Did you...I mean did it happen? In class?" "No not in class, exactly" Craig spoke up, "He went up and tried to flirt with Dr. Matthews. Somehow it triggered something and..." "I ran out of the class room. Said I was sick and went to the bathroom. You know that I have never changed in the present. I didn't know what was happening. " Craig continued, "I thought he was sick, which everyone else did as well and went to check on him. I walked into the bathroom and he was like turning into the Hulk! It was actually pretty freaking awesome" Steve looked pleadingly at Jonas, "Don't be mad at me, bro. I had to tell him at that point. I think we can trust him." Jonas sighed and sat next to Steve on the bed, "I guess it won't hurt to have someone else help us figure this out. But the two of you smell like spunk. Did you make out or something?" Steve smacked Jonas' head, "No, but you know what happens when the change is on....it's a bit uncontrollable." Craig laughed, "I'll say, he fired his cannon all over the bathroom I got it all over me and we had to clean the place up so no one would know." Jonas looked a bit concerned, "You got his spunk on you? Did you swallow any of it?" Craig looked embarrassed,"It's not like I could help it, ya know." "No, I'm not mad. Steve you remember what I told you about how I got like this?" "Yeah, but that was genetic from your Dad. This shouldn't hurt, just a little protein." Jonas shook his head, "I'm not real sure. That is one of the most highly chemically active areas of your body. Who knows how that will affect him." Craig laughed again, "So I grow a few muscles. That might be cool" Jonas shook his head again, "No, you still don't get it. We don't know what will happen. As you saw with Steve, the transformation itself is unpredictable and often uncontrollable. But who knows what will happen to you? What if you are driving somewhere and black out at the wheel because of a chemical imbalance this caused and you slam your car into someone and kill them?" That sobered the room up really quickly. Steve moved away from Jonas, "Dude, that was a pretty harsh statement. We don't know what will happen so let's not get carried away." Craig nodded, "Yeah, dude, ease up. Our real focus should be that ass Tony. Where did he get to? What is he up to?" ____________________________________________________________________________________ Sitting in the dark in his house, Tony smirked. Inside the smoke detector in Jonas and Steve's room he had rigged a tiny camera and microphone. They never even noticed. Now he could hear and see everything that the two guys were up to. What was with Craig now? That should be interesting to find out. If he could control the creatures he could do anything he wanted. He would have his Grandfather's hulk army at his beck and call. It obviously worked with Steve. He had listened closely to Steve and Craig talk before Jonas had returned. It was clear that the triggering device he had injected into Steve had worked. He had timed it for the middle of class for the ultimate humiliation. I guess he made it to the bathroom before anyone except Craig could see. Well, next time it might not be so fortunate for him. The dolt still thinks it was because he was turned on by his teacher. Hilarious. The only difficulty with the trigger device was it wasn't fully reliable. Too often he was losing signal on it. The metamorphosis blocked the signal altogether so he was completely out of touch until Steve was fully transformed. There were times, as well, where it seemed to not respond even when he had signal. He would have to try a new device that he could always control. He needed to control during the change. It would need to send signals to the brain so that he could have complete control of the creature and the transformation. His Grandfather would have been so proud. This would have been the ultimate army. He needed to get new devices ready for Jonas and possibly Craig now too. He smiled as he went to get a drink. This would be fantastic. He walked back to the laptop. But then gasped. They were gone. The door was still shut and locked. Jonas bag was on the bed where he had been sitting, but they just weren't there. He probed for the device in Tony, but there was nothing. Not even a weak signal. What was happening? _____________________________________________________________________________________ Craig had been about to offer up a decision to eat food when he felt the bed disappear from underneath him and he fell to the floor. He saw Jonas and Steve fall as well and they landed in the dirt. Wait, dirt? "What the hell???? What happened to our house? Did it just get vaporized or something?" Jonas was coughing from the dust he had kicked up his nose. Steve rolled over and sighed, "Not again" Craig's eyes went wide, "You mean we're" "Back in the 1950s" "HOLY SHIT!" Jonas sighed, "Like I keep telling you this whole thing is crazy. We can't predict this either or even understand why it happens." Steve got up and dusted himself off, "Well while you two keep playing in the dirt, I'm going to try to find out where and when we are exactly. This place doesn't look like the Army bunker." It didn't really look like anywhere. It was a clearing in a forest at best guess. But why here and now? Steve started what looked like an uphill direction. A few moments later he came back. "Hey, guys, there's a road up here and it looks like a town not too far. We can get some food, maybe" The three of them started towards the town, when Jonas stopped suddenly, "We have to be careful about money. They might think our stuff is counterfeit. I have a 10 but it is signed by James Baker, Secretary of the Treasury. Someone might get suspicious." "You worry too much, dude" Craig laughed "We can use our credit cards and they won't even know." This time Steve spoke up, "Craig, man, credit cards haven't been invented yet." "Oh shit." "Yeah, oh shit." said another voice behind them They spun around and saw Matt standing half naked in the shadow of the woods. "Well well well, if it isn't future boy and his friends" Steve glared at Matt but pushed Craig behind him, "Craig stay back from this nutcase" "OH..I'm a nutcase. I see. Why? Because I think I've been blessed and you treat it like it's a curse. " Steve said, "I like having muscle. I don't like losing control" "Why are you hiding your little friend, then? Worried he might become a monster too?" Jonas moved to stand next to Steve and block Craig from the taunting bully. Craig was athletic, but Steve and Jonas knew that if Matt hulked out he could kill Craig. Matt continued, "Hey little guy, they're holding out on you. This shit is awesome." Matt began to laugh. Then he gasped, but started laughing again. His eyes turned white and his voice began to deepen. "Heh, heh, You ....ughhhh....don't know what.....you are missing....ugghhh" Craig gasped as he saw between his friends this strangers arms swell up to impossible sizes. The man shuddered and gasped as already tattered clothes spread apart revealing a rapidly swelling body, that was beginning to turn green. "Fucking...ughhh....awe....awe...some..." Lats pushed out raising his arms up, Shoulders thickened like two boulders and spread apart. The thick traps rose up pushing against his thickening neck. There was a bursting sound as the tattered waist band of the jeans split and they fell to the ground. The 7 foot tall creature roared with laughter. The naked behemoth walked towards them, grinning evilly. Suddenly, he stopped and gasped again and his eyes rolled back in his head, then he smiled. Steve gasped, "Oh shit, he's figured out how to trigger the second phase" "Damn...riiiiiaaaaouuuuuurr" The creature yelled as the last word disappeared into a roar of pleasure. Thick green fur spread across his abs and chest which heaved outwards. The already gargantuan thighs grew to the size of oak tree trunks and the creature stumbled and dropped to all fours. They saw the back widen out like two wings on a massive glider boiling with thick bulging muscle, then fur raced down from the neck and covered the entire back as well. The creature lifted its head and they saw that a 5 o'clock shadow had sprouted and was thickening and deepening and soon he had a full beard. The creature gasped and groaned as more changes occurred. The thick fur covered pectorals swelled out even further as his butt boiled out to support the torso and helped to lift it back to its feet. Then from the impressive 8 foot height it smiled down at them and revealed long pointed canine teeth. "Oh my God! Matt what have you done?" Jonas yelled. The creature tried to speak but could only growl. That's when Steve noticed something else, "Dude, you have pointed ears!" Two meaty green fists reached up to touch them. The creature felt the tips of his ears and his eyes went wide with shock. He turned away in fear and they saw sticking out of his ass the half grown tail. Craig gasped, "Oh my God!" Steve laughed, "Yeah he's got a tail. He tried to use the dog to get his second phase and it backfired." Craig gasped again, "No." he panted a bit, "I feel funny" Jonas and Steve spun around eyes wide. Craig had his head down and they saw his curly red hair shaking. He lifted his head up and his white eyes stared back at them wide and his mouth gaping. Then they saw him thicken. Not like Matt, or even their own transformations. It was almost graceful. His body began to elongate and swell with muscle simultaneously. Craig's chest pushed forward and as his shirt ripped down the middle, they could see his pectorals push majestically out wards then point down towards his feet. His arms boiled outwards like they were inflating, but with muscle and not air. His sleeves ripped dramatically. Craig had a lost rapturous smile on his face as his neck thickened and massive traps lifted off of his widening and swelling shoulders. His back kept widening and pushing his arms away, then they heard the rupture of the denim as it could no longer contain the massive legs that were trying to break free. The shirt fell to the ground leaving the ginger monster with his pale skin exposed, then it began to turn green clashing with his red hair. Then green streaks spread through the red hair and then the whole head was green, except for a stripe down the middle left red as a tribute to Craig. Craig smiled at Jonas and Steve, then said in a hypnotically masculine voice, "He was right. This is awesome" Craig's 12 inch rod began to swell and rose to attention. The dog creature smiled and moved in towards his new playmate. Craig grasped Matt and hefted him in the air then put him down on the ground and began to hump him. Steve gasped, "Craig! Holy shit!" Craig turned and smiled, "You pussies hate this. Well, I....love....it" with each thrust into Matt by this incredibly strong hulking creature Matt gasped and became even more dog like. The tail continued to grow. Jonas pulled Steve back, "Hey dude, this is like the first time that neither of us changed here." Steve was still watching Craig push into Matt who finally shot a load all over the ground. Steve said, "I wouldn't be so sure." then he turned to face Jonas with his white eyes and a shit eating grin as the back of his shirt split open.
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Topher was lost in the forest of that very odd planet, and was starting to get very concerned. Even if he was born in this foreign place, he never got used to its surroundings, to its miasma, and wanted to change that when decided to be a part of the corps of his colony. It turned out to be a bad idea, being at the bottom of the hierarchy, he was put in menial tasks. This was supposed to be his first true mission, to just explore the region, but things went terribly wrong, and there he was, lost. Had his armour, but nothing could shield him from hunger and the dangerous nature, he had to go return to his headquarters. As he walked, not paying attention where he was stepping had a terrible price, caused him to fall on a deep hole. It was fast, he didn’t even have the time to think about it. At its bottom there was a lake, but not of water. It had a different name: Xenomass. Green and thick. His armour absorbed the impact, but his weight was too much for it to float on that piece of substance, even if it was thick. He sank into it. His despair was visible, as no human ever was exposed to the xenomass, and as the miasma, it was supposed to be toxic and deadly, it had no use to no one, and yet he was immersed in it, protected only by his armour. He was scared, but didn't scream, as he figured the armour would keep him safe. After a bit, he started to try to move his body, trying to reach the surface of the lake. Again, bad idea, the substance started to damage his equipment, to corrode it, and then layer by layer he was getting more vulnerable. Finally, it reached the last sheet before entering in contact to his skin. It was a matter of time before Xenomass would touch him. It happened, and the pain was extreme. He screamed, drowning on it, scared and feeling his skin burn, as the xenomass started to invade his last layer, it was quick, all his body was exposed to it. After a huge dreadful first encounter with it, he relaxed. He took it in. Something else, happened. Topher didn't die, but his body was offered to the planet, as a sacrifice, but the planet was benevolent. Exposed to the weird chemicals, he started to grow in size and in muscle. He started to develop. Before, he was a skinny awkward boy, but that started to change. Slowly, Topher was becoming more muscular and thicker, taller. More robust and resilient, tougher. His pecs soon started to grow, becoming large, defined, robust, hard, his nipples followed, and soon were pointing downwards. His abs came to life and were carefully sculpted by the substance, 6, then 8, hard packs, developed slowly but surely, carving into life his strength and endurance. His shoulders would greatly expand, becoming round, thick, huge and large, strong, enough to support a great deal of weight. His arms expanded, becoming huge and as muscular as ever, and so did his legs. Skinny awkward boy no more, he was getting big. The chemicals changed his DNA and the mutation became deeper, his burnt skin transformed, being covered by metalic scales, his teeth grew and sharpened, his feet and hands metamorphosed. His two feet became paws with 3 huge fingers with claws, and his hands were formed by 4 fingers with claws in it, his eyes boiled and melted away, reshaped and were covered by a multitude of lenses, becoming multifaceted, fractal, transformed and superior. All his hair was gone, and a group of horns appeared on his head and shoulders. His heart was obsolete, giving place to a strong plasma producer that would supply his body with his new needs. His lungs were transformed, and he could breathe through his skin, but his nose was kept. He was no human anymore, Topher gave in to a magnificent creature, that was about to come to life. The armour had disappeared, everything merged into him, his dogtag was now where his heart once was. The creature awakened from his frenzy and opened his changed eyes, coming to the surface quickly, and soon, he roared. But he was still human on his mind, so the roar made him scared, Topher soon realized the changes in his body and was desperate, he cried for help and begged for mercy, with his deeper and changed voice, and then he had a need to drink the xenomass, he did it like an animal. Confused and worried, he had no idea he had no need for anything, anymore, that this was a blessing. He could still talk but his voice was changed, similar to a growl, even if he still was the awkward guy in his mind, what was left of him. The self discovery journey was a long one, he spent weeks in the cave, learning that he needed xenomass now like a human needs water. He discovered how strong he was when he had to open passages through the walls, so frustrated he was by coming into dead ends. He discovered how powerful his vision was when he could see creatures hiding beneath the rocks. He slowly started to like his changes, to find beauty in it, seeing his new muscles made his cock awake. He was only vaguely sexually awaken by then, as a human, let alone as the creature, but his new powers made his cock hard, and since he was alone, he decided to relieve himself, he jerked off, first very timidly, then more confidently and finally he was enjoying a pleasure he never felt. He felt so many things when he came, felt aggressive, felt in charge, felt like he was meant to be the creature, he licked the cum in his hands and roared of satisfaction, this was a new beginning for him. This cave was his new home now, as he found out he needed no one anymore, he spent a month living in it after finally discovering a way out. That cave was his home, but he decided to pay a visit to his former brothers in arms. Not as Topher, but as Genesis.
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The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE PREFACE No. The Aardvarks, of which Rob is a member, does not exist IRL. It is a figment of my imagination, and so are its 19th century founders. They do have a resemblance of reality, though. Don't worry, we will soon return to what's happening to Brad/Max half a planet away. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter seven "Bye Nate. I'll probably come home one hour later, because Big Jim will receive the second degree tonight." Rob stood close to the door, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a bag with some books and some silk ribbons. "Glad to hear. Hope he'll enjoy it." "Still no possibility to see your application some day soon? I shouldn't ask, actually: New candidates are supposed to take the initiative themselves." "You know me, Rob. You're the best man I've ever known; Jim is reliable, Cyrus is a great kid and Rodriguez is like my Gramps was, but I'm still afraid, that I wouldn't fit in. Where I grew up, fraternalism was something for the upper classes – those who were left after the Crisis – and even if I'm affluent now, thanks to Vin's foresight before he lost his mind, I don't feel relaxed around posh people. I don't want to be looked down at." "No one would look down at you. The idea is to overcome class prejudice. We have members from all walks of life." "But isn't it terribly old-fashioned and strange and full of funny handshakes? And shady?" Rob sighed. "I can't vouch for, what other orders do, but The Aardvarks frown at nepotism. There's even a part of the Constitution and by-laws that state that anyone found guilty of using the Chapter for mercenary purposes will be expelled. I enjoy the old-fashioned language. It connects me with history, and our founders were such a fascinating bunch of idealistic eccentrics. I hope, that you'll not feel abandoned?" "It's ok. I'll watch the new Bond movie. It's a remake of Gold will never die tomorrow." * * * The room was almost dark. The silence was broken by a knock from a gavel. ”Is the Esteemed Outer Tiler present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Outer Tiler, where is your proper station?” ”Outside the door, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To guard the door from eavesdroppers, vicious men and those for whom the noble truths of aardvarkdom are yet a mystery.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of an Outer Tiler share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”A sword, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”You have my permission to repair to your proper station. The Esteemed Inner Sentinel will let you know, when the Chapter is duly opened and, if needed, raised for business in higher degrees.” ”Is the Esteemed Inner Sentinel present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Inner Sentinel, where is your station?” ”Inside the door, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To guard the Chapter from the vices, foibles and disunity of the mundane world, to allow tested and proven Brethren of the proper degree to enter, even to allow proper Chapter officers accompanying properly invited candidates to the latter’s particular degrees, as that may be the case.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of an Inner Sentinel share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”Two swords crossed, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Journeyman Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Journeyman Officer, where is your station?” ”In the northhwest, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To accompany qualified, voluntarily applying, properly ballotted, accepted and invited candidates into the Journeymens’ Chapter, and deliver the main lecture of the Journeyman degree.” ”Why is your collar green?” ”The collar of a Journeyman Officer share the color of the Journeyman degree’s sash, signifying the noble virtues of Brotherhood, Duty and Benevolence.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”A halberd, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Squire Officer present?” Rob answered: ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Squire Officer, where is your station?” ”In the southwest, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To accompany properly invited Journeymen into the Squires’ Chapter, and deliver the main lecture of the Squire degree.” ”Why is your collar sky-blue?” ”The collar of a Squire Officer share the color of the Squire degree’s sash, signifying the noble virtues of Reason, Conscience and Equity.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”Two halberds crossed, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” Rob relaxed, and allowed the familiar and repetitious lull bring him into a timeless place, where symbols, customs and the choice of words had been more or less the same since 1865, and where he would recover from worries from work. ”Is the Esteemed Knight Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Knight Officer, where is your station?” ”In the south, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”It is well known, to Brethren of lower degrees, that a Knight Officer serve as Treasurer of his Chapter, and the Coffer is unto me entrusted. My other duties are hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret. So is the significance of my crimson collar.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”A shield and a key, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Sage Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Sage Officer, where is your station?” ”In the north, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”It is well known, to Brethren of lower degrees, that a Sage Officer serve as Secretary of his Chapter, and the minute-books are unto me entrusted. My other duties are hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret. So is the significance of my black collar.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”A skull and a quill, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Very Esteemed Past Senior Aardvark present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark, where is your station?” ”By your right side, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”On behalf of the Provincial Chapter, to supervise the compliance of a local Chapter to the Constitution and by-laws of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks, to advice the Honorable Senior Aardvark during his term, and to lead Brethren in their devotions.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of a Past Senior Aardvark share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”An aardvark, Honourable Senior Aardvark.” ”What is an aardvark?” ”An aardvark is an animal very common in South Africa, measuring upwards of three feet in length, and having a general resemblance to a short-legged pig. It feeds on ants, and is of nocturnal habits, and very timid and harmless.” ”Why do we style ourselves after this particular animal?” ”Because it is emblazoned on our heraldic crest, Honorable Senior Aardvark” ”And why so?” ”Unlike other animals, it is not prone to attack, but, if attacked, it defend itself bravely with its fearsome claws, and it is furthermore a hardy creature able to withstand attacking poisonous soldier-ants. For this reason, it is a useful symbol for an Aardvark’s willingness to defend the grave and noble philosophical tenets instilled into willing and receptive hearts inside the chapter-rooms of aardvarkdom. Furthermore, its nocturnal habits and amusing visage is a proper symbol for the merriment allowed at the consecutive festive board.” ”Does aardvarkdom then allow merriment?" ”As Sacred Writ proclaim: ’To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.’” The Senior aardvark knocked twice with his gavel: ”Esteemable Officers, rise!” ”Esteemable Officers, which purpose under heaven does aadvarkdom serve?” Brother Journeyman Officer began the almost 200 year old traditonal answer: ”To bring together men from all walks of life.” Rob answered: ”To help them recognize in each other men and Brothers true.” Brother Knight Officer continued: ”To remind them of their civic duties.” Brother Sage Officer added: ”To instill noble ideals into willing and receptive hearts.” Brother Inner Sentinel concluded: ”And to enable such innocent mirth, that alleviate the burdens of mundane life.” As usual, the Past Senior Aardvark rose, and asked the Senior Aardvark: ”Honorable Senior Aardvark, where is your station?” ”In the east, Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To preside as chairman of the business and transactions of a Chapter duly opened in, or raised to, any of the four Local Degrees of aardvarkdom." ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of a Senior Aardvark share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” "What is the sign of your office?” ”A gavel. Esteemed Brother Journeyman Officer: Perform your duty, at the opening of the Chapter." Journeyman Officer solemnly approached the Senior Aardvarks desk, carrying his halberd in his left hand, and a candle in his right. He lit his candle, returned solemnly to his station, and lit the three candles at his pedestal, saying with a clear voice: "BROTHERHOOD. DUTY. BENEVOLENCE." Senior Aardvark answered: "I hereby declare Local Chapter number 16 of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks duly opened for business in the Journeyman's Degree, to assist our neighbors in need and to the glory of the Supreme Being." He knocked in a complicated way. Inner Sentinel repeated the knock at the inside of the chapter-door. Outer Tiler repeated the knock from the outside of the chapter door. The Senior Aardvark now addressed Rob: ”Esteemed Brother Squire Officer: Perform your duty, at the raising of the Chapter to the second degree." Rob walked solemnly, and repeated what the Journeyman Official had done, lit the three candles close to his seat, and declared firmly: "REASON. CONSCIENCE. EQUITY." "Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark; Perform your duty, at the raising of the Chapter to the second degree." "Honorable Senior Aardvark, Esteemable Officials, my Brethren! We are about to confer the second degree upon a Journeyman, and desire to make a lasting impression upon his conscience. Let us therefore conduct ourselves accordingly. To hear again the obligations taken; the instructions given and the wonderful lessons of the order dwelt upon, can only be of profit to you and to the order. You know how easily we forget. And before the Chapter is duly raised for business in the second degree, let us raise our hearts and minds unto the Supreme Being according to each one's conscience, and silently pray for blessings upon this Chapter." Silence fell. The air felt thicker now, and charged with solemnity. The silence was again broken by Senior Aardvark's voice: "I hereby declare Local Chapter number 16 of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks duly opened for business in the Squire Degree, to assist our neighbors in need and to the glory of the Supreme Being." * * * It was two and a half hour later. The Chapter had closed traditionally, and they were seated around the dinner table. Brother Esteban joked something about where Brother Jim and Brother Rob were able to buy tuxedos in a fitting size, which caused Jim to laugh in his warm, deep voice, as he protectively patted the old and frail man on his shoulder. Jim leaned in Rob's direction, and whispered: "Now I get from where you got some of the ideas guiding 'Hancer Chapters." "Care for you neighbourhood. Good citizen. Incorruptibility. Not so old-fashioned, is it? Or if it is, some good ideas are old, which doesn't mean that every old idea is good." "Fair enough. Hasn't Nate given Aardvarks a thought? If he enjoy 'Hancer Chapters, he should enjoy the Aardvarks, wouldn't he, even if most Brethren are baseline fellows, and the rituals are more elaborate here." "He know how to apply. No one ought to persuade him. I've said more, than I should, to him. Then there's the bit about belief in a Supreme Being." "The Squire Trial was more shocking than I expected, but it's good food for thought." "Our founders wanted the Aardvarks to be more thought-provoking than Odd Fellows, the Masons or the temperance orders, that's why. It's not just a drama for drama's sake. The important thing is, that you begin to think for yourself. I suppose some Aardvarks are here just for company and the meal, and some Brethren think that the ritual part take too much time from charity, but I think, that there's a place for all three: Some serious food for thought and life-advice, some fun at the festive board, and some money and work spent on charity. There's an orphanage close to the coast which need some help to re-build, as a precaution against flood, and there's a women's shelter, that always is grateful for some donations." "Is it true, that Osiris Jefferson knew something about ancient Egypt?" Rob chuckled. "I've seen books printed as late as the 1970s, which maintained, that some of our imagery was transmitted by Jefferson from the ancient Egyptians, but that's nonsense. He deliberately shrouded himself in mystery, because back in the 1870s it was easier to present oneself as "Egyptian" than African-American. All of our five founders were outsiders in one or another sense: O'Kelly was an Irish Catholic at a time when that wasn't popular, Larsson was a Scandinavian at a time, when they were considered weird because of their bad English, then you have Jefferson, and even if Sanderson-Rattray belonged to an old family with a lot of money, he was considered eccentric, because he studied Thoreau, Emerson and Margaret Fuller. That he was an abolitionist in the South probably didn't endear him to his neighbours either: He moved to New England after a while. Smith was a Quaker. That's the reason why the obligation is a series of questions, and not the sort of wordy oath, it is rumoured, that other orders use. I doubt, that O'Kelly would have assisted in the foundation, if there had been an oath, either: Both Quakers and Catholics are sensitive about that. One of the proofs, that they didn't just talk the talk, but walked the walk, is, that Horowitz was one of the first candidates to become an Aardvark – He later became the third Grand Aardvark. I'll not bore you with our history. You'll have decades to read about that. The important thing is, that you give tonight's lessons some thought, and try to apply them in your daily life. Will you join me, when I fetch some more pie?" * * * The next chapter may be found HERE
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PREFACE Nothing original here, and almost no plot. I just wanted to see if it's possible to leave it open whom is growing. Perhaps it is you? Or are you Sir? Sir prefer his lads to be big Perhaps it was the testosterone levels, or perhaps it was the impact of the radionic stimuli, but something caused that tingling feeling, and something caused the muscles to look firmer. To BE firmer. Any cause to doubt the efficiency of the experiment began to fade, and any reluctance also began to fade – fade and begin to give way to the feeling. The feeling of growth. The feeling of pride over the subject to enhancement. That male feeling of a shared bond between the subject inside and Sir, who caused the Chamber to do his bidding. The heat inside the Chamber. Perspirating sweat, trickling sweat, evaporating sweat, sweat condensing on the pane of thick lead glass and slowly trickling down the misted pane. And WHY was sweat perspirating, why trickling, why evaporating, why condensing into mist on the pane? Why was the Chamber humming? Why was the interior of the Chamber buzzing? Why was the body tingling? Why was a crackling sound slowly increasing? Male sweat was perspirating and trickling, evaporating and filling the chamber with the scent of masculinity, condensing and slowly trickling down the misted pane. It was all happening, for the same reason the Chamber was humming, the interior of the Chamber buzzing, the body tingling and the the the crackling sound increasing: It was because an ordinary man, an average man, was slowly becoming more than ordinary, more than average. It was because the male subject was becoming a being beyond formerly known limits. Sir prefer his lads to be big. Sir and his lad share this urge: Sir's lads ought to be BIG. Familiar means have been used at the preparatory stage: Lifting steel properly; Eating properly; Sleeping properly; Go from average to dedicated; The forbidden substances, but, up until now, forbidden substances known by any gym rat. Not the unknown formula. Not before today. Today, when Sir's unknown formula is circulating. Circulating within the subject. Saturating the muscle tissues of the subject. Affecting the mind of the subject. Causing the subject to become, in mind and body, something else: A masculine being beyond formerly known limits. Because Sir prefer his lads to be BIG. It must be exciting for Sir to watch, just as it must be exciting to be the GROWING subject – the subject, which is becoming what Sir desire him to become. Excited to grow. Excited to grow the subject. Excited be grown. Perhaps it is the testosterone levels, or perhaps it is the impact of the radionic stimuli, but something cause that tingling feeling, and something cause the muscles to look bigger. To BE bigger. The exciting and overwhelming feeling of SWOLENESS. Swoleness emerging. Swoleness spreading. Swoleness filling and taking over. Becoming Sir's swole lad. Sir's swole masculine lad shuddering delightfully at the impact of the humming. At the buzzing. At the tingling. At the crackling. The humming that shape the field of the ideal ultra-masculine body. The buzzing that shape the mind into the mind of Sir's ultra-masculine swole big lad. The tingling of growth. YES! Of growth! The crackling of power that FORCE change and FORCE becoming upon any man inside. YES! To force change and force becoming ... ... while the ultra-masculine musky scent of the sweat fill the Chamber, fill the subject, causing overwhelming delightful change of mind and body ... Swoleness spreading. Swoleness filling and taking over. Becoming Sir's ultra-masculine swole lad, and evolving into ... ... evolving into an ultra-masculine being beyond formerly known limits. YES! The Mutation! Beyond! Beyond imagination! Beyond every limit! BECOMING! So heavy now. So WIDE. The powerful strength. More than ... Oh fuck! More than a man. Becoming the wide and swole massiveness that howl in ultra-masculine ecstasy as the sheer imposing physical presence and the indomitable mental assertiveness fuse into the incomprehensible and indescribable experience of MUTATION beyond former limits, beyond former potential, into Sir's flexing, roaring mountain of bouncing bulging beef, into Sir's testosterone-addled and steel-hard Bruiser Beast, the powerful physique throbbing of unimaginable muscular strength beyond ... Uh! Beyond EVERYTHING! BEYOND EVERYTHING! Because ... uh! ... because Sir prefer his lads to be BIG.
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MadMutter's Thicker than Water by Scarletic Table of Contents Chapter 1: Of Funerals and Vacations Chapter 2: Two Sides of a Coin Chapter 3: Night at the Museum Chapter 4A: It Came From... Chapter 4B: What Happens in the Dark Chapter 5: This Tall to Ride Chapter 6: Homecoming Kings Chapter 7: Max Occupancy Chapter 8: They Might Be Giants 1 Of Funerals and Vacations When Jolias’ grandmother passed away, he didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation to claim his inheritance. It was, after all, free money. Along with whatever fabulous goodies she’d set aside for him. Suddenly having enough rent for the next few months, especially when he needed two part-time jobs to make ends meet, was a no-brainer decision. Chicago wasn’t exactly the most affordable place to be living in, he’d realized. He wasn’t sure when he was — or if he was ever — going to return to Peru, but metaphorically looting his dead caregiver’s corpse wasn’t on his list of reasons why. The four years he’d been gone had done away with any memories of home. Names stuck, like his hometown of Copacabana at Lake Titicaca, but visuals and everyday details were gone, shelved away, and left to be forgotten. He’d even managed to scrape his tongue clean of the accent. Only the fear of meeting his parents again, of reliving the trauma they’d put him through, of remembering why it was he left Peru in the first place, haunted him. He wasn’t too fond of how he couldn’t have his new self-appointed name on his passport — Jolias Castor. Instead, it read like a tongue-twister, one that no one in the USA ever dared to attempt: Julias Castillo-Moreno. Next to it, his often-called “face of an angel,” with his rich coffee skin, button nose, and unkempt black hair. He preferred it messy. It distinguished him from the rest. The only person who’d ever gotten his name right (and on the first try) was his best friend. A fellow homosexual and expat from Germany, Maxwell Voigt was only two years older at 24 and working part-time as a café barista. They were close, met at the local pride parade, and kept in contact ever since. It was almost a match made in heaven. Almost. That was the important bit. Jolias couldn’t reciprocate Max’s attraction. Not when the latter was adamant about refusing to stick to the personalized workout routine Jolias had made for him. It was a struggle on both their parts, coming to terms with the other’s shortcomings. But it passed, as all things do. Jolias stuck to the gym where he worked part-time and built himself up to a nice 151 pounds at his humble 5-foot-6. Max, on the other hand, didn’t mind the extra bit of blubber on his 5-foot-11 frame, putting him at a not-as-solid 216 pounds. In his head, it made him look cuddlier, more touchable, something he wished Jolias wasn’t so averse to. Nevertheless, Max welcomed the chance to take a vacation to South America at Jolias’ behest. They both wanted company, each other’s specifically, even if it were for different reasons. The Economy section they’d been shoved in for seven hours wasn’t ideal, especially not when the crying children and obnoxious tourists seemed unable to shut their damn mouths. Jolias and Max rejoiced at the stop-over in Colombia, a momentary respite from their overpriced hell. Max wiped the sweat from his brow as he took in the spacious interior of the Jose Maria Cordova international airport. “I didn’t know it was already going to be so hot.” The cafeteria was packed with enough plant pots to outnumber their plane’s passengers, and the arched glass ceiling didn’t make the air any cooler. “Are you sure we didn’t book a trip to the desert?” “Sweating already?” Jolias sniggered as he whipped out his phone. 22°C. “It’s just a few degrees off Chicago’s usual. Probably just feels hotter because of the humidity.” Max let out a huff. “Or maybe it’s because you’re here.” “Ha-ha.” Jolias lifted both their carry-ons as they made their way out of the airport. Each bag was nearly the size of his whole torso, but he held them with an ease and grace Max knew he could never muster. “Just don’t make those same jokes when you meet my parents,” Jolias said. “You may be a cute boy-next-door, but they’re not going to be so nice when they know you’re gay too.” Max nodded, tugging and fanning himself with the now-wrinkled collar of his shirt. “I won’t. I told you.” “We’ll just be there for the celebration, then take the money, and then we head back before they even realize we’re gone.” As they breached through the glass doors and stepped onto the driveway, the inflamed white flare of the sun was an unwelcome heat lamp that stung on Max’s skin and burned through his glasses. “I wouldn’t mind if we headed back now, actually. You didn’t tell me it was going to be so hot,” Max said. “I don’t even think I packed my graded glasses with me.” “Get a grip, Germany. You’ve got that Übermensch legacy to live up to. We aren’t even in Peru yet. We are literally at the tip of the iceberg of South America.” Jolias stopped and spun on his heel, holding out Max’s overstuffed satchel in one hand. “Though if you carry your own bag the rest of the way, I won’t stop you from complaining.” Max let out a sigh and — with great apprehension — took his bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He may have been pudgy, but the broadness of his shoulders still stretched further than his love handles. “Fine. I just hope you know you’re missing out on a quality workout.” “Please. My bag is more than enough weight. I doubt your chips and extra clothes are going to be much of a challenge if you don’t start stuffing that thing with rocks.” Jolias quickened his pace, smiling to himself as he watched Max drag behind him. Max, already catching his breath, made a light sprint to catch up. “That depends on what kinds of rocks we’ll find. Where are we going again? This stop-over is only for a few hours, you know.” “It’s a place one of my clients recommended. Guatapé, I think. Said it’s full of lakes and rivers. Might be your kind of place since you used to be a swimmer.” Max groaned. “Key phrase is ‘used to be.’ Is there anything else I’m supposed to be excited for?” Jolias winked over his shoulder. “Stairs. I know you love ‘em. 740 steps’ worth.” “Oh, my god.” Lifting his head up, Max opened his mouth and faced the clear blue sky, eyes shut in defeat. “This trip is going to be the death of me.” “My grandmother’s, actually.” Jolias pressed Max’s jaw shut against his skull. “And close your mouth. You’re going to let the flies in.” ◊ ◊ ◊ Max had always known South Americans weren’t the tallest people around, but it was a tad unnerving to see so many eyes needing to look up to meet his gaze. It was always either the women or Jolias, never the men — especially not all of them at once. He found comfort in the few caucasian tourists who didn’t make him feel quite so large, so obtrusive. The track he and Jolias trekked on was a long, winding dirt path that twisted and cut into the hillside. They were surrounded by enough palm trees to make New York’s Central Park a flower garden in comparison. Blades of grass crunched under his boots as he followed Jolias to the mountainous rock a few kilometers away, tucked in the heart of a tourist village perched next to a crystalline lake of sapphire blue. If he hadn’t known what Germany looked like, he might’ve confused Guatapé for paradise — only several degrees hotter. Max ran his fingers through his mocha hair, twirling each dried-out strand in his fingers. He thought if he’d rubbed them hard enough, they’d ignite like tinder. “Hey, are you sure we have to climb up that thing?” he asked, pointing at the hill in the distance, decorated on one side with a devilish flight of stairs. “I don’t have an insurance plan.” Jolias, once again holding both carry-on bags (as Max handed it back at some point during the minibus ride), sniggered. “What did I say about complaining? You’ll be fine.” “Just because I’m German doesn’t mean I descended from Nordic gods. If I die, I die.” “Then I guess I get the full share of my inheritance. I’ll send your landlord my regards.” “Can’t I just stay down in that town where it’s safe?” Max fanned himself with a small banana leaf he’d picked up somewhere along the trail. “A swim in that lake sounds really good right now.” He scanned his gray shirt, now darkened with sweat on his chest and armpits. “Plus, I think I need to change into something a bit darker. I’m sweating like a priest at a schoolhouse.” Jolias lightly flicked him on the nose. “I warned you about the exercise. You’re either coming up there with me and taking my photos or losing your mortgage. Pick your poison.” The rocks rolled to the side as he kicked them aside with every step. “You are evil. Fine. But if I pass out halfway up, you better throw me in that lake.” Jolias looked back at his best friend and patted him on the shoulder, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight and his smile curved into a mischievous little wrinkle. “I can do that, yeah. I deadlift your weight for fun. I just hope you aren’t afraid of heights.” Max gulped, much to Jolias’ amusement. “Don’t worry. Once we get our photos, we’ll take a nice dip in the lagoon. We’ve still got a few more hours of sun to kill before we have to get back for our flight. Marco’s going to murder me if we aren’t at Lima by tonight.” Max’s face melted into worry, the smile he’d been propping up disappearing at the mention. Marco. ◊ ◊ ◊ In all the years he’d spent part-timing as an accountant and personal trainer in Chicago, Jolias never got around to appreciating Lake Michigan. It was clean. It was large. But there was always something about the concrete jungle that wrapped around it and blotted the horizon that didn’t sit too well with him; at first, he thought it was the color gray he didn’t like. Then, he figured it was the noise and smog of the city. In the back of his mind, it might have even been the people who died trying to swim in it. He refused to accept that he may have just missed the green of his homeland. Standing at the top of the rock (not quite a hill) that towered over Guatapé and taking in the magnificence of natural South America for the first time in years, Jolias found himself floating — the tropical scent of jungle mildew wafting in the breeze, the twinkle of the golden sun on the winding lakes. For a moment, albeit brief, he felt relief. From the stresses of monthly rent, of clients, of seeing his family again. If there was any silver lining, it was the chance to reconnect with nature. And, perhaps, his twin brother. “This is so much better than the city.” Jolias leaned against the railing overlooking the town and pristine lake below, letting the cool air brush through his hair. “Are you going to let me take your photo yet or what?” Max said, shivering. “These old people are pestering me.” Jolias’ face read almost absent, immersed in the serenity of nature, of his home. He turned and rested his back and elbows against the rusted blue fence, facing the glare of the sun head-on and smiling for Max. The way he stood caused his developed chest to protrude from his paper-thin dri-fit shirt, stirring his #1 admirer’s senses almost manipulatively well. “I hate it when you smile at me like that,” Max groaned. Jolias preened at the mention. “I can’t help it. God-given looks and all that.” Max took his photos of Jolias, and Jolias of Max. They’d barely been out of the USA for half a day, and, already, Max was beginning to roast from the heat, donning a light pink instead of his usual snow-white skin. “I really should’ve put on more sunblock.” Jolias tugged Max’s wrist and led him back down the 740-step staircase. “You could use the tan. Now come on. Let’s go for a dip. I’m itching to get wet.” Max, picking up his own carry-on from the ground (passed back at some point in the climb), sighed. His nether region was getting uncomfortably tight. His six-incher wasn’t exactly petite. “Way ahead of you there.” ◊ ◊ ◊ The two walked along the tourist-made path that shot through the forest-canopied expanse of lakes. Even without the bird’s eye view, it was a postcard-worthy hike. Max had never experienced nature to this extent before. He’d been born in the city, raised in it, and believed — though prematurely — that he would never get to see a forest in person, to live out his childhood fantasy of a log cabin in the woods. Pure isolation from the needless bustle of everyday life. Of living in a society he never chose, never belonged in. It was something he was reminded of whenever he was with Jolias. That same familiar longing. Being with him felt like that to Max: living in a log cabin. A place to call home. Someone whose fire kept him warm when the winter nights were coldest. Even as he lagged behind his fit friend’s impossibly athletic pace, he couldn’t help but admire the way he seemed to glow amid the rays of light that pierced through the trees. He moved as a nymph would, back where he belonged. “This is a lot more beautiful than my desktop wallpaper makes these types of places out to be,” Max said, picking a hot pink flower from a low tree branch. He loved the way it looked. And he loved the way Jolias looked. From behind, especially. “Wait! Slow down.” Jolias turned on his heel and lowered both their carry-ons. “What now? Are you going to offer to carry your bag again before giving it back?” He pushed his hair back and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Max caught up and stopped inches away from Jolias. “I wouldn’t think of it.” They could smell each other’s musk, the other man’s sweat, the perfume of their breath. They were both shirtless. With a gentle hand, Max took Jolias’ hair and tucked the flower on the valley of his ear. “Not when you look like an angel.” Blushing, Jolias covered his face with a vacant hand. “You’re so damn flirty.” Readjusting his shorts, he lifted both their bags and continued his trek. “Come on. That cave you saw is just around the corner here.” “Right behind you.” Max and Jolias turned the corner and stared at the perfectly circular maw of what looked like a chute built into the cliffside. The inside was damp and lined with gray clay. Water still fed into it from the river, but where it went, neither man could tell: the stream disappeared into the darkness of the earth, echoing despite its silence. It looked larger from where he’d seen it going down the stairs of that vantage rock, Max thought. Up close, the hole was going to be a tight squeeze for a man his size. He envied Jolias sometimes. Tight spaces weren’t exactly his comfort zone. Jolias ran a hand across its surface, letting the clear waters run through his fingers before they disappeared down the hole. “It’s nice and slippery.” He dug a finger into the clay and stared at the buildup that had collected on his nail. “Gross.” He looked down at where he’d scraped and discovered that he’d exposed the material underneath. It looked ivory. Not quite stone. Though not quite metal. “I wonder what this cave used to be.” “Are you going to go in there?” Max asked. “Hey, you found it, Columbus. Your prize awaits down the rabbit hole.” Max washed himself in the river before approaching Jolias. Standing next to someone with such chiseled musculature when he looked like a sack of pudding wasn’t very confidence-boosting. But, as he knew, Jolias was never the judgmental type. Not when he’d had his own fair share of men. While Max didn’t inspire awe, he was still Jolias’ favorite friend. But that’s all he ever was. “Do I look like a white rabbit to you? Jo-Alice in Wonderland.” Jolias rolled his eyes and gently moved his firm hand down Max’s soft back, urging him subtlely closer towards the hole. “I don’t know what you expect to find down there, but it’s no upelkuchen. A skeleton, maybe. But cake? Nah.” Before he could even question it, Max was already kneeling and squeezing his legs, prepping to slide down. “The only cakes I want are yours.” “You had your chance.” Max frowned. “But—“ Jolias slapped him on the back, sending him flying down the lubricated slide before he could even finish his sentence. MEANWHILE The German man’s yelling echoed like a death squelch for several seconds before it punctuated with a profound splash. It was impossible to tell how deep it went. Especially not when Max was so silent. The echoing had ceased, and Jolias couldn’t even hear a whisper of a sound coming from the hole. “Are you dead?” Jolias cried. “The water’s cold as fuck! But I think I see an exit. Get down here! And be careful with the bags!” Jolias squeezed himself into the hole, sitting in the same impression Max’s cheeks had left in the clay. He stared at the exposed material again and wondered what it was. Oddly, it reminded him of Peruvian cuisine. He was no stranger to chicken bones and beef bone marrow, and something told him it was no different to whatever it was he was about to send himself flying down. A giant bone? He thought. But that query could wait. “Jol’? Are you coming down here or what?” He snapped out of it. “Coming.” And sent himself into the void. Thankfully, he had prior experience jumping off cliffs and into the ocean. The protocols to avoid getting his balls crushed by the water were second nature to him. When the chute ended, it took him a second to realize he was free-falling. But he kept his posture, maintained his stance, kept one hand on his groin and one on his nose. The splash he made wasn’t as large — or as loud — as Max’s. He was as a needle piercing the calm fabric of the water’s surface. He opened his eyes in the freezing waters and found wisps of light poking through a crack in the ground above. They were in an underground cave, an aquifer, most likely. It didn’t seem like anyone had been down there in years. Decades. Instead of souls, he found boulders and stalagmites. But someone was missing. “Max?” Jolias asked, spinning in the water. He looked up. Down. Found nothing but rocks and shadows. Not even the floor below. A frozen hand latched onto his ankle before he could blink. In his panic, he kicked something that felt soft, felt breakable under the water. “What the fuck?!” Coming up for air, Max massaged his bleeding nose and released a handful of crimson into the spring water. It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but Jolias couldn’t ignore the red strips escaping from his friend’s face, not when his own eyes were wide with shock. “I can’t believe you kicked me id da face!” Max cried, nasally, splashing Jolias with a wave. “Oh, god, by dose.” “Jesus! I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you! I swear.” Jolias raised his hands in defense. Not from Max’s words, but the water. Another splash. “Who else vas it going to be? A nazi zo’bie? A Russian superbodel?” Max snorted out the last of the blood into the water and jostled it. “First the water shoots up my damn nose and crushes my balls, and then you kick me in the face. Lovely. If you plan on assaulting my dick next, I,”—Max’s face went somewhere pleasant—"actually—“ “Don’t finish that sentence.” “Fine.” Jolias slapped a hand on Max’s wet shoulder and hopped behind him, posturing himself for a piggy-back lift. “You’ll be fine. Now, go, princess.” Jolias lifted an arm, pointing at the exit atop a short climb. “Take us to the exit.” “Nuh-uh. Not yet!” Max gripped both Jolias’ calves and leapt backwards into the water, submerging them both. The two roughhoused for the better part of an hour. Neither ever wanting to leave the cave. Both their carry-ons had gotten ruined. But they didn’t notice. In fact, they wouldn’t’ve cared. Max and Jolias took turns plunging each other into the water, never quite enjoying a full breath of air before being thrown and wrestled and slam-dunked. They weren’t sure when the glowing wisp in the water’s reflection started to move on its own. “What is that?” Jolias pointed at something moving in-between them. Seafoam green, Jolias described it. To Max, it resembled something more akin to blue sperm. It wiggled and darted through the water like a bullet, passing around their limbs and gracing them with light contact. Jolias wasn’t expecting to find anything sentient when he slid down the hole. But there it was. Something so alien, so slime-like, slippery and malleable to the touch, yet impossible to hold. At some point, it disappeared from Max’s sight. “Shit. Where’d it go?” “You can’t find it?” Jolias swam over and showered Max’s dried hair in a handful of water. He shook his head, readying himself to dive. “I’ll see if I can find it. If I don’t come up in three minutes, feed Whiskers for me.” Max took a deep breath, puffing out his stomach and cheeks, and plunged himself beneath Jolias’ careless feet. Jolias wasn’t sure what Max was hoping to find, but the former hoped it wouldn’t’ve been another broken body part. Jolias hadn’t said a word in the time Max was gone. Instead, he swam to the nearby gravel shore where they’d tossed their bags and pair of glasses and dressed up. A dry exit had revealed itself in their brouhaha, and he couldn’t wait to leave. After two minutes, Max emerged from the water — head first — and trudged through the water towards Jolias on his tip-toes. “Couldn’t find it.” “At least I won’t have to dig up your body. Now come on. We have to go. Our flight’s coming up.” The water cascaded down Max’s body as he stepped onto the gravel, shaking his hair. “Wait. Not yet.” Jolias hopped to his feet and rolled his eyes. He was primed, ready to go. The yellow shirt he wore clung tightly to his torso; its orange sun distorted because of his chest and abs. “What is it now? I’m tired of playfighting.” Max stopped a foot away and let the rest of the water sink into the gravel. Standing still, he reached an absent hand down towards his crotch and grabbed a handful of his cock. Jolias knew Max’s body well enough to know that he was never quite so… endowed. His black shorts were jutting out from his waist almost unnaturally so. As if he’d stuffed it with socks. Several pairs of. “I think something’s wrong with my dick,” Max muttered. He was met with a snigger. “What’s new?” “No, I mean it! I think there’s something up with it.” Max pinched the two ends of his shorts and readied to pull them down and expose his nether. Jolias stopped him with a lightning-quick hand. The smaller Peruvian man had seen Max’s crotch before (they compared sizes at a party once), but they were intoxicated then. And not hundreds of feet deep in a prehistoric aquifer, surrounded by virgin spring water host to who-knows-how-many bacteria. Before Max could question Jolias’ hesitation, a blue glow appeared in both their eyes, and they looked down to find the source. Emanating from Max’s pouch. “You’re right. That— that isn’t normal.” MEANWHILE Letting out a whimper, Max shook his head and dropped his shorts to his ankles. They both stared at the very same glowing organism they’d encountered in the water. “What the fuck…” Max whispered. It was worm-like yet texture-free, smooth to the touch, wet and slimy and coiled tightly around his six-inch penis. He looked to Jolias with quivering eyes. “Get it off me…!” he whispered in a panic. His cheeks were already going red. “I’m not touching that thing! We need to get you to a doctor. It might pop your dick if it gets any tighter.” Max pouted. A flurry of sensual titillations washed over him in that moment. He felt his body heat start to rise. “No… I—I don’t think it’s…”—he moaned—“I don’t think it’s bad.” He coiled inwards, compressing his torso, reaching out to grab the blue-greenish snake but stopping, twitching. “This actually feels kind of good.” The organism strained momentarily, like a firm grip’s squeeze, and released, causing Max to release the stress built-up on his face. The blush went hot, even in the dark. With one eye open, Max gasped in pleasure. “Fuck… it feels like it’s giving me a handjob or something.” Jolias froze. He was only watching as his best friend’s hardening member was being serviced by something they’d never seen before. “Max?” But the taller man stayed silent. The contractions continued as the slime demanded Max’s blood rush into his penis, now a pillar that rose and protruded from his waist. The warmth rippling through his balls appeared intoxicatingly paralyzing. It was taking him all he had to keep himself upright, his eyes open as he stared at Jolias, whose hands quivered with hesitation. The mushroom head of Max’s cock looked ready to burst after a minute of lubed hands-free masturbation. “Holy fuck… It’s gonna make me—“ Max’s train of thought was cut off. Before he could unleash the load he’d built up, the entity unraveled itself and darted into the slit of his penis. There was a moment of concern as Max watched the slit of his cock be pried open. Yet, despite his initial assumption, there was no pain. Only the opposite: a gentle force that throbbed and bore the sensation of squeezing his cock from within. Even if he wanted to speak, there wasn’t much to say. Both he and Jolias only watched as the slime slithered up Max’s shaft, pulsating, and slipped into his mushroom head. It was almost torturous. The pleasure was overwhelming both the inside and outside of his penis, and his mind flashed white with surreal disbelief. Max’s eye twitched as he glanced at his best friend who’d taken a step back in fearful fascination. “Jol’…” The building, tightening pressure in his shaft as the slime continued to pour itself into it forced Max to wince. “Is this really happening?” Jolias asked, gawking mouth open. As more and more of the slime seemed to endlessly make its way into Max’s genitals, another sensation piled on top of his already overwhelming nerves. His eyes were on the ceiling, yet he felt the slime pulsate in his urethra, demanding more space, stretching out his six-inch cock like a balloon. Despite the abnormality, there was still no pain. It was as though the slime were incapable of it. Max shuddered second after second as it continued to throb and push against the outer limits of his penis, making enough room to accommodate all of it, its movements, its pulses, almost like a heartbeat. Before Max could even lower his head to examine what was happening, a jolt of energy akin to a caffeine shot jolted his system. He was overloaded with energy yet held prisoner by the growing ecstasy. As more and more of the slime disappeared into his genitals, he could feel each and every gram that compounded in his balls, making them heavier, thicker. And still, the tail end of the slime continued to squeeze him from within, egging him towards release, demanding it. His cock continued to swell inches larger and girthier and heavier. The slime sent a final wave of intoxicating power as it moved down from his shaft and settled in his balls, now engorged and loaded with cum and slime. He’d thrown his head back, lost to the ecstasy. The heat pulsating from his testicles was sending his adrenaline into overdrive. Jolias stared at the much larger penis in stupefied horror. Max had only ever seen a cock that size once before, and that was in a porno. The ivory-white tool had lengthened to over double Jolias’. And it was still fully erect. MEANWHILE “Max?! Are you okay? That thing just—“ But he wasn’t there — not mentally. His glazed eyes twitched, but Jolias could still see through the mirth, flashing a quick purple before returning to their absent state, nothing going on behind them. All he heard were heaving moans, guttural breaths, and the running of his fingers as he touched himself feet away from Jolias. Jolias wasn’t sure which to address first. The fact that his best friend’s fuckstick looked obscene? Or the way his balls looked big enough to rival baseballs? Or that a living glob of slime just slithered into Max’s shaft? He broke out into a cold sweat just thinking about it. When the convulsions seemed to stop, solidifying the newly grown state of Max’s pumped member, he let out a groaning moan. Max motioned as if to ejaculate. But there was nothing. Only hot air and the faintest drops of cum came sputtering out, dotting the gravel beneath them in white. “Jol’…” Jolias wiped the sweat off his brow and approached his friend, a peripheral eye keeping close watch of the softening cock. It didn’t seem to be losing any inches, staying the same size it’d been when it became a host. “Welcome back to reality. Are you alright?” Max sighed and walked over to his bag. “I just came. I think. I—“ He bent over and dug his face into his bag, scavenging for a dry shirt to wear but never settling. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?” “I don’t know. No? Nothing I can think of looked anything like that slimy worm thing.” Max scoffed, tossing a loose white shirt over his head and slipping it on. It didn’t hug him well. He didn’t care. “Great. I’ve got some new species of snake gurgling around in my balls. I’m gonna give the British Museum a run for their money. Do you think there’s a doctor on the plane I could ask?” The gray shorts he wore did nothing to compress his now-plus-sized cock and balls. Even with his boxers, it was a tight fit, poking out from his sweats. Jolias tossed his bag over his shoulder and stepped towards the incline headed towards the hole in the ceiling. “A doctor in philosophy, maybe. I mean, we could ask, but I doubt we’ll find anyone.” He sighed. “We’ll probably have more luck in Lima. Marco might know someone.” “Uh…” Max froze, a brief furrow appearing on his forehead at the mention. He stopped himself before the wrinkles settled. But Jolias already noticed. “You’re worrying about nothing. He won’t get in the way. I told you.” He dug his fingers into the cracks in the cave wall. And climbed. “Now, are you coming? Or are you going to stay here and sulk and be petty with that huge slime hotel of a dick of yours?” Max sighed, dropping his shoulders, dragging his sneakers across the gravel. One eye on Max, the other on the aquifer. There were no more unusual glowing organisms slithering around in the water. Just as there were no answers. But those could wait. “I’m coming.” Jolias paused and snickered. “You already did.” ◊ ◊ ◊ The security officer conducted a full-body check and held his breath the moment his hand cradled what he’d initially thought to be a grenade. One haphazardly shoved inside Max’s underwear. Everyone was watching, waiting, wondering what was holding up the line. Their flight had been called. All eyes were on Max. Jolias waited in the tunnel, ignoring the putrid gazes of impatient passengers who couldn’t wait a second longer. “You’re—“ the officer gulped, eyes shaking as he turned to the flight attendant holding the ticket, as his wandering gaze left an imprint in Max’s mind. “You’re good to go, sir.” With a firm nod, Max took his bag and followed Jolias through the tunnel. People rushed by, a display of passive-aggression, bumping and elbowing their way past the two. “Come on,” Jolias ushered. “Let’s get seated.” Max kept his head low, making every attempt to appear smaller, to disappear in the crowd, to be forgotten. The trek back to the airport had been hell. It had been a mistake to wear gray sweatshorts, especially when his genitals resembled smuggled fruits. Though, in a way, he technically was smuggling something. Something alive. And it wasn’t wasting any effort in making its presence known. People both native and foreign to Colombia glanced at him wherever he went — though not in his eyes. At his junk. Max had tried everything to keep himself under control. But it was impossible keeping his swollen python down, especially when it hardened whenever he so much as caught Jolias at the corner of his eyes. They got into their seats — Max enjoying the window, Jolias the center. He glued his face to the glass, refusing to acknowledge his current reality until he was back on solid ground. South America was a natural, picturesque haven. But he couldn’t enjoy it knowing something had tampered with the biology of his genitals. MEANWHILE Jolias didn’t know what to do. He’d invited his friend with the sole intention of offering him a vacation and a share of his inheritance. There was nothing in the agreement about this. He lifted the armrest separating them, but Max only grumbled in reply. “N— not right now, Jol’. It was hard enough sneaking this thing through security. I don’t want you making this,”—he slapped his semi-hard cock—“this thing any harder than it already is. It might tear a hole through my damn shorts. For fuck’s sake…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry this is happening. I promise, as soon as we land, we’ll get you to a doctor.” “In Lima? I’ll pass.” “What? Why? You’ve been complaining about that thing in your balls the entire walk back. Would you prefer to keep that thing inside you?” Max stayed silent. “I know it’s not exactly first world down here, but the people are still more than capable of helping.” Jolias settled back in his seat, lowering the armrest. “I already texted Marco,” he muttered. “He said there’s someone who could help. Just… give them a chance?” He patted Max’s shoulder, subconsciously drawing his face towards him. In that instant, Max’s heated expression softened back to its innocent state, replacing his barista-esque charm. A smile emerged, albeit weak. “Alright. Fine. I just hope whatever is in me…” he moaned, “stops swirling around in my fucking balls. People have been staring at me, you know. It’s not exactly easy hiding a hard ten-incher.” Jolias opened his mouth to speak, but the older American woman next to him cut him off. “Would you two stop?” she grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any more about your privates!” “Our bad.” Jolias replied, a sinister smirk propping a dimple. He turned to Max and bit his lip, lightly flicking the semi-hard head of Max’s cock, outlining through his sweatshorts. Max’s eyes grew wide — as his cheeks went red. “What are you doing?!” he whispered. “Didn’t you just hear what that lady said?” Jolias shrugged. “She only mentioned privates. Why not make it public? Not like it’s public nudity while it’s in your shorts, is it?” “Excuse me?” the woman spoke. Her eyes bounced from Jolias’ to Max’s snaking penis. “Could you please stop engaging in public sex? You are on a plane!” “Sex? I’ll have you know my friend here happens to be a virgin. We’re just having a bit of safe-for-work man-to-man action. No one’s stopping you from switching seats. Better yet, I’m sure the next flight would be more than willing to accommodate you.” Max placed a hand on Jolias’ toned wrist. “Hey… Jol’. Please. Don’t pick a fight. Things are hard enough as is.” And his hands rapped on his chocolate skin. “Though… “ he leaned in close to Jolias’ ear for a whisper. “We can get a closer look at my between-me-down-there when we get to our place. Just not here. That alright with you?” Jolias paused, looked Max in the eye, and shook himself clean. “God.” He took one last look at the woman, now raising a wrinkled eyebrow in irritation. “Fine, fine. But just an inspection.” Max sniffled, his cock bouncing in unison, as he caught Jolias in a gleeful trap. “Just an inspection.” ◊ ◊ ◊ Max woke up at two in the morning. His ears were first, emerging from the heavy silence of a dream come true and into a nightmare orchestrated by the hellish rumbling of the plane’s engine. All the lights were off, save for a few. The occasional insomniac, the jetlagged businessman, the stressed and anxious. They were scattered around, none near enough to provide ample light to any one spot. Max’s eyes were drawn to the blinking seatbelt light overhead, blasted by the cool wind from the AC. Outside the window was a sea of black and blue, the clouds more of a fog the plane penetrated with ease. Jolias was asleep next to him, resting his forehead against the seat in front. Max sniggered. The guy he’d had a crush on for years had never looked so unbelievably unsexy. Yet, after everything they’d been through, he couldn’t have wanted him more. They’d seen each other naked. Jolias’ eyes gleamed at the sight of Max’s enlarged crotch back in the cave — Max was never going to let him live that one down. For the longest time, he didn’t know what it was going to take to make the gym rat ogle him the same way he did every other guy at the gym. Being around all that hot sweat and those big men was never going to work for Max. The cold steel of the dumbbells didn’t feel natural in his hands. Artificial, not meant to be touched. But now he knew better. He knew what Jolias wanted, what he was always after. He tugged the garter of his sweatshorts and inspected the damage. His cock wasn’t the iron-strength beam it was hours ago, but even soft, it was still longer and thicker than he’d ever been hard. And his testicles put eggs to shame. He shook his waist a bit just to see if it — if he — were real, to watch it jiggle in between his legs. To feel it smack against his thighs. Despite the abnormality of the situation, Max found the sensation his new weight brought a pleasantly natural development. “What are you doing…?” Jolias whispered. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” Jolias tossed his head and smiled sleepily at Max, one eye still closed and fast asleep. “I work two jobs, Max. No rest means more money.” “And yet, here we are, on the way to Peru to loot whatever rent money we can pry from your grandmother’s remains.” “Shut up.” Jolias lifted the armrest and nestled against Max’s shoulder. “You make it sound like a war crime.” The heat rushed into Max’s face before he could react. Jolias’ black hair was tickling the side of his neck, and his slowed breathing was crawling down Max’s bare arm. They’d never been so close before. Never so intimate. He could feel the stream of blood returning to his cock, the very same beast he’d spent the past few hours struggling to tame, now breaking free of its reigns. “H-hey, Jol’… do you think you could, uh… not use my shoulder as a pillow?” He lowered his head to whisper into Jolias’ ear. “You’re getting me hard again.” “Who cares? The old coon next to me is asleep, and I’m trying to get some well-deserved shuteye. We’ll deal with your horndog problems in the morning.” Max gulped. The mushroom head was crawling down his right leg, inching towards Jolias, pulling and shifting under the gray fabric of his sweatshorts. He tried escaping, shifting closer to the window. Jolias followed. The smaller man was refusing to rest his head on anything that wasn’t Max’s immediate shoulder. Heat was something of an issue to Max. It always got him hard. And being around Jolias wasn’t making things any easier. “I’m serious.” Max felt the flush of warmth course through his cheeks. He laid his eyes on the salami outlined through his shorts. It didn’t look real. But it was his. And he could make it jump at will. Jolias grumbled, lightly flicking the shaft staring at him. “God. Did it get bigger?” Max was confused. “What?” It never occurred to him that any changes, especially subtle as they were, would’ve been invisible to him. But was Jolias telling the truth? Or seeing what he wanted to see? “Don’t touch it.” Regardless, Jolias’ fingers playfully tapping Max’s cock made him twitch. The pleasure being wrought was disproportionate to Jolias’ teasing. Max struggled to maintain his composure. The sensation was writhing through his every nerve, tensing and straining. It was in his fingers, his toes, his neck. But they were in public. Most were asleep, but the few who weren’t could hear every micro-moan and gasp quivering from his lips. There was no way to halt Jolias’ advance. He was indomitable, unrelenting, and oh-so-damn fuckable. The AC turned lukewarm in minutes. Max couldn’t help it — he let out a moan. Though not of agony. Nor of pleasure. The latter was an understatement. It was ecstasy. Max was seeing red, and Jolias’ handsome face at the forefront of his imagination. His best friend’s toned, athletic body, that V-taper, those thick brown nipples protruding from his supple chest. Just from the way Jolias shuffled against Max, his strong shoulders poked and prodded Max’s own soft arm. Those copper eyes, pools of molten gold, shining like the sun. Though his crotch wasn’t as enormous as Max’s was, the ham-like thighs framing it were more than enough compensation. Max glanced at Jolias and regretted it immediately. A drop of precum escaped from his balls. He’d lost control for a moment. Only a second. His testicles hungered for release. They were pressing against his chair, cushioned and primed. But he held the urge down. Kept himself contained. They were still in public. And Max was two seats and several aisles away from reaching the closest toilet. Yet Jolias’ heat permeated his every pore, bathing him in his natural scent, the musk of a Peruvian model. Without a word or any action at all, Jolias was unwittingly holding him hostage along the edge. And he wanted to fall. Wanted nothing more than to let go. The heat was creeping up his swollen shaft, the point of no return. Max held his breath. And he looked, one last time, at Jolias’ heterochrome orange eyes, grinning at him. “Fuck.” He trailed off. A stream of pre-cum pooled in Max’s shorts, coating the fattened cock of his head. Max’s and Jolias’ noses were bombarded with the pungent scent of cum, and they both stared at the source, paused for breath, dumbfounded in curiosity. Max waited for it to end. His hope was short-lived as his balls inexplicably began churning and radiating a sensual heat as it pumped out dollop after dollop of potent sperm. He couldn’t believe the feeling, as if his body had a mind of its own, mercilessly pinching his erotic nerves. “Excuse me, steward, but… what’s that smell?” Max turned to the voice and found it coming from across the plane, opposite to his own seat. It was an old man, sniffling. A cold. He shouldn’t have been able to notice anything. Yet Max stared at the way he described the masculine perfume: raw, warm, chlorine- or bleach-like. Those weren’t the words he would’ve used to describe his cum, but hearing them from a total stranger made them all the more real. Jolias was salivating next to him, his eyes pointed at the couple a few seats ahead, sniffing around for the source. Max couldn’t believe what was happening. Yet the cum only seemed to continue seeping through his shorts, streaming down his leg. The ecstasy was intoxicating. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass. And he let go. The flood of cum gushed out of his balls as a geyser would. Some of it splattered on the carpet. Some on the seat in front, in the net basket, in the pages of the magazines. The cock had broken free of Max’s shorts, pulled the fabric back into his pelvis, and stood at a 45-degree angle. The head flared as if it were alive, roaring and unleashing the white splooge in bursts. Max threw his head back and shut his eyes. He heard Jolias’ voice call out, “Max?” And he wanted nothing more than to fuck it. To fuck him. He bucked in his seat, slowly, girating, picturing the sight of Jolias’ nude self positioned over him, manipulating the nerves in his oversized cock. Jolias had described them to Max before: the ways his ass and cock could take any and every man he slept with to heaven. Those side-comments were never lost on Max. He’d used them to ejaculate before. Just the words. And his voice. And this moment in time, frozen on the plane, was no different. “Max!” Jolias whispered, almost in a yell. There were others looking, glancing over, realizing where the smell was coming from. People were waking up. People were staring. Max shut himself up as he felt the blood in his face flush with heat, releasing the final glob of cum from his balls. It raced up his shaft and ejected, making an audible splat as it collided with the food tray. “Holy fuck,” Max mouthed. But the heat didn’t dissipate. Not yet. He was still far from satisfied. Jolias tugged Max’s shorts in a vain attempt at covering up his privates before the approaching stewardess laid her eyes on the biggest, wettest penis she would’ve ever laid eyes on. It was no good. The tool was too hard, too difficult. “Max, cover yourself up! Holy shit. Someone’s gonna see you.” Jolias got no reply. Max was well and truly out of it. His mind had gone blank-white with euphoria, even in the dimly lit cabin. The heat had taken over every bare inch of his skin, but it never showed. His fingers, resting on the windowsill and Jolias’ left leg, were twitching. Then it happened, the moment Max had been waiting for — the true grand finale. He felt it first in his stomach. With a struggling hand, he bent over and lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing his flawless baby fat paunch, hanging loosely over his shorts’ garter. Jolias tried to unclench Max’s grip and cease the exhibition. He failed. Max’s will surpassed Jolias’ physicality in power, though neither man knew when or how. But Max knew why. With one look, he directed Jolias’ attention to his exposed stomach. Before the latter could even utter a worded reaction, the unbelievable happened. The fat that had once wrapped around Max’s midsection began to dissipate, sinking back into his body, disappearing like a deflating balloon. Both their eyes grew wide as they watched. What was once a torso akin to a bubble was shrinking — no, molding — into marble. The skin tightened until love handles became abs, and, as was revealed by another lift of his shirt, gynecomastia became a pair of pecs. They were faint, flat, nothing like Jolias’. But they were tough. They were square. And they were his. Max didn’t notice the stewardess stop and turn to examine what was happening on seats 33 and 34. She spoke before looking, “Excuse me, sir—“ “Oh, my god.” Jolias reached out a hand to touch but hovered halfway. “Is this real? W-what happened?” Max panted. The heat was finally disappearing, leaving his body like invisible fumes. He turned to Jolias, to the stewardess, to the businessman across the plane. Nothing could have prepared him for what just happened. His hands were still holding up his shirt, exposing his newly-formed chest, swimmer’s abs, V-line, and most importantly his ivory monolith, which was taking its sweet time retracting into a more manageable size. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think I need to clean up,” he told Jolias. Everyone watching was dumbfounded. Max turned to the stewardess, clutching her ID in shock. “You wouldn’t happen to have a box of tissues, would you?”
- 47 replies
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- 27
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- muscle growth without effort
- m/m
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Sugar Rush Marty sat alone on the teacher’s desk, watching the vermillion sun gleam through the trees and into the classroom. Outside, the cicadas were singing, welcoming the evening. His last class ended anticlimactically, a relief for his weary heart. Senior high kids were a menace; at least today Marty only needed one painkiller. As he was finishing up grading the last of the week’s test papers, he heard the sound of whistling coming from down the hall. And he held his breath, his eyes glued to the door, waiting for him to appear at the window. His name was Eric O’Ronell―he was a freshly turned 18-year-old high school jock, but everyone who knew him referred to him as THE jock, THE baseball star. Infamous for being the go-to guy for between-class “favors” in the genderless washrooms with one or two others. He was 5’11”, fit enough that his tight muscles outlined through his white and khaki uniform, thickly cologne with an air of narcissism. An all-American boy. With a 9-inch cock. Marty heard his footsteps approach the classroom. Then there he was. He smiled through the door window and entered, locking it behind him. “Hey there, sir,” he said, with a raised chin. “You’re early.” Eric strutted over and rested his hand on the desk. “Did you want me later? I could come back in a bit. That glee club sounded like they needed some help with their pipes. Something about an unclogging in their throats.” “You know I don’t want you in general, Eric.” He walked around and stood next to Marty. “Yeah, you need me.” He unbuttoned his white shirt from his collar down to his abs, revealing his thickly muscled torso. In a second, the shirt was inside-out, hanging off his waist where it stayed tucked in his pants, showing off his tightly packed briefs in front. “Alright,” he said. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He pulled down his briefs, allowing his full, throbbing 9-incher to fly freely. Marty looked up at the big kid, who then thrusted his pelvis, egging Marty to take the meat in his mouth. There was inevitable resistance; Marty was supposed to be a teacher almost twice Eric’s age ― but this wasn’t about him. Eric laughed at the disgust on Marty’s face. And he began thrusting forward and side to side, slapping the littler man’s face with his swelling member. Marty had had it. He took the schlong by the hand and squeezed it tightly before shoving it in his mouth. Eric wasn’t leaving without his cock slobbered in saliva. Eric rejoiced silently at the submission and pounded it down Marty’s mouth, bruising the back of his throat. Despite Marty’s pained groans of protest, Eric continued to face-fuck him. By the end of it, Marty’s mouth was filled with cum. The bleach-like smell of it made him gag a bit, but he swallowed. They always swallowed. Eric, satisfied, pulled out and suited back up. “A’ight, thanks for that,” he said. “I’ll be back again tomorrow.” As Marty rested his head on the table, Eric dug around the desk drawers. He pulled out a rogue piece of candy Marty didn’t remember having and pocketed it with a smile. “Oh, shit, yeah. I love candy,” he said. “Thanks for this, sir. Really appreciate the tip.” He winked. The door closed behind Eric as he left, leaving a fatigued Marty alone in the room once again, with a mouth full of cum, his quiet alone time no longer quite as peaceful. § § § An hour later, two students chilling on a bench along an empty corridor caught the unmistakeable scent of nocturnal emissions emanating from the genderless washroom by the staircase. The first kid, taller and with prominent Spanish features, spotted a bodacious senior cheerleader exiting the washroom first, a limp in her gait, a wobble in her jaw. Who followed was a jock, a big guy, someone he never caught the name of. He was new to the school, so he didn’t know all the athletes just yet. “What do you think happened there?” the first kid asked. “Is that a usual thing at this school?” The second kid ― smaller, weaker, and far more breakable ― chuckled. “Oh, right, you don’t know Eric. Why don’t you go talk to him? I think you’d like him.” The first kid, Spain, gave Tiny a puzzled look. “What makes you think I’d like him?” “I dunno. You both have massive egos. You could talk about the gym or something.” Spain scoffed. “I don’t go to the gym, man.” And out of nowhere, he found the urge to relieve his bladder. “Anyway, I’ll be right back. Just gotta go empty the tank.” “No rush,” Tiny replied. As Spain walked into the washroom, he found Eric rinsing his face. They made eye contact and simultaneously looked away. As Spain stood at a urinal, Eric finished up and stood next to him ― along a row of empty urinals. Eric looked over at the underclassman constantly as if it were a competition, looking down at him from his height of 5’11”. Both boys took out their cocks and began to piss. Eric did his best to be discreet in checking out what his competition was packing. He didn’t hold out very long. “You’re pretty big down there for a kid, ain’t ya?” Eric remarked. “You too,” Spain said. “I guess.” Eric raised a brow. “How many inches?” “7 and a half last time I checked,” Spain said. “I’m a 9-inch man. It’s pretty big, right?” “Yeah. Sure.” Both guys finished pissing and zipped back up. They glanced at each other with cattish eyes before Eric disappeared out the washroom as Spain washed his hands. When he later left, Eric was nowhere to be found, just Tiny still sitting on the bench. They were alone again. All the other kids had gone home or were off studying elsewhere, leaving only the odd faculty behind. “So, what was up with Eric?” Spain asked. “Oh,” Tiny said. “He’s shown you his dick, right?” “Yeah, yeah.” “The thing is that most of the students at the school are virgins, so they started flocking to him to teach them what the sex stuff is all about since he’s older. When it started, he was just telling us to play and tease around his dick, but it kinda became full-on blowjobs. The girls and gays love sucking him off.” “Wild,” Spain said. When they were ready to head home, Spain and Tiny caught Eric passing by, still in his uniform. He was storing his books and gym equipment in his locker when he spotted the boys. “Shit,” Tiny said. “He’s back.” Eric walked up to them and leaned against the wall. “So, what are you kids still doing here?” he asked. “We were just about to leave, don’t worry,” Spain said. Eric took out the candy from his pocket and unwrapped it as he walked up. “Good. If you stayed any longer…” He threw the candy in his mouth. “I’d have to—” He began to choke, falling to his knees as he struggled. His eyes filled with tears. Spain and Tiny watched him choke and began to frantically think of what to do. “You’re kidding,” Spain said. Spain pulled out the 1L bottle of water from his bag and forced Eric to swallow the candy down with water. Tiny could only watch, frozen in place, as Spain shoved his water bottle down Eric’s throat, postured to drown the big jock. Eric eventually swallowed the candy and gasped for air. He snatched the bottle from Spain’s hand and got up to his feet. Sweat was pouring down his face like a waterfall. “Fuck,” he said, “that was way too big to be a candy.” Spain and Tiny got up and tried getting Eric to sit, but he refused. “Don’t baby me! Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to act like the bigger person.” Spain was about to speak when they noticed something happening to Eric: his face flushed red, and he started panting. Eric tumbled forward and grabbed onto Spain’s shoulders for support. Spain wrapped his hands around Eric’s torso to support him, surprised by an intense warmth boiling underneath his skin. “Wha— what’s happening? Why— why am I getting hard? It’s so fucking hot…” Spain looked down and saw a massive erection throbbing inside Eric’s khakis. He could feel Eric’s grip on his shoulders begin to strengthen, to harden. The longer he waited for Eric’s grip to relax, the stronger and stronger it became. “Hey, ouch! Get off of me!” Spain cried. Ignoring Spain, Eric reached over and grabbed the half-finished bottle of water from the bench. He chugged it down, not taking a break to breathe. Spain and Tiny watched in awe at what was happening to Eric. He was beginning to inch slowly taller, as if he were inflating. With every gulp, Eric’s already one-size-too-small uniform pulled and stretched along his growing body. His muscles were thickening even faster than he was rising in height. The uniform didn’t stretch, either. The big senior was at least 6’1” now. Two inches taller than he just was. Spain noticed his muscles were also beginning to inflate much quicker. The ensuing growth was most obvious in the arm holding up the bottle of water. As he chugged, the bicep grew bigger and pushed out the sleeve. It strained his arm, struggling to hold it in. Eric grew wider, thicker, and stronger. He was oblivious to the shrinking world around him. Spain’s head only reached Eric’s chin now. He had to be at least 6’4”. The uniform began to undo itself as Eric’s pecs pushed outwards, demanding more and more space. As Eric continued to chug, he grew even faster. Eric spread out his legs to even out the weight as he began growing even faster. Spain only reached Eric’s mid-chest, and Tiny was facing Eric straight in the abs. He had to be 6’7” now. The uniform began tearing around his shoulders. The sleeves no longer fit around his growing arms. Each arm was thicker than Tiny’s own legs. The pants tore down his legs as well. He was covered in tattered fabric as his growth continued limitlessly. By the time his growth seemed to slow, he was at least 6’11” and built like an obscene bodybuilder. Spain was a big kid, but Eric had become twice as wide as he was. His cock was as big as Tiny’s upper arm. It erected freely in the air, hitting Tiny in the face due to its sheer size. His already gigantic feature had grown the biggest. It was by far the fastest growing thing on him. Spain had to crane his neck to look at Eric, being hidden under the massive expanse of his pecs. His head barely hit the top of Eric’s abs, and Tiny was staring face-to-face with his python of a cock. Eric crushed the bottle in his hand and threw it on the ground. Each bicep was easily bigger than either of the kids’ heads. He was a giant. He looked down, all the way down, at Spain and Tiny and laughed. “More! I need more!” he yelled. He ran to the drinking fountain and began drinking. Spain and Tiny watched in horror as his growth continued, surging back to life. His wide back continued to grow bigger, wider, thicker, covering up more and more of the fountain. It wasn’t long before he outgrew the steel fountain and crushed it under his weight. The water sprayed everywhere. Eric staggered up to his new height and realized just how small everything had become. He had grown to be 7’5” and more muscular than any living man at that height. He turned around and saw how small Spain looked compared to him. “Fuck! What the hell happened?!” Eric hollered. “You’re so fucking tiny! I’m a fucking giant!” He picked up Spain in his gigantic arms and held him up against the wall. “Hey, let me go!” Spain said. Eric snickered. “So this is what’s like to hold someone up against a wall.” His massive penis pressed against Spain’s abdomen, making it difficult to breathe. Eric dropped him on the ground and stepped back. He peeled away whatever rags were left straggling on his body. Tiny rushed over and helped up Spain. He was afraid of Eric now. He watched the new giant walk up to the glass windows and begin flexing in his reflection. He was mesmerized by his own humongous form. “I’ve got some business to attend to, kids,” Eric said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Spain and Tiny watched as the massive man walked down the hallway. Every step caused the ground to tremble until he was out of sight. The drinking fountain continued spraying water everywhere, causing a massive puddle to form. “What the fuck just happened?” Spain asked. “I don’t know,” Tiny said. Spain looked around on the pile of remains and found what looked like the candy wrapper. He pocketed it and walked Tiny home with him. § § § Reed headed home for the night, passing by empty streets with poorly lit street lights. The wind blew through the trees, and dead leaves fell onto Reed’s head. He shook them off when he began to feel tremors coming from the ground coming from down the street. Clutching his bag, he made a mad dash towards the main road. There, he was face to face with a nightmare. It was a giant—muscled-up beyond belief and taller than any man or woman in the streets. He shoved man and woman aside as he walked, not minding the puny, lesser things in his way. Being naked, every muscle swayed and bounced to the wind and step. His massive cock stood out far in front of him. People began to panic as he walked up to them. He could have easily crushed everyone and pulped them with ease if he felt like it. Reed ran up to him and recognized him to be Eric, a senior from his high school. Reed barely hit the bottom of Eric’s massive pecs, jutting out several inches from his ribcage. He was a wall of thick, solid muscle. “Eric! Eric!” he said. Eric stopped and stepped back. He looked down and saw the high school uniform calling out for him. “What the hell do you want, kid? I’ve got somewhere I need to be.” “How did you get so big? Did you eat something that looked like a candy?! In a peppermint wrapper?” Eric’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, why? You got more?!” “If you help me, yes. I know you might want to get even bigger! Don’t you, big guy?!” Eric raised his arms up to a gigantic double bi and laughed. “You know I do, baby! I want to grow even bigger!” “I’ll help you get as big as you want to! Just do what I tell you and—” Eric kicked Reed away, easily knocking him several feet back. “Fuck, no! You don’t order someone this big around!” He walked up to Reed and picked him, raising him several feet in the air. “You WILL make me bigger. Got it?” “Yes, yes, okay. Please don’t hurt me.” Eric dropped Reed and gave him his address. “Wait for me here. I have business to attend to.” Reed watched the gigantic man walk further down the road until he disappeared from sight. § § § “Make room, you little shits.” The other prisoners in the cell pressed themselves against the walls and corners. They had to give the new detainee a lot of space to spread his legs and flex his massive arms like nobody's business. He demanded their respect. Being the only one without clothes, he tore off everyone else’s. He forced them to be completely naked in the presence of this muscle giant. No man came close to his size, and he loved it. The ceilings were only 6’7” tall, forcing him to crouch. He began stroking his massive cock, causing it to engorge and rise up to full mast in seconds. His face turned red with pleasure with every stroke of his cock’s head. His moans echoed throughout the cell and down the hall, alerting the others. “One of you suck this thing. It’s too big.” Some of the detainees crawled up to his huge form and began stroking his dick without hesitation. It was impossible to fit even the head in their mouths. There were at least three servicing him. “Yeah, fucking worship me!” He tilted his head back from the sheer feeling. The others were no longer paralyzed in fear. They crawled up to his humongous body and began worshiping him out of instinct. They had no control over themselves. They wanted to feel him, feel his strength. He flexed his arms in a double bi, allowing the weaklings to bury their faces in his underarms. Each pec was triple the size of the biggest of their heads. One of the worshipers got on his knees after sucking on his nipple. “Um, sir, could I ask you a question?” he asked. “Call me Eric.” “Okay, Eric. How'd you get arrested?” He laughed. “Some janitor caught me fucking up the uni’s baseball equipment. I used to be a baseball kid too, but now look at me. I can’t believe I used to be so fucking small.” He flexed his bicep. “But why did you do it?” Eric’s tone shifted. He was completely serious. “Because those assholes ruined my life. The next time I get out, they’re not gonna get away.” “Why don’t you just break out? You look big enough.” Eric’s eyes lit up. “You’ve got a good fucking point, midget,” he said. “All you get off!” He shook his body, sending the other prisoners slamming into the walls. The smaller worshipers helped him get up, allowing him to crouch in the small cell. His torso alone took up half the headroom. Everyone else had to squat just to avoid getting hit by his pecs or arms. “Move!” The prisoners all moved to the side as he turned to face the brick wall behind him. He wound up a single punch. That was all it took. He sent his fist flying into the wall, and almost like paper, it blasted open. He kicked open a bigger hole, sending more bricks flying. “You all worship me now, is that understood? I’ll show you just how good of a giant I can be when I grow even bigger! You all want me to grow even bigger, don’t you?!” Everyone yelled, feeding Eric’s ego. They all followed him through the massive hole, back into the city. § § § The thugs led Eric down a series of dark alleys, cold and untouched by the sun. It was difficult for him to manoeuvre. Because of his gargantuan form, he knocked down pillars and lamp posts like toys. Any time the gutters stained his skin, the thugs would bend over and wipe him clean. “Where are you guys taking me again?” Eric asked. “You’ll see.” They arrived at an underground bar in the next few minutes. The thugs got through the staircase with ease. Eric struggled. He destroyed walls and foundation with ease as he squeezed and contorted himself to fit. The staircase was made to fit one person—Eric was three. He squeezed through the door and found himself surrounded by men. It seemed to be an abandoned bar, but there didn’t seem to be anything functioning. It was a cold, lifeless space now. Everyone’s eyes were on him, watching his head scrape the ceiling as he walked. Everyone was barely eye level with his heaving pecs. The thugs brought him to the center of the abandoned bar. “Wait here.” They disappeared into the back room. Eric waited, wondering what the other ex-prisoners were so eager to show him. Everyone around him murmured. Eric could only assume they were talking about his body and sudden appearance. The thugs later emerged with the largest among them, dressed in only a wife-beater and boxers. He was only a child compared to Eric, being a few months younger. Yet, he was the second biggest in the room. He had the face of an 18 year old, fresh and clean, but the body of a bodybuilder. Eric guessed he was around 6’3”. Eric was over a whole foot taller. “The fuck is going on here?” the large boy asked. “Who’s this shit?” He gestured at Eric. Eric became annoyed. “Hey, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, you puny fuck? Did you want me to beat the shit out of you?” The boy stormed over and stood in front of Eric, tiptoeing to try and seem as big as he could. He puffed out his chest, but Eric did the same and knocked him backward. The boy wobbled, almost losing his balance. The large boy grunted. “You wanna fucking go?!” Eric cracked his knuckles, creating an echo in the silent room. “Try me, kid.” The large boy wound up a fist, but before he could do anything, the other thugs came and separated them. They pushed them aside and made sure they couldn’t escape... or hurt each other. The boy was no struggle, but Eric needed some extra hands. “Hey, let me go! You're supposed to respect me!” the large boy said. The thugs began yelling in reply. “Not anymore, Dom! We’re tired of your shit.” “Yeah, we want a new leader!” “There's someone way bigger than you right here!” Dom’s face grew red with anger. “What?! You can’t fucking replace me! Why do you think you’re all here?” “What’s going on?” Eric asked on deaf ears. Everyone yelled again. “We don’t give a shit about you anymore! I’m tired of getting ordered around and beaten! You’re not even that big!” The thugs began dragging Dom out of the bar by his arms, needing at least five men to make sure he didn’t escape. They locked the door behind them and fortified it with furniture. Dom was gone. Dom banged on the door. Eric noticed everyone ignored his complaints and focused on his body instead. All the thugs gathered around Eric and eyed him with great desire. “You’re our leader now,” they said. “What? What the fuck is going on?” Eric said. "Who the fuck are you people?" “We're all from this forum where we worship muscle,” one said. “We found Dom lurking with us and decided to dedicate meetings to worship him. But he just got too violent. And you’re the biggest guy any of us have ever seen.” “What, so you people just worship anyone with muscle?” Eric took a glance at the onlookers and saw that they all seemed to be drooling at the mouth from impatience. All their thirsty eyes were glued on his massive body. They almost didn’t seem human. The head man stuttered. “Is that a problem?” A smug grin grew on Eric’s face. “I guess not!” he said, throwing his arms in the air. “Now fucking worship me, you midgets!" Everyone sprinted towards Eric. They threw themselves onto his humongous body, knocking him onto the floor. A loud thud echoed throughout the bar. The worshipers explored every part of his body with their hands and tongues, not giving him a break to think. His face turned red with erotic pleasure. The sheer force of ecstasy flowing through his entire body made it hard for him to even think up a proper sentence. He flexed his every muscle, juggling around the smaller people with his weight. “Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” he yelled, biting his lip. No one replied. Then an idea came to him. “Hey—fuck—you tiny shits want me to get even bigger, right?” They paused and stared him in the eyes. “Okay, okay, don’t stop! We’ll talk more when you guys—mmpf—get me off!” § § § “Eric, are you sure we’re not gonna get caught?” “Relax. I know my way around. Just follow me quietly,” Eric said. He led his followers through the unlit hallways of the high school. The halls and rooms were all completely abandoned and unguarded. Plus, the school had to cut nighttime guards because of the budget. Normally, it would be Eric handling the school, armed with nothing but a mop and his spirit. Now, he had a body that would make the hulk look weak, and strength Goliath could only dream of. He couldn’t even wear clothes anymore, having to walk around naked. His cock swung about like a heaving pendulum between his stone thighs. “Oh, man. Look at this.” They passed by the water fountain Eric destroyed before he transformed. In its place was an empty space where a water fountain should have been. “Did you really destroy this, Eric?” “Yeah, I barely leaned on it and it broke apart like nothing.” As they entered the classroom hallways, it was difficult for Eric to manoeuvre because of his size. The ceilings were only 6’9”, made for high schoolers. Eric was 7’5” and almost took up the entire width of the hallway. His arms were colliding with the lockers as they snuck. “We’re here. Two of you come with me.” They arrived at one classroom where Eric grabbed onto the doorknob. He ripped it off and went inside, remembering the scene with Marty vividly in his head. “Start looking. I need a red sack full of candy,” Eric said. “The wrapper looks like a peppermint and looks homemade.” In one pull, he tore off the shelves of the desk and ransacked its contents. He threw everything out and left everything he didn’t want on the floor. The two men who accompanied him inside searched the lockers and desks. They spent most of the night scouring for it. Eric brought in the rest of the men to help look, but still, they could not find any red sacks. Or so they thought. While Eric and the others weren’t paying attention, one man found two. They matched Eric’s description. He pocketed them and made sure not to let anyone know about it. After about an hour, the same man approached Eric. “Eric, we’ve searched everywhere! The red sack isn’t here anymore.” “Shit, you’re kidding? He must’ve taken it home.” The man pulled out one of the two candies in his pocket and showed it to Eric. "I did find one of these though." Eric’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. He snatched it from his hand and held it close to his eyes, watching the moonlight glimmer on the plastic. He clutched it in his grip and ordered his followers to move out. “We’re heading for the buffet!” § § § Eric knew he couldn’t just be strolling around the city at night wearing nothing. He ordered his men to find him some clothes immediately. In a second, they came back with a large white blanket that they draped around Eric’s body. He resembled a Greek god in his toga. However, it covered absolutely nothing. The cloth only reached his delts and cut off before reaching Eric’s wide shoulders and his mid-thigh. This allowed his enormous cock to hang down his thigh, slapping his knee. It looked more like a short dress than anything. His pecs stuck out so far that they had to wrap two belts around his waist so he wouldn't look like an old woman in a duster. The belts pulled up the fabric even further, leaving his cock even more exposed. “This is fine, don’t worry,” Eric said. “In a few hours, I won’t even fit in any blanket you could ever find… unless you went to India or something. They’ve got those huge carpets and shit.” As Eric and his men strolled down the busy street, all eyes were on the 7’5” tall muscle man. No one came close to reaching his chest. Some tall men did reach his pecs, but they were all skinny and looked stretched out. Eric’s men entered the buffet restaurant first. Behind them, Eric took up almost the entire entrance with his hulking body. His head was even covered by the doorway. He strolled in as a Greek god would, head held high—or crouching, considering his height—and chest puffed out. Even here, everyone couldn’t help but stop and look at him. He was larger than life… and larger than all of them. “Look at all this attention,” Eric said. “It’s good to be big.” He sat down at a round booth that should have been enough for at least eight people. With Eric on it, it only fit five people, not including him. The table was just high enough that his knees didn’t get jammed underneath. His upper back was completely exposed to the audiences at the other side of the small booths behind them. He was like a makeshift wall of swollen muscle that loomed over them as they ate. They couldn't leave out of fear. Every man standing began food to the table. The lucky five who sat next to the behemoth were going to feed him and help Eric devour the food as fast as possible. Eric clapped his hands. “Come on, guys, move a little faster!” he said. “Your lord hungers!” He eyed the candy in his hands and felt his heartbeat intensify. “Won’t be long now,” he whispered. The food voyeurs ran as fast as they could. They had massive plates fully-loaded with everything on the buffet. All of it at once on the table looked ridiculous. There was barely any table left to be seen under the mountains of food. The chefs watched in anticipation and fear of the behemoth about to partake in a feast fit for a king—a god. As Eric unwrapped the candy, the five men around him picked up serving plates and got ready to start feeding him. Eric held the translucent candy in his hand, eyeing it in the light while it still fit between his fingers. The men waited in anticipation, sweating up a storm in their clothes and underwear. The wait was unbearable. “Here we go,” Eric said. He placed the candy in his mouth and crunched it, swallowing the fragments in one gulp. His arms raised up and rested themselves on the divider. He threw back his head and opened his mouth to its fullest. “Go!” The five men began stuffing his mouth with food: pizza, cake, fish, steaks, milk, soda, everything. Eric kept up with his chewing. His mouth never closed to take a break. Food flew everywhere as he gnawed and swallowed everything whole, barely chewing. It took a while. As they continued feeding Eric, they felt an intense heat emanating from his muscles. “Yes, I can feel it! Give me more!” Eric spread out his legs and raised his arms to a double bi. He laughed as every single bulging muscle on his body began to inflate. Food spilled out from his mouth and landed on his pecs and cock. He swallowed every mouthful with an intense vigor. His cock, already massive, surged even longer. It slammed against the table, pushing it upwards. Eric’s elbows smacked into the two men at his sides as he grew. The growth was faster than any of them could have anticipated. He was inching upwards and outwards every other second. The toga barely held together, tearing apart. His waist spread outwards so fast that the belts holding the cloth snapped. He had outgrown the toga. He was completely naked. His pecs were bloating outwards and his lats flared, rising above everyone. The men on either side were separated by the growing wall of mass—and he only continued growing. His head rose closer and closer to the ceiling as he grew. The table was already being lifted by Eric’s knees, nearly knocking all the food off as it rose off the ground. The men had to get off to make room for Eric’s growth. Even seated, Eric’s pecs loomed dangerously high above them like massive balloons. “Oh, fuck, I’m getting so big!” he yelled with a mouthful. “Keep making me bigger! Give me more food!” His gigantic feet peered out from underneath the table as they stretched outwards. Eric’s humongous arms hovered above the entire booth, already bigger than anyone’s legs. The people eating behind Eric fled in fear. His back broke through the backrest, spilling over into their booth. Seated, not even the father’s head was anywhere near Eric’s own rising shoulders. Eric had to be at least three heads taller than him now. Only to the onlookers’ horror, his growth wasn’t stopping. Eric’s massive legs locked the men into the booth with him. They had to climb him like a mountain just to get the food in his mouth. He fell on his back, crashing into the booth behind them. His cock, nearly as thick as his own arm, flung the table of food forward, spilling the food all over the floor. “Bigger! MAKE ME BIGGER!” All the men began grabbing food and ran up to the still-growing Eric. They began overloading him with food. One of the men tried wrapping the full expanse of his arms around even just one of Eric’s pecs and couldn’t get it around. His head worshipper crawled onto the behemoth’s abs and dumped a pot of warm meat stew onto him. The other worshippers followed and began eating food off of Eric’s gigantic body. “Yeah, eat that shit off my fucking body, you puny shits! It tastes good, doesn’t it?!” Even while lying down, Eric’s abs were used as a table with how big his body was. His pecs were huge domes resting on his wide chest. From the kitchen, the waiters brought out the head chef who saw what was happening. The head chef ran up to the massive giant and struggled to the find the words. He was speechless. “S-sir! I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave please! You’ve destroyed my restaurant and eaten almost all the food!” Eric raised his head in anger, swallowing all the food in his mouth in one loud gulp. He slowly got up, dropping the food all over his obelisk of a cock. His head nearly hit the ceiling. “What did you just say, little dude?” Eric asked. He stood up to his full height, breaking through the roof with a single punch. Nothing could be seen above his nipples. His chest and head were hidden above the ceiling. No one even reached up to his abs. The tallest among them was only face-to-face with Eric’s pelvis. Each of his legs were already as big as most people. His cock was gargantuan, tapping against the ceiling with balls as big as basketballs. “You’re gonna tell someone this big what to do?” Eric asked, stepping on him, pressing down on him under his foot. “Bad idea, little man.” “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t crush me! I’ll do whatever you want!” the chef said. “Anything?” Eric asked. “You sure you can handle the demands of a giant?” “Yes, please!” “Fine then!” Eric said. “Men, we’re taking him with us! He’ll be cooking us food until he dies.” Everyone cheered in celebration, welcoming the chef into their ranks. “What? But where will I get the food—” “What happened to ‘anything’? Did you want me to crush you?” “No, I’m sorry! I’ll handle it, sir.” “Good.” Eric crawled back into the restaurant. He accidentally slammed his pecs into his men, knocking them over. He laid himself back on the ground. His men began crawling onto his body and licking up the food on his body—swollen beyond belief. His cock tapped the ceiling as it stood at full mast. “What did I say?! Didn’t I say I’d get bigger? Is this big enough for you lot?!” Tens of tongues and little fingers explored every single nook and cranny of Eric’s body. Not a single part of him was left untouched. His balls were aching for release. He finally came, blasting a geyser into the ceiling, coating everyone in his thick, white gunk. He laughed again. “FUCK! Yeah,” he said. “Time for us to give the baseball team a visit, boys!”
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Daniel: aka Dan The Man, from Texas. 40 year old Scientist who formerly was an college athlete and parlayed a Kinesiology degree into science work. Theo: Nova Scotian. Brown hair, shaved sides, has a little goat patch. 26, Technician. 140 pounds, 5’6. Micah: Albertan. Ginger nerd. 6 feet tall, 120 pounds, 32 year old Biologist. Dressed in loose nerd t-shirts and baggy clothes. At Altas Station, three scientists are studying a pocket of blue energy. They've been there studying it for 6 months to determine what exactly it is. Daniel stepped into the study, and put his hands on the door and locked it. He slowly peeled off his jacket and put it on a hook, giving out a sigh before turning to Theo and Micah, who were playing a card game. “So, you remember that change of colour I discovered in the energy cloud? Well, it’s been a week, and after running a colour pass filter, I was right. I wasn’t imagining it. Its R colour rating has increased by 6. And its volume by… 2%.” “Does it matter?” Micah looked up from his cards for a moment, and domed them. “it’s nearly impossible to get a good volumetric reading on a pulsing cloud. This kind of energy is already pretty flexible…” “That’s what I thought of too. So, I went over the old footage before we got here. And months and months ago? Same colour.” Daniel advanced on the pair, as Micah flipped over several new cards, looking back and forth between Theo and Dan. “When I checked out the door logs, I saw that you’ve been accessing the energy chamber outside your shift.” “C’mon guys, let’s just play cards…” Theo grumbled and slumped forward with a sigh, rocking back in his chair. “Just say what you want to say.” Micah didn’t even look up from his cards. “Micah, you’re behind the change in energy, aren’t you?” Micah folded his cards into his hand and splayed them down on the table, stood up and apologetically raised his hands “You got me.” “Don’t you know how dangerous that is? If we’re right, and this really is Male Energy, then it’s connected to everyone on the planet, US most of all! We don’t even know what that means! There is no telling what changing this could do!” “It’s fine Daniel. You just don’t understand.” “What gives you that right?!? And how? Nothing we’ve used has had any effect on it. Theo, open up the pantry, we can hold him in there until this all gets sorted out.” “I’m not sure if…” Theo slid his chair back on the ground away from the two. “C’mon, Danny, it’s Micah.” Daniel strided over to Micah, and grabbed him by the wrist, and pointed at the pantry. “Go on, get IN.” “I’m not going anywhere with you.” With a grunt, Daniel put his arm on Micah’s shoulder and started pressing towards the pantry. This time however, Micah didn’t give an inch. Daniel leaned into it with a huff, his bare forearm bulging as he pressed in, thumb resting on his collarbone, but still, Micah didn’t budge. “C’mon, get moving!” Micah reached up and covered Daniel’s hand with his own, picking off the fingers, and tugged off Daniel’s hand completely. Daniel tried to pull his hand back, but Micah held it snuggly in his hand. “How are you…?” Each pull merely rocked Micah, but he was going absolutely nowhere. This wasn’t the 120 pound fun but nerdy guy that collapsed carrying a duffle bag anymore. “You’re going to try to stop me, no matter what, aren’t you?” “Of course!” “That’s a real shame.” Micah released the hand. Daniel rubbed it, trying to get blood into it again. As Daniel resuscitated his hand, Micah stepped to the fingerprint scanner by the door. With a Zzzt, the panel denied him. “It’s my time in there. Privacy mode. Won’t open for anyone else for 2 hours. Until then, let’s go call Head Office.” “Open this door, please Daniel. I don’t want to make you.” “Make me? Make me? I gotta have 60 pounds on you. Even with that ninja stuff you’re doing there…” Theo stepped between the two, and pointed a hand out to each of them, trying to keep them separated. “Guys, calm down. Micah can stop the modifications… we can talk this through, it’s just a little colour!” “No! It’s Micah playing with forces he doesn’t even understand! He could change everything about us!” Daniel rolled his shoulders open, bouncing on his feet to warm up. “We’ve been here for almost half a year, and you’re my friend! But I gotta stop you.” Raising his fists in a guard, he passed by Theo who futilely tried to stop him, and towards Micah at the door, his right fist leading, testing Micah’s front. “After you wake up, you can apologize, and I’ll see if we can keep your job.” “Stop talking, and let’s get this over with.” Micah calmly stood by the fingerprint scanner, reaching up to pull off his glasses. Wasting no time, Daniel approached and reared back for a haymaker, but Micah didn’t move. “I’m serious! Move Micah!” “You’re going to have to make me.” After pulling back several times, Daniel resolved to it fully, his 190 pound frame raring back for his fist, putting his entire weight onto his front leg and swinging at Micah’s head with all his strength. Deltoids twisting, biceps furled, the perfect brawler’s haymaker. Finally, Micah moved, planting his feet, and caught his friend’s fist. Daniel swore under his breath, as Micah slid his other hand to Daniel’s forearm, grasped it, and swung Daniel like a bat into the door. It didn’t budge. Crumbling to the ground, Daniel heaved on the ground, the air knocked clean out of him, leaving his head ringing. Clutching his wrist, Micah raised Daniel’s hand to the scanner and calmly pressed Daniel’s finger into it, freed the hand, only to bring his foot brutally down on the scanner, and leaving through the now open door. Theo rolled Daniel onto his back, while he struggled and gasped, finally getting air into his lungs. “When did he get so… ugh… we gotta stop him…” “Don’t move too quick Danny. He could have really hurt you! Nothing seems broken, just stay still a bit, and I’ll try to get the door open.” Theo looked up at the fingerprint scanner. “Caved in and busted. No use. But the panel under it? With some time…” Theo started to undo the screws. “It’s pretty fried. I can bypass it but it’s going to take a minute.” “Can you get Coms to the Energy Chamber?” “Oh yeah, that’s easy.” Theo opened up the Energy Chamber feed. Micah was already steps away from the Energy Cloud, his hands dipping into the energy. A roiling blue vortex of pulsing energy coiled around in self in an ever shifting cloud. But it was stable. A brilliant blue core centered the vortex, with darker blue energy drifting from it, clouding the outside as it shifted into a deep blue, filling the room with a calm blue light. Already his clothes began to burn away, elbow deep into the blue energy, slowly moving to the center to it. “That energy has melted anything we’ve put into it, but… he’s immune?” The once wiry and angular frame they had seen when they arrived at Atlas Station, had become substantial. Lean and powerful muscles, as if defined by years of training, popped on his form. The once 120 pound scientist had to be nearing 180. There was clear definition in each muscle, and while not massive in size, was shaped and tapered and powerful. Something popped inside the energy cloud with a pulse that blew through the room, as the energy crackled for a moment and started to relax. The mostly blue energy flowed over his skin, and flowed into him like an ocean into a teacup. The same energy flared in his eyes as his work continued. It had shifted redder again. “Micah, you have to stop doing this. We don’t even fully understand this energy! You have no right! This affects us all!” “I thought the same thing once, Daniel. Remember when I almost fell in and you caught me? Well, I didn’t almost. My hand touched it and I knew what it was. Anyone would. But I could feel something was wrong with it. Someone must have came here, probably years ago and did something to it. They changed it. And if THAT was done without our permission, then I have every right to change it back.” “We don’t know what will happen! Or even if you’re right! You could have told us!” “Why are men more likely to be colourblind? Why are we more likely to lose control and hurt people? …why are we more likely to commit suicide? I don’t believe that’s part of being a man… and if this energy is connected to us all? While I still have access, I’m going to fix all that.” “You don’t know that you can make those changes! You can’t make this decision by yourself! You’ll be affecting everyone everywhere!” “...” Daniel smashed a fire extinguisher onto the panel causing the screen to crack, the monitor going black, and peeled back the metal front, stepping aside to let Theo unscrewed the edges, dipping into the wires and pulling them free with a spark. Suddenly, and the door unlocked with a massive CRUNK, sliding barely open enough for a child to slip through. Theo and Daniel leaned against the door together, straining as they pushed it open, and then entered the chamber. There it was in front of them. The Energy Cloud. Male energy. But now, flecks of red had joined the blue core, turning the clouds around it from the darkest shade of amethyst. Micah was massive. Amethyst energy pulsed under his skin like veins. It had been nearly 30 minutes, the once athletic looking Micah now looked like a bodybuilder. Massive trunk legs supported his thick core. Three rounded deltoids supported one of the biggest arms Daniel had ever seen in person. Micah huffed, sweat dripping off his wide triangular back puddling on the floor as he continued to manipulate the energy. He was struggling. “You gotta stop!” Daniel pleaded. “I’m… almost… done…” Micah tipped forward, his broad heavy shoulders pulling him inward into the energy, his eyes closing. Theo charged forward, grabbing Micah’s massive leg and pulling him back. Micah’s eyes shot open again, getting his weight back on the ground. “*UMNH* Damn you’re goddamn heavy… but I won’t let you go…!” Up to to his shoulder in the energy, Theo grabbed through it, holding onto the slumping Micah. Theo’s quickly leaving strength were the only things stopping Micah from fully falling into the energy. The energy was getting closer as Theo struggled. The amethyst energy drew over Micah’s front, and slipped closer, and closer, coming beside Theo’s head. But Theo wouldn’t let go. With his back against the energy, Theo pressed into Micah’s stomach, his legs straining as he dead pressed Micah’s weight outwards away from the energy, managing to get Micah out up to his chest. He didn’t have the strength to keep it up much longer. Suddenly, Theo felt arms reach around his, opposite him. Daniel grappled Micah’s midsection, heavily groaned as he pulled with all his weight backward. Together, it was just enough to pull Micah free, a wave of purple energy pulsing through the room as they lay on the stone floor panting. Micah huffed heavily, muscles bulging with every breath, pulling himself off his back and onto his knees. Micah’s whisper of a frame was no more. Thick quads held a huge triangular trunkish core. Instead of a flat rib chest, a pair of massive pectorals as big as his massive hands rested under his chest. Thick traps bordered his new bullish neck. Even broader than before, Micah resembled a powerlifter, almost as wide as he was tall. Grooves lined every muscle as they fought for space on his body. He laughed, and weezingly pumped a fist in the air, even weakly beating his chest as Daniel covered him with a lab coat. Theo sat up slowly, raised his arms and rubbed the back of his head. “Whoa…” Brown hair now lined his knuckles and his forearm, and his left shoulder was noticeably larger than his right. Pumped and thick, it looked like it belonged to a seasoned blacksmith. The muscles of Theo’s left shoulder were angular and powerful, and even the back of his lat rested further down his back. Having burned away the clothes around his shoulder, Theo adjusted the sides of his shirt and beige binder that now struggled having difficulty continuing to hold his with the new mass, especially missing a strap. “We don’t know what you’ve done…” Daniel put his arm around Micah and helped him stand. Theo looked over Micah. That energy that flowed through him once was now back in the chamber. “Maybe we don’t have to tell Head Office quite yet.”
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Eight is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Nine Floating. Mike was floating. Floating in the darkness. The darkness that wasn't a darkness, really. Because of the dim light. The dim light in the impossible shade. A darkness tinged with a golden purple shimmer. And Bob was there: Bob after the experiment. Bob's cheeky smile in that handsome chestnut coloured face. Bob's smug handsome hazelnut-coloured eyes. Bob's superhero body. Bob only wearing a metallic-purple posing trunk. And Doctor Nelson was there, wearing the He-Man costume from that commercial. Burly, blond, bronzed Dr. Nelson with his He-Man body: "I expect you to be reasonable, Mr. Jones. Safety before size. Your boyfriend ought to understand this. He will listen to you." One of his heroes spoke to him! Bob objected: "You can't imagine, Mike. This strength. 'Hancing me huge like this. The feeling of it. Don't delude yourself. You want it. You want THIS. You want the same extreme build Benjy is lusting for. To feel what it's like to be stronger than everyone else. Your might and your mass. And the road to this goal. To feel like Captain Space Marine." He-Man, that was Dr. Nelson, spoke again in that delightful voice: "It's possible to 'hance you all four with established safety precautions, but you have to undergo psychological evaluation. We can't have unstable 'hancers in the streets." "Don't listen to him, Mike. Why is he and his hubby more huge than any 'hancer leaving his clinic? Because he's afraid of competition. He's holding us back. We will transcend. We will reach muscle-godhood." Nelson's words made sense in his mind, but Bob's words entered his gut and his manhood, awakening something. Awakening his inner brawn monster. His throbbing and howling brawn monster, who wanted to become real. To manifest outwardly. To become flesh. To become muscle mass. To become powerful dominant brawn. His reason fell into the golden purple depths. His mind tumbled into the golden purple abyss of unspoken instincts and inarticulate urges. His objections drowning in a golden purple sea of masculine instincts. Bob's voice howling: "Yes! The muscle mass!" Benjy's voice joining them: "YES! MORE! I need more muscle!" And Mike hearing himself talking with the voice of Captain Space Marine: "Sir! Yes, Sir! More! Give me MORE!" He could feel his body change, growing, transforming. He could feel himself be Captain Space Marine and He-Man. He could hear Bob and Mike howl in masculine ecstasy and voices eager for MUSCLE-GODHOOD. He could hear the Nelson-He-Man add his voice to them now. Any remaining defences inside him broke down. He joined them, feeling his entire body – chest, abs, back, legs, arms and mind – throb and grow pumped full of GROWTH-POWER. Uh. Throb and grow pumped full of ... Fuck ... Yes ... and joined them ... SO HUGE NOW ... howling, all of them together: "Yes! I have what it takes to absorb the power of Greyskull. I HAVE THE POWER!" "Nice dream?", Benjy asked. Confused, Mike opened his eyes. He was resting in his hospital bed again, connected to a machine monitoring his heart rate and to a big bag of nutritional IV. So was Benjy, who sat by his bed holding a movable drip stand. And Benjy was ... Oh fuck! Benjy looked like a bodybuilder now. Not an Olympia bodybuilder, but bigger than an amateur. Something had happened to Benjy's chin and jaw, which were ... more powerful in some way. And Benjy had two strange devices in his ears, similar to hearing devices. "I expected YOU to sit by my bed when I woke up, not the other way round." Benjy grabbed his hand. "Are you ok?" "Uh?" Was he ok? Mike was returning to a conscious state. If he was ok? Absentmindedly he briefly touched the hearing devices in his ears, and then forgot about their presence. He felt ... He felt ... A pleasant wave of content and pleasure billowed through him. He had successfully went through Phase One. So had Benjy, it seemed. To 'hance. To realise his teenage fantasy. To ... uh ... to transcend into muscle-godhood ... He smiled and looked into Benjy's eyes: "Fuck, yeah. Never felt better. Feel so good. I want to grow with you." Benjy returned his smile: "Thought so. Will you become my big farmboy, Mike? Will you become my big, protective Polar Cub? Will you join me, when I transcend into muscle-godhood?" "I will." * * * To be continued.
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Seven is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Eight "Promise, that you will stay with me, Mike." "I will, Benjy." They hugged. Benjy was naked and shivering. Mike's emotions were conflicted, but his feelings for the smaller young man seemed real enough, but why didn't he remember all of it? Fragments of memories floating in his mind. They were standing in Dr. Korsakoff's laboratory. When Mike observed the cylindric glass tank, flashbacks erupted in his mind: Himself inside, growing from average and sturdy into his present shape. He bit his lip. It HAD been great, hadn't it. Like his teenage fantasies about becoming Captain Space Marine, but better. And real. Korsakoff had already given Benjy an injection, and it was important that Benjy entered the tank before the injection had its impact. Korsakoff and Benjy climbed the ladder to the platform at the top of the tank. Korsakoff opened the lid. A whiff of strange chemicals filled the room, and Gútierrez sneezed. Mike's nervousness increased. What if something bad happened? Something dangerous? Korsakoff's past with deformed or insane 'hancing clients? Korsakoff placed a breathing mask over Benjy's face, then a suction hose on his dick. Benjy climbed into the tank, and with a splash he tumbled inside, sinking a little bit, but then floating inside, his tiny shape looking pale in the green liquid. After closing the lid of the tank, Korsakoff returned to the console. Even Gútierrez' otherwise so calm and inscrutable face had a worried expression. The humming began. The humming sound caused Mike's flashbacks to return: No escape from his growth, but why would he want to escape? He was becoming a 'hancer; Thanks to Benjy he was realising a teenage dream. The sound of Benjy's moan returned Mike to the present. Mike approached Dr. Korsakoff: "Can I speak to him?" "There's a microphone in his mask, and he will receive communication from us through his earbuds. Go ahead, Mr. Jones." "Benjy, can you hear me?" "Mike? Oh! It's so good. You should have told me how good this is." "Are you ok?" "More than ok. Something nice is happening. The beginning of my journey together with you." Now, the green liquid bubbled, and small power emissions had begun to hit Benjy's body. "I have no idea, if you can see anything, if the change is visible yet, but it feel so good, Mike. The altered DNA, the myostatine inhibitors, the androgen hormone cocktail ... it ... it feel so good. I will become like you." Dr. Korsakoff was busy at his console, watching blinking numbers and Benjy's heart rate. Korsakoff increased something, Mike didn't know what, and Benjy immediately reacted: "YES! Something is happening! I enter Phase One! You are a genius, Doctor!" Something was happening. Despite the green solution inside the tank, even Mike was able to see Benjy's delicate body add weight, add muscle mass: His pecs, traps and arms were changing into a more athletic build at a visible pace. "What does he mean with 'Phase One', Dr. Korsakoff?" "This is an inopportune time to discuss such matters, Mr. Jones. I have to concentrate on the medical safety of my client." "I understand, but it is possible to give me a brief version?" "This is just the first step in the 'hancing of you two. Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes payed for quite an extreme three-tier 'hancing, but you must remember this, Mr. Jones? We had this discussion weeks ago, and both of you were quite eager, to say the least." "And if I've changed my mind? If I'm content with my present Phase One body?" "No, I'm sorry. The crucial DNA alteration has already happened, and there are certain nano-modules working on your body as we speak. There is no way to abort the process now. Both of you have to undergo all three phases." Time stood still. For a few seconds or minutes, Mike wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Then the heat of wrath overwhelmed his mind, he grabbed the lab coat of Korsakoff and lifted him from the floor: "I demand, that you abort any further changes of my body! I refuse you to expose Benjy to something dangerous. You ..." It wasn't clear what happened next. Gútierrez grabbed him, and dragged him away from the console. Mike was close to freeing himself from the grip, but, as a professional, Gútierrez had a better technique. Mike felt a sting. Dizziness billowed over him, and just before he blacked out, he could hear Benjy moan: "YES! MORE! I need more muscle!" * * * Chapter Nine is found HERE
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I am reposting another one of the stories LORUS wrote many years ago. In fact, this may be the first muscle-growth story he ever wrote if my memory can be trusted. It was deleted from the old forum long ago, but I had it saved on my hard drive and LORUS gave me permission to post it. It's fairly long, with ten chapters total. I will post a couple of chapters on this same thread every few days. Enjoy! Growth Beyond Reason by LORUS Part 1 Mark Stone hated two things in life more than any other. He hated working at his uncle’s convenience store because he felt that if his life didn’t change for the better, and soon, he’d be selling winos cheap liquor in paper bags until he was old and grey. He needed to start planning big, thinking big. He’d dropped out of college after his first year because he wasn’t motivated enough to exceed the standards expected of him. Motivation was a big problem for him. The sheer lack of it was to blame for the second thing he hated in life more than any other: his skinny, unattractive body. Okay, so maybe he was being hard on himself. He was quite cute. He had mousy brown hair that he wore just long enough so that he could re-work it with styling gum into all manner of configurations. He had attractive brown eyes, not too big, not too small - just right. His face was pretty to look at but recently he’d had flu and was just getting over it. His cheeks were a little sunken and he’d lost weight during his two-week illness. Normally he weighed in at 135, standing just five feet ten inches in height. He was pretty scrawny, but at least not pathetically so. This morning, as he got ready for work, he used the scales in the bathroom to check his weight once again. It wasn’t something he normally did; it was his mother’s scale. His mother, a devout Oprah-ite, was always trying out the latest fad diet, be it in book or in pill form. Mark never took after his mother’s side of the family, the side where weight could be a problem, but in fat terms. His father’s genetics likened him to the scrawny side of the gene-pool. This morning the readout on the scale said 133 lbs. Mark chewed his lip from a mixture of despair and nervousness. “I wish I were big,” he lamented as he finished dressing so that his mother could start cleaning the bathroom. Breakfast consisted of a pop-tart and a swig of milk from the carton. Then he was on his way, biking the three blocks downtown to Al’s Convenience Store. Wow, Mark thought, my uncle must have been up all night trying to crap on the john thinking of that one. It was a warm summer’s morning. Mark loved it when it was sunny, with so many audacious jock types going around shirtless, with their cobblestone stomachs and beautifully swollen chest muscles. So much eye candy - so much to look at but never to touch. Mark had never had a boyfriend. He put it down to being shy and never feeling confident enough about his body. He’d come close to asking a boy out once at high school. His name was Trey, and he was the school’s star quarterback and Mister Popularity, despite that he was completely open about his gay sexuality, bold and confident about everything in his life. Mark was smitten with him. And although he hadn’t seen Trey Waters in almost four years (he heard that he landed a football scholarship to a prestigious college up North), he often fantasized about him and wondered how he might look today. Obviously, football had not been his game in the end; otherwise, he might have become a big noise in sports circles. Trey Waters’ beautiful face and body had yet to adorn the cover of Men’s Fitness. But since Mark worked in a convenience store that stocked fitness and bodybuilding magazines, he was never short of good jizz-material when his uncle wasn’t keeping an eye on him. Something was different this morning. He chained his bike in its usual place and stood outside the store, about to open. Something was going on across the street. Lots of people were standing around and shaking their heads in disbelief. A building had apparently appeared overnight. It was so strange. The day before, the lot directly across from the convenience store had been empty, nothing more than idle asphalt surrounded by wooden fencing. It had once been a movie theatre but had been demolished some time ago. His curiosity piqued, Mark walked over to a man who stood, like many others, talking speculatively about the Shapeshifters Gym that now filled every inch of that once vacant lot. “How did that get here?” Mark’s question was obvious. The man responded without looking at him. “Norm Winterborn said it came in sections, on four massive trucks. And they just latched it together in a trice. Just like that,” the man snapped his fingers for emphasis. Wow, a gym right across from the store, Mark thought excitedly. There was only one gym in town already, but it was nothing like this. For one, it was across town and two, it catered mostly for overweight people trying to get into shape. His mother was a member. This Shapeshifters, as the sign displayed, was a hardcore bodybuilding Mecca. Mark knew that for there were bodybuilders already on-site, obviously from the construction team that ‘lashed’ the gym together in just a few hours, and during the night at that. One other man commented on the size of the men, suggesting that they might have put the pieces together with their bare hands. Mark had yet to get a decent look at the four Adonises, for he was not close enough, and besides he had to get the store open, or Al would tan his hide. He had the shop set up and ready for business within minutes. He had to go through the papers and sort them out along with the magazines. The new Men’s Fitness was in this morning. He took time to flick through it, picking out the pictures he would masturbate to later, in the staffroom in the back, where he ate his lunch usually. As usual, no “Trey Waters: football stud” adorned the front page. Trey’s life had obviously gone in a different direction after he left high school. Maybe he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, a career in sports and fitness now just a memory to him. Oh well, I will always have my fantasies, Mark thought to himself as he took a copy of Muscle and Fitness to his chair behind the counter so he could flick through it while on the job. It wasn’t a busy morning. Al was away on a trip to try out a new brand of beer that wasn’t yet on the market, any excuse for the old fart to get free booze. Mark was able to serve the regular customers easily enough and without getting too stressed. Once the morning coffee and newspaper rush was over, he could relax a little. His shift would end at five pm, and then Rick, the fat night-guy would take over until closing time at eleven sharp. Mark hated Rick. He was obese and obnoxious and had a body odor problem. Enough said. At approximately ten minutes to eleven that morning, Mark’s life was about to change, and for the better. It began when a large shadow suddenly fell over him. He was lost in an article in Muscle and Fitness about nutrition and had his head down, his long fringe creating a temporary curtain to draw his attention away from this most unforgettable of customers. “Where are your bodybuilding magazines?” the shadow-casting customer inquired somewhat gruffly. Mark froze before looking up, doing a quick recap in his head about the unusual circumstances of the past morning. Okay, so a gym built in sections by just four huge men had happened that morning. And now someone was in asking for bodybuilding magazines. There was a gay bar on the same block. It was probably another homosexual man in to get his jizz-fix. A real hardcore bodybuilder had never been into the store before. That just changed. No wonder the shadow that he cast was large. Mark looked up just as the man was walking towards the magazine rack that he only just spotted. Instantly Mark’s jeans tented out in the crotch. This man wasn’t just a bodybuilder; he was bodyBUILT!!!! “Uhh, they’re on the middle shelf, tuh-to the luh-left,” Mark said, trying not to stammer and give away his nervousness. He was in the presence of a muscle god, an absolute behemoth. He could only see him from behind as the giant muscleman began to scan through the magazines. As he did, he grabbed a couple of chocolate frosted donuts from their display cabinet to his right and wolfed them down whole. “I’ll pay for those when I get my magazine,” he explained, still with a manly huskiness to his voice. It reminded Mark of the way Christian Bale spoke as Batman in The Dark Knight, kind of overstressed at times, but irresistibly masculine. Wow, Mark thought, he’s so big that he can eat anything. He’s probably going into his off-season. Mark couldn’t believe how huge this man was. He took him in from head to toe, safe in the knowledge that this uber-Adonis hadn’t got eyes in the back of his head. His hair was blonde and tight, crew-cut like in the military or something. His bullish neck had to be almost a foot in width, and it connected with the rhomboid major muscles that swept down and into a delta-wedge back that was simply majestic. His shoulders were huge and rounded, making Mark guess that he had to have been six feet wide at the shoulders. Despite that his lats were huge to the extent they forced his arms out on either side (that classic bodybuilder stance times ten), his back tapered down to a contrastingly diminutive waist which was impossible to guess the size of. Thirty-one maybe? But what did that make his chest? At a guess it must be at least three times that number. His balloon-ball butt was huge, the glutes massively developed, and the denim cut-offs he wore only accentuated the shape even more. The shorts had button-flap pockets and the curvature of the ass was so great that the pocket flaps were lying almost horizontally. Mark reckoned that were the guy to squeeze hard enough, he’d pop the buttons right off like cannon-fire. His thighs were like pillars, bloated and beautifully shaped, tapering down to where his legs bent at their middles, only to balloon outward into enormous geometrically precise diamond calves. Each calf was the size of a football. The guy seemed to be enjoying whatever magazine had caught his interest. Without looking up from his reading, he cleared another couple of donuts out of the cabinet and killed them quickly. Mark was mesmerized. He loved the way the huge fellah wore his second-skin red shirt as a cut-off, strategically cut about mid-way down, making it seem as if he was outgrowing his clothes and obviously to maximize on his incredible size and shape. “I’ll pay for those too,” the man said, referring to the third and fourth donut. Mark couldn’t help himself. He was getting this on his camera phone to preserve for all eternity. This would be better than any jizz-mag, watching this massive guy on his PC for years to come. Pity it would only be from the back, for he would have to kill the phone before the guy caught him filming him. Then Mark remembered the surveillance cameras in the store. There were four of them, set to pick up everything. Oh God, Mark thought worriedly, did I forget to change the tape this morning? If it turned out that the cameras were taking in the bodybuilder from four different angles, Mark would have jizz material for years to come. All of this took about three minutes. Finally, the guy picked an issue of FLEX and a bunch of bananas and muscle-strutted to the counter to pay for them. Mark took one look at him now that he could see his face. He was beautiful. Blue eyes, chiseled jawline punctuated perfectly by that “I know I’m fucking hot!” expression of smugness that huge bodybuilders often displayed as their preferred facial expression. This guy was huge enough to be super smug. He flared his lats a little and bounced his pecs twice as he laid his purchases on the counter to be rung up. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t shy and unimposing little Mark Stone. Long time no see, Stony,” the bodybuilder said, raising his arms and pumping himself up to his most huge. His pecs lifted several inches above his super-developed stomach, causing the fabric of his cut-off shirt to strain so that the buttons struggled to stay put. Trey Waters had come back to his hometown. And he was the biggest hulking bodybuilder on the face of the Earth. Part 2 Mark was completely stunned at the sight of his greatest fantasy made flesh before him. He had forgotten that he was holding up his camera phone, the protective cover clearly pushed away from the lens that drank in the vision of Trey Waters: the massively muscled stud almost as much as Mark did with his eyes. Trey acknowledged that and smirked with a mixture of delight and conceit. He raised his hands up to nipple height and made two fists. Immediately thick networks of dark, gorged veins rose from his ham-shank forearms and Mark thought he could actually hear the sound of Trey’s wafer-thin skin groaning against the pressure caused by the power-ravenous tissues beneath. “I’m suh-sorry, Trey...it just happened to be on...and I just...” Mark’s excuse was lame. Why would he have his camera phone set to record just because an exceptional item of interest had entered the most mundane place on Earth? Still smirking, by now Trey was giving off pheromones like wildfire: an invisible miasma of sweat mixed with testosterone and musk. It was intoxicating. Mark began to sway on his feet and had to sit back on the seat next to the till. “Can’t let you keep this, Stony,” said Trey, without a hint of regret for what he was about to do. A huge hand grabbed the camera phone out of a transfixed Mark’s feeble grasp, and what happened next caused his erection to become even more pronounced inside his jeans. Trey placed the phone between pec cleavage deeper than any woman’s or even any super-heavyweight bodybuilder’s. It stayed put quite easily, for the mounds of his heart-muscles were dense and thick, swollen with blood and almost crackling with glycogen. His smirk broadened considerably as he flexed into a most-muscular pose. His trapezius muscles bulged tall, almost seeming to push his collar bones down as they demanded space to grow. Between them, on either side of his throat, the cord-like omohyoid/sternohyoid structures thickened and substantiated beyond what nature had ever intended of them. His deltoids dwelled into a triple-head configuration as his triceps blasted outward almost as far as his biceps bulged inwards, helping to unite his pecs closer as the muscles of his upper body fought against each other for the right to exist. Every muscle was sharply, shockingly defined beyond what a sane mind could comprehend. Between Trey’s enormous, thickly striated pectorals, Mark’s phone was crushed to tiny bits. Not only that, something else was happening - something more extraordinary than the sheer presence demonstrated by Trey’s size. He was growing; this phenomenal spurt of sumptuous expansion was punctuated perfectly not only by the crushed phone, but by a blatantly audible tearing noise, like lightning striking the sail of a ship, rending it apart with an ear-splitting crack. The red cut-off shirt was destroyed at the back as Trey’s lats gorged on blood and pushed outward, beyond the ability for the shirt’s fibers to resist. “Oh yeah, better than yesterday’s reaction...damn hot!? Trey flexed even more, and the short sleeves of his shirt lost their battle against his advancing biceps. As his biceps pushed further out in the opposite direction to his tris, the material of his already clinging shirt could take the strain no longer. It came apart, fibers separating to such a fine degree they floated on the air for a moment like mist, helping to secure this moment in time as something that felt close to timeless. Mark and Trey were separated only by the shop counter. He could have reached out to touch Trey’s flesh had his lust become so strong. But self-preservation kicked in, for there was no telling how Trey would react should Mark try something like that. “And now the money shot,” Trey barked, deciding to send the shirt to Shirt Heaven in a major show of muscle flexing. Before the shirt was destroyed completely at the front, Trey made a full lat-spread, his biggest ever, although Mark was not to know that. Delta wings flared out beneath each arm, so much so there was little room for his biceps to expand further, but expand they did, emphasized by the massive ropy veins that almost split each bicep in two. His pecs seethed with growth and power and buttons pinged in all directions as the heart muscles shredded the cloth and were exposed to the world. The greatest show-spectacle of all time had been revealed from behind a red curtain to a completely captivated audience. “I’m getting huuuuge!” Trey barked in triumph and sheer defiance of nature. In fact, it might be argued that the behemoth made man was laughing in the very face of Nature’s design. How could this be happening? Mark was overwhelmed by the spectacle and couldn’t form a coherent thought in his head. Man-lust had taken him over. But man-lust in the face a god in male form. How could Trey have gotten like this in just four years? It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a drug known to science that could augment the male physique to such an exaggerated degree, was there? With the last of the shirt finally lying in a tattered mess at his feet, Trey Waters pressed his groin firmly against the side of the counter facing outward and flexed just two feet from Mark’s head, a head that was now dizzy from so much blood coursing through it. “How big do you think I am, Stony?” The quiz was meant to intimidate and stimulate all at once. Trey seemed to get off on showing his muscles to an inferiorly built male whilst simultaneously getting the spectator so boned up with lust. But what good was being served here? Who would get off the furthest and to what end? Trey made a side chest pose, his pecs heaving upwards and outwards, each globe forming a half dozen inch-deep striations (stacked about an inch to two inches apart) across their masses. As he flexed and shaped his shelf to utter magnificence, Mark could almost swear that the muscle between the striations was bulging outwards as Trey’s exhibition excited his heart more and more, forcing it - demanding - that it pump harder and faster to feed his muscles with the blood they needed to grow further still. “Answer my fucking question, midget!” The antagonism in Trey’s voice was apparent and threatening. He’d never been like this back in high school. Sure, he was a jock who loved to play football and lift weights. But back then he was a robust 200 pounds, standing six feet one inches in height. Ok, so maybe some kind of steroid was making his muscles grow, but how could that explain his increase in height? At a guess Mark reckoned Trey to be around four inches taller since his senior year. Then again, he needed to be tall to be able to carry so much amazing muscle. “Uh, thuh-three huh-hundred?” Mark couldn’t contain his stammer. He felt light-headed, far too warm, and the room started to spin. It was intoxicating. Trey’s musk inflamed his senses, and he could feel his balls about to give up their creme. “You fucking ass,” Trey interjected sharply, not giving Mark a chance to finish. He pushed against the counter, causing candy bars to go soaring. The counter moved in by about a foot and a half, slamming Mark on his swivel chair into a shelf of liquor bottles behind him. A few fell and smashed as Mark’s heart missed more than one beat. Trey made another most muscular and inches were immediately added to his shoulders, arms, and chest. The watch on his left wrist fell away as the strap was split apart. Then more tearing of cloth was heard with whip-cracking force as Trey’s denim cut-offs failed to contain the additional augmentation occurring below his waist. “I’m way heavier than three hundred. Try five hundred and six pounds, you infant.” And then with a smirk and an afterthought he added, “...but not for much longer!” Something smashed through the front facing of the counter, blasting through the wood. Denim continued to be destroyed and metal buttons from the flies shot in all directions. One brought down a stack of pet food cans near the main door. Another hit the ultra-violet fly-zapper over the cold meats counter. Where the others went was a mystery. “Unnngh, that feels so fucking good, to let the wee man go free,” Trey exclaimed, arching his upper body away from the counter and leaning his head back as he momentarily gazed upward. His neck flexed thicker than ever. How many inches it was in diameter was a mystery, but Mark guessed it was at least thirty. Wow, he thought as his stupor of lust continued to hold him hostage, my own waist is only twenty-eight. Trey’s neck is thicker than my goddamn waist. This is beyond reason. With his head thrown back and upper body leaning away from the counter, Trey’s mountainous pecs heaved upwards some more, so engorged were they that for a moment he appeared headless. The pecs blocked his neck and head from view. Mark was immediately drawn to the giant’s nipples, each one as big as the tip of his thumb and set in brown areolas the size of silver dollars. The nipples, like everything else on the behemoth, seemed like they were growing still further. Trey's torso was completely hairless, and his body glistened with the sweat brought on by his incredible increase in physical mass. Within two minutes he had swelled to at least twice the size he had been when he entered. He was enormous. But something inside Mark, some primal, innate instinct geared up on lust and his necessity to cum, something that maybe was tripped in him by Trey’s increasing size, told him that the muscle giant's growth was far from finished. But then the growth seemed to slow down and eventually stop. It was only then that Mark suddenly snapped out of his reverie and took stock of his situation. The slide-door to the storage compartment beneath the counter was split apart and the contents within pushed out onto the floor (just a couple of pricing guns, spare sticker cartridges and some rolls for the Visa machine). What had done the pushing out became evident to Mark as he slipped into a sitting position on his side of the counter and struggled to make sense of what he could see sticking through from the customer side. It was Trey’s monster cock, an organ of immense proportions, and strong, too, judging by the force of its expansion and how it made mincemeat of the counter wall. Time seemed inconsistent with reality now. Dust motes on the air seemed to hang with an almost eerie calm. The sounds of life beyond the walls of the store seemed muffled and more distant than usual. There were no sounds or movement coming from Trey. He was still connected with the counter, his back arched backwards and his arms akimbo, the muscles incredibly flexed and gluttonous with blood that seemed no longer to pulse beneath the veined super-highway across most of Trey’s massive frame. “Trey...you...okay?” Terror engulfed Mark, replacing the lust previously besieging him. For the sake of his own safety, he made it to his feet after crawling from behind the counter but in a way that put him a safe distance from Trey and closer to the main door, his only route of escape. It was there that he noticed the customer, frozen in time as she attempted to enter the store. What in hell was going on? Mark felt panicky, gorge rising in his gut. The woman was Mrs. Ching, a regular of the establishment, who always came in on weekday mornings around the same time to buy some bread rolls. If she were to catch sight of a naked muscle hulk apparently making love to the counter, like the one here now, there was no telling what it would do to her sixty-year-old heart. But the woman seemed frozen in time, just like Trey. “Time stands still when Trey flexed to maximum,” Mark said aloud as he gently eased Mrs. Ching out the front door so that he could securely lock it and pull down the blind to create some privacy. “Wait a sec, what am I doing?” This was a personal state of emergency. There was no telling how strong Trey was, or what he could do to Mark should his muscle-lust become unhinged. Now was Mark’s chance to get away. But something caused him to stay put. His cock continued to twitch inside his pants. Mark removed his apron to give himself some freedom, stimulating his genitals by massaging them vigorously. He moaned in delight as bliss replaced his fear. If Trey was as frozen as the rest of the world due to an inexplicable phenomenon, then Mark would have his play. And there was nothing Trey would be able to do about it. Mark found himself moving closer to the frozen god, now within touching distance. The remains of the denim cut-offs lay in disarray around Trey’s size sixteen feet. A big man needed big feet, after all. He was completely naked now, having worn his cut-offs commando style. Nice, Mark thought. Trey’s thighs were enormous, way bigger than they had been just minutes before. “If only I had a tape measure,” he said in annoyance. He knew his uncle kept one somewhere, but he wasn’t about to go fetch it now. He just wanted to touch every inch of Trey’s mega-muscular body, to trace the contours of every striation, every point of one muscle separating from another. He wanted to know those nipples with his tongue, and especially experience what Trey’s monster cock was like fully erect, if he were away from the smashed counter. “Does this mean I’m in control now, free to do with Trey as I please? Did he stop time or did I, somehow, in some fluke act of desperation?” Mark couldn’t answer these questions. He didn’t know how long this effect would last, but should it be temporary, he was determined to make the most of it. He moved around to the frozen Trey’s rear, gasping at the sight of the biggest, bubbliest butt he had ever seen. The glute muscles were beyond exaggeration, if such a term were accurate. How in contrast the butt appeared, next to the graceful taper of a waist upon which such a massive upper body was perched, like a great wedge of rock standing freely on its tiniest point, yet strong and unyielding. Mark touched the striated muscle there and could not believe how hard and dense it felt. His hands roamed freely over the topography of the massive delta that was Trey’s back. His fingers played with every contour like charcoal to the parchment of a brass rubbing. The muscle was hard as granite or steel, his flesh so soft against it. It was a delicious union formed by a contrast that worked with perfection in mind. Mark hastened to get naked behind the frozen Trey so that he could explore him internally as well. His cock was one of his better features. Not porn-star huge by any means, but a good seven and three-quarter inches when fully erect. Mark jerked himself off for a few seconds and lathered up his cock with spit before he guided it less than expertly into the deep cleft of Trey’s rectum. And there he dwelled for a time, pumping smoothly and rhythmically, moaning with nothing short of ecstasy, but wishing Trey could reciprocate in some way. Gradually, as Mark’s pleasure rose to fever-pitch, to a point where he could contain himself no longer, he shot his cream into Trey, holding on to his waist for balance. He looked upwards, seeing the back of Trey’s head as frozen as the rest of him, and wished he could kiss his beautiful lips. Instead, he tongued and kissed the wide expanse of his back, with no shortage of flesh to further enflame his senses. The orgasm was all too brief, and Mark felt the mood passing without the time upon which it had formed. How he could be immune to this phenomenon defied explanation, but he decided suddenly that should time start over once again, it would do him no good to greet it in the buff. He dressed hastily, splashed some cold bottled water on his face and set about getting himself organized. Something had to be done about Trey, locked out of time. But what had become of the rest of the world? “Time manipulation? Trey has to be part of it. He must be from the gym across the street. If these guys can make time bend to their will, that would explain how the gym managed to appear seemingly overnight. Hmmm.” Mark always had a liking for science-fiction. Hopefully, as he investigated this, such a penchant for the weird and the wonderful would serve him well (his mind shifted to being inside Trey once more, shooting his load upward and into the deepest recesses of the muscle-god). It was time to leave the store and venture outside. Whatever was going on, maybe the answers would be found at Shapeshifters across the street. To be continued . . .
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Two is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Three Next morning, Mike was very hungry, but Dr. Korsakoff insisted to take a few blood samples before breakfast. Someone had put a new pair of Adidas bottoms, a jockstrap and socks on his chair, but, unlike yesterday, there was also a stretchy black vest in that new material based on maize and bamboo. Benjy – no ... Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes – entered his room, energetic like a happy puppy: "You look splendid in that vest, Mike. It shows all your muscle. You ... you are amazing, Mike!" Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes came closer and hugged Mike, but it didn't feel good like yesterday. It felt ... It felt superficial. Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes took a step backwards, held Mike's hands and stared up into his face with a worried expression: "What's wrong, handsome? Still shaken after yesterday?" Mike shrugged, retrieved his hands from Mr. Narushin-FitzFforbes' grip and answered hesitatingly: "Yes, probably something like that. Have you eaten?" The worried expression in Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes' face didn't disappear, but the latter answered: "No, I wanted to eat breakfast together with the most amazing man I know." "Hm. I'm ravenous." They shared the breakfast in oppressive silence, but when both had finished their meal, Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes suggested a guided tour: "If you don't remember how to find your way around the facility, I have to jog your memory. That might cheer you up. I haven't seen you this sombre for ages." On their way out of the building, Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes politely nodded in the direction of two men standing outside an office room, one of them a middle aged man in a white suit holding a panama hat, the other one a tall muscular thirty year old in a black short-sleeved uniform: "Mr. Copley. Mr. Gútierrez." Mike felt an impulse to ask when he had been this sombre last time, but he quenched that impulse, in order to not reveal the tiny fragments of information he knew. He walked in a different manner than before, and he hadn't got used to this new waddling gait, his shoulders swagging while he walked. They were outside one of the buildings, and walked along a paved path in the direction of what looked like a beach. Greenish blue waves washed against a white, sand covered beach, palm trees slowly waving in the breeze. "I promised you to refresh your memory about the island." "Mmmm." "The facility was built by a wealthy businessman after the early groundbreaking 'hancing experiments, and after the military use of 'hancing technology had become standard." "The Space War, wasn't it?" "Indeed. And suddenly, after the Space War, wealthy businessmen and hero-worshipping teenagers – gay or not – realized, that Space Marines walk amongst us ... All those Space War movies did their part to the hype, I guess ... and in several circles at once the idea rose to apply 'hancing tech for, ahum, recreational and cosmetic purposes." Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes laughed in that restrained manner again, before continuing: "You always complain about what you call my interest in 'hancing trivia." "My memory is blurry, but that sounds familiar. I just wanted to become big, not rattle off all the alternative means available." "Wanted?" "Yes, how so? I'm big now, if you haven't noticed. Thanks." Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes fell silent for a moment, and began to look like a worried Benjy again. "Nothing. What I wanted to tell you about the island was, that ..." "Sir? Sir! There is a call to the stationary pad. It's your father, Sir." Mr. Copley came running from the main building in their direction. Slowly, Mike recognized him as Benjy's secretary. A shadow clouded Benjy's face, and, without a word, he returned to the main building. Mike slowly strolled in the same direction. * * * Mike enjoyed the sunshine on his face and arms. Next time, he would probably wear shorts ... perhaps even skip the vest. His suspicions were nagging him. On his way back to his hospital bed, he passed by Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes' office. He was unable to hear the elder Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes' part of the conversation, but it was impossible to not overhear the younger one: "Hostile takeover? Who are you to speak, dear old Papa? It was your own arrangement, that I dispose my own money however I like, in order to avoid any quarrel with the Wicked Witch of the West." By the tone of his voice, it didn't sound like his boyfriend used the words "dear old" entirely literally. "No, I talk about her however I wish. When you married her, she was younger than I am now. You betrayed Mama, that's what you did." Mike oughtn't to pry. He had learned to not eavesdrop by his ... his sweet Mum. It was slowly coming back, now. The kind, hardworking tenant's wife ... His hardworking earnest Dad. The hens, the cow and the hydrogen harvester they shared with their neighbours. Farmland expanding further north, because of the improving weather ... well, improving in northern Canada, not elsewhere. When he returned to his bed, Dr. Korsakoff was there. Mike wouldn't have given it a thought, hadn't it been for the fact, that Dr. Korsakoff was holding Mike's a-Pad with a guilty expression in his face. "What are you doing with my a-Pad, Dr. Korsakoff?" Mike's powerful shape loomed and towered over Dr. Korsakoff, and hadn't he been so suspicious, he could have enjoyed the situation. "I was ... I was worried, that you risked to mislay your a-Pad, Mr. Jones." "Thank you for your concern, Dr. Korsakoff. May I have my a-Pad now." Mike extended his palm, waiting. With a nervous gesture, Dr Korsakoff gave the a-Pad back to Mike, and left the room. * * * Chapter Four is found HERE
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PREFACE The unfinished version of this story is still taking shape in the Unfinished section at the time I post this chapter, but I hope, that I have avoided any continuity errors enough to post the final version of Chapter One here. Perfect Boyfriend : Chapter One He woke up. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and, when his eyesight focused, he saw a young man watching him with a slightly worried expression. "Are you ok?" "Uh. Where ... am I?" "The facility I bought, remember?" "Sorry. I'm dizzy. I'm not sure ... Who are you?" The worried facial expression returned, and for a second or two the worried young man stared accusingly at the elderly man in the white lab coat, standing not far from the bed. "You said, that there would be no side effects!" "Give him some time to wake up. The anesthetics haven't worn off, yet." "It's me: Benjy! Remember?", the young man said in a pleading tone. Slowly, memories began to return. "Benjy! Yes, of course! My ... boyfriend?" "Perhaps you should give Mr. Jones another few minutes to wake up properly, Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes? I'm sure, his memories will return soon." Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes left the hospital bed with a disappointed grimace. The man in the white lab coat remained in the room. "Well, Mr. Jones, I will have to make a few tests. I took a blood sample before you woke up, but I will need a urine sample as soon as you feel ready, and in the meanwhile I will make a routine examination. Do you feel this?" A sting in his foot. He inhaled quickly. "Good. Do you think you can sit up?" He rose from the bed to a sitting position, and in the same moment he felt his triceps rub his lats in a delicious manner. His legs hung from the side of the bed. "I'm Dr. Korsakoff, by the way. I will just check your reflexes." Dr. Korsakoff hit his patient's knee lightly, and it reacted properly. "Fine. Fine. Do you think you could grab this ball and press it?" He grabbed a small ball looking like a toy, and pressed it like Dr. Korsakoff had said. He pressed it harder. The ball exploded in his palm. "Even better than expected. I'm sure that Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes will be happy with the results." "The results?" "Not remembering, yet? Your boyfriend is paying for your 'hancing." They began to return now. His memories. Benjy. And their shared dream of 'hancing. "Uh. Yes. I would like to see Benjy now. Leave the mug for urine samples on the shelf." "I will send him in. Welcome back, Mr. Jones." Jones was slowly returning to awareness of his surroundings. And of his body. His ... POWERFUL body. Something was unfamiliar, wasn't it? He clenched his left pec with his right hand ... and then he flexed his left pec. Felt good. That was the exact moment when Benjy returned. Benjy's lean and short shape entered the room with a sort of elegantly confident gait, his hair combed in a conservative manner, but he was only wearing Adidas bottoms and a white neutral t-shirt, and something felt off. Benjy's warm brown eyes betrayed a worried expression. "Do you feel better, Mike?" "Physically there can't be anything wrong with me ..." Benjy emitted a brief laugh, but controlled himself: "I wouldn't say there's anything wrong physically, no." There was an innuendo to his voice, but Mike wasn't entirely sure why. A frown formed between Mike's eyebrows. "Something feel off. Aren't you in a habit of wearing a suit and tie, Benjy?" Benjy wasn't good at controlling his facial expression. Now, he looked uncomfortable, rather than worried. "I was. I decided to change some things. At least as long as we stay here. A more casual style feel more relaxing. I have never been allowed to feel relaxed." "Where's here?" "I've told you the story about the island before, but I will repeat it all later. Do you think you can sit?" Mike waved his hand, refusing any assistance. He returned to a seated position, and then he left the bed. The floor felt slightly cool to his feet. Again, something felt off. "I feel strange." "If you feel dizzy, you ought to return to your bed, Mike. It's not many minutes since you woke up." "No. No. I'm fine. It's nothing like that. It's ..." Mike tried to understand what was off. Then he realized, that he was stark naked. He blushed, and put his right hand over his junk. "Sorry, Benjy. No offence." "I do have seen you naked before, remember.", Benjy remarked dryly. "Don't be shy. Staff put your new clothes on that chair over there." Mike chuckled and began to dress. Did he feel ... BIGGER? He looked down at his abs. He had always been proud of his abs, but they were bigger and more defined than he remembered. He observed his new underwear critically, and turned towards Benjy holding a camo-patterned jockstrap, tilting his head: "Really?" Benjy looked embarrassed: "I ... I thought that they would ... uhu ... suit you." Mike put his jockstrap on, and then his Adidas bottoms, similar to those Benjy was wearing. Then a pair of rough soccer socks, and a pair of fresh Adidas trainers. "This can't be right. I don't take 12 in shoes. Never had." He tried them on. They fit perfectly. Benjy came closer and put his arms around him, burrowing his face into Mike's chest: "Don't you remember the 'hancing project, Mike? You are bigger now. Taller, too. Dr. Korsakoff said, that we had to break it carefully, if you had forgotten. Some participants do forget initially." "That's what felt so off. Weren't we more ... equal in height before?" "I love this! I love it! I love it! My tall protective boyfriend ..." Mike could feel Benjy grow a hard bulge against his quad. They both took a deep breath, and then they stood quite some time embracing each other. None of them knew for how long. Then, Benjy cleared his throat: "If you don't feel dizzy any longer, I would like to take you to the posing room behind our private gym." "Yes. It's slowly coming back now. All your money and fancy houses." "What matters are us, not my parents' wealth. I don't want to talk about my parents now. I want this moment together with you. Only you." The corridor had an air of hospital over itself, but that mood changed when they entered the gym: Dumbbells in many sizes, bars and weight-plates, and a lot of very fancy exercise machines. There were no windows, but some sort of air conditioner kept the indoors air fresh and cool. Absent-mindedly, Mike noticed, that the AC was certified with that eco-logo. "The machines don't look like the ones they have at the gym in my town. Where are the magazines?" "These machines generate weight by electro magnets. They are designed for the use by 'hancers." "I didn't consider myself a 'hancer before I met you, Benjy." "You had the urge. I could tell the first time we discussed online. It's just that I knew more about it: The sub-culture, the 'hancing processes available, the companies ..." Mike swallowed. He knew next to nothing before he met Benjy. He had learned more by time, but Benjy was the aficionado – a 'hancer Fan. They had attended 'Hancer Con and watched all those giants – most of them friendly, all of them impressive – waddle around the convent area for a weekend. Mike hadn't been outside Saskatchewan before, and it had all felt unreal but exciting. He felt Benjy touch his arm again. "Mike. I believe you would enjoy the posing room." "Huh? I've only worked out to avoid injury at the farm, not to pack any muscle. I have no clue how to pose." "Take a look." The lights went on the moment they entered the posing room. The illumination was positioned to enhance shadows and the definitions of physiques inside. All walls were covered in mirrors. Mike could see two men enter: Benjy, wearing his t-shirt and Adidas bottoms. And then ... it took a second for his realization to dawn. Before that second he could see a tall, powerfully built young man wearing Adidas attire below his waist, but with a naked torso above his waist: Big abs separated by deep ridges, an adonis belt enticingly pointing towards his groin, a V-shape erupting upwards out of his black shiny tracksuit bottoms, widening into lush, full powerful pecs separated by a deep ravine, and the bulbous pecs caused a shadow to fall under the dark brown nipples. Wide shoulders consummated the V-shape, and a ridge of swole meat formed a trapezius. Intimidating upper arms hung wide apart, because of the flaring lats, and veins covered the steel cords forming the young man's forearms. When that second had passed, he realised, that the man staring back at him from the mirrors was himself. His blue eyes were wide in surprise, his blond hair was untidy. The memories of entering the tank in order to become his boyfriend's wet dream rushed into his mind, the exquisite memories of becoming BIGGER returned, he took his own visage in and felt blood swiftly and uncontrollably rush to his manhood. His many shapes in the mirrors flexed a double biceps. His boyfriend inhaled sharply in excitement. Mike's tanned cannonballs exploded in strength and size. Bulges grew in the tracksuit bottoms of both of them. He closed his eyes, and then he felt himself tenting with a steel rod inside his tracksuit bottoms. Benjy's hands were around his waist; Benjy's face burrowed into his powerful back and Benjy's hard bulge pressed against Mike's hamstring. Mike took the feeling of his own present strength in, and as it mixed with the ecstatic memories of what had happened in the growth tank hours earlier, his tenting steel rod exploded in masculine assertiveness and muscular pleasure. It all caused Benjy to come, too. His boyfriend's promises had been true. Or better. * * * Chapter Two is found HERE
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Chapter one is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Two It was when night fell, his suspicions originally began to arise. They had spent two hours in the shower exploring what his new body was able to do. Benjy had come four times, Mike twice. The first time Benjy came, it was enough, that Mike grabbed his dick and squeezed a little. They slowly raised the intensity while the hot water hit their naked bodies. Their final orgasms happened simultaneously after Mike had curled Benjy effortlessly beyond what any of them cared to count, rubbing Benjy's hardening dick against Mike's clenched washboard abs, Benjy uncontrollably shouting: "Fuck, yes! My tall protective boyfriend! MY TALL PROTECTIVE BOYF ... unf uh unf uh hn hn! hn! hn! uh!" To the disappointment of them both, Dr. Korsakoff didn't allow them to share their bedroom, yet. Mike's heart rate had to be monitored overnight, and Dr. Korsakoff was also interested in the air Mike exhaled when he was asleep. Mike decided to spend some time in his hospital bed with his private video diary. The icons of his older files in the folder didn't look like usual, and a message popped up: "Files damaged during system update. Files will be restored in next system update." Damn! Another one of those update disasters that damaged the reputation of a-Tech Inc. Benjy had tried to persuade him into switching to i-Tech, but old habits die slowly, and Mike felt uncomfortable with a platform considered to be "posh". He tried to click on one of the video logs. The file actually opened, but the sound and image were fragmented and incomprehensible until the third minute of the recording. He saw himself looking into the camera. His old self. Considerably smaller, but with some sort of sturdy farm boy build: "I can't believe what happened to poor Tim. I should have told Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes and the Doctor that they shouldn't do it, but they all went on with the experiment. It's grotesque. That will destroy the rest of Tim's life. Treated like some sort of lab animal. People shouldn't do such ...", but then the sound and image returned to an incomprehensible mess again. A lump of coldness emerged inside his belly. Another sort of lump formed in his throat. And the nagging suspicion that something wasn't right. Who was Tim? He couldn't remember. He clicked another file. And another one. Nothing happened. The error message popped up again. A fourth one ... Like the earlier one, the initial few minutes were fragmented beyond recognition and incomprehensible, but then he sat there again. Same boyish face with dimples and earnest blue gaze, but with a body showing signs of a more disciplined workout regimen. "-ter what happened Tim, but Bob seem to enjoy his gains. So far that's a relief, but I have to admit, that I felt envious when Benjamin and Bob disappeared into Benjamin's luxurious bedroom after the experiment. I had expected ..." And then the video file broke up in incomprehensible nonsense again. Mike didn't sleep well that night. * * * Chapter Three is found HERE
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Six is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Seven "I hope, that you told Dr. Korsakoff to not take any unnecessary risks." "Calm down, Mike. Korsakoff researched early forms of 'hancing before we were born. Although the company he worked for used another set of methods for 'hancing, than Nelson's MEGAGROWTH or the old-fashioned PHYSICAL POTENTIAL FOUNDATION do, he's got dozens of years of experience. Since 'hancing is almost unregulated in the Siberian Federation, he's been able to develop 'hancing-methods with extreme results, and I mean extreme." Benjy paused and took a look at the plastic tube connecting his Port-a-cath with a large bag of nutritional drip solution before he continued: "Which reminds me ... I didn't finish my description of the island, if I remember correctly." "No, you didn't." Still half-reclining in his bed, with his shirt open, in order to allow the IV tube to connect, Benjy fumbled with the remote. The large screen awoke: "This man is the affluent Mr. Vanderwesthuisen. He owned this island, before he bestowed it upon a foundation led by his solicitor." The still was a photograph of a middle aged man who obviously enjoyed working out, with an artificially white smile and an artificially orange suntan. The suit he was wearing had been fashionable among the affluent in the Padanian-Appenine Republic, particularly Milan, about twenty years ago. "The reason why he bought this island is, that it's outside the jurisdiction of any sovereign nation. You will not break any law by experimenting on human beings here." This remark couldn't fail to raise unsettling feelings in Mike. Benjy pressed the remote control: "This is also Mr. Vanderwesthuisen." Mike's first reaction was some sort of shock. He had blurry recollections of the 'hancers they had met at 'HancerCon, but the man in the picture was ... To begin with, the man in the picture looked like he could have been Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's nineteen year old son, with some sort of boyish roundness to his cheeks. Next, the man was wearing the orange convict's dress used in prisons and some correction centres. The eyes of the young man were seemingly devoid of any intelligence, but there was some sort of smugness in them. The most blatant and obvious fact screaming at the observer was the sheer size of the man. His bone structure was built the same way The Machine's and Dr. Rob Nelson's are, but he had packed on even more muscle mass than them. He even overshadowed the size of real-life Hyper Marines. Mike's second reaction was horniness, his third embarrassment, and his fourth a struggle between conflicting emotions. "I like your blush, Mike. The unsavoury part of the story is, that after his ... his transformation ... his TRANSCENDENCE into this physical state, he spent several nights at bars in Guam confronting baseline muscular men, natty or on gear, and the last one of these knuckle fights caused a man's death. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen – or "Vin", as he insist to be called now – had a good legal defence in court and was imprisoned for manslaughter, not murder, which even might be true, because of the state of Vin's present mind and his lacking ability to control his own strength. According his own version, he had no intent to kill his victim, only to 'prove who's the Alpha', as his own words fell. I've met him, you see." "Benjy ... Benjy ... I don't know what to say." "You don't have to say anything, Mike. I'm just explaining the history of this island, that's all." "Thank God, that you didn't chose Vin's shape, when you selected your options. The shape I have now is satisfactory. I'm not much bigger than Gútierrez. I can have a normal life in this shape, and so will you, when you become like me." Benjy swallowed, and then a content smile spread over his face. "I look forward very much to become like you, Mike, but I have more things to tell you." "Just a few years after Vin's ... his conviction, a few countries softened their legislation on recreational 'hancing. There were several companies in the 'hancing business emerging at the same time, using slightly different toolboxes, and marketing themselves in different ways. In Cascadia, Canada and Australia, a company known as MEGAGROWTH branded themselves as 'the safe and responsible 'Hancing choice'." He repeated in a slightly bitter tone: "... safe and responsible ...", and pressed the remote control again. A new file. A video clip this time. A symphony orchestra. The music of horns and drums, resembling the film music from the remake of the remake of the remake of He-Man. Dawn and sunrise. A purple sky. The outline of a skull-shaped castle. "I wonder how much they had to pay Masbro-Hattel for the rights to use this?", Benjy remarked dryly. And then: Blinding light inside the doorway of the castle ... the impressive outlines of an impossibly powerful man standing there. The lighting changing to reveal the looks of the man who stepped forward. The background was an obvious greenscreen, but the man himself and the strange clothes he was wearing were undoubtly an unaltered and physical – and what a physical! – reality. A platinum blond man with the shorter hairstyle of the post-war version of He-Man and wearing a leather jockstrap from which several pieces of rabbit fur was dangling, but not enough to draw attention from the considerable bulge hidden inside the leather jockstrap. It was all there: A good replica of the harness, wristcuffs and boots of the post-war version of He-Man. If a smaller man had been wearing these minimal clothes he had looked ridiculous, but this man was able to carry the ensemble convincingly. His jockstrap wasn't the only thing bulging. The 8 feet tall man had impossibly wide clavicles and a narrow waist, similar to the picture of Vin, and from that bone structure mass upon mass of virile swole brawn bulged all over him, as if his muscles had got muscles of their own, but yet it didn't look disproportional. It all formed an alluring symmetry ... a monument of masculinity ... a heroic face ... icy blue eyes ... Mike remembered: That was a young Rob Nelson! In a fifteen year old famous (or infamous) commercial. The hero-giant pointed at the audience and asked: "Hey, buddy! Do you have what it takes, to absorb the power of Greyskull? If you have, call number MEG-AG-ROWTHNOW today!" Then he flexed his left biceps and pec, lifted his sword straight upwards as the animated thunderbolts hit him and the sword, and shouted: "I HAVE THE POWER!" They both fell silent, when the video clip ended. * * * Chapter Eight is found HERE
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Four is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Five The chain of events during the afternoon caused his doubts to return: Perhaps he might have misinterpreted the situation? After having hidden his a-Pad in a moderately safe place, he bumped into Gútierrez, Mr. FitzFforbes security officer. Before the experiment, Mike had been smaller than Gútierrez, or so he thought, but now Mike was only slightly taller than Gútierrez, and it was anybody's guess which one of them was heavier. He had a small chat with Gútierrez, hoping, that the latter wasn't looking for his a-Pad. Gútierrez seemed to be a decent bloke, and he had a sort of attractive commanding presence. Despite his newly attained shape, Mike felt inadequate again. By the end of their conversation, Gútierrez winked at him, and left. When Mike returned to the room with his hospital bed, he was surprised to find another hospital bed there, and Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes half-sitting in it, watching the big screen that covered much of the wall facing the beds. "I didn't expect to find you here." "We are supposed to eat lunch here, well you are. Dr. Korsakoff want me to drink lunch." Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes lifted a large glass of something that looked like yellow-tinted mineral water or some sort of fizzy pop. "The kitchen ask if you prefer chicken or an omelette." "Uh. Chicken, please." Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes lifted the receiver, pressed a few buttons, and told someone about Mike's lunch choice. Mike returned to his bed, adjusted it to a sitting position, and took a look at Mr. Narushkin-Fitzfforbes choice of entertainment. "I felt nostalgic. Do you remember that time we told each other how each of us realised our thing for Muscle Growth?" A CGI animated show for children, teens and young adults was running at the screen. Slowly it dawned ... yes .. he had watched this as a kid. It was ... "My memory is returning, I think. Did you like SPACE WAR: RISE OF THE HYPER MARINES and SPACE WAR: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, too?" Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes laughed. Mike liked the sound of that laughter. More memories were dawning in his mind, returning from the blur ... The laughter of a friend who turned into a boyfriend ... they had watched this together before ... Images flashed on the screen. Big men in space armour fought pseudo-crustaceans in space. Big men in space armour returned to base. Without space armour big men looked more built and huge than any bodybuilder in real life, having serious talks with each other or working out together. Mike became horny. "Did I like? I have to give Dr. Korsakoff a reprimand for not counteracting your memory loss. Of course I liked it, and we've had this discussion before. It was when we shared childhood memories we actually grew close. I was a SPACE WAR fan to an obsessive degree. Not to mention the spin-off series CAPTAIN HYPER MARINE." "Oh, yes, CAPTAIN HYPER MARINE! That was so cool. So fire." Mike restrained himself: "I'm not supposed to sound like a fourteen year old now when I'm twenty four." Mr. Narushkin ... no ... BENJY laughed. Laughed deliciously. "You can talk as much as you want about SPACE WAR fandom. I had my first orgasm watching the transformation scene in episode two. No touching." Mike blushed. Mike became hard under the blanket. That was the moment a woman from kitchen arrived with Mike's lunch. Mike thanked her politely, but he felt less uncomfortable when she closed the door and left. "Now when I think about it ...", Benjy said, and pressed the remote control. When the scene began, Mike recognised it instantly. He didn't remember the details yet, but his intuition told him that something remarkable was going to happen on the screen, and his body remembered better than his mind. His dick remembered, throbbing in anticipation for the story to be told. A handsome man in uniform and military haircut discussing with a superior officer and a scientist not dissimilar to Dr. Korsakoff. A wide and tall glass cylinder in the background filled with a bubbling green translucent liquid. A metal construction with a ramp and ladders. "I understand what I have to do, Sir. I'm aware of the danger, Sir, but we are at war, and I know my duty. If this experiment will lead to a tactical advantage, it is my duty to participate. I'm ready to die, but if I survive this, we will have an army of hyper marines. I'm ready to become The Prototype." The man began to take his uniform shirt off, and revealed a sort of fit swimmer's build. Dog tags dangled from his neck. He threw this shirt nonchalantly behind himself as he walked with some swag in the direction of the glass cylinder and climbed the steel ladder. Two men in hazmat suits put a breathing mask on his nose and mouth. The man saluted the men on the floor and entered the cylinder. The background music sounded like a military brass band playing something that perhaps was variations on the hymn 'Eternal Father strong to save', which also was weaved into the theme tune of the show. The attention turned to the scientist and the commanding officer. The former pressed buttons, the latter gave a silent nod with a grave facial expression. The attention returned to the glass cylinder and the martial man therein. The liquid began to bubble. The man spasmed. Green bolts of energy crackled through the cylinder and hit the man's body. He spasmed. He arched. He thrashed blindly with his arms. Closeup on his hands. His GROWING hands. Closeup on his abs. His GROWING sixpack abs. The superior officer speaking into a mic: "Report, Sergeant Mulligan. Shall we abort?" And the reply on a crackling line: "Negative, Sir. I'm ready for a higher dose. I know my duty." A silent nod. The equipment humming louder. The liquid bubbling more intensely. The energy bolts more intense now. A closeup at Sergeant Mulligan's eyes, widening. A roar. The scene enticingly slowly sliding to inspect each part of the growing Sergeant in a manner that could have been a sly wink to the gay segment of the audience. Enticingly. Slowly. Sliding. Biceps closeup. Traps and shoulders closeup. Back closeup, in all its detailed, powerful, SWELLING glory. Closeup at the growing, full, lush and plump pecs. Growing. Full. Lush. Plump. Pecs. "Sir! Yes, Sir! More! Give me MORE!" Swole muscle. Bulging muscle. Powerful muscle. Muscle hulking out, except for the Sergeant's shiny boots and camo-patterned trousers, for some unexplained reason. Frantic muscle growth. And yet another close up at the Sergeant's wide open eyes. The brass music reaching a crescendo. Mulligan reaching the final shape so many young boys are familiar with from their favourite toys. "YES! Able to protect, now! I AM THE PROTOPTYPE!" The military brass band music faded into the theme of the series while the after texts rolled, and then switched in turn into the Hyper Marine Hymn sung by the Canadian Navy's official choir: "Almighty ruler of the all Whose power extends to great and small, Who guides the stars with steadfast law, Whose least creation fills with awe - Oh grant Thy mercy and Thy grace To those who venture into space." IN MEMORY OF THE FALLEN : FAMILY, FRIENDS, THE FEW, EVERY REAL HYPER MARINE LEST WE FORGET Before the screen blacked out, there was an animated wreath of poppies. And then the screen blacked out. * * * Chapter Six is found HERE Readers unfamiliar with the tune mentioned in the story (yes, it do exist in real life) will find it HERE. I personally find it heart wrenching (in a good way) The Royal Navy, Royal Marines and many other military units and coast guards in the English-speaking world are fond of that hymn, also famous from the film Titanic. The additional strophe about space was written by Robert A. Heinlein (1907-1988)
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter FIVE is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Six Both of them were silent for a few seconds. "Dad served in the Space War. Regular army of course. I'm not the son of a Hyper Marine." "I know. You've mentioned it before." "I'm wet with pre-cum, Benjy. Slightly iffy to be that after those serious and patriotic after texts." "I thought you would be. Don't worry. I've told you about my own reaction to Sergeant Mulligan's transformation. "ABLE TO DEFEND!" Take another shower together?" Mike swallowed. Benjy knew him better, than he thought he would. What had happened during those months he didn't remember properly? "Let's continue to retrieve my memories, and I haven't finished my chicken, yet." "Do you remember, that I told you about watching wrestling and 'hancer-wrestling?" "Barely. I enjoyed it too." "I know. The first time we wanked together was watching The Machine fighting Space Marine." "What a pity, that I don't remember that." "Want to repeat it now?" Mike fell silent. "You are cute when you blush. Bob always said, that you need to relax and let go of those inhibations. But if you do, you wouldn't blush cutely." "Bob?" "You must remember Bob? Dr. Korsakoff's last experiment. Bob wished to grow. I needed someone for a trial treatment. It all turned out to everyone's satisfaction. It was your first threesome. You surely remember, don't you?" A tone of worry and irritation crept into Benjy's voice. Flashbacks. A big bed. A big muscular 'Hancer-lad of African descent and of his own age with a cocky expression. Couldn't remember exactly how big. Flashes of individual muscles and the face of the lad. Benjy, looking cheeky. The big lad flexing his bicepses, flexing his abs. Benjy licking the big lad's abs. Mike himself grabbing one of the big lad's bicepses, and a wave of overwhelming pleasure washing over him. "Fragments of it." "That was the night I realised how much I love you. Bob was a fling involved in the Shango Lads subculture, who wanted to go on with his own projects, but bonding with you while we muscle-worshipped Bob was such a profound experience. I love you, Mike. I love you so much." They both fell silent for a moment. Benjy sipped his drink. Benjy broke the silence: "Perhaps this will cheer you up?" He pressed the remote control. The screen woke up. A 'hancer wrestling match. "That's The Machine and Space Marine!" "I thought this would jog your mind. I watched WHC shows in order to infuriate old Papa. He considered it 'vulgar' and 'camp' and wondered why I didn't watch rugby or cricket like any normal kid." Two buzzcut incredibly tall, wide and massive men circled each other in a ring. One of them was wearing tight silvery shorts, metal wristcuffs and a metal shoulder pad. The other one was wearing shiny black army boots and military trousers inspired by the cartoon SPACE WAR. Then they collided and grabbed each other, struggling for supremacy. Mike broke the silence: "In boyhood I never realised the sexiness of it all. It was like watching cartoon characters or toys clashing, but then I hit puberty, and didn't realise why I got hard every time I watched a match." "The average ratio among 'hancers and 'hancer fans is 50% gay, 50% straight. That's not the ratio between gays and straight among the general population." "Average?" "Well, yes, in New Deseret, gay men do not have the right to 'hance. Nor do they in Russia. That's why they go to Cascadia or Siberia. Better than The Federated States – they ban 'hancing entirely, because it's just as ungodly as dinosaurs. In Texas and the Confederacy I believe the percentage of straight 'hancers is much higher than elsewhere, and the string of scandals surrounding 'Polar Cubs' began in the Confederacy. The Independent Republic of Greater California and the two United States follow the EU's stance, and ban 'hancing, because the authorities deem the procedure medically unsafe." Mike didn't listen properly. The match was drawing his attention, drawing him in. The Machine! And Space Marine! "This can't be right. The Machine was fighting already when I was a kid, and this can't be a re-run because Space Marine didn't join WHC until a few years ago, but here they are both looking like they are the same age." "Didn't you read? The Machine and his hubby rejuvenated a few months ago." "Perhaps I did read and forgot it. His husband, that's Rob Nelson, isn't it?" "Yes, the famous Dr. Nelson." A tone of bitterness crept into the voice of Benjy, but he continued: "We met them both signing autographs at 'HancerCon. They are 'hancer royalty more or less. The two first famous civilian 'hancers. Nelson goes on and on and on about 'responsibility'." The tone of bitterness returned. "Don't you like the guy? My memory is blurry, but if I remember correctly he's hot." There was a few seconds' delay, before Benjy answered. The match continued. Hulking man-creatures threw each other across the ring and flexed their bulging pecs in triumphant gestures. "I wouldn't have asked Dr. Korsakoff, if Dr. Nelson hadn't declined to 'hance me." What Benjy said, hit Mike like a blow. "'Hance YOU?" "The wish to 'hance had raged inside me since I was fifteen, or so. I was bullied at school, because I couldn't play rugby, and the only way to stop it was to behave like a twat. And then there was old Papa's expectations. I didn't enjoy being a legacy student. I didn't enjoy rugby. I didn't enjoy old Papa's air of superiority and the condescending way he talk about real people. Now when I think about it, a few of the upper class youth I met at school considered being condescending to be 'vulgar', so I didn't pick up this idea out of any fashionable leftovers from Pre-Crisis political debate, I'm afraid." "Yes, but 'hance you? I thought you wanted to 'hance me?" Benjy smiled and swallowed. His eyes shone by love, but perhaps they also shone by some sort of rising craziness. "Of course I wanted to 'hance you. To begin with, you were just one of the three lucky winners. Someone to be a beneficiary of my will to redeem myself. But then I realised how amazing you are. A real person. That farm boy earnestness. Your cute blush. Sharing the 'hancing urge with me, but more reliable than Bob ... more stable than Tim. Nothing of the sycophantic schmaltz I've usually been surrounded by. Someone to share my journey with. Of course I want to 'hance you, but I will also 'hance myself. Why do you think I'm drinking this solution of anabolic salts as we speak? It's my turn in the tank tonight." * * * Chapter Seven is found HERE
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Chapter One is found HERE Chapter Three is found HERE Perfect Boyfriend Chapter Four He could have logged into his boyfriend's i-Tech account as a guest, but that would have allowed Mr. Narushkin-FitzFforbes to read his search history. His a-Tech account had the drawback, that it was rationed, but it had suited him as long as he lived at his parents' farm. Let's see. NARUSHKIN-FITZFFORBES ... A bald elderly man, still tall ... a sort of athletic build marked with the deteriorating flight of time ... a stubborn pitbull-like expression ... can't be right ... Ah. Mike's dad. The "Papa". Inherited gold and estate, tactically bought more land before The Crisis, both in Siberia, Canada and the Dakotas ... and then had tenants rent it ... But he was searching for BENJAMIN Next to nothing before age eighteen. Schoolmates revealing afterwards that BENJAMIN NARUSHKIN-FITZFFORBES fucked a pig's head at a wet student party with other upper class brats. Benjamin assaulting a news photographer ... A mindlessly drunk Benjamin leaving a gay club wearing the uniform of one of those illegal militias from The Crisis, before a crowd of photographers. Benjamin banned from entering Germany. Benjamin assaulting another photographer. The tabloid tellypods and websites asking: "Where is Narushkin-FitzFforbes now?" The contrast between his sweet and loving sex puppy and the public Benjamin seemed to be considerable. Where lies the truth? And ... Korsakoff ... Physician ... 'hancing ... Eh? Lots of hits in Cyrillic script, but he wasn't able to read that. Translate. A weird text, almost, but not entirely, lacking any resemblance of English popped up on his screen: "Shame Doctor Frankenstein been made depart Muscle Growth Distillery since young Hulks rape benefactors. General Practitioner Korsakov sued at law and expelled from work on Muscle Growth Distillery luxury in Siberian coast. Folkish scientist at "'hancing" as known as among fans expelled from work, however not just papers called "Hulk rape", but unsightly making have occurred deform muscle fans. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Folkish formerly between 'hancing underground Dr. Korsakov slicing front scientist at technology for magnifying men to purpose military or recreational use, went too far grotesque making clients on use of Muscle Growth Distillery have occurred extreme immobile making, not only "mind implants" intercalations causing the insanity and the "identity crisis" for patients. Stationary speaker of parliament distillery, Mr. Kirill Aksyonov, in pronouncement express concern and regret sacrifices to Dr. Korsakov many years hoped have. Dr. Korsakov is no where to be found. Siberian police ask assistance to be wished for folkishly in general." It was gibberish, but it was enough to give him the general picture. He wasn't a boyfriend. He was the lab animal of a spoiled brat and a mad scientist. * * * Chapter Five is found HERE
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The Himbotrone Part one "Conflicted" was just the beginning of how to describe how he felt about it all. A wave of uncharacteristic anger welled up inside him. To hell with it then! To hell with them both! If SIR didn't want him around anymore, this was the end of this chapter of his life, but on the other hand ... "Devastated" ... What would he do now? After these twenty-four months together with SIR and HIM it felt difficult to reorient his entire life: Move somewhere else; Find another job; Be around other people ... Never see neither SIR nor HIM anymore. "Rejected?" Yes, "rejected" was probably one of the feelings. Though he had come second to HIM when it came to SIR's appreciation of physical accomplishment, despite SIR's thing for dominance, SIR had acknowledged his intelligence and talent for their illegal field of medical research. Together they had refined the supplements they fed HIM with ... protecting the heart and liver of HIM from any side effects ... stimulating and increasing the production of certain hormones within the body of HIM. He suspected, that SIR took some of the supplements himself, in order to maintain the level of muscle mass SIR had been able to develop by earlier versions of the workout schedules and perhaps even low level treatment from earlier versions of the prototypes. It had been an honour to be around SIR's mature but powerful presence and obey SIR's orders in the laboratory, and on rare occasion elsewhere. And it had been an honour – he shivered at the thought – to be around their test subject – HIM – and see HIM go from aimless college reject with a sort of football build to become ... He shivered again. And swallowed. Despite the protests from his rational mind, his instincts were unstoppable. If anything, his sexual urge felt more intense than usual. It felt a little bit like it had done immediately after puberty ... a little bit ... but more. More intense. Thinking about his fellow Good Boy. Their strange relationship. Two scientists and their test subject, but one SIR and two Good Boys. He and SIR kept the test subject out of the lab most of the time, because the test subject had to know it's place. He swallowed again. SIR allowed him to assist in domination of the test subject in the lab. The ... big ... test subject. HIM. But SIR didn't allow his research assistant to use the gym quite as often as SIR did, and not quite as often as HIM, the test subject. Never more than thrice a week, unless SIR was unusually gracious and HIM allowed it, because inside the gym, HIM assisted SIR in dominating the lab assistant. He swallowed again. Angry. Devastated. Rejected. Horny. Conflicted. He also felt hungry. It had come so out of the sudden. He had mentioned his concerns about the prototype. His concerns about side effects, at least at higher levels of exposure. About the slowly decreasing intelligence. About the risk of personality changes due to several factors, not only the peaking androgens and exposure to anabolic power. He had feared some repercussions, because SIR could be stern sometimes, and improving the prototype had been their shared pet project over the last two years, but there was no immediate punishment. It seemed like SIR had listened to his worry over possible side effects. SIR and HIM had even allowed him to use the gym atypically often in the following days, and he had felt some sort of uncharacteristic strange urge to lift more, curious about a greater number of new exercises ... His muscles felt sore after all these extra workouts. When SIR broke the news in the evening, it came out of the sudden, and the news made him feel numb: "... not need you anymore in your capacity as research assistant. From midnight, you are relieved from your duties." He wasn't able to listen with attention. Rejected. Devastated. Angry and horny again. Hadn't he been a Good Boy? Someone knocked on his door, but entered without waiting for a reply. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the door. It was HIM. The time HIM spent outdoors gardening and the time HIM spent in the sunbed gave him a perpetual tan, that could have looked ridiculous on quite a few persons, but if someone was built like HIM it looked ... congenial ... looked like ... a walking fever dream about masculinity ... The only piece of clothing worn by HIM tonight was denim cutoffs and low-necked boots. The big hands of HIM were holding a tray with food. So they cared about him anyway, somehow? "You need to eat. I was sent here." Something flickered in the eyes of HIM. Smugness. He was sexy and he knew it. But also something else. A glint of concern. And a glint of ... expectation? "Looks like your sugar free high-protein pudding and your extra glass of "mineral" water, not like the food I'm allowed." "You are allowed tonight", came the answer from HIM. "SIR expect you to empty every plate, bowl and glass." The bronzed six-pack of HIM was at his eye level, as he sat on his bed and HIM standing before him. SIR's characteristic glee sometimes allowed HIM to tease SIR's lab assistant, but forbade anything untoward, because both of them were SIR's Good Boys. "I'll fetch your tray later." He saw HIM leave his room. The room felt emptier than usual, a whiff of the scent of HIM, but he became aware of how he was starving, and followed SIR's order. When HIM returned, every plate, bowl and glass was empty, even the odd and unfamiliar ones. What a strange way to say farewell? * * * Part Two is found HERE
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Part one is found HERE * * * The Himbotrone Part Two When the door to the hallway opened, the way SIR had planned the lights to be placed caused the powerful outline of HIM to be seen, light and shadows enhancing the sight of the beefy pecs of HIM, but leaving the face of HIM in shadow. SIR had let the position of each light to be planned masterfully. It looked like an imposing superhuman being stood in the doorway for a few seconds, but then HIM entered, stepped into regular light and came closer. The dimple in the powerful chin of HIM ... the mohawk that enhanced the virile aura of HIM ... the waddling gait of a bodybuilder ... Over the last two years, step by step, their test subject had come closer and closer to a sort of unattainable male ideal, and the smirk in his face revealed, that he was fully aware of his effect, both on SIR and on the lab assistant. So close now, so that the lab assistant could feel the body heat of HIM, transgressing SIR's rules. "Remember SIR's rules." Effortlessly, the big muscles of HIM helped HIM to lift the lab assistant, and carry him out of his room. Body heat closer now. Surrounded by the scent of HIM. Bodybuilder heat. Jock scent. Veiny swole arm behind his back. One big powerful hand grabbing his left shoulder, and one big bodybuilder hand where hamstring meet glutes. His cheek resting against the protruding firm chest of HIM. "SIR changed the rules earlier. I'm following SIR's orders." A walk through the hallways down the stairs. After a pause, HIM added: "And it feel good to be allowed to carry you, Tiny." "It feel good to be carried by you, Test Subject." "We are not in the lab now. You are not allowed to call me that outside the lab." "Do you like it?" "Hell yeah! Test Subject! Or when SIR call me The Specimen in that particular voice and take my stats. I'm not for fancy words, but you've got your Specimen. Best Specimen you could find. The worst rule the last three weeks has been the Nofap rule. I feel like on fire here. Blueballs." "You too?" "What do you mean?" "He put me on Nofap rule three weeks ago, too." "Obedience of the week, eh? What's good for The Specimen is good for Tiny, because both are Good Boys." They entered the gym. The clock on the wall told them, that it was nine o'clock in the evening. SIR was nowhere to be seen. Tiny didn't know it, but he would face the most painful and exhausting workout of his life. * * * To be continued.