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  1. Yachirobi

    Life Changes

    Some quick smut I banged out today. Give it a like on my Tumblr if you're so inclined. Inspired by a photo Michael Kidd, shot by Rey Rey's Photography. He is not the character, this is fiction, you're an adult so you know the drill. Please, don't sue me. I'm poor. *** Dad wouldn’t tell me what he was up to but he was bigger. The way he filled his shorts in was obscene. He said he was just working out harder. Right. It had only been a month since mom left him and he’d grown. He been growing. He kept growing. My father got visibly larger every day. We’d worked out together before. Lifting weights was our regular father/son bonding since I was twelve. Even when I came out, we didn’t miss a session. But almost imediately after mom left, he insisted on training alone in the basement. He would’t let me down there anymore. Said it wasn’t me, just that he needed space alone. I figured he was crying down there, needed a place where he didn’t have to be “strong” when he felt weak and helpless. Then I heard the grunting through the vent. At first I thought he had a dog down there. A weird ass dog to boot. Maybe one of those mutts from Ghostbusters. Mom was allergic to dogs but dad had grown up with them. He actually got choked up talking them. He always stopped to pet dogs who came across him when he was out. But I never heard those sounds when he wasn’t down there. He’d have told me if he had a dog. None of those dogs made the sounds I heard. They were borderline sexual. That’s why I had to go down there. I needed to know what he was doing, why he had to be alone instead of spending man-time with his only child. He left the door unlocked one day while he was out. I’d been coming over mre often to check on him. Dad had said some stuff that made me worry he might hurt himself. Break-ups will cause that, especially one after thirty years of marriage. But I was glad he was out. I thought he might have found a girlfriend. And it gave me a chance to snoop. But I wasn't ready for what I found. The muscle mags were one thing. Dad was working out hardcore. Okay. Not that I ever knew he had so many. Then I saw that some of those mags had nudes. I didn't even know they still published skin mags with the Internet going strong. So my dad was gay and didn’t even bother to tell his queer as fuck only son. Terrific. And the mags were scattered everywhere. Pages were lying loose on the floor. Some were stapled to the wood paneled walls. Then there were the rags. Torn up t-shirts. Ripped pants. Jockstraps with the jock torn open. All scattered everywhere. So my dad was turning into the Incredible Hulk in the basement? No wonder mom had left. One of the shirts--a nice polo shirt I’d gotten him for his birthday, I might add--was stuck to the wall like he’d thrown it there. I saw splatter marks from the impact. That splatter? It was cum. Cum was fucking everywhere. Some of it was even fresh, scattered all over the mags and the exercise equipment. Pools of it. The smell was overwhelming. And it made me hard as a rock. I’m not even a smells guy but it turned a switch on in my brain and I couldn’t turn it off. I tried. Something about that stench made me feel manlier, like I was getting bigger and stronger just from inhaling my father's crazy-ass super loads. I took deep snorts of the stench. It made my nose buzz. It didn't even smell like cum or sweat as much as it smelled like manhood. And manhood smelled terrific! It felt terrific! I put my finger into some of the cum that he'd shot on the lifting bench and thought "fuck yeah, dad." I had a vision of him in his more powerful body pushing those weights up and down while he was rock hard and... I snapped back, sickened. I was in my childhood basement, holding my crotch in my hand while I was putting a cum coated finger into my mouth while rock hard, thinking about my own father. I got the hell out and thanked my lucky stars that Dad hadn't come home to catch me. But I was still rocking a stronger hard-on of my life for two hours, even though I tried to think about anything other than sex. Then the call came. “Abel,” dad said, “Let's go for a walk.” His voice was cold. Growly in a way that was unfamiliar. I hesitated but said yes. If he wanted to yell at me, so be it. I had some yelling to do too. When I got to the park he walk looking alpha as fuck. That had become standard but the effect never diminished. On that day, he seemed twice as manly as the day before and I hated it. On any other man that would be instant boner fuel. Thick, vascular thighs. Pumped arms. Gray beard. But he was my dad. Even gay boys don’t get hard to their own dads. I never had before. Then I caught a whiff, just a little whiff, of that freak man-smell, It might have been my imagination. Didn’t mater. I felt my dick buzz all over again. And I felt shame. “I’m not mad, Abel. I wish you hadn’t gone down there but, well...” Dad kept his eyes on me and I was the one who looked away. “That’s fucked up, Dad. That’s really... I don’t wanna know.” Sometimes we tell lies thinking they’re the truth. “You have to know now. I can’t keep it secret much longer anyway.” “Secret? What?” Just because dad wasn’t yelling didn't mean I couldn't. “Is this the shit that drove mom away?” “No. But if she hadn't left, this wouldn't have happened. I'm glad it happened too." “God damnit. Just tell me what's going on so you can get it off--" I winced. Bad word choice "--your chest." And, with even better timing, I noticed Dad's chest flaring. He'd always had a good shape to it but, for the first time, I realized my dad had pecs. Big ones. "Are you gay, Dad? Did you let me come out to you and not tell me you were gay too? Because that’s really fucked up. That’s fucking cruel. That’s...” My voice was breaking. “It’s not quite like that. I mean...” I shouted “Then what the fuck is it?” “Shut up.” If he'd slapped me with the back of his hand, it wouldn't have been as effective. “Follow me.” And I did follow, red faced and sniffling. We followed a paved trail deep into the woods, then he went off on a dirt path. I thought it was for bikes but it was too narrow and unkempt. “It happens at home sometimes. I like that. Gives me a chance to explore it on my own. But it's better here.” I screwed my face up in disgust but, before I could complain, I caught that scent again. “It’s better with the others. It’s stronger. Fuller. I dunno. I need to be with the others.” “There’s a group of you? Aw, dad. You were always warning me about internet freaks and now--” “This ain’t on the internet, Abel. And you better not tell anyone. We can’t let outsiders know.” That was when I noticed Dad's voice. It was deeper. Strained. He huffed and puffed. He put his hands on a tree and stretched out. His back... it was wider. "That smell means it's coming, son. It's coming real strong." I heard footsteps. Leaves rustling. “I’m sorry about this. But you won’t be. It’ll bring us closer together, I promise.” He punded his fist against a tree. I heard something snap. Not a branch from the men walking towards us but from his body. There was another snap. Then Iooked down at his ass. How and when my father had gotten a bubble butt, specifically a perfect bubble butt, was beyond me. And all of the sudden, as he arched his back forward, popped that ass out, cried out, and the cloth split open. I saw my father's ass crack for the first time in my life. And I smelled that superhuman man-funk erupting from his skin, stronger than what he'd left in the basement. And as my dad grunted and groaned and swelled and stretched, I saw those others come out. They were not men. Men aren’t that big. Guys spend whole paychecks on drugs and gym hours to look half as powerful. Now I know it’s a waste. They wore tatters that were wrapped around their carved-stone arms and legs. One man tore the remains of a shirt from his chest. Schwarzenegger could only dream of having a chest that big with a waist that small. I didn’t say no. Didn’t say yes either. I might have flinched or pushed a hand away once. But I walked head first into someone's someone’s hard, hairy, inhuman chest and any resistance I had went at that touch. I sank to the ground, surrounded by a set of Tom of Finland super cocks that all had a variation of my father’s freak smell. Then I found the one that wasn’t a variant. “I have to do this, Abel" he said. He pressed my head against his crotch. "I tried to fight it but I don't want to anymore. I wan’t you to be one of--” The moment he said “us.” I clamped my mouth on his cock and he growled. His voice dropped another octave. “I should have done this sooner!” the others laughed. Then they cheered. They cheered because the saw the start of my body swelling up and stretching out. I moaned because I felt stars exploding inside myself. I roared because I felt like a man. More than a man. More than an animal. When people ask me what's going on, I tell them I'm working out harder. It's true. I haven't bought new clothes yet. I don't want to. I'll do so when I'm down to my last set. Then I'll buy a new wardrobe to destroy. I've moved back in with Dad. It's easier that way. More private. More satisfying. When the urge overwhelms one of us, we both go for the ride. The house is a mess now. We fuck too much. Break too much. The neighbors are complaining. They say there's a smell coming from the house. The women don't like it. But the men? They've been poking around. Trying to see what's going on. Needing to smell what's going on. I think they'll come around soon. They might do it without us. I'm already seeing the changes on their bodies. Less fat. Less bone. More muscle. More men. They're looking alpha as fuck these days, but Dad is the real alpha. I'm second in command. We're sitting back. Watching it happen. Waiting. It won't be long. We can wait. Barely.
  2. MuscleNexusTF

    The Bodybuilder Pandemic: Prologue

    Hey guys. Patrons answered my August poll with wanting more pandemic-type muscle growth stories, so I'm starting a new series! Should be fun Enjoy The Bodybuilder Pandemic: Prologue Ground Zero - The Bathhouse Another warm and bothersome Saturday night, thought Harvey Wiggins as he slunk around the gay village downtown. He had tried to work up the nerve to enter a bar, maybe chat up a guy, but he never got further than the front door. He instinctively reached for his phone, checking for any notifications. Just as instinctually he opened grindr and felt a tiny burst of excitement upon noticing he had a couple notifications. His excitment faded, nothing exciting, as per usual for Harvey Wiggins. He kicked at the pavement as he walked along. It wasn’t that he was unattractive, he had been told that he was ‘cute,’ even ‘handsome.’ But what he really wanted-what he longed for-was for someone to find him irresistably, bone-shakingly, earth-shatteringly hot. The type of man that people take creepshots at the gym or that made people nervous to approach (though they would approach). He sighed, he would never ever be that man. He was just Harvey Wiggins. Good at his job (marketing for a large department store downtown) and with a small but close circle of friends. He was healthy and fit, though his physique didn’t really show it, and relatively happy. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about. And yet... He felt like he was made for more. He rationalized this by assuming that everyone had this feeling, a gnawing dissatisfaction with their life that they tried to plug up with love, sex, or material goods. He glanced at his phone again and repeated the grindr-checking ritual. It appeared that love and sex, at least for the night, were off the menu. He looked off into the distance towards where his apartment was. A nice building close enough to the gay village so that he could go on lonely walks like this one, and far enough away that he had plausable deniability for coworkers. Ah yes, there was that problem too, he supposed. When he landed his job in marketing his boss, Lenny Stamp, had hit the ground running with what Harvey called ‘locker room talk.’ It started with the cashier girls that worked in the store, and after a couple years of working there Harvey had heard comments about almost every woman in the building under 40. He neglected to come clean with his boss and was still deep in the closet to his coworkers. Oops. Harvey heard a door squeak open and felt a puff of warm humid air hit his face. He looked up. *Steampipe: Sauna and Gym*. After years living near the village Harvey had never stumbled on the bathhouse before. He wanted to go in, but he hurriedly walked by. Curiosity flaired within him. He rolled his eyes and backtracked, only to once again walk by the heavy metal door. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then walked back once more. He gulped, in the case that someone might see him he didn’t linger outside the door, he entered quickly and quietly. He made his way to the front desk, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. The attendant was friendly enough and before long Harvey was stuffing his clothes in a locker and wrapping a towel around his waist. His locker key hung off a bracelet next to a little plastic pig with a flashlight in it. He turned this on and off, not really wanting to know what it was for. He initially felt self-conscious about his lackluster body. No muscles, little hair, and a slight layer of fat; harvey was the walking definition of average. But he soon realized that most of the other men milling around looked the same or worse and this helped him ease up a little. Harvey’s senses were assaulted as he wandered the halls. A wiff of weed there, a hand on the ass there, the occassional eye candy as well as whatever the opposite of eye candy was... But nobody really stood out and he began to grow bored and frustrated. He took a seat in a dark corner and fondled the little pig on his bracelet. Judging by the moans and groans somehwere closeby someone was having a good time. Harvery heard the sounds of heavy wet footsteps slapping down the hall. He looked up. Passing by him in the shadows was a behemoth of a man. Wide shoulders that almost spanned the entire width of the hallway tapered down to a densely muscled bubble but, tree trunk legs, and powerful calves. Harvey’s jaw dropped a little. Now that was a man. He looked up at the man’s face as he passed. Handsome, rugged, a short beard framed it. But his exression... The man seemed dazed and somehow shocked, looking even more surprised than Harvey was. Must have been a really really good fuck, he thought. As usual, Harvey let his nerves get the better of him and decided not to follow the bodybuilder through the labrynthine hallways. Maybe he’d bump into him again later, maybe not. A door near him opened and shut. More heavy footsteps. Another man strolled into view. This one was even bigger than the last, and absolutely covered in a dense pelt of hair. Harvey’s swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. This was... Unexpected. He looked around. It was just Harvey and the hairy mass of muscle in this particular hallway. He steeled himself and got up. “Hey man.” Harvey’s voice sounded weaker than he would’ve prefered. His hands felt clammy. The big man slowly turned to face him, Harvey recoiled a bit from the wild look in his eyes. “What do you want? He asked, not unkindly. He sounded almost nervous. “Uh, what?” “I don’t want any trouble. Just want to get home...” The man’s eyes widened and he gulped hard as his enormous hirsute chest twitched and flexed as he talked. He absent mindedly rubbed it with a meaty hand. “Oh okay, sorry to bother you.” Harvey said, feeling more confident but also confused. The big man quickly turned and walked away. Harvey smirked as he noticed the man using the typical bodybuilder waddle, his legs were too big to walk normally with. Big but weird, he thought. Suddenly Harvey was proppelled forward and toppling to the ground. Something hard, and heavy, and warm was falling with him. “Sorry man!” A thin nerdy voice rang in Harvey’s ear. Harvey opened his eyes to see a pair of massive veiny quads and a straining jockstrap package in his face. For a brief moment he almost considered licking the swollen package, but the other man shifted, almost kneeing Harvey in the face. “Sorry, sorry!” “It’s okay,” Harvey groaned. “I didn’t see you there.” The two men began to untangle themselves. The bigger one-Harvey had realized he was MUCH bigger-was having a hard time of it. He moved his bodybuilder proportioned body awkwardly, as if he was new to being massively muscle-bound. “My name’s Bjorn.” “Harvey.” “Well nice to meet you Harvey! Sorry for crashing into you.” Harvey got up and regarded the bodybuilder skepticallly. The big man’s voice reminded him of the nerds that used to get picked on in school. He even had a bit of a lisp, and yet he looked like 300 lbs of pure, hard muscle. A thin dusting of hair covered his squared pecs and densely cobbled abs. His legs were absolutely enormous, almost putting his upper body to shame. With thick and defined quads and blocky calves, Bjorn looked like he could squat a car. Harvey’s attention slowly rose back to the heaving package at Bjorn’s groin. How could he not? It too, was massive. “Oh sorry,” Bjorn blushed fiercely. “I guess bumping into you got me a little excited.” He tried to adjust himself but it just made things worse. The round pink head of his cock popped out of the pouch proudly. “Dammit,” Bjorn whispered to himself, blushing harder. “Dude, it’s okay.” Harvey felt emboldened by Bjorn’s awkwardness. “You’re in a bathhouse.” He suddenly felt very confident as his considerably sized member began to swell. “You’re a big boy eh?” He said, pointing to Bjorn’s crotch. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I’ve always been big down there.” He looked at Harvey with suddenly panicked eyes. “But I’m not used to being big elsewhere.” He whispered this to Harvey, as if it was a forbidden secret. “I mean, do I look big? Muscular I mean.” “Are you serious?” “Yes! Tell me.” Bjorn’s voice, thin and nerdy, sounded so wrong to Harvey coming out of that massive body. “Get out of here. You’re a tank man. You must know that. A competitive bodybuilder or something.” Harvey looked Bjorn up and down, wondering if the big man actually had no idea how huge he was. He decided to add, “I wish I had even a quarter of your size.” With each word Bjorn’s expression melted a bit more into some mix between horror and fascination. He spoke quickly and quietly, sounding more confident but still somewhat pathetic to Harvey’s ears. “Something’s going on... What’s your name?” “Harvey.” “Something’s going on Harvey. I don’t know what it is, but it’s BIG. Literally... I’m not a bodybuilder. I’m a computer science major over at the university. I don’t even know what the inside of a gym looks like.” He stared hard at Harvey, wondering if the smaller man believed any word of what he just said, skepticism was all over his face. He needed someone to confide in, to help him. Not someone he knew, that would be mortifying, but someone neutral. “Will you help me?” Harvey looked at the big man quizzically. Even if he didn’t believe that Bjorn had somehow become huge overnight, he did believe that Bjorn believed it. Maybe he had a head injury from the fall. Maybe he was on drugs. It was probably drugs. Regardless, Bjorn was Harvey’s dream. From the oversized muscles to the slab of meat he was failing to keep concealed in his Jockstrap, how could Harvey just tell him to get lost. It would be unconscionable. “Okay, I’ll help you.” Bjorn visibly relaxed, even smiling a bit. “Oh thank god. I don’t know what’s going on here, but...” He looked around, suddenly very conscious of where he was. “Uh, do you want to get out of here?” He looked down at Harvey with bright green eyes and Harvey felt himself melting a bit. “Yeah, I know a good waffle place near here.” Bjorn’s eyebrows arched and he placed a hand on his blocky abs. “Ooooh, that sounds amazing. I’m starving.” For more like this and to continue the story please follow me on Patreon
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