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I have been having a wonderful time at this symposium. As per suggestions I have been weighing myself every day, now. No change to report, but my handicap is down to 22 from 25 last year (so I don't know if that counts for anything). I have not had a chance to speak to any of the experts here about Wilfred, mainly due to the fact they are all very busy, but I got an e-mail from him yesterday (which is a little odd as I don't remember actually giving it to him) that I thought you might want to pass comment on

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Oh Doc, please forgive me e-mailing you on your holiday, but I have just got to tell you what happened to me just now. I have just woken up from the most sexually fuelled dream I have ever had and have to tell someone. I dreamed that I was strapped to a metal table completely naked, my wrists and ankles chained to the table. I tried to escape but it was hopeless. Then a man dressed in a scientist's outfit came towards and said, in a very strong Eastern European accent, "Excellent, we can begin the transfer" and placed a metal helmet on my head. He then took a series of electrical clips and placed them on my nipples, cock and balls and then said "Would you like to see the donor?" and whipped off a sheet to reveal a god. Doc, he was the biggest man I have ever seen, eight foot tall at least, and ripped like Arnie, and at least 400lbs at least. The scientist did the same to him and then attached both out helmets together. He then stepped back and said "Get ready, it'll be a scream" and with that pulled a switch and we b0th did. Oh, Doc, it was a combination of sheer agony and the best sex I have ever had in my life. I was screaming and pulling, and pulling and screaming, and that's when I woke up, covered in cum and found that I had some abs.

 

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That would seem to make sense, by the way, handicap now at 20 and one of my colleagues suggested I should have been on the European Ryder Cup team. Actually, Wilfred sent me another e-mail today explaining that he had that same dream last night but managed to remember some more information.

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I was lying naked on this metal table with my wrists and ankles restrained. This time, the scientist introduced himself as Duke Frankenstein, grandson of the original, and that he had chosen me quite deliberately because he knew what I was. My exposure to what he called "the musk of muscle" meant that I would be able to withstand the torture that would ensure the experiment would work. As he attached the helmet and wires to me, I asked what experiment. He just smiled and revealed the naked man lying on the next table and I gasped "He-Man". As the Duke attached helmets and wires to him I went rock hard, He-Man has always been my hero, so I asked what we were going to do. The duke chuckled as he approached a switch and as he threw it exclaimed "Swap minds" at which point the torture began and oh, doc, it was exquisite. We both screamed in sexual, physical and mental agony, my heart was booming at over three hundred beats per minute and I was harder than ever before and I was loving every moment of it. I could feel my memories being sucked out of my brain and, oh, the sensation. I must have cum at every opportunity but the real delight came on the very last moment, that final orgasm was ecstasy itself and I blacked out. When I woke up, I found myself inside He-Man's muscular body and came with such force I woke up and found myself covered in cum which when I wiped it off revealed an eight pack, and pecs that you could hardly believe. Oh, Doc, it must be the full moon soon. I can just feel him wanting to break through. Please, doc, please can I, can I become him again in your presence at the next full moon? 

So the question is, should I? According to the information I have the next full moon is on October 16th.

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A most interesting, and useful set of notes on the subject. I will continue to monitor this thread thoroughly...

CardiMuscleman, if you wish to take a sample of Wilfred's blood, I would suggest using a silver needle or scapulae to pierce the skin. This is still just a variant of the original lycanthropy curse after all. However, the silver will weaken or damage the sample slightly due to it's natural effects, but has still proven most invaluable in my own... experiments.

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Thank-you for the warning IJrge, I will be sure to keep that in mind during my future studies. However, I can assure you that with an expert level of experience and precision I am able to draw my samples with the minimal amount of discomfort without having to resort to brute force, or tearing out chunks of any one specimen. And, in the case of my primary subject, the use of silver has proven to be a necessity. I have found that with such small entry wounds, they tend to seal and heal rapidly due to the regenerative affects of either curse, and that can be a problem. The silver seems to 'turn off' this effect in a localized area around it, perhaps it will work just as effectively without being used to actually pierce the epidermis....

 

I am also pleased to report that since reading your own accounts on Sept 27th, I have bolstered my number of study subjects from one to eight. This will certainly assist my research with a broader spectrum of individuals. None of the new subjects have asserted themselves as the group leader yet, but all of them are exhibiting signs of physical growth moving towards their next change. This has only bolstered my own resolve that this is the right choice....

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Thanks for all the info, IJuge, but all this happened months ago. I wish I’d known it back then, but you know… I didn’t. So… you know… shit happened.

 

When I woke up the next morning there was another surprise waiting for me. Roderick had gone to bed the night before shirtless, still rubbing his hands all over his budding pecs and abs.

But when I opened my eyes the next morning, they were gone. He was still shirtless lying on his bed, but those pecs and abs seemed to have receded back into that skinny frame of his. Well, almost…

His arms had been bone thin before, but now they looked bone thin and sinewy. Narrow, but noticeable cords of muscle seemed stretched along the length of his limbs. And his pecs were not the burgeoning mounds they’d been the night before, but had been reduced to skinny slabs barely visible on his chest. His abs were gone completely, leaving his stomach just a smooth flat surface.

And when he woke up and saw himself, I could tell he was a little disappointed… but not too much.

He looked over at me staring at him from across the room and said, once again, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Good,” he replied and got up.

“What did you guys do last night,” I asked.

He looked at me and laughed. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. Or maybe you’ll just… find out.” Then, smirking, he headed for the bathroom.

I didn’t bring it up again. It didn’t seem worth it. Whatever it was, it was over now, and from that moment on, things just seemed to go back to normal… almost.

As the days wore on, he just seemed to get bigger. Not all at once, like before, but slowly, a bit at a time. His shoulders seemed to broaden and day by day his chest swelled out a little more, then a little more. His biceps seemed to get thicker and thicker, and his back was slowly widening. It was easy to see because his shirts were slowly getting tighter and tighter.

At one point, my boy, Eric, asked me, “Hey, is your roommate working out?”

Roderick was over lying on his bed reading. So, I called over to him, “What about it, Roderick, you working out?”

He put down his book and grinned over at us. “What do you think?” he asked and then flexed his arm. A surprisingly large rock-like bicep bulged up from it.

“Damn, dude!” said Eric. “That’s a helluva gun you’re packing!”

Roderick just smirked back at us. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m just getting started.” Then he lifted up his shirt front, and I’ll be damned if his six pack wasn’t back. Not quite as impressive as before, but it was there. “Just you wait,” he said.

And it was true. He just seemed to keep getting bigger, and what’s more, when his buddies showed up, they seemed to be on the same program. The fat ones were looking solid, not flabby, and the skinny ones were filling out just like Roderick.

I was really on the point of asking him about it again when Midterms started, and the odd changes my roommate was going through were pushed to the back of my mind. Everyone was pulling all-nighters to get ready for them. One day just seemed to melt into the next. I lost all sense of time, until one night—I don’t know what time it was, hours after dark—I was trying to remember if my Clac midterm was in the morning or on the following day. I checked my notes. It was on the 14th. Crap, I didn’t know what day today was anymore.

“Hey Roderick,” I called. “What’s the date?” Roderick looked on edge, himself. He was sweating like a pig and it wasn’t even all that hot. His t-shirt was drenched. I could see his muscles bulging up through it, rock-like biceps, broad, bulging shoulders. Even his six pack was showing through it.  Fuck he gotten almost as big as he’d been that night last month… No, he was just as big… No! Fuck! He looked bigger!

“It’s the 12th,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked. Then I grabbed my phone and checked. “No,” I said, “It’s 11:04 on the 13th.”

Suddenly he dropped his book, and looked over at me wide-eyed. “What did you say?”

“I said it’s the 13th.”

“No…” he said and grabbed his phone to double check. “FUCK!” he shouted. Then suddenly he was staring at his forearms. The looked huge and thick with corded muscle, way bigger than I’d ever seen them. Roderick saw them and looked panicked. He rushed over to the window and threw back the curtain. Something outside really upset him.

“No!” he shouted. “Not now! I’m not ready! I’m not supposed to be here! I’m supposed to be—”

But he never finished whatever it was he was going to say. He raised up his forearms, and the veins began to rise out of them, swollen and pulsing. They looked like a nest of snakes writhing under his skin, swelling, growing ever thicker, and covering his arms like overgrown vines.

“Oh well,” he said, still staring at his pulsing arms, “fuck it! It’s coming whether I’m ready or not; I might as well enjoy the ride!” Then he grinned and flexed. I could see the thickening hardness of his muscles straining against the thin cotton of his shirt. I could hardly believe it but I could see his biceps growing larger and stronger by the second. They were getting thicker, denser and bulkier. Those hard looking rocks were evolving into big, heavy oblong masses.

“Oh yeah, oh fuck yeah…” he breathed while staring at his hard, expanding biceps. I heard the first thread snap, then another and another until his t shirt sleeve was ripped asunder, destroyed by the rapid expansion of his powerful vein-ridden arm muscles.

He dropped his arm, closed his eyes and threw his head back, his entire body swelling and pulsing. He let out a soft moan, seemingly lost in the sensations of his rapidly expanding form.

He turned back toward the window and I could see his back evolving into broad slabs of muscle, which seemed to be pushing his swelling, muscular arms further out to his sides. Suddenly, his entire body jerked as his lats exploded with growth and tore their way free from of his shirt. Instantly I was confronted by an expansive wall of muscular ridges and valleys bulging up in front of me and continuing to evolve.

A low chuckle escaped from him and he turned back to face me. “Still think… it’s not… real…?” he gasped as threads snapped, cloth tore, and gaps, like volcanic fishers, opened up across the front of his shirt, ripping longer and wider until his striated, pulsing pecs finally erupted from it like boulders of molten rock.

He let out a roar as his chest grew still thicker and more powerful. His shoulders began to throb, growing rock hard with power, exploding out of their light cotton covering, and bringing final destruction to the last shreds of his shirt. And as they continued to swell to the size of cannon balls I could hear a sound like straining wood as his shoulders grew broader, thrusting outward on either side of his thickening neck, and fundamentally altering the shape of his torso. And as his frame widened, I could see all the muscles, tendons expanding, swelling to magnificent proportions, making him huge, with an appearance of physical power that was truly mind blowing.

As the hugely powerful muscles in his limbs continued to grow and bulge, they pushed on his bones forcing them to lengthen, causing the same stretching sounds as he grew taller.  He thrust a foot forward to keep from falling over as his center of gravity shifted, keeping pace with the constant increases in height and mass.

Those skinny pants started to balloon out as his thighs, and other titanic leg muscles pressing outward, became outlined in perfect clarity beneath the straining cloth. And with every second they grew bigger, straining and stressing the cloth, finally shredding it, tearing their way to freedom.

And then his growth came to an end. I looked at him and was in awe. I figured he had to be about six foot two now, 5 inches taller than he had been.

And he was massive.

 Enormous, bulging muscles covered him from head to foot. Gigantic pecs, steel-like abs, cannon ball shoulders, thick, heavy, veined biceps above bulky, corded forearms. He had to be twice as wide at the shoulders as he used to be.

He reached down and tore off his shredded pant legs, turning them into shorts and giving himself a good view of his legs at the same time. His enormous thighs were bulging outwards, forcing their way up through layers and layers of lesser muscles, each of them looking as though they might burst right out of his skin. 

He looked into the mirror, flexed his enormous, rock-hard biceps, and started growling. Then he reached over, grabbed the leg of his bed and with one hand, raised it up above his head, colossal muscles barely straining. Then flexing his other huge vein-ridden bicep into gigantic proportions he let out a huge thundering roar, so loud I had to block my ears. But I have to admit staring at his incredibally powerful body with his massive pecs and his brick wall stomach and legs like muscular pillars, I started to get hard. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but I wanted to whip it out right there and go to town.

But Roderick looked down at me and shouted, “GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I—”

I didn’t hang around to hear what he was going to do. Because when someone that big and muscular tells you to get out, you get out, and quick.

To be honest, I didn’t stop running til I made it to my buddy Eric’s place.

“Dude,” I said, “You mind if I crash here tonight?”

“Sure, man,” he said. “What's the problem, roommate trouble?”

“You have no idea,” I said, “no idea.”

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I took all the advice you gave me on board, but believed that Wilfred did not mean me any harm so met up with him two days ago. The following therefore is a summary based on a video recording I took (with Wilfred's permission) with my final list of hypotheses and questions that I am hoping that members will be able to answer so I can reassure Wilfred that he shouldn't be scared

Wilfred arrived at the surgery at 5.23pm on October 16th, twelve hours before the full moon and about an hour and a half before moonrise. This was at Wilfred's insistence and after taking a few samples (using the advice given) Wilfred asked if he could take me to a new place he had joined as part of trying to become healthier. I was interested and so agreed and he took me to a new gym that has opened up near the surgery. It's a 24 hour gym, entry via a membership card, and Wilfred was now a member. When we went in, we found that we were the only ones to which Wilfred had arranged that. When I asked why, he explained that he had had another dream the previous night where his alter ego explained that he wanted to have a word with me. When I asked why, Wilfred suddenly looked up and grunted "You can ask him yourself" and when I looked at the clock I could see why. It was moonrise and literally five minutes later, Wilfred had turned into the muscular giant who I had seen last time only this time, he seemed more comfortable with me.

He introduced himself as Brad, a native of the United States, and told me he was one of the first generation of people to be born post the Pilgrim Fathers. "But that would make you...?" I began to which he chuckled and replied "Yep, I'm almost 400 years old". He explained that he had encountered something, when he was ten, that was a cross between a strong man and a wolf, although he looked more like a strong man than a wolf, which attacked him. He managed to survive but the first full moon after the attack he grew into the form before me now. "And your connection to Wilfred?" I asked saw him explain that Wilfred's family was Brad's family. This led me to ask whether it ran in families or not, but he didn't know especially when he realised where he was and as soon as he did, he rubbed his hands with glee and said "I know you're a doctor, so how about you measure me!" and with that started on an exercise regime that staggered all beliefs.

His 1RM bench was close to 800lbs, his 1RM deadlift was close to 1,000lbs and his 1RM squat was close to 1,500lbs and when I noted the comparison with some of the strongest men on the planet, Brad chuckled and said "Now for the real fun" and asked if I had ever heard a pulse that defied belief. I shook my head and before I knew what had happened, Brad was executing an Iron Cross on the rings that gym had and through gritted teeth grunted "I can hold this for an hour, listen to my pulse and tell me what you think?" and my word, it defied belief. It started off at just 25 beats per minute and by the end of the torture, and I use the term literally, it had climbed to a mere 150 beats per minute. As he jumped down, he started to puff and pant and said "Doc, did Wilfred tell you about his dream?" I asked whether it was the mind swap one, to which he moaned "Yea, I like that one!" and before I could stop him, he sucked a finger and plugged himself directly into a mains socket. As he stood there, he flexed his other bicep and moaned "Yeah, doc, I like this form of e-stim" and then started to get sexually aroused. About ten minutes later, he panted "Doc, get a sample bottle. I want you to examine this and tell me WHAT YOU THINK!" at which point he climaxed and I managed to gather about 250ml of semen at which point he unplugged himself and breathing hard moaned, "Thanks, doc, see you next month" and reverted back to Wilfred

A study of Brad's semen has shown that he has a test count nearly a thousand times greater than the common man and thus the questions I would like answered are:

1) Is Brad a section of Wilfred's psyche? 2) Is Brad a genetic offshoot of humanity? and finally 3) Would you advise experimenting with Brad's semen to see if it can cure muscle wasting diseases? (as I believe my cousin is suffering from one)

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