Popular Post SuperWaffle Posted March 19, 2017 Popular Post Share Posted March 19, 2017 Flint McLargewood - The Muscleman Since the moment I first laid my eyes on him, I knew Muscleman would be the one – the one who would fuel the hottest and wettest of my dreams for years to come. A newcomer to the superhero scene, the alter ego of Flint McLargewood had left people swooning long before he even got his hero licence. Towering over the rest of his colleagues at staggering six feet five, the young hero boasted a physique so stacked and so statuesque I had once passed out from staring at him too long. Now before you give me any weird looks, yes I do in fact have his stats memorised. Just try and picture this – a big man, a big strong man, a six feet five bodybuilder-cum-supermodel who tipped the scales at two hundred and twenty frigging pounds of solid, heaving muscle. Now wrap all of that in a too-tight spandex wrestling singlet, and feast your eyes upon the scandalously hefty bulge that swelled from his crotch. Literally everyone could see the overgrown, nay, gargantuan tool coiled within the soft fabric, propped out by a pair of equally massive orbs that no doubt pumped him full of testosterone on a regular basis. It wasn't even remotely fair to be honest, and true to his name, Muscleman's unique power was just that – man and muscle. And lots of it. I still recall that fateful day, all those years ago at the Fourth National Super Bank of Super City. I had just finished duct taping a hero-cadet's (that guy became Firebrand in the end, good for him) hands to his face, anything to prevent him flinging any more of those pesky fireballs at me. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, his hands were also where he kept his communicator, and sure enough when Cadet McLargewood interrupted me my entire world came grinding to a halt. Obviously my first guess was some kind of temporal manipulation power, which would have sucked on a magnitude I cannot describe. But no, Flint was simply as beautiful as he was muscular – windswept yet perpetually styled red hair, angular features so strong and so hard, lips that were soft and kissable and just begging for me to... And then my entire world became Flint, for he had stomped forth with his huge feet until his huge pecs were hanging right there before my gaping face. My eyes would not stay still, darting between those incredible masses and the thick, juicy nipples that poked through the fabric of his uniform. Flint had given me what would become his signature chest slam, and when those brawny slabs made contact with my face I thought I had died and gone to heaven. In reality of course, he had simply knocked me onto the pile of money bags I had dragged from the vault and grabbed the one I had been lugging at the time. I knew I had turned bright red, the sizable tent in my pants giving everything away as I laid there gawking. It was then did Flint press his fists to his hips and push out his chest a little more, almost as if was showing off for me, although his posing was a little off and he began grunting as if lifting a heavy weight. That was when I first bore witness to Muscleman's true power. His already tight vestments, which once comfortably contained his huge bulk, suddenly lost the ability to do so. First to go were his buttons, going off like bullets as his torso exploding with unbridled muscle and power. I could naught but gasp as his prodigious pectorals hulked out before my very eyes, swelling and roiling with herculean mass and pulling apart his clothes like a curtain! As his growth accelerated, Flint's abdominal muscles – the six-pack I would do anything to place my face on – began tightening and hardening as more and more brawn boiled within his gut, pushing out his lower abs and burning off what little fat he carried around his waist. By this point his shirt was wide open, his Adonis belt so chiselled and so delicious I had actually begun to drool. Upstairs, Muscleman's shoulders had bulged upward and outward and sideways, sending huge cords of cable-like fibres surging down his arms and up to his neck. As more and more power filled his ponderous pectorals, Flint's biceps began feasting on their new power, growing heavier and harder with every pulse, splitting into multiple peaks even as his triceps doubled their efforts. When the power reached his forearms, he had clenched his fists, causing every muscle in his arms to erupt with size, decimating his sleeves and causing me to realise I had stopped breathing. The air that filled my lungs right after was hot, moist, and likely dripping with sex pheromones. Somehow, I remained conscious, my eyes raking over the scene before just as Flint's trousers exploded, the reinforced fabric ripped apart by grotesquely muscular monstrosities hulking out like volcanoes where his quads should have been. Fuck, even his feet had grown larger, his toes crushing into the bank's marble floor as he shifted his skyrocketing weight and widened his stance. His grunting had gone deep, oh so deep, his muscles heaving and flexing with every violent breath. The hero had not grown much taller, that much was certain, but his bulging muscles had reached colossal proportions and I hadn't even gotten to the best part! As I would eventually come to know (according to his official trading card), Muscleman's powers boosted not just his muscles, but what made him a man as well! He had been reduced to a pair of black posers by this point, and it was all I could do gawk as Flint's hefty balls began throbbing with renewed vigour, pumping his magnum dong with copious amounts of liquid testosterone. I simply laid there as I watched him test the limits of his flimsy trunks, watched his cock growing bigger, stronger, harder! A gap had already formed where his massive cock pulled the fabric away from his waist, teasing me with glimpses of the throbbing jawbreaker swelling therein. Muscleman had moaned again, this time loudly and lewdly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he arched his back and flexed his glorious muscles for all to see. His cock, already in a state of semi-turgidity, had rocketed to maximum power and burst free of his underwear. I would know, for the force of his growth spurt had ripped the garment apart and propelled the shredded remnants right into my face. The smell, oh sweet mother of pie the smell was utterly, indisputably glorious! He had been oozing precum into those trunks, disguised by the colour, which also explained why the material clung to my face upon impact and sent me spiralling into a dizzying frenzy. When Muscleman, or Cadet McLargewood, dug his huge fingers into my shirt and hefted me off the ground to deliver the usual monologue about justice prevailing, well... let's stay I didn't stay conscious for very long. He didn't even have to hit me. Thankfully I had woken up and escaped before the police could pull off my mask or haul me to super-jail. Landing there would have sucked, given my lack of baseline powers. Still, that didn't stop me from heading straight home for what was to become the first of many, many sessions of me futilely flogging my manhood in a bid to rid my mind of Flint and all his muscular glory. I was growing obsessed, and though we never crossed paths again I knew I was falling in love with every hulking, herculean inch of him! He was always there, in my mind's eye, the sole object of my libido-fuelled desires, his huge-ass muscles flexing and straining and bulging whenever my mind wandered from the task at hand. I would imagine him whacking his gigantic cock like it owed him money, and then growing that cock to monstrous proportions when the quantity of payment emissions displeased him. Good fuck I wanted him, and I wanted him bad! I wanted him there, tree-trunk legs spread apart and his hulking dong swinging like a pendulum before my hungering, drooling body. I wanted him in my bed, I wanted him in chains in my future lair, and I wanted him to slam his monster cock down my throat and grow his entire fucking muscle body until I all but drowned in the ensuing euphoria. I had even gotten my raging erections checked once, convinced he had put me under some kind of spell or biological attack, but nay, I was simply, utterly, indisputably captivated and nothing would change that. So, after plastering posters of him all over my dorm, it was all I could do to slog my way through the remainder of school, only to return to bed every night with my head filling with the wildest of my fantasies – of Flint one day revealing his monstrous, naked body to me and then hulking out beyond rhyme and reason. But it wasn't until a year had passed since that fateful encounter did I finally start on the path which had led me here. Flint might have been but a year older than I was, but by this point he was already a full blown super and turning heads all over Super City's hero scene. You could possibly imagine my envy when about a dozen or so supervillains, established supervillains, began dropping their arch nemeses and replacing them with the outrageously endowed object of my desires. More than once I had even watched televised battles where normally secretive supervillains would reveal themselves and engage Muscleman in these epic 'battles' that were little more than lewd wrestling matches that coincidentally also destroyed buildings downtown. It stung of course. It should be me down there, inappropriately groping that stupidly smug, stupidly sexy bastard as he pressed me down with his erection and lectured me about how evil would never prevail in the musclebound arms of the law. The nerve of those people! And so I had made up my mind. When I graduated with my Bachelor's Degree of Super Villainous Technology and Design (with Honours, of course) I immediately helped myself to a 'loan' from the Sixth National Super Bank of Super City and set up my evil lair just beneath Super Avenue in the historic Superman District. Now why would a supervillain, and an inexperienced one at that, set up shop smack in the middle of a superhero controlled part of Super City instead of the much more affordable Villainy Avenue? Because no one would even think to look for me here of course! And besides, this put me ten minutes away from Super City's legendary Muscle Beach and five minutes away from the historic Super Mall, where prices were super every day of the year! But most importantly, this was where Flint McLargewood lived his glorious, heroic life. Come hell or high water, I was going to sate my attraction to him and stay true to my villainous routes. If I could not be with him, then I was going to BE him. It was as simple as that. ******* Pics of Flint here (Click to Enlarge): 3 27 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted March 20, 2017 Share Posted March 20, 2017 He has a plan but will it work? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
RockyDragon Posted March 21, 2017 Share Posted March 21, 2017 I am so so so glad that you decide to go back to writing stories again! Hope you get better Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hanugumo Posted March 21, 2017 Share Posted March 21, 2017 I wonder how big he will get eventually. >;3 <3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Montparnasse Posted March 24, 2017 Share Posted March 24, 2017 I looooved this and can't wait for it to continue! This sort of story with superheroes being able to make themselves bigger is my fucking jam. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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