m/m The Repository - (Complete Story, 10/15/21)

[citizenies]

Yes someone's loving to grow some more. 

Again thanks for the addition. Great storytelling and descriptions. 

Also is it just me or it looks like you're vocabulary is expanding greatly

[TQuintA]

Part 2 – The College Con-Man

Chapter 13

            The rest of junior year was unbelievable.  I had so much free time because I didn’t need a part-time job anymore.  Flynn even showed me how to invest my money to make it last longer.  With all that extra time, I decided to put in the effort to keep the new size.  I never thought I would get this big without taking a deposit.  Okay, sure, I was still borrowing ten pounds from Gregg, and I’d gotten this big with a lot of Repository help, but the majority of this muscle was all mine.  If I didn’t use it, I’d lose it.  I had to earn my right to keep it through dedication.

            And I liked being bodybuilder big with competition-ready definition.  For one, it made Flynn a lot more sexually attentive and generous with compliments.  For another, all of the exercise and regimentation were sharpening my mind—my grades went up, and they were pretty good to begin with.  For yet another, now that I didn’t have to hide my size, I could show it off a little around campus.  I avoided anything even vaguely resembling a polo, but I got to wear tight, form-fitting shirts that showed off my arms and chest and how narrow my waist was.  I got a thrill any time I took off my shirt because my shoulders, biceps, and even my chest fought me as I disrobed.  I also liked feeling just how hard and firm I was.  I no longer felt like I was made out of steel like I did when I was 300 pounds, but I definitely felt like I was granite or marble, or some other hard stone, harder than a normal human.  And I was still easily one of the biggest guys on campus.  If it weren’t for my boyfriend, I would’ve been the biggest guy on campus. 

            Almost out of reflex, I kept my eyes open for any other big guys, just so I could size them up.  I did eventually find two who looked seriously big, serious lifter big, as I walking past the library one day.  It turned out to be Steele and Rhodes. Happily, I was still noticeably bigger than they were.  I had bumped into them in front of the library (a main thoroughfare on campus), and I was shocked just how much bigger they were.  Especially because we were in the wide open, I expected them to be their usual uncouth and un-charming selves, but instead, they were delighted when they saw me.

            “Vaughn, buddy,” Rhodes said, pulling me into that back-slap/hug thing straight guys do.  Feeling our big hard bodies press into each other, I flexed a little just to show him I was bigger and harder.  “You’re looking swole.”

            “We’re hosting a low-key, underground, by-invite-only party for TGS-Max,” Steele said.  “Even though you and your boyfriend are no longer an official part of the company, you naturally made the guest list.”

            “So did Shafe,” Rhodes added.

            I declined the invitation, but soon after found myself invited to a large number of social events on campus.  Now that Rhodes and Steele had publicly marked me with their seal of approval, everyone was much friendlier to me.  They were even nice to Flynn, which he found absolutely delicious.

            I turned down every invitation that came my way—I’d already seen their true colors and did not need fair weather friends—but Flynn accepted about half of the invites.

            “They’re contacts, Vaughn,” he said.  “I came to this elitist school in part to form these connections.  I can exploit them later.”

            Even though I was opposed to the lot of it, I ended up going to a bunch of parties just for Flynn.  The parties were utterly depressing.  People only knew three things about me: I was a scholarship student, I was gay, and I had gone from buff to huge this year.  I spent most of these parties answering insulting questions about being working class (wasn’t it embarrassing to work at a deli?), dodging vaguely guised homophobia (you don’t look gay), and giving workout tips that weren’t my original insights (well, Shafe says…).  People I had classes with didn’t even know what my major was, not that they would’ve asked or cared.

            Outside of these awkward social contexts, though, I finally felt in my element.  Flynn and I had all of this free time to do the things college couples do.  And, yes, I do mean sex, but I also mean everyday boring stuff.  For instance, we started hanging out with Shafe and his crowd.  I really liked going out with his crew because it was easier to stick to my diet and workout schedule and still have a good time—they just got it.  Also, Shafe absolutely loved my new mass.  He really wanted me to join the bodybuilding circuit with him.  He was convinced that the stars had brought us together, and that we could push each other into size the world had never dreamed to see onstage.  When I explained to him why that was a Repository no-no, he respectfully dropped it, in honor to, as he put it, “my karmic burden.”  Flynn and I also went to the club about once a week.  Alphonse and his stripper friends were happy to see I was maintaining my mass, and they loved hanging off my muscles like a jungle gym.  Flynn liked watching me get all that attention because he knew I was going home with him.  We also did dinners, movies, walks, trips to the beach—little stuff that made life feel wonderful.

            Flynn never stopped developing his schemes, though.  I saw him sell a vast panoply of wares.  Every time I asked about one of his schemes, he just said, “Rich guys think they can buy anything,” and nothing else.  It got to the point that I just stopped asking about the schemes.

            Even still, I could tell when he thought of a plan that included The Repository.  He got a look on his face that was somewhere between the quizzical eyebrow raise of Spock from Star Trek and the sinister sneer of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons.

            One time, Flynn couldn’t help himself and said, “I know you’ll reject it, but I have to share with you the algorithm I came up with.”

            “Algorithm?”  I said with a laugh.  “Now I have to hear it.”

            “You take a deposit.  Just ten pounds or so.  For, let’s say, two weeks or so.”

            “Or so,” I echoed.

            “That’s long enough for the fizzing to drive you to the gym.  You put on ten pounds supernaturally fast to stop the fizzing.  Then, you return the muscle.  But you get to keep the muscle you built.  Ten pounds or so.”

            I nodded, having an inkling of where he was going with this.

            “Then you find a different person.  Borrow ten more pounds.”

            “Or so,” I added.

            “And you keep that deposit for two more weeks.”

            “On and on like that until?”

            “Well, after just three short months, you’d be back up to 300 pounds.  And that would be 300 pounds all you.  No deposits.  You were an amazing sight to behold at 300 pounds…”  Flynn trailed off and let me fill in the blanks.

            “I can’t live a normal life at 300 pounds.  At 240, life already requires some significant accommodating.  Clothes are an issue.  Even the stuff that’s designed to fit muscular men get caught on my torso.  I eat a very specific diet I can’t deviate from, or bye-bye, six-pack.  And yet, I eat all the time.  I have to cordon off a large chunk of my life to the gym, or there goes my size.  And while I’m determined to keep all of this sexy size, the world doesn’t make it easy.  I already have trouble fitting places like the dorm showers and public transportation.  Places meant for normal men.  Imagine what life was like for me at 300.”

            “But that’s the thing, Vaughn.  You’re not a normal, lesser man.”  He rubbed my chest affectionately.

            I smiled, but said, “You’re right.  But I’m saying no to the algorithm.”

            He shrugged innocently and added, “Just had to give it to you.  Had to.  In case you hadn’t thought of it yourself.”

            Despite my minor complaints, I was the happiest I’d ever been.  The rest of junior year just went on like that, blissfully.  I brought up all my grades in my classes, I had a thriving social life thanks to Shafe, I was no longer a pariah at school, and I had a hefty nest egg.

            We were living so high on the hog that neither of us was particularly looking forward to summer break.  I’d promised my folks I’d go back to Illinois (even though I could afford to stay in California), and Flynn was likely going back to Pennsylvania (he hadn’t decided), so there’d be an Indiana and an Ohio between us.  But, we both had cars.  Also, airplanes, telephones, and computers exist, so it’s not like we’d be completely cut off.  But not being able to touch him?  Smell him?  Fuck him?  That was not a happy prospect, so I was trying to just enjoy the time together.

            A week before summer break, Flynn and I were studying for finals in the library.

            My Ethics in Rhetoric class was kicking my ass and giving me a headache.  So, I let out a sigh, followed by a whispered, “I can’t wait for next year.  Next year, no finals.”

            “None?”  He sounded dubious.

            “I’m a writing major.  We spend our last year on our senior writing thesis.  I don’t even have proper classes next year.  Just regular meetings with my writing group and advisor to discuss my chapters.  At the end of the year, I should have my first novel polished and ready to be published.”

            “That sounds perfect for you,” Flynn said.  Then, louder than he intended, he added, “I, however, will still have finals next year.”

            I shushed him, pointing out that we were in a library.

            Flynn gestured around at all of the empty tables, indicating with this face that we could be as loud as we wanted. 

            “Are we the only two students in the library during finals week?” I half-asked, half-complained.

            Flynn grunted.  “No matter how badly the rich kids do, they’ll be fine.  Just buy a new wing for the science building.  Boom, degree guaranteed.”

            “I’m impressed you haven’t already bought the finals to cheat on them.”
            “That would only cheat me, Vaughn.  I want to know this stuff.  I want to be a successful businessman.  Let our rich classmates waste their money cheating.”

            “Yeah.  We have to actually earn it.  It’s like you say,” I vented, “rich guys think they can buy anything.  They bought their way into the school; then, they buy their grades.”  Frustrated, I added, “It pisses me off.  There are so many people out there who would kill for this education, and these rich kids are just pissing it away.  They buy things just so other people can’t have them.  Fuck.  They’d buy your wrestling scholarship if they could, just to kick you out of the school.”

            Flynn got that Spock/Burns look on his face again.

            “I might need you,” he said.  “Are you willing to help me run another big scheme?”

            “Depends on the scam.”

            “If it works,” he continued, “it’ll be my last one.  I’ll be able to fund my legitimate business ideas.”

            “Again, it depends on the scam.  You’re not being very specific.  That makes me want to say no.”

            “I might not need you.  But if I do, and this succeeds, it’ll barely feel like a scam.”

            “If it fails,” I added, “it won’t land me in jail like Roberto?”

            “Goodness no.  Nothing like that.”  Flynn patted my cheek.  “I got to go set this up before summer break starts.”  He gracelessly swept all of his study materials into his bag and raced out the door.

            When he came back an hour later, he said something cryptic.  “Okay.  It set up the way I thought it would.  In order for it to work, I will need you.  At some random times this summer, I’m going to have to lend you some substantial amounts of muscle for some short bursts of time.  At a moment’s notice.  Are you okay with that?”

            I shrugged.  “Sure?”

            “And the less you know about this, the better.”

            “Naturally,” I responded.

            He grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me hard on the forehead.  “Thank you.  Thank you so much.”  He handed me an old school pager.  “Keep this with you at all times.  Even when you shower.  Even when you’re asleep.  When it goes off, you’ll have less than a minute to get somewhere private and call me.  Cool?”

            I threw him a leery look, but took the pager.  “Cool,” I said tentatively.

[TQuintA]

Part 2 – The College Con-Man

Chapter 14

            When finals finally ended and summer break broke at last, I packed up a few bags, but left most of my stuff in the room.  We Hinde Hall charity cases were allowed to use our dorm rooms as storage, especially for larger items, since we’d have to live in the same rooms the next year anyway.  However, we weren’t allowed to live in our dorm rooms unless we took summer classes. 

            Flynn and I said our goodbyes, and I flew back to Illinois. 

            I’d never been so massive on an airplane before; that was a fun few hours.  Even in first class, I was cramped in my seat.  But the flight attendants gave me excellent attention, especially the male ones.  I could’ve built a pillow fort with the pillows and blankets they proffered.  And if I had taken all the free drinks they suggested (I stopped at two), I would have been sloshed by the time the plane landed.  All this doting probably happened because I wore a low-cut shirt that showed off my fleshy pec cleavage.  And I’m not above flexing for a cute guy in uniform.  Or letting him feel my biceps.  If I had wanted to join the mile high club, I’m pretty sure at least three of them would’ve gladly inducted me.

            But the flight ended, and I was back in Illinois.  Jonah had agreed to pick me up from the airport, and he was floored when he saw me.

            “Who are you taking a deposit from?  Hercules?” he asked, taking in my sheer massiveness.

            “No one.  This is all me.”  I bounced my pecs and flexed my left bicep.

            “All you?” he said, feeling up my pecs and abs.

            “Well, I still have 10 pounds from Gregg, but the rest is all me.”

            Jonah hugged me tight.  I could feel the differences in his physique too.  He’d added some mass while trimming some of his excess fat.  Still, I had to squeeze him against my hugeness to show him I vastly outmuscled and outsized him.  He would’ve been disappointed if I hadn’t.  I could feel his erection, so I know he how much he liked it.

            “Watch that thing,” I said, pointing to his crotch.  “I have a boyfriend.”

            “I have a girlfriend,” he said.  “That doesn’t mean you’re not fucking sexy.”

            “You’re not with Seth anymore?” I asked.

            “That asshole?  No.  I dumped that cheating fuck-up months ago.  I’m with Misty now.”

            We drove home, and I heard all about the break-up, and he heard all about the 7-week deposit from Shafe.  We’d just finished talking about Flynn’s cryptic scam and the pager when we pulled up at my place.

            My folks were not happy with how huge I was.  Mom asked how I could do something so grotesque to myself.  My dad said I couldn’t stay under his roof if I was taking drugs.  I volunteered to take a drug test to allay his fears, but he didn’t seem completely convinced.

            That bad start set off an atmosphere of crackling tension, especially since I told them I wasn’t getting a summer job.  I assured them I didn’t need it, which just convinced my father further that drugs were involved.  In fact, he now thought I was selling them.  My mother seemed to think I was some sort of gay prostitute.

            To make matters worse, Flynn wasn’t answering his phone.  Or his email.  Or the letters I sent him.  If I could’ve gotten my hands on a carrier pigeon, he would’ve ignored that too.  Complete and utter radio silence from my boyfriend, fear and hostility from my parents—the first week of summer was a nightmare.  Without substantial changes, the summer was shaping up to be an absolute catastrophe.

            After that first week, I spent most nights at Jonah’s.  And most days.  Jonah’s folks essentially let me move in for the summer as long as I paid for my own groceries.  They were happy that the two of us had stayed friends and that Jonah wouldn’t just be moping around the house all summer.

            They were also extremely delighted someone would actually use the pool in their backyard.  The entire backyard was surrounded by thick pine trees, fencing off their property and making the pool especially private.  It was one of the reasons they bought the house.  Most summers now, they complained, they used it once max.

            Jonah’s parents were a more significant part of my summer than my boyfriend was.

            Misty, who was with her folks in Texas, was a more significant part of my summer than my boyfriend was.

            Like a reasonable, good girlfriend, she called every day.  Sometimes twice.  Jonah, like a reasonable, good boyfriend, told her I was crashing at his place.  This left her none too pleased.  She knew that Jonah and I had slept together and that he’d had a huge crush on me in high school.  And when she met me over FaceTime, she was even more unhappy with the arrangement.

            “Fuck,” she said when she saw me.  “You’re hot and muscular.  I was hoping you’d be short and fugly.  Your tits are huge, for Jesus’ sake!”

            “It’s lovely to meet you, Misty.  Thanks for the compliment.”  I bounced my pecs for her.  “I work really hard for these tits.  As for my past with Jonah, you have nothing to fear from me.  I have a boyfriend I would never cheat on, and I respect the boundaries of people in committed relationships.  Besides, Jonah is a good guy.  He’ll be faithful.  I promise.”

            Misty groaned.  “Ugh.  And you’re nice too?  If you’re going to look like that, couldn’t you at least be a prick?”

            “Don’t worry,” I reassured her.  “As thanks for letting me sleep at his place, I promised to make him my workout buddy.  I’ll get him even more ripped and huge for you.”

            That softened her a little bit.  “I do like the sound of that.”  As soon as she realized I was no threat to her relationship, but in fact a possible asset, she warmed to me.

            I was true to my word.  Jonah and I had our share of platonic, non-sexual fun (movies, swimming, things of that nature), and I spent a significant portion of the summer just keeping up my physique and improving Jonah’s.  Neither of us had a job, neither of us had classes.  We spent a lot of time at the gym.  In fact, my biceps, shoulders, and pecs were pumped so regularly that I spent most of the summer shirtless, especially at the gym or Jonah’s pool.  Even just lazing around Jonah’s bedroom, I was usually shirtless, just so I didn’t have to fight my clothes.

            I refused to say it out loud, but I knew I was pushing us both so hard so I wouldn’t have to think about the arctic, snowy silence coming from Flynn.

            “You don’t think he’s cheating on me, do you?” I asked after the thirtieth (three-hundredth?) text message that Flynn ignored.

            “If he is, he’s a fucking idiot,” Jonah said between sets. 

            I had to admit I was jealous of Jonah.  Misty called regularly, returned his texts, and even visited three times that summer.  I couldn’t get Flynn to answer his phone.  I was doing my best to go with the flow and enjoy my time off from school, but there was this constant nagging drone at the back of my head, a hand gripping my heart firmly, and a splinter in the pit of my stomach. 

            I ignored them by working Jonah out even harder.  Jonah had started the summer at 210 and was hardening and growing, shredding that last bit of fat from his body in addition to adding new muscle.  I’d barely put on any mass, if any.

            “Thank Shafe for these excellent workout tips,” Jonah said, marveling at his body in the mirror.  “I never thought I’d have abs.  Misty fucking loves it.”

            “Sure thing,” I said, but I was not consoled.

            Since Flynn was incommunicado this summer, every time he paged me, my heart danced excitedly.

            The first time he paged me, it was June.  I was alone in Jonah’s room reading.  His whole family was at some family reunion.  They’d invited me to tag along, but it felt too weird, so I had the place entirely to myself.  It was a delight just to read for fun, so I was slamming my way through a dozen or so YA novels I’d borrowed from the library just to keep current with the market trends.  And because I genuinely enjoy reading YA.

            My pager went off, and I was excited.  I was already shirtless, so I instantly shucked off my pants and underwear and locked the bedroom door.  Then, I practically dove at my phone.

            “Flynn!” I shouted excitedly.

            “You can borrow 30 pounds of muscle,” he said, and then he hung up, saying nothing else.  I was disappointed how short the conversation was, but I figured we’d talk when I gave the muscles back.

            In the meantime, my body swelled to a delightful 270.  The bed groaned from the extra weight, and I leaned back and felt myself up.  My hands caressed my taut six-pack, I bounced my pecs rhythmically, I kissed, licked, and sucked on my bulbous biceps.  It was fun being back at this weight.  I decided to enjoy it and spent the next twenty minutes just feeling up my muscles and masturbating.  I’d come once and was well on my way to the second when the phone rang.

            “That was fun,” I said.

            He cleared his throat.

            “Yes.  That.  You can have your muscle back,” I acquiesced.  Flynn then immediately hung up.

            He spent less than one minute total on the phone with me.

            I was too hurt to react.  The whole interaction left me oddly hollow.

            The second time Flynn paged me, I was in Jonah’s pool.  It was the Monday after the Fourth of July, and both of his folks were at work.  Since no one could see into his backyard, I just swam to the edge of the pool and called Flynn.

            “Hey, Flynn,” I said eagerly, like a puppy.  This would be my chance to talk to him, to catch up, to ask how things were going, to tell him I loved him and missed him.  For him to tell me he loved and missed me.

            “You can borrow fifty pounds,” he said quickly, then hung up.

            The muscles expanded on my body so quickly that I practically created a wave as water displaced out of the pool.  My thighs grew so ponderous that I ripped right out of my bathing suit.  The water sliding around my massive muscles made me aware of just how much space I took up.  I sat there, slightly buoyed by the water as the pool ebbed and flowed, trying to find a new sense of stability.  I was completely naked in an outdoor pool in a residential neighborhood. 

            Jonah stared at my magnificence.  I was bigger than I’d ever been in front of him, a pound or so bigger than I was when we’d had our three-way, and he was happy to see it.  My pecs were as big as his head, my arms were absolutely massive, and my abs were a concrete wall of definition.  Jonah, by this point, had fought his way up to 220 pounds at the gym, and with his new muscle and inviting erection, I didn’t know which of us I liked looking at more.

            “If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d be blowing you right now,” he said.

            “If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be letting you.”

            “Would it be cheating on Misty if I sucked on that massive pec of yours?” he asked. 

            “Of course, it would,” I responded. 

            He either didn’t hear me, or ignored me.  Jonah was drawn to my chest by the gravitational pull of my mass.  He was feeling up my shredded, gigantic pec before he knew what he was doing.

            “Uh, Jonah,” I said, tapping on his hand.

            “Sorry.”  He tore his hands away from me lightning fast.  “I’m only human.  And right now, you’re something more.”

            Jonah and I splashed around in his pool, our bodies dripping and glistening.  We roughhoused, and it bordered on foreplay, but it never crossed the line.  Even though we were naked.

            After twenty minutes, Flynn called me back.

            “That was fast,” I said.

            “Was it?”  Then, he cleared his throat.

            “You can have your muscle back,” I said, and Flynn immediately hung up.  I went from a staggering 290+ back down to a still very impressive 240ish.

            “Anticlimactic,” I sighed.

            “And a bummer,” Jonah added.  He stared at me, stunned at how fast that phone call was.  “He didn’t have anything to say?  Not an ‘I miss you’ or a ‘How are you’ or even a fucking ‘Thank you’?”

            I shook my head no, and the mood changed from festive and jovial to dour and sullen.  Jonah didn’t say anything more.  We just floated in the water next to each other, Jonah comforting me with his presence.

            The third time Flynn paged me, I was out at an upscale restaurant with Jonah and Misty to celebrate my birthday.  It was early August, and she was in Illinois on one of her visits.  At the sound of the pager, Jonah and I made panicked eye contact.

            “You have a pager?” Misty asked with a mocking tone in my voice.

            “I have to run to the bathroom.  I’ll likely be a while.” I said, flying to the men’s room.

            “Was that pager about something medical?” Misty asked.  She sounded concerned.

            “Something like that,” Jonah lied unconvincingly.

            Thankfully, because this place was a nice restaurant, it was a single-occupancy restroom.  It wasn’t so fancy that there was a bathroom attendant, but it was fancy enough that there weren’t stalls and urinals.  It was a little small, but at least I’d have no witnesses.  Once there, I was relieved to discover it unoccupied.  I threw myself in it, locked it shut, and then called Flynn while disrobing.  I’d gotten off all my expensive formal clothes—everything except my underwear—when Flynn answered.

            “Hey, Flynn.  Just give me a second while…”

            Flynn interrupted me.  “You can borrow 80 pounds of muscle.”

            “80?” I scream-whispered, but Flynn had already hung up.  He didn’t even bother to let me finish my thought.

            It felt like the bathroom was shrinking around me as I piled on beef and muscle.  My underwear strained at my ass, which caused it to crush my balls, until thankfully the underwear burst, and I was alone and naked in a public bathroom.  And I just kept swelling and bulging, taking up more and more space in this tiny room, until all 80 pounds had filled my body.

            If 300 pounds was massive, dense, inhuman, and heavy, 320 was all of those things once over again.  I felt like a blimp parked in a helicopter hangar.  Both of my shoulders pressed into the walls, and I was afraid to sit on the toilet for fear of accidentally crushing it with my mighty ass since I couldn’t see behind me.  I was, however, able to see my bloated mass of muscle reflected in the mirror.  My pecs looked like they were trying to swallow my head, and my traps felt like they were racing them for the honor.  But because the bathroom was so small, I couldn’t move.  Or feel myself up.  I definitely couldn’t masturbate.  I tried to get into a more comfortable position, but that just got me stuck.  All I could do was stand there.  Wedged.

            Happy birthday to me?

            While I sat in there, I could just make out the patrons and diners talking on the other side of the door, their voices muffled.  All that separated my naked mass from the upscale dining establishment was a door.  I stayed as still as possible, fearing I’d give myself away.  Three separate times, a staff member knocked on the door to make sure I was okay.  All three times, I faked intestinal distress, terrified they’d open the door with a skeleton key and find my over-bloated muscle balloon of a body trapped in their tiny bathroom.

            After twenty minutes, my phone rang.  I instinctively brought my hand to my face, but I could barely raise my arms with all my muscle fighting for limited space.  Even worse, I realized my hand was empty.

            Fuck.

            I wasn’t holding my phone.

            I must have put it down.

            In the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light on the floor.  I’d dropped the phone.  It was on the floor next to my feet.

            I tried bending over, but my body was just too massive to move that much in this enclosed space.  I only managed to wedge myself further.  I tried to wriggle myself free, but my muscle fought for room with my muscle, and I just wedged myself in even tighter still.  I tried pushing myself out, but all I was doing was chipping the expensive aquamarine tile.  If I used all my strength, I was liable to destroy this bathroom single-handedly.  I suddenly was filled with visions of needing the jaws of life to get my hypertrophied carcass out of the bathroom.  How the fuck would I explain that?

            Desperate, I swiped the screen with my foot, my thick, muscular, chunky foot, as delicately as I could so I didn’t crush the phone.  Then, I clicked on the speaker phone button with my toe.

            “Hello?” Flynn was saying.  Thank god.  It worked.

            “You can have your muscle back,” I said, relieved.

            As the muscle deflated, I was able to move again.  I exhaled in a deep sigh of relief, and then bent over to pick up the phone.

            “Are you okay?” Flynn asked.  His tone was inscrutable.

            “I’m fine.  Now.”

            “That took way too long,” Flynn said flatly.

            “I agree,” I replied.  “But I was…” I wanted to explain, but Flynn had hung up.

            He never even wished me a happy birthday.

            I redressed, tossing my destroyed briefs in the garbage can, and returned to my table.  Jonah and Misty were still sitting there.

            “What the hell was that?” Misty asked.  “I thought you died.”

            “I took a phone call,” I said, but that wasn’t enough to explain why I was red in the face or winded.  “From Flynn,” I added.

            A look of understanding spread across Misty’s face.  “I get it.  He was giving you a birthday present.  Phone sex in a restaurant bathroom sounds hot.”  She snapped her head to look at Jonah.  “Put it on our Fuck-It List.”

            “Fuck-It List?” I asked.

            “It’s like a Bucket List, but it’s just sexy stuff you want to do with your partner before you break up.”

            “Are you two planning to break up?” I asked.

            “Planning?”  Misty said, shaking her head.  “No.  But most college relationships don’t survive senior year, especially not the vacations.  So, I figure, plan for it rather than live to regret it.”  She put her hand on Jonah’s and tickled it.  “You don’t land hot and sweet guys like Jonah easily.”

            All I could think about was the likelihood that Flynn and I wouldn’t be together next summer.  Especially if this summer was any indication.

            To ease my anxiety, I worked out even harder at the gym.  By August’s end, I’d put on five pounds of muscle the slow way.

            “Five pounds of muscle on your physique in one month is no small feat,” Jonah encouraged me.  “Especially since you didn’t use any ‘roids and especially especially since you kept your body fat so low.”  Easy for him to say.  In the same time, he’d put on 15, while losing fat.  By the end of summer, Jonah was a cut 235 pounds, only 10 pounds smaller than me.

            I flexed my bicep, making the two heads dance and showing off its uncanny thickness.   “I just hope that Flynn has a good explanation for ghosting me this summer.”

            “I’m sure he does,” Jonah said.  “And if he doesn’t, dump him loudly and in public.”

            When it came time to head back to school, Jonah drove me back to the airport, and we hugged goodbye.

            “You’ve got another stiffy,” I said.

            “You’re still fucking hot,” he replied.   Then he let go of the hug.  “Have a great senior year.”

            The trip back was uneventful (all female flight attendants), and the drive from the airport to the college was straightforward and simple.  When I got back to my dorm room, I unlocked my door and was delighted to find Flynn inside.

            “Flynn!” I shouted excitedly and ran to embrace him.  I was so glad to see him that my hurt from the summer momentarily erased.  Something was off, though.  The room seemed dark.  Flynn hadn’t turned on the lights, and the shade was drawn.

            He stopped me, closed my door, and said, “Strip.”

            “Yes, sir,” I said.  Reunion sex was exactly what I was in the mood for.  By the time I was naked, my dick was achingly hard and leaking.  I’d missed Flynn that badly.

            Flynn had also stripped naked.  His hairy, muscular, thick torso looked delightful.  Had he gotten bigger?  He was definitely still bigger than me, even if only slightly.

            I approached him to start our fuck session, but he stopped me again.

            “One last errand.  Then we can say a proper hello.  I’ll be as quick as I can.  Stay in here while I’m gone.  Sorry.”

            “What the…”  I tried to ask for more info, but he interrupted me.

            “You can borrow 100 pounds.”

            100?

            The weight dropped off his body almost instantaneously.  He went from my big, muscular, rectangular boyfriend, to a perfectly ordinary, scrawny, 21-year-old.  Taller than me, hairier than me, but otherwise unimpressive.

            In a flash, he threw on a pair of clothes that fit him at this size—before he even finished shrinking—and charged out of the room, leaving me alone to become a 345 pound behemoth, once again all alone.

[zazu]

Man, I have zero clue what the hell Flynn is up to - which, naturally, just makes me all the more curious to find out what he's got planned.

Oh yeah, and the growth is gonna be hot too.

[Mdlftr]

Bulging mystery!  Ooooh! Can't wait to see what happens next!

Great suspense - along with the muscle descriptions! 
Thank you!

Mdlftr

[TQuintA]

Part 2 – The College Con Artist

Chapter 15

            I was bodybuilder big before my muscles started growing.  This time, I felt it in my thighs first.  They were already thick and muscular, but they began thickening.  I had to widen my stance as they collided into each other as they continued to thicken.  My calves also blew up, almost immediately to the size of footballs.  Then thicker.  My ass joined in on the growth pushing out, so round and firm that they affected the way I was stood.

            I opened my closet door for the mirror within it, and I stared at my transformation as it happened, both looking down and in the mirror.

            My abs thickened next.  The etch marks between the muscles grew darker and more distinct, my abs standing out in more relief.  My Adonis belt grew more defined and pronounced too, jutting out prominently, almost like an armored ridge.

            My shoulders were not to be outdone by my lower half, so they began pushing outwards.  I already had trouble fitting both in the somewhat narrow mirror at the same time unless I stood a few feet back, and as they began rounding out, my delts growing higher and my back broader, it quickly became an impossibility.

            Adding to my width, my lats spread out.  They weren’t quite so dramatic as Shafe’s lats had been, but I still developed a cobra hood that pushed my arms further to the side.  I was getting seriously wide, and I had to adjust my stance again as my quads continued to thicken.

            Joining in on the excitement, my biceps began to inflate with heavy, dense muscle.  They were already lovely and large, but they began growing even thicker and denser.  Even unflexed, they were bigger than most athletes’ fully pumped and flexed, and the triceps were pushing out even thicker into the telltale horseshoe shape, making me even wider.

            To counterbalance this wideness, my girth increased as well when my pecs began to cascade forwards into striated, cabled, thick globes of flesh.  In the mirror, they looked obscenely powerful and erotic, and I could already see them in my peripheral vision, even without looking down.  As they blossomed out further, my nipples migrated to point down, and the muscles obscured my lower body from me.  Unless I leaned far forward, I couldn’t see down past my own pecs—and they kept swelling larger.

            I had to adjust my stance again as my thighs pressed into each other, drawing my attention back to my lower half.  I looked in the mirror (as looking down would have been an exercise in futility), and I was aghast at how narrow my waist looked in comparison to the rest of my physique.  Obviously, it had thickened, but it looked waspish and impossibly tight on such an overdeveloped, muscle-bloated frame.  My thighs were self-evidently thicker than my waist.

            And my muscles kept blowing up larger.

            I stared as my arms got thicker and rounder, my chest pushed out further, my shoulders pushed out wider, my traps rose higher, my neck swelled thicker, and my legs swelled out in all directions.

            And still my muscles kept blowing up larger.

            I felt impossibly heavy.  I felt like there was a person hanging off my body—like it was Alphonse or one of his stripper friends climbing on me at the club.  But it was just me.  My body was so heavy, as heavy and substantial as two fully-grown men. 

            And I grew heavier. 

            I could see gravity trying to pull my body down, distorting my muscles, but they were powerful and strong, new muscles, defying the pull and standing strong.

            And still my muscles kept blowing up larger.

            If I’d felt like a living statue at 300 pounds, as I approached 345, I felt like living metal.  Like I was iron, steel, adamantium come to life and moving around.  I ran my hand over my muscles, and it felt like a warm, living truck, or maybe even a tank.  I felt hard and dense like a vehicle designed for war, not a human man.

            As my muscle growth slowed to a stop, I looked myself up and down in the mirror.  My ass had grown so magnificently muscular, I could see its outer shape from the front of me.  My legs swelled monstrously, my pecs heaved majestically, and my arms pushed far to the side my by engorged musculature.  I was an extreme beast.

            I moved closer to the mirror, my legs fighting for space as they swung widely around each other, my hips swinging wildly as I approached the glass.  My top half swayed from side to side, producing a predatory strut, just as I walked towards the door.  I got close enough to look at my face closely.  It had thickened and hardened, all of the muscles in my face developed hypertrophically themselves.  I looked like a caveman, but a beautiful caveman.  My mud-brown hair fit better on such a savage face, and my eyes sparkled with a lustful fire.

            I reached up my hand to feel my face, but my biceps were so large that they fought with my chest, and I had trouble reaching up to feel it.  My forearms were thicker and meatier than most men’s biceps, and they too fought for space.  My hands, as well, were transformed into thick baseball mitts.  These thick fingers were too inelegant to type the literature I wanted to write, but they could rend steel and disintegrate rocks. 

            I rearranged my body so I could see my feet in the mirror.  They, too, had grown thick and full and meaty.  I was so muscular that my feet had become too buff for shoes.

            I stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, for what felt like an eon, admiring the striations of my pecs, the veins and sinews that had been forced to the surface of my arms.  I could feel my dick harden and leak.

            I wanted to jack off, so, staring at my bloated mass in the mirror, I bent to the side so I had enough space to allow my bicep and forearm to maneuver past my pecs, over my abs, and down to my cock.  I began stroking it ferociously, and immediately had to stop.  I didn’t know my own strength and was going to mangle my dick.

            Gently, sweetly, softly, I began stroking myself again.  I was mesmerized by my dancing bicep as even the smallest stroke caused the entire arm to come alive in muscular choreography.  Exciting myself, I increased my grip as tight as I could before I hurt myself.  My dick felt like it was fucking the tightest ass it had ever encountered, almost like I was fucking a cinderblock.  My hand, meanwhile, felt like it was stroking with butterfly-like delicacy.

            I don’t know how long I was lost in this endeavor, but I still hadn’t achieved orgasm when I heard my door open behind me.  It was Flynn.  He looked so small and frail.  Tiny and insubstantial.  He closed the door behind him and strutted over to me.

            “Need some help?” he asked.  It was surreal to hear my hunky boyfriend’s voice come out of this pipsqueak.

            “Please,” I said.  My voice was louder than I wanted it to be, and a hair deeper, because there was so much more resonance space.  As Flynn approached me, I realized that I had 200 pounds more than him.  I was more than double his weight.  If he were to double his weight suddenly, I’d still have 40 pounds on him. 

            That thought got me harder. 

            Seeing his tiny arms next to my thick, muscular, sinewy arms got me harder. 

            Seeing that each of my biceps was larger than his head got me harder. 

            Seeing that each of my pecs was larger than his whole chest got me harder. 

            I was more than twice the man he was, my cock had never been so hard and rigid in my life, and I was ready to erupt.

            Flynn got down on his knees and began giving me a blowjob.  Even at my astronomical size, feeling my boyfriend suck my dick made my world make sense again.  We hadn’t had sex since May, and we’d barely spoken in months.  My world clicked into place again, like all the gears of a grandfather clock fitting into place, and I was genuinely happy. 

            I looked down to smile at him, but I couldn’t see past the shelf of my pecs, and my chin crashed into them as they expanded from my labored breathing.

            “Look up,” I commanded him.

            “Fuck,” he said, my dick still half in his mouth.  “All I see is your pecs.”

            “Now finish me off,” I barked, and he went back to blowing me.

            When I orgasmed, my hips bucked so strongly that I threw him three feet backwards, and, even at his diminished size, he landed in a thud.  My body shook from the power of the orgasm, and all of my muscles quivered, flexing and unflexing autonomically.  I bellowed like a feral lion, and released my seed.

            “Got another go in you?” he asked from his pile on the floor.  I was heaving, trying to oxygenate this massive juggernaut of a body, my skin flushed red from the exertion.

            “Fuck yeah,” I said.  I picked him up one-handed by the scruff of his collar, like he was a mostly-empty grocery bag, and tore off his pants and boxers, revealing his furry, thin legs.  Without all of his muscle, his legs looked even furrier.  Hot.

            With my free hand, I took my mattress off the bed and put it on the floor.  I didn’t want to wreck my bed, but I didn’t want to crush him on the floor.  I threw Flynn onto the mattress stomach down, his ass exposed.  Then, I spread his legs wide and, since my dick was already lubed with saliva, inserted it in one thrust.

            Flynn cried out in pleasure, and I said, “How do you want it?”

            “Show me how much stronger than me you are,” he whispered.

            I began thrusting into him, and he screamed in joy.  After thrusting like that for a few minutes, when the screaming tapered off, I whispered into his ear, “I was holding back to keep you safe.”   I thrust once at full power, and Flynn released an unholy moan of pain and pleasure tangled in a knot. 

            Pleased at his reaction, I wrapped my left arm around him and stood up, still fully inside him.  Once on my feet, I began lifting him up and down, one-armed, while with my other arm I flexed next to his face, showing him that my arm was the size of his head.  He came loudly and voluminously, which caused his ass to tighten on my dick, sending me over the edge too.

            Then, before he could recover from my fucking, I took him off my dick, flipped him from my left arm into my right, turning him upside down.  With his legs in the air, I raised him up until his cock was even with my mouth, and suspending him there, I blew him mercilessly for three or four minutes while his dick was still raw and oversensitive from his orgasm.  Futilely, Flynn bucked and kicked and fought, pushed far beyond anything he’d ever experienced.  The second orgasm that I forced out of him was as powerful as the first.

            Satisfied now, I put him on the mattress again.    Flynn breathed chaotically after that, his body twitching, spasming, and flailing as he came down from the tortured high.

            I crashed onto the floor next to him, so hard that the mattress and he both bounced an inch into the air.

            Flynn fell into a post-sex sleep stroking my pec and using my bicep as a pillow.

[OldFashioned]

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: your stories are so fun, thrilling, sexy, and incredibly well written. So glad you’re continuing to share your own “power” with us.

[TQuintA]

18 minutes ago, OldFashioned said:

your stories are so fun

This made me smile--thanks.  I try to bring the fun to my stories.

[lasergaser14]

Welp, I just discovered your writing yesterday, and DEVOURED this...guess I'm gonna lose a few days of work (and writing...) to read your other stories

[TQuintA]

2 minutes ago, lasergaser14 said:

guess I'm gonna lose a few days of work (and writing...) to read your other stories

Pace yourself.  Hey, Big Guy is ridiculously long.

 

But thank you for the high praise.