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Hello, everyone. This story is inspired by "A Bet" by @pasidious, to whom I offer my thanks. It is meant to be a continuation/expansion of sorts. I hope you will find it enjoyable!


The sun had been bearing down on the college quad all Sunday, but now it was hanging low enough in the sky that being out and about was tolerable, even enjoyable, so that's what we were doing. 

My best friend was relaxing on the bench, arms draped on the backrest and legs spread apart. I arguably had an even better sitting arrangement: lying on the seat with my head resting on his left thigh. He'd flex it occasionally, just to mess with me. I couldn't care less, of course. For one, I was busy enjoying the June sky, magnificently blue and clear but for a few wispy clouds that were just starting to turn golden. For another, the tiny bounces of my head against my friend's restless quad kept reminding me of how well his new leg day regimen was coming along. I tried to come up with a good pun about college quads and quad muscles, but either I couldn't think of any or none existed to begin with. "Quad-terback", maybe? Ugh, pass. Neither of us even played football, anyway. Giving up, I refocused on how good my head felt against his leg, and thought about how lucky I was.

I've always considered myself rather lucky. Come to think of it, fortunate might be a better choice of word. Luck is mere random chance, while fortune is something you can have a hand in. For example, I had been lucky to be in the same class as my future best friend, but fortunate to get to sit next to him. I owed it to luck that his genetics gave him a cute face, a warm smile and a great body, but I had fortune to thank that fitness was among out shared interests. Falling for him, though, that had nothing to do with luck or fortune. On the contrary, it felt inevitable. From the very beginning, whenever I was with him, the world seemed to lose its rough edges and make more sense. Obstacles turned into exciting challenges. Embarassments became funny stories to retell over months to come. Fears and worries melted away before his casual yet near unshakeable confidence. At the same time, he threw himself into pursuits with an infectious passion. A walk outdoors turned into an adventurous expedition. A snowball fight became a day-long epic stuggle. Every moment of leisure spent with him was an experience. 

And then, of course, there were his looks to consider. Simply put, my friend started out handsome and graduated to HOT. A piercing pair of eyes framed by thick, expressive eyebrows, an easy, inviting smile, and a rockin' body that never lost its tone, even as it slowly gained mass over the years. Yeah, my friend was sexy and he knew it. He moved with the self-assuredness of a cat, completely comfortable with himself, turning heads left and right. One might think my infatuation is causing me to exaggerate, but the scores of girls flirting with him on a weekly basis would beg to differ. I'm sure there were many closeted dudes desperately pining after him, too. After all, I was one of them. And even though I alone had the privilege of being so close to the guy of so many people's dreams on a daily basis, this tantalizing closeness, bereft of the escalation I so deeply desired, gradually tightened itself into a shackle that eventually threatened to choke the life out of me. My heart had room only for him, but that space remained achingly vacant.

In retrospect, I should have been more open with him. He was, after all, my best friend; we shared practically everything else between us. But by the time I acknowledged my feelings, our relationship had been pretty set in its ways. While I was certain he wouldn't mind me being gay, I was terrified that he would be weirded out by me being into him. I dreaded that things would never be the same between us again, and that we'd end up drifting apart or, even worse, breaking things off. This unthinkable possibility was one of the two things that kept me going. The other was that my friend, despite the aforementioned constant attention from the fair sex, never seemed to occupy himself with girls all that much. Sure, he'd have a number of one night stands and even a fling every now and then, and he seemed to enjoy it all, but he never pursued anything stable. It could have just been him sowing his oats, but I kept secretly hoping his true interests lied elsewhere. Not that I did anything to ascertain this, though. While we discussed his many conquests and prospective hookups, I never dared to steer the conversation to guys, and he in turn was very discreet when it came to my own sex life, which was restricted to cyberspace.

Graduation came and went, and we both applied for the same out of state college. Naturally, we roomed together. In this exciting new phase of our lives, we wanted to try all sorts of new experiences, and my friend came up with an odd way to encourage that: bets and dares.

"Betcha you can't do a kegstand for half a minute."

"Betcha you can't smoke this without coughing."

"Betcha you can't pull an all-nighter."

Coming from anyone else, these could be recipes for disaster, prime plots for PSAs on the perils of peer pressure. My friend knew me and what I was capable of well, however, and never dared me to attempt anything I couldn't handle. What's more, he knew that I'd never take a bet unless I stood to gain something, win or lose. Fortune, not luck, remember.  

Freshman year wore on pleasantly enough. My friend, naturally, thrived, quickly establishing himself as the big man on campus, a charming and affable figure. Even this newfound fame failed to affect our bond - we still spent as much time as possible together. As for me, the change of scenery did me a world of good. I began to feel more at ease with myself and stepped up my workouts as a result, starting to catch up with my friend's progress. I'd always been more or less in shape, but it felt really good to dodge the Freshman's Fifteen and instead see my body slowly transform under the daily struggle. Plus, I got to spend even more time admiring my bro sweating and grunting his way into a buffer, bigger bod. Seeing every one of his muscle groups flex and bulge over and over again was almost too much to take, though. By Spring Break, I had started to entertain the idea of coming clean. A previously unspeakable prospect, but if I didn't go for it now, I was certain I never would. But then came the dare that would change everything:

"Betcha mine's bigger."

I'd stolen many furtive glances at my friend's dick over the years, of course, and had formed an excellent impression. In fact, his cock looked as if it might be nearly as big as mine, which at 8 inches was no mean feat. I'd spent countless nights abusing my tool, fantasizing that I was holding his instead. To finally see it in full display would be a dream come true. So, after offering some token "no homo" caveats, as had become second nature, I agreed. I figured that, win or lose, I only stood to gain. The only thing was, I couldn't have imagined just how much I'd gain that day...Ever since then, my BF had become my BF. It's true I had been very lucky that he, too, was gay and into me. But I was fortunate that he had finally decided to bite the bullet and suggested that bet to set things in motion. It was a bit of a shame that it had taken both of us that long to acknowledge our feelings, but at least we had done our very best to make up for lost time over the past year.

Such were the thoughts I was entertaining, lying on my love during a warm summer afternoon, when along came about half a dozen senior-looking guys, swaggering their way across the quad lawn. I recognised most of them from the gym, although we had never exchanged a word; they tended to keep their distance from us and even avoided looking us in the eye, except to scowl. I hadn't wanted to apply any labels to their conduct, but now, seeing them surrounding us in the largely deserted and definitely faculty-less quad with stormy expressions, one came readily to mind: "Homophobe".

Poorly veiled sarcasm soon gave its way to crude jokes and finally to outright slurs. It was then that I made a serious mistake: I assumed that these bullies must have extremely low intelligence and therefore would not understand a witty barb even if it kissed their ass. In my defense, it probably wouldn't make a difference no matter what I'd said; just daring to open my mouth seemed to be enough. The closest bully lunged at us even before I had finished my quip, eager for any excuse to justify his craving for violence. My bro, having greater presence of mind, had already geared up for a sucker-punch, delivering it to the guy's admittedly bulky midsection with such force and skill that he crumpled mid-swing and doubled over in front of the bench. His cohorts gathered round to check on him, shocked. That was all the diversion we needed. My friend leaped off the bench and started sprinting towards the main building, and I followed close behind. Bellows of rage soon followed us, but for now, at least, we had the advantage; these guys had clearly never paid much attention to cardio. 

We dashed madly through the double doors and down the hallways, looking for help but unsurprisingly finding none. Most of the students had already left on break, and those that hadn't were probably tripping in their rooms or hitting the town. As for the professors, any self-respecting member of faculty wouldn't be caught dead working on a summer Sunday's afternoon. The time we lost in out fruitless search was gained by our pursuers. The echo of their yells reminded me of the hunting calls of wolves as it reverberated in the empty corridors. It sounded as if they were approaching us from everywhere. Sure enough, three silhouettes appeared at the end of the corridor we were currently in, and triumphant cries from behind let us know we were trapped. My friend grabbed me roughly with one hand and opened the nearest door with the other, flinging me  inside. As I scrambled to keep my balance, I saw him scrambling with the doorknob. "Yes!" he exclaimed breathlessly, and then I heard a sharp click. Trying to catch my breath, I took in some of my surroundings: a dusty glass cabinet showcasing an ancient sound console; a worn bookcase housing a portable radio/casette player, a small collection of CDs and a handful of instruction manuals; a cork board drowning in pinned pieces of paper and post-its, a couple of them on the floor; tarps covering a family of boxy shapes, with a mess of cables protruding underneath; a desk with a computer and a rather modern microphone on a stand; black foamy material covering all the walls except the large, thick window facing the hallway. This was the PA Room.  

The Public Announcement Room, or PA Room for short, was a place of many uses, the official one being, of course, the broadcasting of campus-wide announcements. Otherwise, it served as our college's radio station whenever anyone from the A/V club could be bothered to wander in,  as a recording studio any time students needed one for a project or a promo, and in one memorable occasion when the Music Room had flooded, as a very cramped substitute practice space for the college band. There was, however, another use for it. Its soundproofing, combined with the fact that the key was kept on the inside to avoid any recording-ruining intrusions, made it a great spot for a quick fuck. No-one could hear you, but anyone might see you if you didn't keep low to the floor. It was especially favoured by couples who wanted to feel the thrill of getting it on in a public place without risking too much exposure. If the staff knew about it, they certainly hadn't made any indication of it. Who knows? Maybe they took advantage of it themselves from time to time. I certainly had a few likely candidates in mind.

I turned to my friend, about to congratulate him for thinking of this shelter, when a cascade of loud bangs came from the door. The shapes of our hunters filled the window frame, glowering down on us. They took turns trying to break the door or window open, fortunately to no avail. Those resting between attempts would scream and gesticulate at us. I couldn't hear them clearly, but the context was easy enough to grasp. I took my phone out of my pocket, my fingers numb. As I did, I remembered that the room was also equipped to block cell signal; wouldn't want a careless student's errant ringtone to ruin a recording, after all. Just as I feared, the screen showed no bars, and from the look of consternation on my friend's face, neither did his. I turned to the computer next, haphazardly tapping at the keys and moving the mouse. The screen came to life, and I groaned in frustration as I saw a log-in screen, requesting a user name and password combination I couldn't begin to guess. I clicked on the textbox, hoping a dropdown of memorized credentials would appear. No such luck. This ruled out both the PA System and internet access. Great. I looked to my friend again. Contrary to my frantic movements, he seemed to stand rather still, looking intently at his toes. 

"What are we gonna do?" I asked, realizing to my embarassment that my voice was shaking. "Are we trapped?" My friend swallowed with some difficulty before answering, "Seems like we can't easily call for help. The door and window are durable...but not indestructible. They prolly know that, seeing as they haven't fucked off yet. If this keeps up..." he paused, not wanting to give shape to the future that awaited us with words. He turned to me, and I was shocked to see his eyes shine with tears. "I'm sorry," he muttered. 

"No, don't, please," I said, holding him by the shoulders gently. I tried to say something more, something reassuring and encouraging, but instead my voice caught in my throat. I felt tears prick my eyes in turn. No matter whether they were 21 years old or lived in the 21st century, it seemed some people were still far from mature when it came to accepting love. To want to hurt something harmless and beautiful...I couldn't wrap my head around it. If not for the firm shoulder under my palm, I'd be feeling very alone at that moment.

"I can't think of anything...all we can do is hope we'll get lucky somehow," said my friend, muttering now more to himself than me. But just then, his expression shifted. He repeated, softly, "Get lucky..." and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's it!" he exclaimed, startling me off him. 

"Huh?", I asked, totally lost.

"D' you know what we should do?"

"No, what?"

"We should jack off."

It took me a moment to process what he had just said, as well as its implications.

"What, here? Now? Right NOW?!"

"Yah," he said as matter-of-factly as possible, though I could tell that even he was unsure of what he was proposing. Still, it seemed that my incredulity only served to strengthen his resolve. "Yah," he said again, his voice louder. "We should take a stand. Show 'em what we're really made of."

"Are you out of your mind? Do you seriously think we can get a hard-on while we're about to get our ass kicked?! And even if we can, you want them to see...y' know! Everyone'll freak -"

"I know we can do it, man," he cut me off, his voice low and urgent. "You know how I know? Because when I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything. I bet it's the same for you. I can feel that, too. I've been waiting so long for us to be together, and I'm not about to let anyone ruin it for us." 

"But..."

He leaned in and placed his hand behind my head, our foreheads resting against each other. His gaze was so intense the words died in my throat.  

"C'mon, dude. Let's grow hard. Let's grow huge. Let's grow...together."

His warm breath washed over me as he whispered these last words, and something inside me snapped. Was my friend's sex appeal so irresistible as to override my very instinct of survival? Or had he, perhaps, convinced me that this was indeed the best course of action? Then again, maybe I just wanted to spend my final moments of safety in defiant provocation of those who were threatening it. Regardless of reason, the result was the same: I leaned forward and kissed him. He responded immediately, his lips pressing down on mine, our tongues soon wrestling for control. His hand remained on my head for a bit, tousling my hair, before moving to my back and pulling me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around him as well, pressing myself against him, feeling as much of his body with my own as possible. A couple more fruitless bangs echoed around the room. My eyes opened, darting to the window. Two of our besiegers had unhooked the nearest fire extinguishers and were trying to batter the door down. A couple were yelling at us, angry veins showing on their throats and foreheads. Next to them, one guy was staring at us with such hate, you'd think his eyes would shoot flames at any moment. The last one had turned away from the window and was apparently fighting the urge to vomit, his large body trembling in disgust.

Paying them no more heed, I closed my eyes and continued grinding against my friend, losing myself in the moment as my hands roamed all over his hot body. Unbidden, his words from that fateful day flowed into my mind. "Let's see 'em hard. Hard. Get hard. Let's see them at full size. You're already starting to bone up..." I felt my dick respond to the call, steadily plumping up and rising, twitching in pleasure as it grazed my man's thigh under my shorts. At the same time, his hardening cock rubbed against my own leg, tracing an upward path. As our erections reached their full, glorious size and height, we broke our embrace and grinned at each other, he cockily and I sheepishly, a bit embarassed at how unfounded my earlier objection had turned out to be.

"See? This wasn't so hard after all. A sentence which otherwise has no place in this room!", he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. He turned towards the window, facing the gang for the first time since we entered the room, and I followed suit. "Ok, count of three, whip 'em out." He always liked to kick things off with these words, a callback to that first time. Bit of a goofy catchphrase by this point, but still, it was helpful. "Even professional bands have the drummer count off the beat, so we might as well beat off on a count, right?" he had later commented, earning a hearty groan and eyeroll from me. 

"One...two...THREE." 

I dropped my shorts, the elastic band snagging only for a moment on my swollen cockhead, and my dick bounced back sharply, standing proudly at attention. The bullies grimaced and winced, as if someone had kicked them in the balls all at once. I glanced to the right and was greeted with the more welcoming sight of my bro's balls and cock, exactly as long and hard as my own. Any last reservations I may have had for what was about to happen evaporated. I looked down at my tool as my fingers curled around it, appreciating its girth and heft. I tightened my grip momentarily, giving it a squeeze, and it pulsed in response. Then, I started stroking.

I immediately felt the telltale difference. I had experimented a couple of times, jerking myself off when my bro wasn't around, hoping to surprise him with the results when he came back. It had felt exactly the same as a normal wank and resulted in nothing out of the ordinary, no matter how vividly I pictured him being there with me. It seemed like my dick would accept no substitutes. But this time, we were both here, stroking together, just like on the day of that bet, just like we'd done on many occasions since. And as I stroked myself, it felt as if my whole body was being stroked too, getting teased and played with by a giant, invisible hand. Although by this point I had experienced it a fair number of times, it still felt as unbelievably amazing as it did on the day of that fateful bet. I honestly don't think I will ever get tired of it - and who could blame me? 

It began, as it always did, slowly. Today time was of the essence, of course, but some things simply can't be rushed. Besides, we both knew the pace would pick up soon enough, in all manner of ways. A trickle of warmth started radiating from my burning cock. It spread lazily, like a sunrise, across my torso, caressing my stomach, then splitting into two waves that crossed my chest, gathering steam within my shoulders, before finally shooting along my arms and from there back into my dick. It then travelled the other way, through my swelling balls across my taint, wrapping itself tighly against my ass cheeks, then snaking around my slightly trembling thighs, and down to my calves, seemingly vanishing into the earth.

But then, this warmth spread all over my body again, only quicker and stronger. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Faster and faster it pulsed, even as my stroking stayed slow and deliberate. It wasn't long before it became impossible to follow. Instead, it was as if an electric current was coursing through my entire form, making it stand as rigid as my rod. What had started as a welcoming hearth was now a roaring furnace centered within my junk, giving off unrelenting heat which suffused every inch of my body and grew still more intense by the second. Beads of sweat formed on my creased forehead and rested for a moment on my furrowed brows before falling on my veiny shaft, lubricating it for the benefit of my ever-pumping fist. My breath grew more shallow. 

I raised my head and turned it sharply to the right. Despite the intensity of the moment, I could take in every detail with perfect clarity, as if time itself had slowed down. My peripheral vision told me, therefore, that he had made a simultaneous mirror movement, jerking his head upright and turning to the left. Our eyes met as we both stood up straight, facing each other. His dark brown eyes were mesmerizing. Rivulets of sweat were running down his toned body, and I could pick up his scent: powerful, yet not unpleasant. He smelled like home to me. His muscles looked like they had just had a great pump at the gym; his skin appeared stretched over them, as if barely able to contain the growing power within. His mouth split into a wicked, cocky grin, and I felt my smile widen to match it. Then, finally, my gaze came to rest on his throbbing dick, standing tall and proud, and, of course, exactly as big as mine. As expected, he was stroking it at the same speed as me.

Oddly enough, we hadn't given much thought on why this happened to us or, at least, we hadn't had the opportunity to really talk about it. It seemed like every time we mentioned it to one another, it was swiftly followed by a fierce joint desire for a practical demonstration, which precluded any intruding thoughts. Still, there were a few nights where I had idly mulled it over in my head, lying with his arms wrapped around me as sleep drew near. It seemed to me that it all came down to our cocks. Something about the realization that they were exactly the same size, both soft and hard. It must have unlocked some kind of deeper connection between us, an unspoken yet shared conviction that, thus united, we could both be so much more than either of us could ever be individually. That was the way I felt at this moment too, as I admired our twin dicks being pumped at the same steady, hypnotic rhythm. 

("Me and him...we're two dudes in one".) I thought, proudly. ("We are...")

("...together...")

Was that...?

("...we will...")

His voice, too?

("...ΒΕCOME...")

A deluge of power engulfed my entire body. A bolt of lightning might as well have struck me where I stood. I gasped and doubled over slightly as I got the wind knocked out of me. My chest, however, seemed to move less compared to the rest of my body. That was because it had just swelled outward, almost doubling in size in an instant. As I watched it filled out even more, pumping up faster and faster to the rhythm of my accelerating heartbeat, forming a nice pec shelf. The sweat on my newly grown muscles darkened the fabric of my light grey shirt, outlining them against it. My dick gave a powerful twitch at the sight, but I kept it under control. After all, the fun was just getting started. I wouldn't keep looking at myself for long, though. The best part about this thing, see, is that it's happening to another dude at the same time. I can feel the change within me while watching HIM transform as well and react to it. It's unspeakably hot. No two men on earth have ever experienced what we do in these moments. 

The outline of my friend's ballooning chest was clearly visible under his black tank top, the pecs growing thick and hard against the already taut fabric. The outline of his nipples appeared, pushing at first outward, then downward, as the slabs of muscle became too heavy for them. The tank top dipped under the weight, further exposing the developing crevice between the pecs. His dogtag accessory, which had been previously resting at an angle against his chest, jerked this way and that as he excitedly bounced his massive mounds of muscle, grunting softly with every step of that uniquely masculine dance. I decided to play a little as well, but instead of bouncing my pecs, I rolled them slowly over and over. I could practically feel the striations appear and disappear as my muscles undulated in an unparallelled display of control. "Awww yeaaahngh" I heard, and for the life of me I still can't tell which of us uttered it. Perhaps it was the sum of our combined ecstatic moans, celebrating the return of our shared muscle. For a moment, my eyes caught sight of the guy who had tried to grab at me. Although I couldn't hear him, his lips moved slowly and were easy enough to read: "Holy shit!"

I looked back to my friend. His free hand eagerly lifted his top, exposing his flat belly. Just in time, too; the slight but distinct grooves, a product of years of dedicated hard work, were already deepening, filling with shadow as a pack of solid muscle bricks rose into prominence. As if the sweat dripping off them wasn't enough, my friend, now keeping his tank top raised with his teeth, rapidly swapped hands and proceeded to feel his abs with his formerly occupied palm, slathering them with precum. "Ohhh, fuck yeah..." he whispered, and a chuckle of pure delight escaped his lips as he caressed, poked and prodded to his heart's content; I knew that out of all his muscles, he was proud of his abs the most. As for me, the sight of the glistening beef was maddeningly inviting. It all but begged for my attention; I longed to wipe the precum off with my tongue, or perhaps to add to it. I was sure that, no matter how cut my friend became, I'd still be able to fill all available space between his abs with my cum. The thought nearly drove me wild and my dick throbbed alarmingly. I decided to turn my attention back to myself for the moment, and check out if my own six-pack had emerged yet. However, by this point my pecs had become rather too big, or perhaps my stomach too sucked in, or maybe even both. At any rate, I found it hard to see my abs properly just by looking straight down. I slowly rotated my torso this way and that, getting a better view of my shredded obliques. I ran each hand over my stomach, switching them between my cock and my body without ever breaking the rhythm. Sure enough, my palm rose and fell gently as it roamed over the cobblestone surface of my packed muscle.

"Oh man, oh FUCK, this feels sooo GOODGHHH!" moaned my friend, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes tight, his teeth gritted in a savage grin. A moment later I realized why. The tank top's straps were sliding down the slopes of his rising traps, no longer dividing his shoulders into equal thirds. His frame was widening so quickly I almost expected to hear him creaking. Groaning, he rolled his shoulders forward, once, twice, three times, bucking his hips as he went. His delts rippled and bulged with every thrust, moulding themselves into veritable boulders of corded muscle fiber. I braced myself for the same sensation, but instead I felt my arms being inexorably pushed away as my lats started flaring up. Out and out they grew, as slow and unstoppable as a glacier. For a few moments, it seemed like they'd keep growing forever. Then, suddenly, it was as if a jet of flame shot up from each, rocketing up and out in a V-shape which blazed all over my back and shoulders. Then I, too, started to grow wider and thicker. Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as it looked from the outside. There was some pain, yes, but it only served to amplify the overwhelming waves of pleasure that accompanied it. Rather than the sensation of getting deformed or stretched, it felt more like I was being fitted into a mold, one that had been meant for me all along. I let out a long moan as my once loose sleeveless t-shirt rode up my rows of abs, hugging my sweat soaked body tighter and tighter. A feeling of belonging and contentment washed over me, and I briefly wondered if that was how bodybuilders felt when they had finally reached their dream stats.

"Unngggnngghh!!" My friend's guttural grunt snapped me out of my brief reverie. Had it been my imagination, or was his voice just then deeper than he could have possibly made it himself? He gasped and swung his head forward, causing droplets of sweat to fly off his hair. His eyes were wild and unfocused. I could now see clearly his bulging traps, rising and falling with every breath...but mostly still rising. I have a soft spot for traps; since they're rather difficult to build compared to other muscles, I've always thought that a dude with nice developed traps is buff on a whole 'nother level. And now, I could feel my own traps emerging as well, my neck thickening between them. I cracked my neck to either side, feeling the satisfying snap and taking a good look at my own shoulders. FUCK they looked huge up close. I was sure that I could charge the door at that moment and take it off its hinges as if it were made of wet tissue paper. 

As if wanting to draw my admiring gaze back to him, my friend hunched over, letting loose another bestial growl and giving me a good view of his tapered back. He flexed it, hard, and waves of muscle undulated across it, making his skintight tanktop look like a dark sea ravaged by a storm. A short, sharp ripping sound, and then an island, a mountain, a volcano of muscular flesh erupted from the rift, rippling and then hardening like lava. I felt the incredible power he displayed welling up in the centre of my being, as well, building and building until its demand for expression became irresistible. I pulled my shoulders back and out, bringing my shoulderblades close, and for a moment my pecs stretched super tight against my shirt, scarring it with stress lines. "AH..." I moaned loudly, then: "UNGH!!!" as I reversed the movement, flaring out my back as much as possible. As I did, I could feel it wildly grow wider, straining but for a moment against my shirt before that, too, was anticlimactically ripped in two by my sheer size and mass and strength. The grey rag fluttered to the floor, leaving now both of our heaving torsos in full, glorious display.

Incredibly, our legs had been able to support our top-heavy bodies all this time. Maybe it was the adrenaline we were no doubt soaking in at the moment? It seemed that even supernatural muscle growth had a tendency to overlook leg day. But now, they, too, were awakening. My legs started to inflate and bulge. Each individual muscle came to the fore, fighting with its brethren for space. I could feel the inside of my thighs starting to press against each other and I adjusted my stance. I shook my left leg, looking at the newly formed muscles from multiple angles. The ample mass of my quads jiggled and swayed. Then I abruptly stopped and flexed them, and they instantly popped, hard as diamonds. It's a good thing I had lowered my shorts to my ankles, or that would have been their end right there. Looking back at my bro, I saw that the gently rolling hills of his thighs had given way to granite mountain ranges, rivers of sweat running down them. 

Defying that well-known stereotype, my arms, despite the workout I had been giving them, largely felt and looked the same size as ever, now standing comically small next to my jacked upper body. That was just fine, though. The comparison emphasized even better just how big I'd gotten over the last few minutes and besides, they wouldn't be staying like that for much longer. Already I could see a vein protruding in each one, steadily pumping my heart's blood through them, just like I steadily kept pumping my fist over my steel rod of a dick. 

My thoughts strayed to the countless hours we had spent at the gym, and the natural, honest gains we'd earned as a result. That was all well and good, of course, but there was a lot to be said for growing so much, so quickly, as well. I mean, having an erection is awesome, but imagine always having just the one ever since adolescence, never experiencing the feeling of getting hard again. Knowing that I could feel myself transforming this way over and over, and that our real, hard-gained muscle would result in ever larger and more ripped bods whenever we felt like changing - well, that almost sent me over the edge. I summoned all my willpower, and with a muffled "Ngh!" I went back to edging with some difficulty. 

"How you doin', bro? Hangin' in there?" My friend's voice, strained and broken up by his panting as it may have been, was unmistakably deeper than before. Its sexy timbre and casual tone were making an admirable job of playing it cool, but one look at his eyes betrayed his concern for me.

"Yeah", I shot back, amazed at my own husky voice. Had our voices changed in the past? At that point I was too horny to remember.

"Fuckin' A..." he trailed off, the last syllable almost turning into a moan. "Ughhh...I love this!" he yelled.

"Yeah!" I chimed in, emboldened by his sudden outburst. "I love this SO MUCH!"

"I love it almost as much as I love you, dude!" he practically screamed.

"Ι love you too, man!" I shouted back.

We both knew that getting verbal was a sign that we were close to cumming, so we needed all the support we could get from one another to keep going, and finally grow each other's arms.

While my bro favoured abs and I traps, arms was our common ground. As if they somehow knew this, our arms had started resisting growing too early during our sessions, leaving us with the best for last. They'd never held out this long before, though. We came closer slowly, eating up every inch of each other with our eyes. When we were next to each other, we stopped for a moment. Then, in one smooth motion, we both grasped each other's cock with our right hands. Our left hands grabbed each other's dick-stroking arms, and started feeling the muscles that had already started exploding all over them. Indeed, "explosion" is the only word that comes close to describing it. Waves of muscle erupted furiously, piling on top of one another, hardening into eye-watering definition, only for still more muscle to emerge, packing itself tighter and tighter, denser and denser, bigger and bigger. Our biceps doubled in size, then tripled, then grew beyond what I could be bothered to estimate. Our forearms flexed and twitched as we stroked and squeezed, fully expressing the awesome strength they now possessed. It was becoming too much to take it all in. Our bodies were starting to run out of growth space, but the growth itself still flowed forth from our cocks. With no place left to go, it started to work its magic there. My grip suddenly felt unfamiliar. My bro's junk shifted within my palm as it thickened and gained an inch, then another. I could feel my cock spasming with overwhelming power. Then, as I knew he would, I heard him voicing my thoughts:  

"Aw shit, dude. This - ahh, g-goddd! - this's it. I'm gonna - ohh fffuck - 'm gon' cum!"

I threw my head back and my arms flew up into a double biceps. I could feel my peaks rising up, and up, and further up still. I tensed, flexing myself as hard as I could. A deep, primal roar sprang from within my chest, rising in volume and tone as it went. It was met by another roar, different but harmonious to my own. The two voices resonated, their vibrations almost visible in the air. It seemed to me that the very room started to tremble and shake. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw him there in front of me, flexing into a most muscular, every part of him huge, hard and cut. Our eyes met. Reflected within his I saw me. I saw both of us at the same time, each contained within the other, inseperable, two equal and complementary halves of perfection.

And that's then we came.  

...

When we finally came to our senses, you won't be surprised to know that the room was a mess. About half the black foam had been soaked white, making it look a little like a cow had exploded all over the bare walls. The tarps had proven woefully inadequate in protecting the sound equipment, and no-one was going to leaf through any of the instruction manuals ever again. The hallway outside the PA Room was empty, our would-be assailants presumably having fled in terror quite a while ago. Although I didn't think they would share their story with anyone, much less that it would be believed, I still felt confident word would get around that we were not to be fucked with. I was still taking in the scene of devastation when my friend pointed at me, exclaiming, "Bro, what the fuck?!" With a pang of panic, I checked myself all over, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Ok, fine, nothing unexpected. As I straightened my head, though, it hit me. 

My eyes were level with the top of the bookcase. Up until a few minutes ago, they had been level with the top shelf. I hadn't noticed it because my friend had grown taller by the same amount. And the fact that our muscles still looked the same meant that they must have all grown proportionally at the same time. They'd never done that before. We looked at each other excitedly, fascinated by what this implied. After all, regular exercises made your muscles bigger and stronger as you kept at them. Why wouldn't this function in a similar way? Could it be that our ability to grow was...growing itself?

My train of thought was interrupted by a jolt from my cock. I had to remind myself it had grown, too, since it looked proportionate to my now taller and larger body. It seemed as hard as ever. Of course, even in the past it could stay hard for quite a while after the fact, giving us ample time to enjoy our muscles in peace. But this time...it felt as if my boner would last quite a bit longer, if I was so inclined. In fact, it kinda felt even harder now. This realization was swiftly followed by one that had been screaming for my attention for a while.

"Fuck, I'm...still horny."

"Me too."

"...Come on, let's really take care of these."

"Thought you'd never say so."

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On 9/27/2021 at 2:38 AM, Two said:

Thank you so much for all the appreciation, everyone! Writing this story was a very fun and interesting experience. I might try my hand at another one of these days :)

This was a great concept.  I absolutely LOVE the scenario where a dude (or dudes) turn the tables like in this story.  Very hot to imagine this scene.  To see two guys trapped against their will whip out their cocks and get horny and start growing monstrous.

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