Stepdad Growth. Finale added 7-13

[Ro20316]

Why do i feel Max's father will be a real challenge for our guy? I expext the dude bigger and ready for someone that can take it.

Jack is finalle here. The anticipation for that reunion is HUGE

[SamuelBarbado]

So hot! You had me hooked, even with the displays of strength which I often don't care about in other stories. Well done!

[mario2007]

Can't wait for the next chapter!

[Kymuscleboy]

Awesome as usual! That was a great twist with the wife announcing she met a count in Italy. Several us were wondering what her reaction would be to her greatly enlarged, super strong, very confident husband when she got home and whether Charlie would even still be interested in her. Now, that seems like it's off the table. And although there was a little bit of foreshadowing around Charlie meeting up with Max's dad (he was thinking of him and had to pull himself back when pounding Max), it's still a good turn of events that Max's dad is going to show up really soon. I am super excited to see if he is indeed a challenge for Charlie, or if he is no match for our hero. It's great that Jack is back from Iceland too. Charlie needs something to take his mind off all this family drama, and it will be interesting to see how Max reacts to him being around as both work and sort of romantic rival.

[DawnFire98]

Love to see another part in this awesome tale

[bbmikenj]

Max told me that his dad was coming by the next day, so I told him I would clear out.  I made an appointment with Dr. Lazarus for the next morning, and figured I’d kill some time afterwards at the UFC gym, working over some of the heavyweight guys. Maybe two or three at a time, to make it interesting.

The next morning, when I walked into the clinic, there were about eight guys in the waiting room. They were all middle aged, and some were a little paunchy, but you could tell they took care of themselves. It was a pretty good looking group. I heard one of the whisper, “That’s him,” to the guy next to him. Dr. Lazarus took me right in. All eyes were on me as I walked into the back. I figured this must be what it’s like for Brad Pitt, everywhere he goes.

“What was that all about?” I asked the doc. 

“The stares? Well, first of all, look at you, Charlie. You had to duck and turn sideways to get thru the door. But secondly, and I should have asked you before I did it, but I used your before and after pictures for my new brochure. It’s really pulling in business.”

“So all those guys out there are going to turn into me?”

“That’s highly unlikely. Most of them don’t have the time or money that you have to pursue your level of development. Plus, you have an extraordinary drive, I’ve never seen anything like it. And as long as you’re here, I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, Doc,” I said, and I unzipped my pants.

“Ok, not that it’s not tempting, but that isn’t it. I wondered if you wouldn’t mind getting a couple of tests done, one for muscle density, and one for bone density. I’m dying to see what your results would be.”

“Sure, anything you want,” I said, as I zipped back up. 

“Excellent. You can head over now if you want. The lab is close by, and I told them you might be coming. Neither test will take long.” 

“Ok,” I said. “I’ve got time to kill anyway.”

“Perfect. Let me draw some blood first, then you can go.” As he stuck me with the syringe, I heard him say, “hmm.”

“Something wrong?” I asked him.

“Are you finding it harder to inject yourself lately?” he asked.

“Yes, now that you mention it, it takes a lot more pressure to jab it in. I figured it was scar tissue.”

“No, I don’t think so, but that’s part of the reason I want your density checked.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“No, I’m guessing it’s just because, genetic freak that you are, your body fat is simply approaching zero.”

I flexed my arm at him with the needle still stuck in it. “29.5 inches, cold,” I said. “That’s not freaky, is it?”

He tugged the needle out of my arm and rubbed an alcohol pad all over my huge biceps, groping my massive peak. “Get out of here before I cancel all my other appointments,” he said. 

I laughed and headed out to the waiting room. All eyes were on me. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it open, exposing my freak torso. Then I flexed my 8 pack. Two at a time. Then alternate sides. Then all eight. I had complete muscle control over my stacked, brick-like abs. I made them dance. One guy stood up and then fainted. The others gasped out words like fuck, Jesus, oh my god. But then I had to get going. I buttoned up my shirt. “Good luck in there, guys. You came to the right place.” 

I went and got the tests done. Doc was right, they didn’t take long. The technician was taken aback by my size, but most people were nowadays. The machines were open, so I didn’t have to fit inside a tube, which I don’t think I would have, but even so, my chest was too big for the arm of the scanner to slide across. The tech didn’t think it would matter, but as he looked at the readings, He kept muttering “whoa” to himself. 

“Everything ok?” I asked him. 

“Well, I’m not supposed to say anything, your doctor will go over the results with you. But between you and me, either both machines are broken, which seems unlikely, or your numbers are completely off the charts.” Before I left, he asked if he could take some pictures of me. “I wouldn’t ask, but my brother-in-law thinks he is jacked up hot shit, I would love to show him what real muscle looks like.”

I said sure. I took off my shirt and flexed for him. He took pic after pic, and muttered ‘oh my god’ and ‘look at you’ over and over, so I don’t know if the pics were really to show his brother-in-law, or for him to wank off to, I didn’t care. I liked the awe in his voice.


After I left, I went and got something to eat at the Shake Shack. It wasn’t the same without Jack there, but I was going to be seeing him soon anyway, and I did love their shakes. Afterwards, I went to some hiking trails outside of town. My mountain bike had collapsed under my weight when I passed the 350lb mark, so I’d taken to hiking. The some of the hills were pretty steep, and gave my legs a good pump. Most the other hikers were lean and lanky hipster types. The sight of my hulking mass approaching them made them step off the path until I passed them. 

By the time I got home, it was dusk. Chef was prepping dinner. “How’d it go with prison dad?” I asked him. 

“He never showed,and he’s not answering Max’s calls or texts,” said Chef. “The kid’s been in the gym for the past two hours. What kind of dad ghosts his own son like that?”

“Just a cunt head narcissist convict named Clyde,” I answered. 

I went down to the gym. Max had headphones on and didn’t see me at first. He was lifting shirtless, and sweat was rolling off him in rivulets and made his dark tan glisten and his dark chest hair curl into ringlets. The gym smelled of his college jock musk. His shoulders had gotten broader, his taper more V’d than ever. His legs had filled out and gotten hairier. His ass looked like two soccer balls in a pair of shorts.

He went over to the heavy bag, and started hitting it so hard his knuckles started bleeding. I said, loud enough for him to hear me thru his headphones, “If you’re going to work it that hard, you should tape your hands.”

He stopped and turned. He took off his headphones. “Hey,” he said. “Chef told you?”

“Yeh.”

“He’s done this to me and my mom my whole life. It’s no big deal.”

I looked at the blood dripping off his knuckles. “Uh-huh,” I said. “Anyway, I got something for you today.” I reached into my back pocket and handed him a brochure.

“What’s this?” he asked, opening it up.

“It’s the place I go to.”

“Hey, that’s you!” He looked at the brochure for awhile, checking out the details, and my before-and-after pictures.

“If you want to try it out, I’ll foot the bill,” I said. Was I really doing this?

“No shit?” he said, not without suspicion. 

“Yeh, sure. Now go get cleaned up and will have some dinner.”

As we walked upstairs, he said, “Thanks, Dad.” Then he added, “Those are some real sweet ‘before’ shots of you,” and he started to snicker.

“Smartass,” I said, and I grabbed his nipple and gave it a hard twist.
 

[Broody]

30 minutes ago, bbmikenj said:

He was lifting shirtless, and sweat was rolling off him in rivulets and made his dark tan glisten and his dark chest hair curl into ringlets. The gym smelled of his college jock musk.

Okay I may be switching to Team Max after this one. Fuck.

[bbmikenj]

It took awhile, but Dr Lazarus finally got back to me, and when he did, he sounded excited, and yet confounded. He told me that my muscle and bone density test results were so far off the scale that they couldn’t get an accurate reading. He said that powerlifters and strongmen came in at the top of the scale, but that I must be way above that.

“On top of that,” he continued, “I took the liberty of having your blood run thru a DNA analysis. Your genome has changed.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Well, look at you. You’re bigger, faster, stronger than basically 100% of mankind.”

“So, I’m a genetic freak of nature?”

“You could say that, yes.”

I was getting hard. “Would that carry over to my sperm?”

“It would have to be tested, but probably.”

I pictured myself donating to sperm banks around the world, and creating a mega-species of human beings. I was stroking myself. I needed to unload a quart of my special seed. “I gotta go, Doc.”

“Wait. Before you go, and speaking of genetic freaks, your stepson Max came to see me the other day.”

“I figured he would. Did you start him on anything?”

“No, not yet. Actually, there’s a clinical trial going on that I’m going to recommend him for.”

“What kind of trial?”

“It’s a Crispr gene editing study.”

I had read a little bit about crispr when looking up bodybuilding info online. “You think that dude needs any kind of genetic improvement? Did you take a good look at him?”

“I know what you’re saying. He’s an astonishing looking young man. But that’s just the point. This trial isn’t about muscle, so much as stopping aging. They want participants like Max, to see if they can prevent genetic damage that causes aging, so that he’ll look basically like he does now well into his seventies or eighties. Maybe older.”

“So, like The Picture of Dorian Gray?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus.” What could possibly go wrong with that kind of experiment? “So was Max interested?”

“He’s been texting me about every hour to see if he’s been accepted. And I don’t see any reason why he won’t be. I’ll let you know.”

“Do that.” I got off the phone with him just as I got a text from Jack. He wanted to stop by. He had something for me. Sure, I texted back. I sent him the security code to the front gate. When you get here, I texted, just come out to the pool. I’ll be waiting for you there.

I went to the outdoor shower, stripped naked, and wanked off under the hot water. I knew if I didn’t, I might just grab Jack when he got here and breed his ass right thru his clothes. I blasted out probably a million potential ape-strong offspring, and watched them swirl down the drain. Then I got in the pool. I hadn’t seen Jack since he got back from Iceland. When he walked in, I couldn’t believe how blond he was, and how his skin glowed with health. He was better looking than I’d remembered. 

“Nice tan,” I said from the pool.

“Thanks. It’s from all the sun I got in Iceland. They said they’d rarely had such a nice stretch of sunny weather. And it’s daylight for about 20 hours a day in summer. We did a lot of outdoor shooting.” He ran his hand thru his thick mop of flaxen hair. He had a small cloth bag in his hand that he put down on the patio table. It made a heavy clunk.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You’ll see when you get out. Mind if I join you?”

“Hell no, come on in.”

He stripped down naked. His body was a flawless fitness physique specimen. His big cock swung between his golden thighs. He was totally unabashed by his nakedness. He dove into the water and came up in front of me. I had been crouching down, so we were face to face. Then I stood up, and my pecs rose up out of the water. I towered over him.

“Holy shit, Charlie,” he said. As the pool water rolled down my massive pec mounds, he said, “You look like a morphed Aquaman!” He reached up and touched me. “Fuck, man, you’ve gotten so much bigger.” I leaned down and kissed him, groping his tight ass under water. “I’m usually the top,” he said, “but you get my butt twitching.” We started to romp around. I tossed him around like a pool toy, and he‘d swim right back to me like a playful pup. We stroked each other’s cocks. I was getting ready to seal the deal when I saw him look over at the edge of the pool and say “Hey!”

I looked up and saw Max standing there. “Hey, Max,” I said. “This is my friend Jack. Maybe you know him from the modeling agency.”

Jack swam over to Max, and reached up with his hand. Max leaned over, and they shook, and I noticed a look that passed between them. An immediate connection that must happen a lot between two extraordinary looking people, like Cary Grant and Randolph Scott, or Angelina and Brad.  Jack said, “ We’ve never met, but I’ve seen your headshot on the wall at the office. Why don’t you join us?” he said with a big sparkling smile. 

So Max stripped down, too. He was getting so broad shouldered. Soon he’d be too big to model, but he was more into his mma fighting now anyway. He already looked like he could challenge any opponent. He got into the pool and came over to us.

“Show us some of your size, Charlie,” Jack requested. I started posing for the two of them. I did a double biceps flex, and each of them grabbed an arm. I stood up and lifted them both halfway out of the water with my 29 plus inch pythons. 

“Lick out these deep pits, boys,” I said. They both buried their faces into my wet armpits and ate at them. I dunked us all underwater and continued to flex, as they continued to feel me up and suck on me. If you ever get a chance to get worshipped by two male models, I’d highly recommend it. They have mad skills. Soon, I noticed that they were feeling each other up as much as me. Who could blame them? I broke away from them and climbed out of the pool.

“Hey, where you going?” asked Max.

“I’m going to let you two get better acquainted. Besides, I want to open my present.” I went over to the table and picked up the bag Jack had brought. It was small but weighty. It clanged when I shook it. I opened it up and dumped the contents into my hand. Ten gold coins tumbled out. “What are these?” I asked.

“Those are Iceland kronurs. I brought them back for you, to pay you back the money you lent me,” said Jack with a proud grin.

“These might be worth more than I gave tou, bud, but thanks. I know where I can keep them safe.” I heaved my gorilla chest out, and started sticking the coins into my pec valley, like it was a deep oversized coin slot. One by one I pushed them in, and watched them disappear. It felt strangely erotic, and the guys must have agreed, because I could see their hard dicks thru the pool water. My nips swelled and jutted out and pointed downward. “Wanna see me flatten them out?” I asked, not sure that I could, but it’d be fun trying.

“Oh, man,” they both groaned. They turned and looked at each other, and started kissing. I started jerking off as they kissed deeper and harder, and it didn’t take long before I shot a huge load arching into the pool, soaking their hair and faces with my hot batter. They both inseminated the pool at the same time. They dunked each other under, and rinsed the jiz off their heads. 

Just then, Max’s phone, which was on the table, buzzed with a text.

Max’s head came up, and he said, “Charlie, can you check that for me?” 

I picked up the phone and saw a text from Dr. Lazarus. “It says ‘you’re in’,” I told Max.

“Oh hell YES!” he exclaimed. He gave Jack a big hug. He told him quickly about the clinical trial. Then he said to him, “Dude, you should totally get in with me. I bet they’d take you, too!”

Of course they would. Look at the two of them. The future of human evolution. Hopefully. It got me thinking about my sperm bank idea. Maybe I should contribute some of my own improvement. 

They got out of the pool. I let them try and tug the coins out of my chest valley. I had to relax my pecs before they could even budge them out, their fingers buried deep into my muscle chasm. After they dug them all out, they took a shower together, their instant chemistry made obvious by the sound coming from the shower. 

After they got dressed, Max was anxious to take Jack to see Dr. Lazarus. “You wanna come?” he asked me.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll stay here and count my gold.”

After they left, I showered too, then got something to eat. While I was eating, my security app notified me that someone was coming thru the driveway gates. I looked at the feed, and saw a car I didn’t recognize pulling in. It parked by the garage, and the driver got out. It was Max’s dad, Clyde. “What the fuck,” I muttered to myself. Then I got up and went out to confront him.

“Hey, Chuckles,” he said when he saw me coming. “Max told me you’d put on some size, but sweet jeezus boy, you’re big as a house.”

“How’d you get thru the gates?” I asked him.

“Max texted me the code awhile back.”

“You mean awhile back when you were suppose to come see him?”

“Yeh, I suppose that was it.”

“Well Max isn’t here now,” I said, blocking the passageway to the house. Clyde leaned up against the Porsche Cayenne that he’d driven in. “Where’d you steal that ride?” I said.

“I got myself a rich lady friend,” he said. “She started writing to me when I was on the inside, and she was waiting for me with this when I got out.”

Women and their desire for bad boys. Amazing. Clyde definitely had the look. Rugged, a little haggard, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The sex was probably great, but getting slapped around later would have to suck.

“Speaking of lady friends,” he continued, “Max tells me his skanky whore of a mother left you for some fancy euro trash.”

It wasn’t so much what he said, but the mean-spirited smirk on his face. I don’t think he expected me to move so fast. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, picked him up off the ground, and threw him into the middle door of my five-car garage. He slammed into it sideways, midway up, then fell to the ground with a thump. His impact left an outline of his body on the door, like in a cartoon. The four square windows that ran along the top of the door shattered, and glass pieces rained down on him like hail.

He stood up slowly. He shook pieces of glass off himself. He was clearly stunned, and probably had some broken ribs, but he said, “So you’re a tough guy now, huh?” 

“I’d say so,” I said, peeling off my shirt. 

“I’ve taken down bigger lugs than you,” he said.

I laughed. “No you haven’t.” 

He looked less cocky as he got a good look at me. But he came at me anyway. Max had told me that Clyde had won the boxing championship in prison several times, so he was still good with his fighting skills. He swung up at me with his left hook, and landed it squarely on my jaw. My head didn’t budge. My thick jawbone and the muscle over it absorbed the blow easily, but his hand didn’t. I heard his bones shatter like the glass in my garage door windows. He staggered back, grabbing his hand in agony. 

“Oh, that had to hurt,” I said sarcastically.

“Freak,” he groaned. Then he reached behind his back with his good hand, and pulled a gun out of his waistband. “Who’s the tough guy now, Chuckles?” he said maniacally.

“Put that thing away,” I said, stepping toward him. But he didn’t. He fired at me. I staggered back. He fired at me again and again. I stopped staggering. He stopped firing me and stared at me oddly. I looked down at my torso and saw welts where the bullets had hit. But they had not penetrated my muscle. Instead, they had flattened out and fallen to the ground. They looked like smaller, fatter versions of the gold coins Jack had given me. 

“The fuck…” stammered Clyde. He threw the gun at me. I caught it midair, then put it in the crook of my arm, and flexed my arm upward. I flexed hard, and felt the barrel of the gun bending. I flexed more, and it bent more. I opened up my arm and let the gun fall out. It fell to the ground, twisted and askew. 

He tried to make a run for it, but I grabbed him. I was still processing the fact that I was now apparently superhuman, but that didn’t mean that Clyde was off the hook. I took him to the ground and started working him over, pinning him with my knee and grinding into his gristly muscle, pulverizing the tissue. I dislocated his shoulder joints, then popped them back in place. I ignored his screams. I toyed with him as if he were a discarded doll that some kid finds in field and decides to torture it. I grabbed his head and smashed it into the hood of his SUV, denting it in. I dropped him to the ground and put my foot on his head. I flexed over him like a demigod. I could have popped his head like a grape. I held his life in my hands, and have never felt so powerful and superior. But I didn’t want the hassle of snuffing him out in my own driveway. So I took my foot off his head. He let out a groan. He must have felt like he’d been hit by a truck. 

“Get up,” I said. He staggered to his feet painfully. “Now get in your car and drive away. Don’t come back, and don’t contact Max again, or I’ll hunt you down and make today look like a warmup.” He limped to the car and got in. He looked twenty years older then when he had gotten here. I opened up the security gates with the app in my phone. After he drove off, I changed the code.

Clyde was never heard from again. But my wife was. Turns out, the Italian count was a scam artist who had bought his title and used it to lure rich women and pilfer their money. Unfortunately, when he found out that my wife had signed an ironclad prenup with me, he lost interest and disappeared. My wife was surprised when I invited her to move back home. “After what I did to you?” she’d asked. She thought I was the most forgiving person ever. I declined to tell her that I’d been fucking her son since about the day she left; that might have changed her tune. Plus, I had one condition for her return. I wanted kids. Lots of them. She was all for it. 

Max and Jack both started the clinical trial, although Dr. Lazarus had failed to mention to me that it was in a clinic that was just outside of Paris. They moved there together, and were able to continue modeling work while undergoing the gene treatments.

My wife and I moved to a ranch after she had the first set of twin boys. Soon after, she had triplets, then another set of twins. All boys. The ranch was going to be a good place to raise them. They would all grow into strapping bruisers and would make good ranch hands. Who needed packhorses? 

I took up professional arm wrestling for awhile. I could beat the top guys with just my little finger, but the Federation would only let me do that for exhibition matches. After I broke some hand bones of an Ukrainian guy named Denis, and snapped the tibia of a Canadian champion, I backed off the arm wrestling. I felt guilty injuring the good guys, so I became a covert vigilante, specializing in tracking down domestic abusers who get let out of jail early. It was worth it just to see their faces when I showed up at their homes, or cornered them outside a bar. It was surprising how many ex-felons had access to firearms, but after all, this is America. Too bad for them that it couldn’t stop me from exacting justice as I saw fit. 
 

[portamivia]

Oh man. Slow clap. 

[Ro20316]

what a finale.

I am happy everyone is living their lives as they want to and how things had changed for everyone.

He never thought he would become the alpha and noone took him serious but now he commands, he guides. He is and alpha.

 

Thank you for giving us another great piece.