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Right, because you were outputting too little, recently. 

Man! Where do you find the time?!

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1 minute ago, portamivia said:

Right, because you were outputting too little, recently. 

Man! Where do you find the time?!

Haha. I needed to take a little break from the other characters for a bit, and this was a nice, short little story that I bashed out in a few minutes :)

It's much easier when you don't have 20 plot threads, and 12 characters you're tracking at any one time. LOL I had to step back and re-read a few times to make sure I had the right characters in the right place. The joys of writing ;)

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I hadn't planned on adding any further to this story, but you all twisted my arm ;)

PART TWO

As I started walking out of the gym, I couldn’t help but ogle myself in the gym’s mirrors. My massive pecs blocked a direct view of my torso and my legs. Only my erect cock, sticking up at a 75 degree angle, was visible as the now massive mast between my legs extended over a foot, with a pair of orange-sized balls behind it. Normally, my balls would hang and not protrude forward, but my quads were now so big, there was nowhere for my balls to go but out. I couldn’t wait to put on a pair of tight jeans, imagining the massive bulge that my cock and balls would produce, that’s if I could get the jeans up over the sweep of my insane quads.

I continued to carefully inspect my new body in the gym’s mirrors and I was, in a word, a fucking masterpiece. What’s that? That was three words? So what? Fuck off. You’re not focussing on the important part - my fucking erection of a body.

As I made the tiniest of movements, muscles flexed and rippled across my body, the branching roots of veins covering every inch of my skin writhing and engorging as the muscles flex and pop underneath, individual muscle bellies standing up and out, completely separate from adjacent muscles.

Just standing looking at myself, my dick was leaking masses of pre. Every now and then a glob of pre would pump through my dick and ooze out of the meatus, the thick liquid slowly dripping down to the ground, a long thin line of pre joining the tip of my dick to the droplet at the end, eventually breaking causing the line of pre to whip back to my cock. It was fucking HOT.

I’d never really posed before. I had nothing to flex, nothing to show off, to engorge with blood, pump up and harden. Not any more. I groaned as I raised my arms into a classic front double biceps pose.

If you’ve never tried posing before, it’s a lot harder than it looks. Not only is it physically taxing, as you’re flexing every muscle in your body as hard as you can and holding that, it also requires a lot of coordination and muscle control.

As you crunch down your abs, you need to flare your lats, flex your quads, pronate your wrists and flex your forearm bellies. And, of course, concentrate on the biceps flex, bringing out the split in the muscle peak. There’s a lot to think about. A lot to coordinate. And, if you’re like me, that’s all while your brain is salivating and drooling over your orgasmic muscles, their size, their power, their vascularity, and your cock feels like it’s going to burst it’s so hard.

I started small, focussing only on the biceps. As I flexed, the peaks rose up, hose-like veins running up and over the peak, branching off down into my forearms. I experimented with different angles and wrist positions until I found the one that highlighted the biceps the best, then moved on to consider the rest of my body.

As I continued to flex, my forearms swelled, the network of veins feeding and expanding the pump. The harder I flexed, the bigger they swelled, fighting for space at my elbow.

I flared my lats, great cobra hoods expanding and unfolding behind my arms, doubling my width, and deepening my pits. The large scoops of muscle merging into my pits, highlighting my serratus and obliques.

I crunched down and flexed my abs, cobblestones popping up, feathering veins highlighting the muscles, my treasure trail leading down to my prodigious shaft.

Finally, holding all of the above muscles flexed as hard as I could, I added in my quads, their massive sweep hardening into the four individual muscles, and the vastus medalis forming the diamond, the jewel in my flexed body’s crown.

I was fucking hot. My cock continued leaking pre, as my own flexing continued to arouse me.

I brought my arms down and forward, and crunched down into a most muscular pose, as my traps rose up, my pecs flexed, the individual muscles of my delts popping, my arousal came to a head. I sprayed the pristine mirrors of the gym with my cum, the orgasm longer, harder, more satisfying than I’d ever had before.

I needed to share this feeling, share my body with someone who would worship my muscles, my vascularity, my cock, my power, masculinity. And I needed to grow them, so I could take my turn.

I could feel the power within me, pulsing with my excitement, desperate to escape via my cock, work its magic, ready to reshape some lucky recipient into a muscle god like me.

I knew just the man to transform, and I was going to enjoy his transformation almost as much as he was.

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