Jump to content

Recommended Posts

Once again, with the author's permission, I am reposting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted.  Fortunately, I saved a copy.  This was probably written around 2007, so when dates are mentioned in the story, remember that those were all in the future when it was written.

Short Cut by LORUS

Part 1

There was no other way out of the bunker. I knew that if I were ever to see the light of day again, I would have to get bigger. The walls were six feet thick, concrete reinforced with tungsten girders. A hundred elephants might be able to do it, or else one of me... Todd Emery, world’s strongest muscleman. But not strong enough. Not yet anyway. I was going to have to bodybuild my way out. It was all that I knew how to do. 

Let me put this into context, although words were never my forty... or is it forte? Who cares?

Professor Maximillian LeStrange, for all that he looked and behaved like some Bond-esque megalomanic, was an okay fellah. We all knew that the bombs were dropping. It was 2012, the year that the Mayan calendar ran out, that the mysterious Planet Nibiru (or Planet X) was purported to be entering the solar system once again on its 12,000 year cyclic rotation, passing close enough to the sun to cause a massive solar flare to burn up the Earth’s atmosphere and set the planet’s poles to utter reversion, the same year that the antichrist would be revealed (my money’s still on Joan Rivers) ... et cetera et cetera.  

I never believed any of that crap. I can’t recall who was to blame, really, North Korea or a trigger-happy dissident hothead from behind the Chinese Curtain who happened to get his hands on some very nasty nuclear launch codes. Whatever caused it, the world ended on December 19th, 2012, five years ago this very week. And thanks to Professor LeStrange one Todd Emery survived.  

The bunker had been one of several the billionaire scientist had had commissioned in private, part of his ADAM Utopia Initiative. It was his way of preserving all that was great about the human race. In one bunker there would be females for breeding stock purposes, mostly lesbians, but stay with me on this. Maximillian (let’s just refer to him as Max from here on) ... Max believed that heterosexuals had fucked up the world, and maybe he was correct in his thinking, I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself an expert on humanity. But in his post-nuclear holocaust utopia, gay men would inherit the earth, with occasional but mandatory breeding privileges with the more athletic of the dykes. You see... the future Human Race would have a great deal of adversity to overcome, so it made sense to have it as healthy and resilient as possible.

My bunker was meant to be extra special, for I was the Alpha Male, wired up to a series of contraptions that allowed me to tap into the untold reserves of brain power that most humans allow to go to waste. Mind over body was the future bodybuilding catalyst that would make men into superman... nay ultra-supermen. I was one such ultra... a bodybuilding archetype for a new future. Unfortunately, to block out so much mental static from my subterranean compatriots I had to be in isolation for at least a year. I was okay with that, Max’s billions ensured that my underground tomb was anything but a tomb. It was fully air-conditioned, using a recycling system that gave me constant fresh air and clean water. It had hydroponics and a farm manned by hunky young studs that I constantly turned to for sexual stimulation, not to mention plenty of hot muscle worship and even hotter sex. They saw me as their god, and I was completely okay with that. But cabin fever, even though I had access to twenty-five thousand square feet of space, gets you in the end. Five years of being stuck in the one place, even though it was as idyllic as money could make it, was too horrid to bear. I didn’t want to lose my mind, because if I did, there was no telling what a man of my size, strength and power could do.

I must sleep soon but let me tell you a little about a typical day for me.

I wake up at 7am every day, at least I think it’s 7am. Very hard to tell the time of day when all you have to look at are artificial computer-generated vistas tricking you into thinking there is a savory world beyond so many sterile windows. I spend a good hour or so posing in front of the many mirrors throughout the complex. I need to see myself constantly, to remind myself just how amazing, how... oh God.... fuck yeah.... how unbelievably huge I am. But not huge enough. I need to get way bigger if I’m to stand a chance of breaking out of here, digging through the collapsed tunnel that connects with the other “vaults”, and finally reintegrating myself into Max’s incredible collective: all gay men, all athletes, thinkers, scientists, doctors... you name it... he has ‘em all. And let’s not forget the lesbians.

Back to me and my muscles.... damn! I’m overwhelmed. Fuck this recollecting for now, I’ll get back to it later. Right now, we are all in need of some incredible muscle action. Let me introduce you to Peter, one of my “boys” who tends farm over in Sector Eight. His specialty is bovine maintenance. But he is so pretty to the eyes, blonde haired, bronze skin, and blue eyes... your typical California surfer dude-type. I never allow my guys to wear anything but faded, ripped Levi’s jeans. They go shirtless throughout their working days, and then after... they wear nothing at all. Peter is my favorite.  

“Come to me, hot stuff.”

“Sure Todd.”

“You like what you see as I tense up my arms before you?”

“I’m so boned for you right now, Todd.” Peter is enthusiastic and angelic, but the sexiest, by far, of all my guys.

“Describe what you see before you, Peter... height, weight, the whole deal.”

“You seem taller today, much bigger than yesterday, Todd.” Peter is massaging his ball-sack through his jeans as he speaks. His super-trim waist seems to emphasize his hips and what he has between them. His Levi’s always seem to tent out at the front. My cock twitches at the merest thought of him.

“What do you mean “much bigger”? I’ve been working out harder than ever!” My tone is vehement. Peter – although my golden boy – must know his place and never say things that disappoint me.

“Sorry Todd. You aren’t much bigger... you’re a LOT more than much bigger,” corrects Peter.

“That’s better. Look at my flexing biceps... each bigger than your head.... get over here and start doing things to them... and to yourself as you go.”

“Fuck yes... I can’t even get my hands around those thick, muscled mounds. They’re HUGE! Fuck, I’m so jizzing for you any minute, Todd!”  

Peter’s gorgeous, toned chest is heaving now, his breathing excited, becoming more so. And this is just the beginning. He’s squeezing my massive, flexed biceps as I hold the pump in each. His fingers can’t dent the muscle, diamond-hard muscle that keeps getting bigger, harder.... STRONGER!!!!! It’s not enough to break out yet, but I’m getting there. I continue to flex a double biceps, forcing more blood to flow into veins that never seem to be too engorged. They squirm and pulsate like great leeches under my skin, but this is not an unattractive image, rather the contrary. My striations and vascularity are unprecedented... and I can only get bigger, stronger, and better looking.

“Your upper arms have easily passed thirty-two inches, Todd. That’s amazing.” Peter’s boner is now more pronounced. His cock easily passes ten inches hard. He is meant to be part of a new race of man, and these men will always be proud of their peckers. No place for needle-dicks here. Of course, my cock easily surpasses his by at least five more inches. And it’s still growing in proportion with my massively muscular body.

“How thick is your chest, Peter?”

“You already know my dimensions, Todd!”

“Tell me again,” I growl, demandingly. He must oblige. There is no free will in my bunker. I won’t allow it, for I am cocky to a fault; I am the Alpha... the biggest... the strongest... the GREATEST!!!

“My chest is a slim thirty-eight, Todd. I have a slender but very attractive fit body,” Peter tells me.

“You think I can get my biceps up past thirty-eight, bigger than your fucking chest?”

“Unnngh,” pants Todd, his massive trouser snake threatening to pop the buttons on his fly and spit precum all over his muscle master. “Of course, you can... and then you can get them even bigger.”

Hearing this causes me to beam with delight, growl in a most-masculine way, and flex harder, causing more blood to fucking scream into my biceps with such pressure and velocity. My bicep cannons explode with deadly force. Both biceps grow even more. I can’t believe this growth. It’s incredible. I bring my arms down to my side and then place knuckles on either side of me, above my hips. I burst out a massive lat-spread, my body transforming, bulging upwards and outwards into a gigantic delta of rock hard, mesmerizingly defined muscle flesh. I bend my head backwards so that my neck thickens and thickens, cords bulging out of it as I need to get my chin out of the way so my upper pec-shelf can thicken and expand. All the while I do this, Peter’s hands are forcibly working their way across my chest, fingertips rising and falling in and out of multiple thick and deep striations. They linger around my sensitive nipples, teasing the buds bigger and harder. They redden from his touch and from so much blood nurturing them.

“Go down along my massive torso. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I bark.

“It’s like nothing else on Earth, Todd. Your body is Utopia. You must be easily 800 lbs. or more. But you need to be over 1000 lbs. to stand a chance of getting us out of there. I feel tiny before you, my god. But you must get bigger... make me feel tinier, more insignificant. Make me want to worship you even more!”

“I give the orders, not you, runt!”

“Sorry Todd. It won’t happen again.”

“What are my abs like?”

“Harder than concrete... a perfect ten-pack, striations deep enough to hide coins in, if coinage meant anything these days.”

“Gotta get them bigger, harder... way more defined. I need to hide saucers in them, not coins.”

“You will, my god. You will!”

“Remove my pants!” I too wear Levi’s, only modified by our in-house tailors, for no ordinary pair would come close to fitting me. My waist is thirty-four inches, but my thighs are each almost forty-one around. My tailors do excellent work.

Peter gets down on his knees and begins to unbutton my jeans, relieving some of the pressure in front of my swelling genitals. I never wear underpants; there never seems to be enough room for my junk if I do. I haven’t washed since my last workout. My scent down there is warm, cloying. Peter recoils a little as a cloud of my musk affronts him briefly. Then he accepts it. My trouser snake uncoils before him, easily springing to attention.

“Fuck... it’s bigger, thicker than it was last time we did this.” Peter looks worried. Will he be able to take all this meat in its entirety? My snakehead is already leaking its venom, only my venom doesn’t poison... it invigorates.

“Take my dick into your mouth... gorge on its massiveness.”

“I will...er... gag violently, Todd.”

“Do you best not to,” I snarl.

Peter does as he’s told, his hand groping me from behind, just about able to work its fingers into the deep crack between two massive muscle-mounds that form my bubble-ass. With his other hand he works at his own impressive member, all the while deep-throating me to the best of his ability. He moans with bliss, breathing through his nose to maintain a steady supply of oxygen.

“Unngh feels so good, Peter. You are taking all my muscle-meat. Good man!”

“Akkkk....ghhhhhk,” he returns, unable to speak for now. I am content to hear those sounds as he struggles to please me. But there is just so much to me... I’m constantly growing, the hugest bodybuilder ever, about to get even huger.  

“Aw man... you know how to.... gasp... please your master,” I almost scream, as his teeth scrape along the shaft of my so-thick cock, his tongue near-constantly assaulting the sensitive buds around the skirt of the mushroom head. It throws my senses into utter reverie. I cry out, guttural, masculine... dominant. Precum dribbles in constant miniature rivers out of Peter’s mouth, squeezed from each corner. Soon he is kneeling in a small pool of the stuff. I know that as soon as I cum for real, that I will experience a vital growth spurt. How much I grow depends on how well Peter succeeds at pleasing me.

Part 2

And so, Peter continues to please me, for as I’ve already mentioned, he is my favorite. I often think about how much more pleasing to me he would be if he were in possession of muscles as huge and powerful as mine. But I cannot allow anyone to get as big as me. I must be the biggest and the strongest.  

Peter has this trick he does when sucking off my huge cock. We only discovered he could do it less than a month ago. LeStrange is a little concerned that his utopian muscle studs have begun to evolve in ways other than muscular development. So far Peter is the only one to undergo the merest metamorphosis, but can it be put down to radiation leaking into the vaults through some hairline fracture in the superstructure? Peter has a bifurcate tongue... like a snake’s, but he can also zip it up to look and act like a normal tongue. But now... now I want the snake in his mouth to do amazing things to the super-serpent that is my monster dick.

“Time to slither that fucker in, you delicious young hunkling,” I gasp and snarl all at once, my bliss ever rising to near fever pitch.

“Anything for you, amazing man,” Peter returns, also gasping. He unzips his tongue, the tip dividing into two prong-like appendages. He can do great things with these. He withdraws most of my thick, wet cock from his capacious mouth, but not all the way, concentrating his efforts on the bulbous head, and specifically the slit through which magic is wont to flow. At first, he teases the sensitive mushroom head, expertly manipulating it between the fleshy ‘limbs’ of his split tongue with great care and expertise. Every muscle in my body is flexed to near-bursting point. I need to hold in every pump I’ve given my muscles during my recent workouts.  

My body is like no other; my muscles can remain pumped for up to a week at a time. But then, knowing my lust for muscle-growth, I need to build on those held-in pumps, flexing further, harder, and stronger, lifting heavier and heavier all the time for short reps: pumps on top of fucking pumps. Think of the best orgasm you ever had in your life... then multiply that feeling by fifty and THAT’S what it feels like to be me with muscles more pumped than an entire football team before the game, or even holding in pressure greater than a volcano that threatens to erupt but never quite manages it. I am a volcano of muscle, but only Peter can really make me blow my top.

“Unnnngh.... sooooooo gooood, Peter.... rape my muscle cock with your amazing tongue,” I yell. Okay, so some of you might think: ewwww, what a terrible image. But Peter can make poetry out of a funeral dirge, trust me on this. He handles me expertly, with unprecedented loyalty. He is irrevocably bonded to me. He lives for me.... he would surely give his life to grow me further.  

One of the tongue-splits gently works itself into the slit of my cock, exciting nerve-endings that cause my entire body to shudder and then stiffen into a palsy of pain and bliss rolled into one. When your body is subjected to both sensations at once, madness may result, only my mind can make sense of both paroxysms, manipulating them, bending them to my will, so that within seconds I am feeling the greatest sexual high ever felt by a living creature. Peter’s tongue works into me further. Now I am violated, only I want it so much. I know that I shall erupt not only with insane amounts of hot, sweet jism, but my muscles shall grow like they’ve never grown before. I know this, and so does Peter. When I get big enough and strong enough, I will be able to break us all out of this maddening isolation and eventually rejoin the ADAM society as we were meant to. We were never meant to remain out of the equation for so long.

Peter is excited; I can feel his excitement thundering through his taut, beautiful flesh and into me. I welcome it. I also welcome the feeling of my massive balls swelling so huge inside their skin sack so that the skin is stretched so tight it shines. My gonads swell and throb bigger than baseballs, and all the while they do - still with his bifurcate tongue doing incredible things to the tip of my cock - Peter’s expert fingers massage and fondle my balls with complete lack of restraint. No place for restraint here, not when I’m about to achieve the greatest muscle growth of my life. I can feel it elevating, inflating inside me almost like a separate persona about to overwhelm the real me. So what if I lose to it... that my muscles should become the dominant power in my life. I don’t care.... I just want to get huger than I could ever have dreamed possible. It’s about to happen, I can feel myself swelling, thickening, and getting taller, wider, and heavier. Oh man, this is incredible. I’m going to get HUUUUGE!!!!!!

Peter removes my cock from his mouth just seconds before I blow my massive load. He knows that if he doesn’t take care he could get injured from the intensity of the blast, I’m that strong. He gets out of the way and begins to play with his cock in anticipation of the spectacle we both know is about to happen.

I scream out, unable to contain my bliss as every muscle in my body unites in a tremendous spasm that powers the flow of my cum-blast. Out of my hugely stimulated cock, a jet of hot, steaming spunk erupts and shoots across the room. The jet strikes a metal locker on the far side of the room with force enough to dent it inwards. The force of the collision sends cum splashing in all directions. The mess shall be considerable. The orgasm seems ceaseless, the gush of my juice without end. Every time I cum like this, there seems to be more and more of the stuff, as my ability to hold onto the orgasm improves with every emission. I can cum for ages if I need to. I need to now.

Peter, too, is desperate to cum, but I have taught him to hold it in unless I command him to erupt. Caught up in my own incredible orgasm, I cannot be concerned about what he is feeling at this time, but I can imagine it can’t be pleasant for him... pleasure and pain all at once (welcome to my world), the desperate need to shoot his own load, only I will not allow it... not yet. He will cum when I reach the pinnacle of my growth cycle...  

...which is about to happen...

I am engulfed in a rush of heat, my orgasm still raging through me and out of me, every surface in my domicile getting sticky with my liquid protein. For a moment I do not like the feeling, because I liken it to someone’s head exploding from too much of a blood-pressure build-up. So, I placate this feeling with expert mental manipulation... once again tapping into the amazing power of my ever-developing brain. No place for mental dormancy here... not in this utopia. Ah, but the true utopia of man’s utter survival and future can be epitomized and given a body by my tremendous powers of transformation.  

Once the heat subsides in my body, all my muscles, veins, arteries, organs, even skin, everything that I am: my utmost fabric, throbs and groans as everything shifts and swells.

My growth isn’t a gradual stream of growth either. It happens in multi-spurts, powered by dominant heartbeats. My growth happens to all my muscles simultaneously. I don’t just grow... I fucking EXPLODE!!!!!! A nearby computer scans me as I grow... my vitals and measurements project onto my body in scintillating red laser characters, cast out of several spherical beam emitters that hover almost invisibly around me.

My chest expands massively, the bones of my ribcage cracking and stretching with newfound pliability as they move out in every direction to make room for more and more growth. My pecs blow up like feeding amoebae, gorged on matter greater than their starving masses can comfortably accommodate. My pecs glut on growth and power, laser-cast numerals etch across my skin in bold crimson relief: “74 inches” .... “76 inches” ... “81 inches” .... like a neon tickertape, one that can barely keep up with my searing, soaring growth.

“Uhh, the feeling is amazing,” I gasp, my body seething, sweating, palpitating with metamorphic power. All the while I grow, Peter continues to moan with reverie of his own, although he shall not falter and succumb to cumming until I say it’s okay to do so. Our bond is unbreakable... it cannot be denied. I also realize that I am becoming smarter, my command of syntax and structure improving all the time.

Below my ever-deepening, ever-thickening overweight pecs, crescent moons of darkest shadow are cast, growing longer and downwards, hiding some of the thick cobblestone mosaic formed of my ab-bellies. To some they would be dismayed that one massive muscle group should so blatantly swell to conceal the magnitude of another, but in this case, I welcome it. My favorite muscles will always be my pecs, and so I want them bigger, heavier, way more defined, and with striations deep enough to hide one of Peter’s ever-roaming hands. Laser beams fire diminishing measurements across the brickwork of my stomach, numbers ‘ticker-taping’ in decreasing increments in contrast to the ever-increasing dimensions occurring elsewhere across my incredible and hyper-sexy jizzed-out physique: “36 inches” … “34 inches” ... “33 inches”. My waist now stabilizes at a waspish 32 inches. I could not be happier, more fucking boned by my unprecedented measurements. But even as my waist tightens, so my ab bricks become harder, denser, the laser light rising and dipping as it travels across my abdomen, occasionally being swallowed up by the deep and dark gullies separating each belly from its brothers, only to reappear bright and bold across my glistening, musky skin. I flex my abs and intercostals, tightening my waist further. Veins erupt across my stomach, my Apollo’s belt thickening and deepening to mesmerizing proportions, now festooned with highways of interconnecting vessels through which protein-charged blood, testosterone and adrenaline mix and surge.

I momentarily gasp at the new size, weight, and thickness of my muscle-tits.  

“Puh-pleeese, Todd.... let me cum.... I (gasp)... cannot maintain it much longer,” appeals Peter. But I am resolute in my command of him. He will cum only when I allow it. As I play with the heft and depth of my pecs, I tease out my nips, tweaking them hard so that they expand, thicken and surge hugely on the massive balloon-pecs to which they provide crowning glory. As I grow faster and faster, completely caught up in the ecstasy of my evolution, I squeeze the hulkish brutes of my breast muscles together, forcing the striations across each to deepen and darken... more blood coursing into every tissue fiber, and my nips to grow huger, thicker, twice the circumference of a man’s thumb. I want more growth....

“More......I want MORE!!!!!!!!!!! RAAAAWWWWWR!!!!” My exultation is almost pantomime in its delivery, for it, too, is an empowerment, one that shall fuel my growth further and further. I crab down into a most muscular, forcing more and more growth and nourishment into my muscles, now my arms more so. The laser light numerals dwell on my biceps for a time, recoding their increase in size as I flex them into the biggest muscle-balls a man shall ever sport... until I decide I want them even bigger again.... “38 inches” … “41 inches” … “46 inches” ... FIFTY FUCKING INCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

My arms are now bigger than my thighs were before my growth; my forearms now almost match the width of my thighs at the outset of this transformation. I squeeze out more definition and size, leaning into the flexing, so that my vast bodyweight pushes against the muscle growth, causing even more of a growth reaction.

The muscles of my legs heave and ripple with the most effortless of exertions. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, delighting at the feeling of how easily my legs take my weight as it shifts left to right. I want more and more.... this is incredible. It must NEVER end, not if I stand a chance at bodybuilding my way out of this annex. And then, even as I struggle to see over the massive promontory that has become of my chest wall, I can feel as well as just about make out, the awesome expansion of my monster dick. The scanners are struggling to keep up with recording my fast and furious muscle growth. And there is more to explore, but as the computer shuts down into diagnostic mode to reboot, I know that I am still not done with growing, not by a massive amount yet.

“Have to.... cuh-cum, Tuh-Todd,” tears now streaming from the eyes of an imploring Peter. I could do with an infusion of protein right about now... to further fuel my growth. I lick my lips in yearning anticipation.

“Come to me.... CUM into me!!!!!” I command.

And so, he tends to me as I continue to increase in size and weight and awesome muscularity. My weight has exceeded 1000 lbs., but I still feel small, even though I now tower over the one who is most bonded to me. As I hulk out a hundred more pounds of thick, manly muscle onto my gigantic bodybuilder’s frame, I effortlessly pick up Peter, feeling him to be weightless in my hands, I’m now THAT strong. As his body begins to jerk from the spasms of orgasm, I lift his stiff, engorged prick to my hungry lips and taste of the sweet juice he is powerless to keep as his own.

********************************

This is all there is.  I don't know if this was meant to be the first part of a longer story, or if it was meant to be a "cum quickie" and end here.  I think it works well as it stands.

  • Like 12
  • Thanks 1
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..