Growth Beyond Reason by LORUS - Final chapter added on 9/14/22

[FallenAway]

I am reposting another one of the stories LORUS wrote many years ago.  In fact, this may be the first muscle-growth story he ever wrote if my memory can be trusted.  It was deleted from the old forum long ago, but I had it saved on my hard drive and LORUS gave me permission to post it.  It's fairly long, with ten chapters total.  I will post a couple of chapters on this same thread every few days. Enjoy!  

Growth Beyond Reason by LORUS

Part 1

Mark Stone hated two things in life more than any other. He hated working at his uncle’s convenience store because he felt that if his life didn’t change for the better, and soon, he’d be selling winos cheap liquor in paper bags until he was old and grey.  

He needed to start planning big, thinking big. He’d dropped out of college after his first year because he wasn’t motivated enough to exceed the standards expected of him. Motivation was a big problem for him. The sheer lack of it was to blame for the second thing he hated in life more than any other: his skinny, unattractive body.  

Okay, so maybe he was being hard on himself. He was quite cute. He had mousy brown hair that he wore just long enough so that he could re-work it with styling gum into all manner of configurations. He had attractive brown eyes, not too big, not too small - just right. His face was pretty to look at but recently he’d had flu and was just getting over it. His cheeks were a little sunken and he’d lost weight during his two-week illness.  Normally he weighed in at 135, standing just five feet ten inches in height. He was pretty scrawny, but at least not pathetically so.

This morning, as he got ready for work, he used the scales in the bathroom to check his weight once again. It wasn’t something he normally did; it was his mother’s scale. His mother, a devout Oprah-ite, was always trying out the latest fad diet, be it in book or in pill form. Mark never took after his mother’s side of the family, the side where weight could be a problem, but in fat terms. His father’s genetics likened him to the scrawny side of the gene-pool. This morning the readout on the scale said 133 lbs. Mark chewed his lip from a mixture of despair and nervousness.  

“I wish I were big,” he lamented as he finished dressing so that his mother could start cleaning the bathroom. Breakfast consisted of a pop-tart and a swig of milk from the carton. Then he was on his way, biking the three blocks downtown to Al’s Convenience Store. Wow, Mark thought, my uncle must have been up all night trying to crap on the john thinking of that one.  

It was a warm summer’s morning. Mark loved it when it was sunny, with so many audacious jock types going around shirtless, with their cobblestone stomachs and beautifully swollen chest muscles. So much eye candy - so much to look at but never to touch.  

Mark had never had a boyfriend. He put it down to being shy and never feeling confident enough about his body. He’d come close to asking a boy out once at high school. His name was Trey, and he was the school’s star quarterback and Mister Popularity, despite that he was completely open about his gay sexuality, bold and confident about everything in his life. Mark was smitten with him. And although he hadn’t seen Trey Waters in almost four years (he heard that he landed a football scholarship to a prestigious college up North), he often fantasized about him and wondered how he might look today. Obviously, football had not been his game in the end; otherwise, he might have become a big noise in sports circles. Trey Waters’ beautiful face and body had yet to adorn the cover of Men’s Fitness. But since Mark worked in a convenience store that stocked fitness and bodybuilding magazines, he was never short of good jizz-material when his uncle wasn’t keeping an eye on him.

Something was different this morning. He chained his bike in its usual place and stood outside the store, about to open. Something was going on across the street. Lots of people were standing around and shaking their heads in disbelief. A building had apparently appeared overnight. It was so strange. The day before, the lot directly across from the convenience store had been empty, nothing more than idle asphalt surrounded by wooden fencing. It had once been a movie theatre but had been demolished some time ago. His curiosity piqued, Mark walked over to a man who stood, like many others, talking speculatively about the Shapeshifters Gym that now filled every inch of that once vacant lot.

“How did that get here?” Mark’s question was obvious.

The man responded without looking at him. “Norm Winterborn said it came in sections, on four massive trucks. And they just latched it together in a trice. Just like that,” the man snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Wow, a gym right across from the store, Mark thought excitedly. There was only one gym in town already, but it was nothing like this. For one, it was across town and two, it catered mostly for overweight people trying to get into shape. His mother was a member. This Shapeshifters, as the sign displayed, was a hardcore bodybuilding Mecca. Mark knew that for there were bodybuilders already on-site, obviously from the construction team that ‘lashed’ the gym together in just a few hours, and during the night at that. One other man commented on the size of the men, suggesting that they might have put the pieces together with their bare hands. Mark had yet to get a decent look at the four Adonises, for he was not close enough, and besides he had to get the store open, or Al would tan his hide.

He had the shop set up and ready for business within minutes. He had to go through the papers and sort them out along with the magazines. The new Men’s Fitness was in this morning. He took time to flick through it, picking out the pictures he would masturbate to later, in the staffroom in the back, where he ate his lunch usually. As usual, no “Trey Waters: football stud” adorned the front page. Trey’s life had obviously gone in a different direction after he left high school. Maybe he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, a career in sports and fitness now just a memory to him.

Oh well, I will always have my fantasies, Mark thought to himself as he took a copy of Muscle and Fitness to his chair behind the counter so he could flick through it while on the job. It wasn’t a busy morning. Al was away on a trip to try out a new brand of beer that wasn’t yet on the market, any excuse for the old fart to get free booze.  

Mark was able to serve the regular customers easily enough and without getting too stressed. Once the morning coffee and newspaper rush was over, he could relax a little. His shift would end at five pm, and then Rick, the fat night-guy would take over until closing time at eleven sharp. Mark hated Rick. He was obese and obnoxious and had a body odor problem. Enough said. At approximately ten minutes to eleven that morning, Mark’s life was about to change, and for the better. It began when a large shadow suddenly fell over him. He was lost in an article in Muscle and Fitness about nutrition and had his head down, his long fringe creating a temporary curtain to draw his attention away from this most unforgettable of customers.

“Where are your bodybuilding magazines?” the shadow-casting customer inquired somewhat gruffly. Mark froze before looking up, doing a quick recap in his head about the unusual circumstances of the past morning. Okay, so a gym built in sections by just four huge men had happened that morning. And now someone was in asking for bodybuilding magazines. There was a gay bar on the same block. It was probably another homosexual man in to get his jizz-fix. A real hardcore bodybuilder had never been into the store before. That just changed. No wonder the shadow that he cast was large. Mark looked up just as the man was walking towards the magazine rack that he only just spotted. Instantly Mark’s jeans tented out in the crotch. This man wasn’t just a bodybuilder; he was bodyBUILT!!!!

“Uhh, they’re on the middle shelf, tuh-to the luh-left,” Mark said, trying not to stammer and give away his nervousness. He was in the presence of a muscle god, an absolute behemoth. He could only see him from behind as the giant muscleman began to scan through the magazines. As he did, he grabbed a couple of chocolate frosted donuts from their display cabinet to his right and wolfed them down whole. “I’ll pay for those when I get my magazine,” he explained, still with a manly huskiness to his voice. It reminded Mark of the way Christian Bale spoke as Batman in The Dark Knight, kind of overstressed at times, but irresistibly masculine. Wow, Mark thought, he’s so big that he can eat anything. He’s probably going into his off-season.

Mark couldn’t believe how huge this man was. He took him in from head to toe, safe in the knowledge that this uber-Adonis hadn’t got eyes in the back of his head. His hair was blonde and tight, crew-cut like in the military or something. His bullish neck had to be almost a foot in width, and it connected with the rhomboid major muscles that swept down and into a delta-wedge back that was simply majestic. His shoulders were huge and rounded, making Mark guess that he had to have been six feet wide at the shoulders. Despite that his lats were huge to the extent they forced his arms out on either side (that classic bodybuilder stance times ten), his back tapered down to a contrastingly diminutive waist which was impossible to guess the size of. Thirty-one maybe? But what did that make his chest? At a guess it must be at least three times that number.

His balloon-ball butt was huge, the glutes massively developed, and the denim cut-offs he wore only accentuated the shape even more. The shorts had button-flap pockets and the curvature of the ass was so great that the pocket flaps were lying almost horizontally. Mark reckoned that were the guy to squeeze hard enough, he’d pop the buttons right off like cannon-fire. His thighs were like pillars, bloated and beautifully shaped, tapering down to where his legs bent at their middles, only to balloon outward into enormous geometrically precise diamond calves. Each calf was the size of a football.

The guy seemed to be enjoying whatever magazine had caught his interest. Without looking up from his reading, he cleared another couple of donuts out of the cabinet and killed them quickly. Mark was mesmerized. He loved the way the huge fellah wore his second-skin red shirt as a cut-off, strategically cut about mid-way down, making it seem as if he was outgrowing his clothes and obviously to maximize on his incredible size and shape.

“I’ll pay for those too,” the man said, referring to the third and fourth donut. Mark couldn’t help himself. He was getting this on his camera phone to preserve for all eternity. This would be better than any jizz-mag, watching this massive guy on his PC for years to come. Pity it would only be from the back, for he would have to kill the phone before the guy caught him filming him. Then Mark remembered the surveillance cameras in the store. There were four of them, set to pick up everything. Oh God, Mark thought worriedly, did I forget to change the tape this morning? If it turned out that the cameras were taking in the bodybuilder from four different angles, Mark would have jizz material for years to come.  

All of this took about three minutes. Finally, the guy picked an issue of FLEX and a bunch of bananas and muscle-strutted to the counter to pay for them. Mark took one look at him now that he could see his face. He was beautiful. Blue eyes, chiseled jawline punctuated perfectly by that “I know I’m fucking hot!” expression of smugness that huge bodybuilders often displayed as their preferred facial expression. This guy was huge enough to be super smug. He flared his lats a little and bounced his pecs twice as he laid his purchases on the counter to be rung up. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t shy and unimposing little Mark Stone. Long time no see, Stony,” the bodybuilder said, raising his arms and pumping himself up to his most huge. His pecs lifted several inches above his super-developed stomach, causing the fabric of his cut-off shirt to strain so that the buttons struggled to stay put.

Trey Waters had come back to his hometown. And he was the biggest hulking bodybuilder on the face of the Earth.

Part 2

Mark was completely stunned at the sight of his greatest fantasy made flesh before him. He had forgotten that he was holding up his camera phone, the protective cover clearly pushed away from the lens that drank in the vision of Trey Waters: the massively muscled stud almost as much as Mark did with his eyes. Trey acknowledged that and smirked with a mixture of delight and conceit. He raised his hands up to nipple height and made two fists. Immediately thick networks of dark, gorged veins rose from his ham-shank forearms and Mark thought he could actually hear the sound of Trey’s wafer-thin skin groaning against the pressure caused by the power-ravenous tissues beneath.

“I’m suh-sorry, Trey...it just happened to be on...and I just...” Mark’s excuse was lame. Why would he have his camera phone set to record just because an exceptional item of interest had entered the most mundane place on Earth? Still smirking, by now Trey was giving off pheromones like wildfire: an invisible miasma of sweat mixed with testosterone and musk. It was intoxicating. Mark began to sway on his feet and had to sit back on the seat next to the till.

“Can’t let you keep this, Stony,” said Trey, without a hint of regret for what he was about to do. A huge hand grabbed the camera phone out of a transfixed Mark’s feeble grasp, and what happened next caused his erection to become even more pronounced inside his jeans. Trey placed the phone between pec cleavage deeper than any woman’s or even any super-heavyweight bodybuilder’s. It stayed put quite easily, for the mounds of his heart-muscles were dense and thick, swollen with blood and almost crackling with glycogen.

His smirk broadened considerably as he flexed into a most-muscular pose. His trapezius muscles bulged tall, almost seeming to push his collar bones down as they demanded space to grow. Between them, on either side of his throat, the cord-like omohyoid/sternohyoid structures thickened and substantiated beyond what nature had ever intended of them. His deltoids dwelled into a triple-head configuration as his triceps blasted outward almost as far as his biceps bulged inwards, helping to unite his pecs closer as the muscles of his upper body fought against each other for the right to exist. Every muscle was sharply, shockingly defined beyond what a sane mind could comprehend.

Between Trey’s enormous, thickly striated pectorals, Mark’s phone was crushed to tiny bits. Not only that, something else was happening - something more extraordinary than the sheer presence demonstrated by Trey’s size. He was growing; this phenomenal spurt of sumptuous expansion was punctuated perfectly not only by the crushed phone, but by a blatantly audible tearing noise, like lightning striking the sail of a ship, rending it apart with an ear-splitting crack. The red cut-off shirt was destroyed at the back as Trey’s lats gorged on blood and pushed outward, beyond the ability for the shirt’s fibers to resist.

“Oh yeah, better than yesterday’s reaction...damn hot!? Trey flexed even more, and the short sleeves of his shirt lost their battle against his advancing biceps. As his biceps pushed further out in the opposite direction to his tris, the material of his already clinging shirt could take the strain no longer. It came apart, fibers separating to such a fine degree they floated on the air for a moment like mist, helping to secure this moment in time as something that felt close to timeless. Mark and Trey were separated only by the shop counter. He could have reached out to touch Trey’s flesh had his lust become so strong. But self-preservation kicked in, for there was no telling how Trey would react should Mark try something like that.

“And now the money shot,” Trey barked, deciding to send the shirt to Shirt Heaven in a major show of muscle flexing. Before the shirt was destroyed completely at the front, Trey made a full lat-spread, his biggest ever, although Mark was not to know that. Delta wings flared out beneath each arm, so much so there was little room for his biceps to expand further, but expand they did, emphasized by the massive ropy veins that almost split each bicep in two. His pecs seethed with growth and power and buttons pinged in all directions as the heart muscles shredded the cloth and were exposed to the world. The greatest show-spectacle of all time had been revealed from behind a red curtain to a completely captivated audience.

“I’m getting huuuuge!” Trey barked in triumph and sheer defiance of nature. In fact, it might be argued that the behemoth made man was laughing in the very face of Nature’s design. How could this be happening? Mark was overwhelmed by the spectacle and couldn’t form a coherent thought in his head. Man-lust had taken him over. But man-lust in the face a god in male form. How could Trey have gotten like this in just four years? It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a drug known to science that could augment the male physique to such an exaggerated degree, was there?

With the last of the shirt finally lying in a tattered mess at his feet, Trey Waters pressed his groin firmly against the side of the counter facing outward and flexed just two feet from Mark’s head, a head that was now dizzy from so much blood coursing through it. “How big do you think I am, Stony?” The quiz was meant to intimidate and stimulate all at once. Trey seemed to get off on showing his muscles to an inferiorly built male whilst simultaneously getting the spectator so boned up with lust. But what good was being served here? Who would get off the furthest and to what end?

Trey made a side chest pose, his pecs heaving upwards and outwards, each globe forming a half dozen inch-deep striations (stacked about an inch to two inches apart) across their masses. As he flexed and shaped his shelf to utter magnificence, Mark could almost swear that the muscle between the striations was bulging outwards as Trey’s exhibition excited his heart more and more, forcing it - demanding - that it pump harder and faster to feed his muscles with the blood they needed to grow further still.

“Answer my fucking question, midget!” The antagonism in Trey’s voice was apparent and threatening. He’d never been like this back in high school. Sure, he was a jock who loved to play football and lift weights. But back then he was a robust 200 pounds, standing six feet one inches in height. Ok, so maybe some kind of steroid was making his muscles grow, but how could that explain his increase in height? At a guess Mark reckoned Trey to be around four inches taller since his senior year. Then again, he needed to be tall to be able to carry so much amazing muscle.

“Uh, thuh-three huh-hundred?” Mark couldn’t contain his stammer. He felt light-headed, far too warm, and the room started to spin. It was intoxicating. Trey’s musk inflamed his senses, and he could feel his balls about to give up their creme.

“You fucking ass,” Trey interjected sharply, not giving Mark a chance to finish. He pushed against the counter, causing candy bars to go soaring. The counter moved in by about a foot and a half, slamming Mark on his swivel chair into a shelf of liquor bottles behind him. A few fell and smashed as Mark’s heart missed more than one beat. Trey made another most muscular and inches were immediately added to his shoulders, arms, and chest. The watch on his left wrist fell away as the strap was split apart. Then more tearing of cloth was heard with whip-cracking force as Trey’s denim cut-offs failed to contain the additional augmentation occurring below his waist.

“I’m way heavier than three hundred. Try five hundred and six pounds, you infant.” And then with a smirk and an afterthought he added, “...but not for much longer!” Something smashed through the front facing of the counter, blasting through the wood. Denim continued to be destroyed and metal buttons from the flies shot in all directions. One brought down a stack of pet food cans near the main door. Another hit the ultra-violet fly-zapper over the cold meats counter. Where the others went was a mystery. “Unnngh, that feels so fucking good, to let the wee man go free,” Trey exclaimed, arching his upper body away from the counter and leaning his head back as he momentarily gazed upward. His neck flexed thicker than ever. How many inches it was in diameter was a mystery, but Mark guessed it was at least thirty. Wow, he thought as his stupor of lust continued to hold him hostage, my own waist is only twenty-eight. Trey’s neck is thicker than my goddamn waist. This is beyond reason.

With his head thrown back and upper body leaning away from the counter, Trey’s mountainous pecs heaved upwards some more, so engorged were they that for a moment he appeared headless. The pecs blocked his neck and head from view. Mark was immediately drawn to the giant’s nipples, each one as big as the tip of his thumb and set in brown areolas the size of silver dollars. The nipples, like everything else on the behemoth, seemed like they were growing still further. Trey's torso was completely hairless, and his body glistened with the sweat brought on by his incredible increase in physical mass. Within two minutes he had swelled to at least twice the size he had been when he entered. He was enormous. But something inside Mark, some primal, innate instinct geared up on lust and his necessity to cum, something that maybe was tripped in him by Trey’s increasing size, told him that the muscle giant's growth was far from finished.

But then the growth seemed to slow down and eventually stop. It was only then that Mark suddenly snapped out of his reverie and took stock of his situation. The slide-door to the storage compartment beneath the counter was split apart and the contents within pushed out onto the floor (just a couple of pricing guns, spare sticker cartridges and some rolls for the Visa machine). What had done the pushing out became evident to Mark as he slipped into a sitting position on his side of the counter and struggled to make sense of what he could see sticking through from the customer side. It was Trey’s monster cock, an organ of immense proportions, and strong, too, judging by the force of its expansion and how it made mincemeat of the counter wall. Time seemed inconsistent with reality now. Dust motes on the air seemed to hang with an almost eerie calm. The sounds of life beyond the walls of the store seemed muffled and more distant than usual. There were no sounds or movement coming from Trey. He was still connected with the counter, his back arched backwards and his arms akimbo, the muscles incredibly flexed and gluttonous with blood that seemed no longer to pulse beneath the veined super-highway across most of Trey’s massive frame.

“Trey...you...okay?” Terror engulfed Mark, replacing the lust previously besieging him. For the sake of his own safety, he made it to his feet after crawling from behind the counter but in a way that put him a safe distance from Trey and closer to the main door, his only route of escape. It was there that he noticed the customer, frozen in time as she attempted to enter the store. What in hell was going on? Mark felt panicky, gorge rising in his gut. The woman was Mrs. Ching, a regular of the establishment, who always came in on weekday mornings around the same time to buy some bread rolls. If she were to catch sight of a naked muscle hulk apparently making love to the counter, like the one here now, there was no telling what it would do to her sixty-year-old heart. But the woman seemed frozen in time, just like Trey.

“Time stands still when Trey flexed to maximum,” Mark said aloud as he gently eased Mrs. Ching out the front door so that he could securely lock it and pull down the blind to create some privacy. “Wait a sec, what am I doing?” This was a personal state of emergency. There was no telling how strong Trey was, or what he could do to Mark should his muscle-lust become unhinged. Now was Mark’s chance to get away. But something caused him to stay put. His cock continued to twitch inside his pants. Mark removed his apron to give himself some freedom, stimulating his genitals by massaging them vigorously. He moaned in delight as bliss replaced his fear. If Trey was as frozen as the rest of the world due to an inexplicable phenomenon, then Mark would have his play. And there was nothing Trey would be able to do about it.  

Mark found himself moving closer to the frozen god, now within touching distance. The remains of the denim cut-offs lay in disarray around Trey’s size sixteen feet. A big man needed big feet, after all. He was completely naked now, having worn his cut-offs commando style. Nice, Mark thought. Trey’s thighs were enormous, way bigger than they had been just minutes before. “If only I had a tape measure,” he said in annoyance. He knew his uncle kept one somewhere, but he wasn’t about to go fetch it now. He just wanted to touch every inch of Trey’s mega-muscular body, to trace the contours of every striation, every point of one muscle separating from another. He wanted to know those nipples with his tongue, and especially experience what Trey’s monster cock was like fully erect, if he were away from the smashed counter.

“Does this mean I’m in control now, free to do with Trey as I please? Did he stop time or did I, somehow, in some fluke act of desperation?” Mark couldn’t answer these questions. He didn’t know how long this effect would last, but should it be temporary, he was determined to make the most of it. He moved around to the frozen Trey’s rear, gasping at the sight of the biggest, bubbliest butt he had ever seen. The glute muscles were beyond exaggeration, if such a term were accurate. How in contrast the butt appeared, next to the graceful taper of a waist upon which such a massive upper body was perched, like a great wedge of rock standing freely on its tiniest point, yet strong and unyielding. Mark touched the striated muscle there and could not believe how hard and dense it felt. His hands roamed freely over the topography of the massive delta that was Trey’s back. His fingers played with every contour like charcoal to the parchment of a brass rubbing. The muscle was hard as granite or steel, his flesh so soft against it. It was a delicious union formed by a contrast that worked with perfection in mind.  

Mark hastened to get naked behind the frozen Trey so that he could explore him internally as well. His cock was one of his better features. Not porn-star huge by any means, but a good seven and three-quarter inches when fully erect. Mark jerked himself off for a few seconds and lathered up his cock with spit before he guided it less than expertly into the deep cleft of Trey’s rectum. And there he dwelled for a time, pumping smoothly and rhythmically, moaning with nothing short of ecstasy, but wishing Trey could reciprocate in some way. Gradually, as Mark’s pleasure rose to fever-pitch, to a point where he could contain himself no longer, he shot his cream into Trey, holding on to his waist for balance. He looked upwards, seeing the back of Trey’s head as frozen as the rest of him, and wished he could kiss his beautiful lips. Instead, he tongued and kissed the wide expanse of his back, with no shortage of flesh to further enflame his senses.  

The orgasm was all too brief, and Mark felt the mood passing without the time upon which it had formed. How he could be immune to this phenomenon defied explanation, but he decided suddenly that should time start over once again, it would do him no good to greet it in the buff. He dressed hastily, splashed some cold bottled water on his face and set about getting himself organized. Something had to be done about Trey, locked out of time. But what had become of the rest of the world? “Time manipulation? Trey has to be part of it. He must be from the gym across the street. If these guys can make time bend to their will, that would explain how the gym managed to appear seemingly overnight. Hmmm.” Mark always had a liking for science-fiction. Hopefully, as he investigated this, such a penchant for the weird and the wonderful would serve him well (his mind shifted to being inside Trey once more, shooting his load upward and into the deepest recesses of the muscle-god). It was time to leave the store and venture outside. Whatever was going on, maybe the answers would be found at Shapeshifters across the street.

To be continued . . .

[DawnFire98]

My curiosity is piqued and I hope to read more about this tale  

[Ro20316]

Wait wht?

The part where time stoped got me shook.

I need more

[mario2007]

This was REALLY good!

[FallenAway]

Continued from above . . .

Part 3

“What happened to the sun?” Mark gazed skyward, offended by the strange reek of something foul in the air, something unnatural. There was a thin yellowish mist hanging in the air. The sun was still there, but the mist was very good at diffusing it to the point where Mark was able to gaze upward without being blinded. The scene was like something out of a weird movie in the vein of David Lynch, or Terry Gilliam’s weirder offerings. He couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of him, but immediately upon exiting Al’s, he pinpointed six petrified individuals, all completely unaware that anything bad had happened to them. So far, they were preserved, locked in time, so it could be argued at this point as to whether they were in any danger at all.  

 But Mark wasn’t interested in those caught in the cloying mist’s web. His sole intention was to cross the street - moving between the townsfolk - to get to Shapeshifters, the mysterious gym that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Hadn’t someone said something about Norm Winterborn saying that he saw the whole thing delivered in sections and carried here on four massive trucks? But Norm Winterborn was seldom sober these days, ever since his Martha passed on. It was probable to assume that he’d been hallucinating. But that didn’t explain why things had suddenly gone Silent Hill.

Through the diffusion Mark went, approaching the sinister Shapeshifters with caution and unease, along with an irresistible desire to get to the bottom of this mystery. He couldn’t stop thinking about Trey and grew horny once more. He was half-tempted to do a U-turn back to Al’s to have his way with the giant bodybuilder once again. He paused to read the free-standing sign in the small parking lot. It just said “Shapeshifters” and nothing else. The word “GYM” was nowhere to be found, although there was ample space on the sign for it to be added later. However, the word “later” implied the concept of time, and at this point time did not apply. Mark’s head started to get giddy as it played with paradoxical concepts. The second huge bodybuilder he’d seen that day suddenly appeared through the mist, which strangely seemed thicker nearer to the gym, as though the edifice was the source of it. He was also frozen in time and nowhere near the size and level of development that Mark had recently witnessed in Trey Waters.  

Mark had to check him out up close. The man was Hispanic, perhaps eight to ten years older than Trey, sporting a well-trimmed goatee as the centerpiece to a slightly cleft chin. His features were dark and rugged, and he was even more handsome than Trey, although if Mark were to guess, Trey in muscle terms had a good 150 pounds on this fellah. Time-locked like everyone and everything else, the Hispanic had been doing some work on an exterior electrical panel situated near to the left gable end of the roughly barn-shaped building. One hand was pressed against the wall for support, whilst the other worked with a screwdriver to release what looked like an inner protective metal cover in front of a circuit board. The bodybuilder wore full length jeans, unlike Trey’s cut-offs, but there were already signs that the 501s were under great stress from the massive musculature pressurized within. Had time not frozen when it did, a dual quadriceps/hamstring powder-keg might have gone off, peppering the small parking lot in denim confetti. His bubble butt was beautiful and deliciously curved. The central seam that ran down the seat of the jeans had been gorged on by the muscle cheeks on either side, drawn into the crack in a way that enhanced the amazing contours of the glutes on either side. The jeans were so tight across the bodybuilder’s ass that the pressure to keep the wallet contained in his right rear pocket was like a spring-loaded trap, set to go off at any minute. The wallet was half in/half out of the pocket. For fun Mark slapped the Hispanic on the right side of his ass, where the muscle dimpled inward from so much flexing, and the wallet shot upwards like toast out of a toaster. Mark caught it easily and wasted no time in opening it up.

“Ok then, you amazing stud. Before I pull down those jeans of yours and make your ass mine, let’s see who, or maybe even what, the fuck I’m dealing with.” Of course, being frozen, the muscleman couldn’t respond in any way. Mark could never have acted so recklessly - driven by curiosity and (mostly) muscle-lust - had time been moving ever forward. “Raul Ortega: Certified Personal Trainer, Shapeshifters Body Enhancement Emporiums, a division of the MR Utopian Collective,” Mark read aloud, turning the business card over in his hand in case something else had been written there. The card said nothing else. There was no fax or email address, not even a solitary phone number. If this was a legitimate business practice that often facilitated the handing out of business cards, then why were there no means of communication listed? “Curiouser and curiouser, thought Alice,” said Mark as he looked for other things in Raul’s wallet. That was strange in itself. There was nothing else in there except a wad of paper money. There was no driver’s license or social security number. No kidney donor card. No ATM or credit cards. There was nothing else to prove that the name on the card belonged to this man, except maybe his features that seemed to match his Hispanic name.  

Mark dropped the wallet and decided to have his fun. Petrified Raul had been working shirtless before the time-lock. His widely wedge-shaped back was toasted a healthy bronze like the rest of him, glistening where a thin film of mist had condensed despite the diffusion. With his arms positioned in front of him, his thickly proportioned lats were trained forward on either side, like the wings of some mythic and handsome beast of lore partially folded in a forward sweep. Mark’s cock uncoiled suddenly as lust began to rev up his body, sending blood coursing to the parts of him that mattered most at this time (that word again which no longer applied). “You are so amazing, Raul. I don’t know where I’m getting this confidence from, but maybe I got it after I fucked your buddy, Trey. I’m starting to come out of my timid shell, you might say. Or you would say, were you able to talk.” Mark felt up Raul’s lats, marveling in their thickness and depth, reveling in how they tapered down to a waist even smaller than Trey’s. He went to his external obliques, delighting at how they seemed permanently flexed and striated. They were tough enough to grate cheese on, as were the ten-pack of his abs that lured Mark’s probing fingers as a wounded mammal would a ravenous predator.

“Fuck Raul, I could hide coins between your abs and never find them again,” Mark exclaimed, as excitement and lust grew in him in equal but overpowering measures. “You’re not as big as Trey. He’s a monster. I wonder how that makes you feel, having a buddy who out-muscles you in just about every way imaginable.? And as an afterthought he added: Assuming the two of you are buddies at all.” Mark slipped down to his knees so he could bite Raul’s ass for a time, astounded at how his teeth couldn’t close on any flesh or denim, for the jeans were stretched so tightly across an ass as tough as titanium. That was easily rectified. He slipped his hands around to the front of the 501s and undid them, turned on by the fact the buttons practically blasted open like bullet-fire, such was the pressure caused by the meat pushing against them from within. Mark pulled down the jeans as far as they would go, finding it an effort to unpeel such enormous thighs from the blue skin that coated them. If Raul weighed more than 350 pounds, then his thighs had to be at least thirty-five to forty inches around as a rough estimate. Raul, like Trey, was completely hairless from the neck down. His butt - now encased only in a pair of black Calvin Klein’s - was easier to feel, and Mark made short work of getting the boxer briefs down also.  

Raul’s thighs were deeply striated, vascular beyond belief and with veins that stuck out with such a stark illusion of separation from the skin they suckled, it seemed as though the skin had been placed down first and their conduits providing it nourishment second. Mark loved veins on bodybuilders, the more prominent the better. To him bigger veins meant bigger muscles. “And now your manhood must be experienced before I venture further into the Land of Bliss that is your body, Raul.” Like Trey, the petrified Raul Ortega had been frozen during the carrying out of a menial labor, so his body was turned in towards the panel he’d been unscrewing. That meant that Mark was unable to turn him about so that he could feast on him from the front. No matter, Raul’s massive thighs were akimbo just enough for Mark to get a skinny arm through to fondle his prick and balls. “You’re not as big as Trey down there either. That must make you pretty pissed off.”

Mark wasted no more time (despite that he had all the time in the world in paradoxical terms). He wanted to be inside Raul. Just because these behemoth bodybuilders couldn’t reciprocate interest in Mark, he could still sear them with his seed. Just that very morning Mark had considered himself scrawny. He was 133 pounds and submissive because of it. But without time flowing as a constant in the universe (there was no way to gauge just how far this phenomenon stretched), he was a master of the sexual victory, a dominator of gigantic bodybuilders with muscles that refused to be small. More confidently than with Trey, his lust rising to fever-pitch once again, Mark loaded his meat into Raul, only Raul’s ass was less yielding than Trey’s had been. But with lubrication made from spit and man-lust combined, Mark managed to fuck Raul with vigor. Backwards and forwards Mark rode, whipping himself into a lather of sweat and musk, inviting precum to act as further lubrication, spurring him on, raping the shit out of a powerful man who just happened to be powerless to do anything to counter Mark’s invasion.

“So good...so fucking good!!!!” Mark was screaming now. There was no containing the bliss that sprung from his lust and the stimulation of his cock rampaging back and forth between a tight but barely accessible muscle-crack. It was electrifying to say the least. Yes: electrifying. Mark’s body began to tingle now as he raped frozen Raul. The Hispanic, as oblivious to his defilement as Trey earlier, nevertheless started to give something in return. Could it be to do with him being in contact with an electrical panel laid bare before them? But surely the screwdriver’s plastic and rubber handle would prevent such a thing. As Mark ejaculated, not quite off-loading as much cum into Raul as he had Trey, another sensation quickly overwhelmed any feeling of ecstasy he should have felt. “Fuck no!!!” The discharged electricity came somewhere from within Raul and travelled along Mark’s dick and into his body proper. The surge knocked him backwards, separating him from Raul. Mark lost his balance and fell onto his back, narrowly escaping asphalt to the back of his head. He lost his erection almost instantly. He rolled onto his stomach straight away and tried to get up. The mist was thicker around the building and Mark staggered through it, although his legs felt wobbly from the shock. “Whuh-what happened?” Of course, no one heard his question to volunteer an answer. But this was a lesson learnt. He had given in to his lust, allowing it to cloud his judgement. He had come to Shapeshifters to find out what was going on, not to succumb to carnal temptation.

He gave himself a moment to compose himself before pulling himself together and buttoning his flies. It was time to venture into the gym itself. Still tingling somewhat from the shock, Mark was careful not to touch anything. He elbowed his way through the glass-door entrance and into the dimly lit interior. Now out of earshot with the outside, he failed to hear the screwdriver falling out of Raul’s frozen grip, only to strike the metal toolbox directly below.

The interior of Shapeshifters was virtually bare, lacking that ‘populated’ feel of buildings that had yet to see its matting made threadbare. It was sterile and devoid of character. Mark decided to start with the circular reception booth that formed the lobby’s centerpiece. To the left was a small seating area and vending machines, the latter yet to be stocked with power bars and isotonic energy drinks. Beyond that was a glass partition that saw through to a large recreational pool with hydrotherapy side-pods, all spanking new and yet to be filled with chlorinated water. Mark leaned over the counter and looked about. There was nothing of use to him whatsoever, nothing that might shed light on the mystery that was Shapeshifters and the weird effects its arrival had had on a typically mundane town.

“Wait a sec, what’s this?” He decided to check further and moved inside the circular reception desk. There was a solitary computer as was standard in all receptions. But this one looked unusual, in the sense that it had a ‘cheapness’ about it, as though it were nothing more than - a prop! Indeed, the computer was fake, sporting no brand name whatsoever. Mark traced the keyboard cable to the tower beneath the desktop. And it simply was a tower. Simply pushing it with his hand revealed that it was devoid of the innards that made everything work. More examination of the sparse lobby area further exposed the sham that was Shapeshifters. On shelves adjacent to the men’s locker room, large drums of whey protein and other powdered or capsulated supplements were simply empty containers, there for show only. “I need to take a leak,” Mark decided and pushed his way through to the locker room to use the toilet. The door closed behind him just before he caught sight of the vast shadow that suddenly pervaded the reception area. It was man shaped, and the man casting it was larger than life.

As Mark peed into a toilet that had yet to be plumbed in, he took a deep breath and vowed never to lose control like that again. I felt like I was stronger than them, he thought, chewing on his bottom lip like he always did when he was unsure of something. “Wait a sec,” he said, noticing something strange about the cubicle he was in. It was barely wide enough to accommodate the scrawny fellah that he was. “So, is there another giant-sized toilet for Trey, Raul, and the others? Because they surely wouldn’t fit into two of these knocked into one.” Mark had been to the other gym across town only once before. But he’d seen the staff use the same toilet facilities as the patrons. He thought nothing more of it. He decided he couldn’t make sense of what was going on here. It was time to leave. But before he was done shaking the last drops of urine and cum residue from his now flaccid member, a powerful being, silent but sudden, ripped the cubicle door clean away and tossed it aside. Mark immediately turned about and stared in terror at the sight of an enraged Raul Ortega, his jeans now pulled back up, but not buttoned. The pressure from his colossal thighs against the denim would easily keep them in place.

“I’m going to fucking make you paaaay!!!!” Ortega was now red with fury, his bare chest heaving with contempt and pumping larger and larger with every exchange of breath. He was twice as wide as the cubicle but easily made it accommodating by wrenching the walls apart. They crumpled like balsa wood, despite that they were made of a far sturdier material. Growling like a rage-filled bear, Raul grabbed Mark by his neck and threw him in a wide arc right over his head. The smaller man struck a row of lockers opposite with enough force to dent them considerably. How did Raul know that Mark had fucked him? And now that time had begun moving again, just how much danger was Mark Stone currently in? He landed on the hard floor headfirst. He managed to twist and right himself without injury and backed himself up to the damaged lockers, bringing his knees up to his chest and flailing his arms before him, as if that was enough to stop the growing...yes, growing bodybuilder charging towards him like a locomotive with failed brakes.

More than 100 pounds of muscle bloomed outward from Raul’s already magnificent physique in just seconds, seemingly fueled by blood and rage coursing through his exceptional body at an unnatural rate. “Please! I didn’t muh-mean to...” Mark begged to be spared but knew it would do him no good. But something, call it vanity maybe, gave Raul pause and he stopped in his tracks, if only to give his new muscle a chance to fill out properly. He stood before the wimp cowering at his feet and snorted down at him. Mark could almost taste Raul’s breath and it stank of something spicy.

“Look at how huge I am. You like fucking with huge bodybuilders like me? I fucking knew you were there, you fucker. What I’d like to know is how you can move around when no one else ever can.? Raul couldn’t resist flexing in front of the vermin he saw Mark to be. He did a full double biceps and mammoth peaks surfaced, like huge mounds of earth pushed upwards during an earthquake. Across each bicep, dark veins flared thickly, barely able to supply the muscles they served with the nourishment they demanded. Biceps and forearms clashed over space to occupy as Raul flexed ever more intensely, ever more fervidly, thumbs scraping the uppermost peaks of each bicep where they pointed downward from white knuckles balled into granite fists. His pec-shelf was drawn upward so that nipples that usually hung from the deep under-swell of each mound, now pointed outward, erect and mirroring the confidence of the antagonist that sported them. His lats flared to five and a half feet across, and his segmented abs flexed tight and hard, lending him the illusion that all trace amounts of body fat (if any) had been subsumed by the muscle infrastructure that so rightly laid dominance to him. He relaxed the bicep pose and curled everything down into a super-dense, awesomely bulging crab. He roared maniacally as his ever-gorging muscles sought more sustenance, greater size. As his augmenting biceps forced his pec-meats together, the force of their collision sent a shockwave of warm air blasting forwards. Mark felt the blast and couldn’t believe that the pressure formed by two pectoral muscles blasting towards one another could generate such a powerful effect on raw atmosphere. Winded from the pec ‘air-attack,’ Mark felt weak, drained. Raul forced his crab pose even denser, willing his muscles to their most freakishly huge. Huge! HUGE!! HUUUGE!!!!!!

“I’m going to give you what you deserve, you little bastard!” Raul’s threats forced his rage to augment, and his rage fueled his muscle growth. Engulfed with terror, Mark’s mind briefly remembered back to earlier, and what had fueled Trey’s massive expansion. Hadn’t he wolfed down a couple of donuts just prior to his growth spurt? Mark’s thoughts returned to his impending death. His eyes were fixed on the Hispanic Hulk, looming over him like Death Incarnate, only not a skeletal wraith with a scythe. This was super-strength, size, and fitness at its most freakish. And there was nothing Mark could do about it.

Raul’s muscles were growing faster than the paper-thin skin covering them could compensate for. As a result, his body flared red as skin stretched, creating hundreds of stretch marks, each one healing within a second or two of its formation. This created a crimson ripple effect across Raul’s entire mass, his incredible powers of healing just about able to repair the skin before the awesome muscles could break through and cause him serious injury. And those wondrous muscles in their entirely, fibers splitting, separating, replicating beneath the skin. How was this possible? And as muscles tore from the extremity of Raul’s inhuman, bestial flexing, so they thickened, expanded, healed, and were fortified against further forced onslaught from their over-demanding master. Veins now popped and new blood-enriched tributaries were created to further cater for the muscles’ demand for nourishment. And the growth was matched by Raul’s thighs, calves, glutes, and monster cock.  

Still in the crab pose, he put one leg forward, perched on its heel and flexed his diamond quads with such intensity that the 501s he sported tore apart like wet pasta. Some of the denim whipped across Mark’s face, opening a sizeable gash across his right cheek. He cried out in pain. Raul pulled the rest of the jeans off and disintegrated his boxers without effort. He stood before Mark, a fifteen-inch cock twitching before him like a dirty cop’s threatening night-stick. Beneath the still-stiffening, still-growing cock, balls the size of fists inflated to keep up with their master member, powering up with potency ad infinitum.

“Time to assume the position, you little fuck,” Raul commanded when it seemed his growth had begun to stabilize. He was almost as big as Trey, but his pecs seemed less developed, and his overall mass was lacking in places that on Trey was over-abundant. “Puh-please, Raul. I didn’t mean you huh-harm.” Tears cascaded down Mark’s cheeks; in the case of the right cheek the salt water only expedited the cut’s blood-flow. Something told him that there would be no reasoning with this monster.

“You know my name, huh? Been doin’ a little snoopin’ huh? And what did your investigation find, huh? Did it, for instance, discover that I did time for gay rape ten years ago in my native Mexico? Had to be put in solitary too, ‘cuz prison to the likes of me was a fucking gay rape Mecca, you sonofabitch!”

“Puh-pleeeeese, Raul. I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt me.” Mark was close to passing out, which was probably for the best. For to be conscious during what Raul Ortega was about to do would be a fate worse than death. The muscle monster picked Mark up as though he were weightless. Mark fell limp in his grasp. And as he turned him over and lay him face down across one of the locker room benches, Raul experienced another growth spurt, fueled by his desire to take this one - as he had done countless other young men - without their consent. His neck swelled to the thickness of a racehorse’s, traps distending upwards and as they thickened so their extensive presence down along his back puffed outwards, forcing their neighboring muscle groups across his ever-expanding delta to retaliate with growth of their own. His lats spread ever wider, pound after pound of super-dense muscle somehow managing to find accommodation, at the cost, however, of pushing his arms ever wider. They, too, showed growth; again, the deltoids ballooned up into a trinity of stacked, ripped segmentation. The posterior and medial heads became human-head-sized, stimulating the arms’ dominant triceps and biceps muscles to take on football-sized mass. Raul’s forearms crackled with energy, expanding to a width close to what his calves had been only that morning. After he was done with this one, he would take a shower, pump some reps in the weight room, and then get Trey to measure his muscles and record his weight.  

His legs, too, thickened and crackled with pure power. His hamstrings bulged forth, adding an instant five extra inches across the backs of his thighs. His calves flared to double what they had been earlier and as his inner thighs acquired greater substance, so his genitalia were forced to find a new home, slightly more forward of the body. He looked forward to strutting around in tight gym shorts with a larger bulge than before. He would make the others fiercely jealous, especially Trey, who claimed he would be the biggest of the four. Carter and Joel would always lag behind, being the smallest of them and less talented when it came to muscle growth. But Raul only cared about himself. About being the biggest, heaviest, strongest! But right now, only one thing mattered: making the little bastard that fucked him during the time-lock wish he’d never been born.  

Raul stopped growing when he measured close to six and a half feet across at his shoulders. There was no way to fathom his weight; that joyful discovery could wait until later. “You are mine now, little man. Fucking all mine!”

 * * * * *

When Mark regained consciousness, he saw his surroundings through eyes that refused to focus, no matter how hard he blinked. The room smelt of clinical fragrances and he could feel the needle in his arm as much as he could feel a hand lovingly clutching his own as its owner kept vigil by his beside. Mark turned to the figure whom even through his blurred vision he knew to be his mother.

“Mom?”

 “Oh son, thank God. Thank all of Heaven. We thought we’d lost you. I’ll go get Doctor Freeman.” Mark’s mother, worried but relieved all at once that her son had pulled through, made to get up to leave the intensive care ward. “Mom don’t leave me,” Mark croaked, he was so weak. He noticed that his right arm was in a cast from the elbow to the wrist. He felt tight dressings across the top of his head. There was a pain in his right cheek and an itching sensation. A glucose drip was attached via a needle to his left arm, and he was hooked up to an array of bleeping and oscillating machinery. He was groggy, probably from whatever drugs they had given him for the pain. “Mark, I have to tell the doctor that you are awake. He didn’t expect you t...?” She cut off her sentence, not wishing to hear it said aloud.

“How did I get here?” Mark’s mouth felt very dry. His mother came to his aid by helping him with a sip of water. She felt it a mother’s duty to tell her son what happened. The doctor said that partial amnesia might be a result of his injuries, and it seemed that whilst Mark could remember his mother, he had no recollection of the events that landed him in hospital.

“You were found by your uncle Al, tossed into the dumpster out back of the store.” Mark’s mother paused to stifle the grief brought on from imagining how her baby boy could have been tossed away like filthy trash. “There was a break-in. Police never caught who did it. It was a foggy morning, unusual for this time of year, but whoever did this to you was able to slip away without alarms being raised. I hope they catch the ones responsible and throw away the key to their cell.” There were other things that she knew: the extent of his injuries for one. But she couldn’t bring herself to dwell upon such an atrocious act inflicted on her child. It had been painful enough hearing it from the doctors and the police on the day it had happened, almost three weeks ago now. At this point in time Mark didn’t need to know. She did tell him that he’d been in a coma, but now that he was out of it, his recovery was in full swing.

“I guess it could have been worse. Other people in situations like that aren’t so lucky,” said Mark, glad that the water had sufficiently lubricated his throat, making it easier to speak. Then he added: “I just wish I could remember what happened.” His mother kissed her son and then went to speak to the doctor. Mark was alone for but a moment. He turned his head away from the door to focus on nothing in particular, to maybe hope that looking inwardly upon himself would force some of his memories to return. But he became aware how suddenly the room seemed to darken, as though a vast shadow had stretched across it as it cut off light from the corridor outside.

“Hi Mark. Thank God you pulled through. I just met your mom in the corridor. She said you’d woken up. I’m so glad you came back to us.”  

Mark recognized that voice. It was unforgettable, not something that partial amnesia and being robbed of recent memories could ever hope to erase. Mark, as painful as it was to do so, turned in his bed to take in the one who had cast that massive shadow. Beaming with sheer delight at seeing Mark awake and beyond the reach of dire harm, Trey Waters, huge, massive, a veritable muscle-god walking on the plane of mundane mortal kind, held out a bouquet of red roses at massive arm’s length, meant to replace the ones he’d placed in the vase next to his comatose boyfriend’s nightstand only the week before. There were tears of joy rolling down Trey’s beautiful face and his smile was one of warmth and relief all rolled into one. “I love you so much, Mark. I don’t know what I’d have done had the worst happened.” Trey sat down beside Mark and caressed his hand with such tender care and affection. Mark was dumbstruck. This didn’t make sense.

Despite that Trey seemed sincere in his devotions to his sick boyfriend, the love that he seemed only too eager to convey to Mark in the tenderest of touches, was instead met with an inner dread that caused Mark to shudder in fear. His heartbeat quickened, displayed in increasing BPMs on the monitor beside him. Mark was speechless, unable to react. If only he could remember why this huge bodybuilder, bigger than any he had ever seen before, instilled so much fear in him. Trey, doing his best to appease his boyfriend’s unease, got up from the chair that groaned in defiance of his weight, and leaned over to administer a tender kiss. The shadow he cast over Mark Stone grew ever larger and darker.

Part 4

One month following his discharge from hospital saw Mark almost fully healed of his injuries. His right arm was still a little sore, but Trey had devised a strengthening program to expedite his boyfriend’s recovery. The damage to him internally had been delicately and discreetly repaired and kept from him, under advisement from Doctor Freeman who decided it would not bode well for Mark to learn of the atrocious assault he had sustained at the hands of a crazed sex fiend, a man still at large and one who seemed to have vanished without a trace.  

The police had no leads. Mark had been interviewed on five separate occasions as the investigation into the attack was set in motion. But that process was tiring and upsetting to go through. Finally, when the police were done with Mark, he breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he still had a life to get on with, a life with Trey, the most beautiful and massively muscled man on the face of the Earth.

Life had become good. Trey had grown too big to stay at Mark’s house. He kept breaking things, much to Mark’s mother Sheila’s dismay. Besides, it was difficult getting time to themselves - to be a proper couple - with her around. Out of respect to her they would usually have to wait until she was out of the house to play at being proper boyfriends. Trey had a suggestion to put forward:

“Raul has to go away on business for a month. He said we can move into his apartment over the gym and treat it as our own place until we find a place of our own that I can adapt to my size,” Trey suggested one evening whilst the two were stretched out on a greatly reinforced couch in front of the TV. There was an old John Wayne movie on which idly held their interest. Mark had popped some corn for the two of them, most of which Trey would get through at lightning speed. He was careful about his consumption of sugar these days, for Mark now knew that it was sweet foods that triggered his growth spurts. Mark felt that Trey wasn’t telling him everything about the incredible processes that occurred in his body, resulting in the condition he was currently in. There was something in him that Mark couldn’t quite trust, something that prevented him falling too deeply in love with him and placing so much emotional dependence on him. Regarding Raul, Mark pressed himself closer to his enormous boyfriend and felt his throat go dry upon hearing that name. He didn’t know why Ortega unnerved him so, for he’d met him on plenty of occasions over the last month since Shapeshifters had officially opened for business.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Mark said, almost croaking the words.

Trey, stretched out beside him (and taking up two thirds of the couch), held him a little more tightly, just to instill in him some comfort and reassurance. Raul isn’t the worst person, you know. He’s got an attitude problem, but I couldn’t have started the gym without him. He put up most of the money anyway. Besides, Carter and Joel keep him in check. They’re good people, those two.”

“How come we rarely see them? I mean, they train too. I’ve seen them working out. And they are huge, but not even half your weight.” Mark had so many questions to ask Trey about their lives prior to the amnesia, and about Shapeshifters - things that never seemed to add up. Trey would sometimes prevaricate or change the subject when Mark became a little too curious about things he felt he had a right to know. Could this be some bizarre dream from which there was no waking up? Most of him hoped so.

“They come and go, mostly running things from behind the scenes. It gives Raul and me more freedom to bodybuild.” Trey would always emphasize the ‘body’ part of bodybuild by stressing the word to give it more significance. It was one of his three favorite words. The other two were ‘Muscle’ and ‘Growth.’ He tensed up his right arm for show and his thirty-six-inch forearm thickened to about forty. Bulging veins popped out right around the massive limb and Mark grew hard just touching them.

 “You just want to keep getting bigger, don’t you?” Mark always got excited at the thought of Trey continuing to grow huger than ever. It was such a turn-on.

“That’s the plan, Sweetie. 725 is such an uneven number. Besides, it would be cool to see what 1000 feels like.” Trey got up from the couch and completely blocked the 42-inch widescreen TV that Sheila won from a magazine competition some months before. He had to flex. The urge was uncontrollable. He was wearing just a pair of especially adaptive denim shorts from the House of Trione, a select clothing company specializing in fashions for the extremely huge bodybuilder. These shorts, like all of Fortunato Trione’s designs, were treated with a special chemical that made the fabric react to body heat. The fabric would shrink on contact with the skin but just tight enough to show off the wearer’s physique to maximum. There was also special hidden reinforced ribbing built into the garments to prevent their accidental destruction due to flexing or an unscheduled growth spurt. The shorts were sexy as hell. They ended midway down Trey’s mammoth thighs and had a pouched front to easily accommodate a dick that was now 21 inches long and 16 inches thick when flaccid. They had an exposed button-fly down the front, which Mark just loved. Something about how the buttons could be seen to strain during Trey’s flexing shows made Mark get so excited just watching him.

Trey was shirtless and stood before his boyfriend who gazed up at him in complete awe, which was the norm during their times together. At a height of six feet six inches, Trey was just four inches away from scraping the ceiling. His shoulders were almost seven feet in diameter now, and he had every intention of building himself up huger. He started with a full lat spread. The wings flared open on either side of him, expanding his chest to 128 inches. Maybe he was bigger than that, seeing as Mark hadn’t measured him in almost a week. His beach-ball-sized pecs swelled enormously, the upper portions, separated by three-inch deep striations from the lower, ‘nippled’ portions, pushed way up to his chin, making it seem as though his upper body was about to swallow up his head. He adored the sensation of what he called his own little ‘Muscle War,’ because of the way each muscle group battled with its neighbors just to have space on him to occupy.

As he flexed his pecs, willing more blood into them to enhance their shape and definition, so the striations became more abundant and burrowed more deeply into his pec-meat. Mark silently watched his boyfriend and undid the flies of his pants. “I think I’m heavier than 725, Sweetie. I think I may be closer to 750. Aw, this is amazing. I’m the biggest, hugest, heaviest super-massive bodybuilder in the world. I can’t believe that this is me. Raul will never get to match me. Hah! I will always be 250 pounds heavier than him. Tell me what I want to hear, my love.” Trey compressed down to a most muscular, starting off with squeezing ever so lightly to build up to a massive crab-explosion. The pressure in his muscles would be enormous, a kinetic flesh-dynamo exponentially gaining in ultimate power.

Mark was only too horny and pleased to oblige. “You’re too small, Trey. Way too fucking small. Raul will eat you for breakfast if you stay this small. You’re a fucking midget, a pipsqueak, the runt of the fucking litter.” The role-playing was necessary for Trey to focus. His muscles were growing harder and denser every day. He wasn’t quite bullet-proof, but he was building to it. Bodybuilding. Muscle. Growth. His three favorite words.

“Me small, you say? Hardly, Sweetie. Watch me grow. Watch me blow your mind with THIS!!!” Trey flexed into an even tighter most muscular. Rope-thick tendrils of dark veins rose from his flesh like anchors bringing up power cables from the ocean floor. Mark could clearly see the blood coursing through them at a thousand beats per minute, the rate necessary to keep everything flowing nicely during a flex. Trey’s anatomy was like no other on the planet, except maybe Raul’s. He was up to 520 or thereabouts, when last Mark heard him boasting. Trey’s cardiovascular system was inhumanly efficient, and his organs were as strong as the rest of him. He could hold his breath for ten minutes and his breath was powerful enough to knock a man over. He was a veritable superman. This wasn’t a growth-spurt flex because Trey needed sugar to catalyze the reaction. But he would get a little larger from the increased blood-flow and depending on how well he worked out earlier that day (which was always extremely well) the growth would be permanent. He’d gotten good at willing where the best blood would end up, in this case: his pecs. He wanted more inches there, purely for his own pleasure and for Mark’s entertainment. He always got what he wanted.

The pecs swelled up like balloons, each pump of his heart forcing more volume into them. His skin broke out in stretch marks, deep red, almost purple. But they were healed by the growth of new skin almost instantly. This caused Trey’s skin to flash red as he flexed, a sure sign that growth was taking place. The buttons on his fly strained as his cock began to grow thicker and longer, but thanks to Trione, they would hold, or just about. The diamonds on Trey’s thighs erupted with size, definition and extreme density as they fortified themselves to take the strain of his slight increase in weight. His 58-inch biceps flared out to just over 60 (maybe more) and his tris advanced in the opposite direction to a width similar to their inner counterparts. He flexed more and more, harder and harder. His body increased in mass, and he got so horny that he was tempted to go to the fridge and down a carton of Ben & Jerry’s. Doing that would trigger an enormous growth spurt. It wouldn’t get him to the magic number 1000, for he would need to train with weights quite a lot to help him to get there, but if he were lucky, he could be 850 by morning. It was so tempting, but he had to think about the house. He was so huge now that something was bound to get broken if he didn’t calm down. Sheila wasn’t rich by any means. Mark’s father had left them both comfortable after he died. But still, money was an object in this household.

He finished with a double biceps pose, kneeling before Mark to allow his tiny boyfriend to worship his mountainous arms. “Fuck my pecs, Mark,” Trey begged as Mark licked every inch of his right bicep whilst undoing his shorts with his free hand. Shelia wouldn’t be back until late that night. She knew that the boys needed their private time together. She was a good mother and extremely modern-thinking, except when Trey broke a vase or accidentally put his hand through the dry-wall. She knew he didn’t mean it. Mark found the behemoth’s clumsiness quite endearing.

Trey lay down on the floor of the sitting room and Mark switched off the TV. Trey shrugged out of his shorts and Mark wasted no time getting naked either. “Whatever you say, darling,” Mark sent back. Sex with Trey wasn’t an easy process. His cock had become so large in the past month that it was impossible for him to penetrate Mark. This meant that some imagination was required to make their lovemaking potent and special. Mark straddled his boyfriend at the waist’ using his erect cock as a backrest. Applying that kind of pressure to Trey’s mammoth prick was stimulating. He ran his hands along the brickwork of Trey’s stomach, marveling at how much harder the ten-pack seemed, compared to the last time they made love. Trey tensed and flexed his abs and Mark buried his fingers in the spaces that separated each abdominal muscle. He ran his hands upwards, besotted by the mass of muscles that formed his pec shelf. Trey’s super-sensitive nipples were now two inches long and three inches around. The areolas skirting them had now grown to a diameter of five inches. He flexed and rippled his pecs to an incredible degree, creating thick, compartmentalized bulges that were matched only by the incredible depth of the striations demarcating them. Mark played with Trey’s nipples and the incredible bodybuilder moaned in ecstasy.

Mark climbed up the mountain that was Trey, kissing his way along as he went. “You are so amazing,” he would mouth, celebrating every inch of Trey’s superior physique, in awe of the fact he was heavier than the last three Mister Olympias combined. Wow, what a thought. He was about to fuck a man who could bench press two tons and bend three crowbars at the same time. But he wasn’t strong enough or big enough. He wouldn’t rest until he could bench press the fucking WORLD!!!!

Trey was surprisingly submissive, lying on the floor, allowing Mark to play with him as he saw fit, enjoying how much more sensitive his nipples seemed to be getting as they grew along with everything else. He formed a crucifix on the floor, his arms laid out on either side. He tensed every muscle in his body and suddenly Mark was elevated more than a foot closer to the ceiling, the flexing was that intense. Trey was getting bigger and bigger. There was no stopping it. Neither of them ever wanted it to stop. 1000 pounds suddenly felt like such a small number.  

Mark was surprisingly supple, double-jointed in many places. This made it easier to straddle a man of tremendous width and as Mark eased himself into a position whereby pec-fucking was possible, Trey surprised him by nudging a cube of sugar out from under the couch. He’d placed it there earlier, knowing that they would be fucking on the floor. Completely moaning with lust, wanting the lust to grow ever stronger, Trey crunched down on the sugar and immediately it triggered a growth-spurt. He ballooned crazily in a way that would implode the mind of someone who knew nothing of this phenomenon but was powerless to avert their gaze. Trey gained 50lbs in 10 seconds, mostly to his upper body, although his gigantic cock grew another four inches in length and fleshed out a couple more in circumference. Two inches were added to his forearms, three to his biceps. His lats spread even further outward in opposite directions and his glutes swelled up, pushing him and his passenger further away from the floor. His thighs puffed up larger and his calves became denser and fuller. His pecs grew from mountains to volcanoes, and he bunched them together to create a canyon in the middle into which Mark could insert his cock. Mark did just that, thrusting inwardly with the intensity of a jackhammer. Trey’s chest muscles constricted around his boyfriend’s meat, kneading the shaft with controlled pulses, heightening Mark’s bliss, and urging him to increase his assault.

“Unngghh, soooo huuuuge, Trey. Huuuuuuuge!” Mark screamed as their bodies became laved with sweat, and precum flowed with impunity from the mast that was Trey’s cock standing sentinel over the boys at play.

“No such thing as huge to me,” Trey panted, completely giving himself to his scrawny lover. “I can never be huge enough. NEVER!!!!!”

Mark leaned forward and kissed Trey, their tongues jostling together like combatants vying for dominance and victory. Trey’s mouth welcomed Mark’s invasion and their panting became a synchronized fanfare that only served to unite their physical compatibility further. They knew each other’s sexual rhythms perfectly, and their union always heightened their senses and levels of arousal. Mark could maintain his euphoria for only a short time before the lust of the act would overwhelm his senses so completely, that loss of control was inevitable. But they both welcomed such a loss. It was mesmerizing.  

Mark fucked deeply into Trey’s pecs, hardly denting the massive mounds, urged to complete the act as he approached the moment of ejaculation. Trey likewise would cum at the same time, for their synchronicity could be measured in milliseconds.

“I AM! THE! BODYBUILDER!!!!!!” Trey screamed and his balls released their spunk as a torrent of liquid white gold that erupted from him like an oil-strike. Half a liter of jism splashed the ceiling above, most of which came down on the couple and soiled them from head to toe. Some of it Trey swallowed but he licked quite a lot of it off Mark who was drenched in the stuff. Mark’s own modest amount of cum pooled up between Trey’s cleavage and when he was done with fucking the pecs, so he licked up his own cum, and, holding it in his mouth, brought his lips close to Trey’s once again, and kissed him long and hard. Jism was exchanged in the kiss, and they remained like this for a couple more minutes, relishing the salty union their juice had formed between them.

 “I love you, Trey. And I can’t even remember how we met,” Mark gasped as he struggled to regain his breath.

“What’s to remember, darling? All that matters are times like these: you and I together, and of course, my incredible growth to come.” Trey was being his usual informative self, to put a sarcastic tilt on things. They came out of their sexual reverie and got up from the floor. Mark looked up at the ceiling.

“Shit, Mom will see that when she gets home,” he said, speaking of the massive jism stain in the center of the living room ceiling. Cum was literally everywhere in the room, as though a sledgehammer had been taken to a carton of soy milk.

“Shit,” was all Trey could manage as his breathing returned to normal. The lovers decided to waste no time cleaning up. “We have to get our own place,” he said before ending the subject. Mark completely agreed.

 * * * * *

Two days later and it was Trey’s 23rd birthday. It was cause for more than just one celebration. Dinner at Maury’s Steakhouse was the venue of choice and for the following reasons: Mark had returned to the town medical center for a check-up and was given a completely clean bill of health. Trey could now set about devising a bodybuilding program for him to finally get some meat on his bones. The other reason to celebrate was the fact that Trey was at his heaviest weight yet, thanks to the sugar cube and some extraordinary workouts at the gym. He was benching three and a half tons, doing three sets of twelve reps. His strength was difficult to gauge, but he was getting stronger every day. It was their first evening together in Raul’s capacious and massive-bodybuilder-adapted apartment built into the topmost floor of the three-story gym.  

As they got ready from Raul Ortega’s spacious bedroom with ensuite bathroom and shower facilities, Trey mulled over what to wear to the restaurant. Maury, the owner, had a kid who’d been attending Shapeshifters since day one of its opening and already Maury Jr had bulked up by ten pounds. This meant that when it came to a dress code in his eating establishment, Maury Sr would turn a blind eye to Trey and Company. It also meant that Trey could be quite liberal about what he chose to wear out this evening.

“Hmmm, this shirt is getting a little tight across the chest,” he exclaimed with genuine delight as he slightly struggled with the buttons to the semi-transparent half-cut grey shirt carrying a House of Trione label, as did most of his clothing these days because there wasn’t a store in existence that catered for someone his size. He admired himself in Raul’s full-length extra-wide posing mirror in his bedroom. That was the thing about Raul: vain to a fault. He had mirrors all over the apartment, even on the ceiling of every room. Trey liked the idea very much. He flexed a little and then a lot, smiling all the time and slightly daydreaming as he gazed at himself whilst mentally bulking up to even more extreme proportions. He loved what he could do so much, and never wanted to stop growing. He managed to get the last two buttons on the half-shirt fastened. They just about held, but their three undone brothers above couldn’t be done up without destroying the garment, so he left them open, revealing quite a lot of his chest.

The swell of his pecs was so extreme that it made the shirt tent considerably outward to at least 14 inches over his abs-slab. The shirt was cut so that it ended just about level with the bulbous underbelly of each pec. “I’m getting HUGE!” he declared. Being sleeveless, the cut of the shirt only accentuated his incredible upper arms. He flexed a mighty double biceps and his guns grew massively, each peak having recently formed a secondary bulb of muscle at its heavily veined apex. “Wow, my biceps are higher than my fists now. And still growing.” This amazed Trey and it took hardly any time at all for his dick to become as big and as hard as a baseball bat. Like a drawbridge it rose, and the coffee-mug-sized mushroom head thudded loudly against his astonishingly hard and defined mid-section.

“We’ll never get to Maury’s if you keep posing, Trey. Come on, hurry up. I’m starving,” Mark complained from the adjoining bathroom. Like every room in the apartment, the bathroom was minus a door. Extra-wide arches were the order here, allowing for these mammoth musclemen to come and go with ease. Trey was easily twice as wide as a regular door in the mortal realm. Much of the time these days he would have to turn sideways just to enter a room. The world wasn’t built for extremely enormous bodybuilders. But that would change once day, when he had achieved ultimate power to become the ruler of the world.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should be more careful to control my passions, Mark,” Trey admitted, and thought about fluffy little bunnies to help his huge erection subside. When he was flaccid again, he finished dressing by rolling on a black pair of knee-length super-stretch jeans with exposed button-fly. His cock was now coiled up neatly inside the pouched front, making the fly-buttons moan somewhat from the strain. Every cut, striation, exaggerated swell of his thigh muscles could be clearly seen through the exceptionally light but strong denim weave. He finished the ensemble by pulling a belt tightly around his now 34-inch waist. But his waist, although it had gained some mass, was still less than one quarter the size of his enormous chest (pre-flexed). His chest was now 142 inches around. Flexed it would flare out to 163. But it still wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. The word “HUGE” was stenciled into the iron of the belt buckle. He pulled the belt as far as it would go without snapping it in two and marveled at how the bottom row of the abs making up his ten-pack bulged outward over the belt. His body was a showstopper. Hell, it could literally freeze time itself, although unbeknownst to Mark, the time-lock phenomenon only worked if all four giant bodybuilders - the curators of Shapeshifters Gym - were flexing simultaneously, as had been the case on the day that Raul Ortega almost murdered Mark. Sometimes Trey wanted to kill Raul for what he’d done, finding it hard to fathom that they had once been lovers.

These days they only tolerated one another because of the business agreement. Trey was only with Mark to find out why he could move around during time-locks. Trey had been conscious during the time when Mark fucked him back at the convenience store, although he couldn’t move along with the rest of humanity. In retrospect he wasn’t angry with Mark for what he’d done. Hell! He’d probably have done the same had the roles been reversed. The thing about the time-locks was this: Trey and the others could use them to their advantage, like getting the gym up and running much faster and using them to conduct stealthy investigations of new areas ripe for conquering, without treading on the toes of the local constabularies. Time-locks wore off, obviously? but Trey, Raul, Carter, and Joel were always the first to break out of them, and... unlike the rest of mundane mankind, they were always conscious during a time-lock.

For the first time since they learned to manipulate the phenomenon, suddenly there was Mark Stone, capable of resisting the effects of a time-lock. If this power in him could be exploited in some way that would benefit the counterpoint to Mathias Redfern’s Utopian Ideal, the humbler collective formed of the Shapeshifters Gym operation, then it was something worth finding out about. But after a month of deceit and out and out role-playing, despite that Trey had a mission to complete, he had developed genuine feelings for Mark. “We came to this town as we did other towns before,” he thought, briefly unmindful of his physical beauty, to test the youth and tap into their potential; to start our own Collective and defy everything that Redfern stands for. And I had to walk into that store. I had to put on a show for Mark, knowing full and well that the other three were flexing and growing. Time shut down and Mark Stone’s power presented itself. What is this man made of?

Trey was still no closer to finding out, despite that a month had passed. Raul was growing impatient with Trey’s lack of focus. Okay, so Raul had over-reacted by raping Mark (his own way of unlocking a person’s gifts, you might say). Thank hell Mark hadn’t died. Raul was away for a month, trying to obtain methods of synthesizing more Enerflex, since their supplies had become drastically low. Redfern’s fortress wasn’t impregnable, and Raul had his ways of getting in and out undetected. Without more Enerflex, there would be no more muscle growth. And to men like Trey, Raul, Carter, and Joel, that was simply not acceptable.  

Trey snapped out of his meditation and brought himself back to immediate reality. He couldn’t help having feelings for Mark. He liked being with him, it was as simple as that. Despite his scrawny physique (that would soon change), Mark had a twinkish cuteness about him that Trey simply adored. He loved having a skinny boyfriend to make the whole muscle worship business more potent. But he had a job to do, and he had to force himself not to allow his feelings to get in the way. It was time to resume the charade.

Mark came out of the bathroom having shaved, showered, and sorted his hair. He slipped into a baggy pink tee-shirt with a picture of Austin Powers on it, a pair of baggy skater-boy jeans and finally a pair of Converse All-stars. He gazed at his incredible boyfriend wearing the sexiest outfit he had yet seen Trey showcase. “Wow, every day you seem bigger. That shirt won’t last long under that strain.” Mark became aroused, made more so when his lover flared his lats enormously and bounced his pecs hard enough to make those all-important last two shirt-buttons scream in defiance.

“Let’s go. I’m starving and could eat 20 pounds of beef…” said Trey, knowing full and well that he could do just that, “…and if I’m still hungry afterward, maybe as a special treat I might load myself up with some sweet, sugary dessert.”

Mark’s mind boggled at the thought of Trey ballooning up further. “You really are determined to get naked in public, aren’t you?” Mark was referring to the fact that Trey’s outfit wouldn’t be able to contain another sugar-powered growth spurt. But Trey wanted to grow so badly. 1000 pounds seemed like such a long way off. 1000 pounds - it would suit him - for a while anyway. After all, numbers were infinite, unlike his patience.

To be continued . . .

[ThrowItAllAway11]

I’m not the only one here hoping that Trey will legitimately benchpress the world, right?

Awesome story so far!

[SnuffLover]

What a twist. I just want to read the whole story now its soo hot

[FallenAway]

Part 5

They walked the two blocks to Maury’s Steakhouse. Trey had grown too big to ride in a car and it was far too nice an evening to take the subway. It wasn’t very far anyway, although Trey was ravenous after such an extensive and productive workout earlier. They held hands as lovers do, enjoying an open attitude to their gay orientation, not that this kind of thing mattered much to society anymore. Besides, people tended to be far more shocked by Trey’s size than to be offended by two gay men expressing their love in public. Mark wasn’t bothered about being seen next to an individual as unique as Trey. People tended not to notice the smaller of the couple, and at times, however, this would bother Mark a great deal. It made him feel inferior to Trey not only in physical size and aesthetics, but in every way possible for a man to feel diminished by the status of another.

They had talked about Mark commencing a bodybuilding program now that he was fully recovered from the injuries. It was Mark’s dream to get big, maybe nowhere near as big as Trey was, but with the man-monolith as his trainer, there was no telling how far Mark could take it, if he wanted it badly enough.

Trey’s bodybuilder strut was now even more pronounced than ever before, given that his thighs had increased by another six inches apiece. The 75-inch pylons rippled as he walked, immense slabs of beef slamming against each other, the impact of their motion causing his cock and balls to oscillate. Trey’s fly-buttons just about managed to hold everything in, although it was an amazing feeling to think that his cock could explode onto an unsuspecting public at any moment. He simply had no shame, now that he was the biggest built muscle man on planet Earth. Now that his lats had again increased, his waist seemed more tapered and his overall upper body had greatly fanned out, forcing his obelisk arms even further away from his body. He was magnificent, far beyond comparison.

At the restaurant: business wasn’t bustling on this evening, meaning that tables were plentiful, and service would be swift.  Ever since huge bodybuilders had descended on the town, news of Maury’s steaks quickly reached them. Although, having Trey Waters, Raul Ortega, Carter Yan and Joel McIntyre as frequent patrons often wreaked havoc with Maury’s tables and chairs. But these men ate huge amounts of food and left big tips, so Maury was able to reinforce the furniture to extend their lifespan. As always Maury was there to greet Trey and Mark and show them to their table personally. “Try not to break anything, Trey,” said Maury, always having to make the point before seating his guests. “Any more breakages in here and I’ll be bankrupt. You look bigger than when you were last here.” Maury handed them both a drinks menu.

“That’s because I am bigger!” Trey exclaimed proudly, making his pecs dance for all to see. He knew no shame whatsoever and just loved to take center stage with his muscles as the star performers. He loved bodybuilding so much. He loved it more and more the larger, heavier, and stronger he grew, inevitably becoming a leviathan of musculature and power. “By the way, Maury, that kid of yours shows real potential. A ten pound muscle spurt in just a month. He could be huge if he sticks with the lifting.” Trey found that the reinforced chair held his weight easily, but he would push these fortifications to their limit as quickly as possible, aiming to break yet another chair before a new month had arrived. Not that Maury would know of such a thing until it was too late. Trey Waters had to have his fun.

“That’s good to know, Trey. Maybe one day he’ll be bigger than even you,” Maury chuckled, slapping Trey lightly across his awesome back, glad that his apron concealed his rising boner.

 “That will never happen,” Trey said with a half-warning. And to show that he meant business, he flashed a single biceps towards Maury, one that peaked a full inch above his fist. The 60-incher was massive and veined and throbbed with raw, barely tamable power. A muscle of such mass carried one message and one only: no one alive would ever be anywhere near as big as Trey Waters!!!

After their food orders were taken, the guys were left alone to enjoy their time together. Someone had selected “How do I live Without You?” on the video jukebox, the Trisha Yearwood version, one of Mark’s favorite songs. It seemed to punctuate the mood of the evening quite well. He loved Trey; at least he thought that he loved him. If only the bodybuilder could be more forthcoming about their past. Mark decided to ask him some things, important things that eluded him still.

“Is this where you brought me on our first date?” Mark hoped to hear a lot of the things he wanted to hear, that one month after almost losing his boyfriend to a maniac’s attack, Trey would no longer be so reticent about what being with him truly stood for. If Trey was truly the attentive and doting boyfriend he claimed to be, then surely it would pain him to keep things from Mark. It almost felt as though Trey didn’t want Mark to remember. And if this were the case, how could Mark ever learn to trust him?

“Uh, no. We didn’t come here. I took you to a movie. Can’t remember what it was called. No, wait, something with Woody Allen in it. It was so funny. Not the movie, but the guy sitting behind me complaining about how much of the screen I blocked him from seeing. And when I stood up to tell him what to do with himself, I accidentally sneezed in his face, the sudden movement of which caused me to flex and burst out of my shirt. Don’t think that guy will ever see another movie after that.” Trey Waters: he got through so many shirts in so little time.  

It was an amusing story, but like the ones that rarely came before them, Mark was none the wiser. These were memories that he simply could not access, no matter how hard he tried to make them fit into his current life and the muscle-god he shared it with. “I wish that I could get even a small feeling that these things really happened,” said Mark, somewhat despairingly. He was happy this evening and didn’t want the tempo of his mood to lessen.

Trey could see it in his eyes, and he reached a massive arm across the table to take his boyfriend’s hand in his own. The skin on Trey’s hand was rough from the calluses obtained from years of contact with bars of ever-increasing weight. But they could be surprisingly gentle when he needed them to be. “I don’t want you to get upset, honey. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, something to be joyful for.” There was genuine feeling in Trey’s voice, momentarily replacing the cocky self-assuredness that usually drove his speech, the effects of having the most enormous muscles ever.

“Then tell me more about us, Trey, so this relationship can really mean something to me beyond what we’ve had together this past month. I know I take second place to your bodybuilding. I accept that and am fine with it. But please let what we have together be more than what the last month has been for me.” Mark’s eyes began to water. Trisha Yearwood wasn’t helping in that department.

Trey had never been a great linguist. Words simply weren’t his thing. But he did his best to tell Mark what he wanted to hear as articulately as possible. Choosing the right words wasn’t easy. “I… do… love you, Mark. It’s just, as I get bigger and stronger, it’s as though I keep raising the bar for myself, y’know? Each week I put myself under greater pressure to exceed the gains I made the week before. It takes a lot of… concentration, y’know? It forces me to put things out of my head so that I can maintain my focus and succeed further. I want to be able to bench four tons by the end of the summer. I want to be 1000 pounds, Mark. I’ve made such incredible gains this past month. Can you even begin to imagine how heavy I will be in one year’s time?” Trey took Mark’s hand and brought it close to his beautifully full and sexy lips. He kissed each digit with more tenderness than Mark was accustomed to seeing him display. It was something to be greatly encouraged. Mark’s reluctance to answer was an answer in itself. Trey then added: “Just because I don’t talk about our life together doesn’t mean it isn’t important to me. It is… it’s just that my bodybuilding means more. You knew that when we first got together.”

“Back when you thought you were huge at five hundred and six pounds,” said Mark suddenly and without thinking.

Hearing this number caused Trey’s right eyebrow to peak upwards out of intrigue. He had never revealed that number to Mark… his weight upon arrival back in his hometown after a four year absence. Then he remembered that time in the convenience store. He’d let it slip as a boast during the first flex-show he’d subjected Mark to. That had been before the rape attack… and the amnesia. Could this be the start of Mark remembering the things that Trey didn’t want him to? An awkward silence ensued, as Trey played with unsettling scenarios in his head. Fortunately, Maury arrived with their food, giving them both something new to focus on. “Let’s eat,” Trey said simply, as delicious, sizzling aromas enflamed both their senses.

The huge man wolfed his way through three portions of sticky-sweet barbecued spareribs and as he ate, Mark noticed some growth was taking place. “You’re getting bigger. There must be sugar in the barbecue sauce.” Mark began to look around them, suddenly mindful of the many stares Trey was receiving, mostly from the male diners whose female partners struggled to keep their partners’ eyes on them.

“Fuck it… don’t care. Food too good,” said Trey, his appetite seeming to revert him to a Neanderthal’s level of intelligence. And to think, just minutes before, Mark thought he was getting through to him. It wasn’t as significant a growth spurt as those Mark had previously witnessed, and it mostly focused on his arms and shoulders. Mark found this altogether curious. Had Trey reached a stage where he could manipulate his growth to target specific regions of his physique? Mark then remembered the last night they’d made love and how Trey seemed to force growth out of his pecs alone. Could this be the evolution of the muscle growth phenomenon? For the first time in the month of memories that amnesia hadn’t robbed him of, Mark wondered about the effects of sugar on Trey’s muscle growth. Just how was it possible that a particular food group could do to Trey what gamma radiation did to Bruce Banner? The Hulk was pure fiction, of course, but things in real life were not supposed to happen this way.

“How big would you like me to get, honey?” Mark asked, about mid-way through the main course. He was having trouble finishing a quarter pounder burger and thick-cut fries.

Trey was almost done with his second of three 16-ounce steaks, each one accompanied by a sizeable baked potato filled with cheese and sour cream. Hardly the typical fare of a conventional bodybuilder in training. But the word “conventional” was never meant to fit into the same sentence as the name Trey Waters. There seemed to be no limit to his appetite. He ate like a pig, not that it ever showed on him. Trey hardly gave Mark a glance as he answered. “It’s entirely up to you, Sweetie,” he replied before cramming the last forkful of the second round of sirloin into his mouth. He chewed noisily and it was mildly irritating. Mark simply ignored it.

“Really? Because now that you mention it, I would like to one day rival you in size and strength. It’s always been my dream to be enormous.”

Trey stopped chewing for a moment. He looked up from his food and focused his steely blue eyes squarely on Mark. Then he swallowed the sirloin somewhat audibly and took a swig from his beer. “That’s not possible.” His tone seemed impassive, but also a little cautious in its precise delivery, almost as if Trey knew that attempting such a course of training was beyond Mark’s ability.

“What is it really with you and sugar, Trey? No one on Earth can react like that to something so commonplace. If that were the case, everyone in the world would be built like you.” Mark was determined to get answers from Trey.

The huge bodybuilder had not planned on the evening being so serious. He had wanted to have fun, but Mark didn’t seem willing to oblige. After a moment to choose his words, Trey gave something of an explanation. “I was born with a rare condition. It’s very complicated. I don’t have the vocabulary to explain it. Raul has it too. As does Carter and Joel. But in me it’s more pronounced. That’s all I can say. Just be thankful that I’m not a deformed freak or something.” That said, Trey returned to eating.

Mark had to take a breather. He decided to use the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a moment, darling,” The way he stressed that last word caused Trey to look up from his meal and to look Mark squarely in the face. The tension between them was now quite apparent.

Just then Trey’s phone rang, and he answered it immediately. It was Carter Yan. “You two look like you have issues in need of sorting out, Trey,” said Carter without a “hello” first.  

Suddenly aware that his Chinese colleague could see him, Trey’s eyes began to dart around the restaurant. “Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you? I warned you about spying on me, you prick!” Trey hammered a fist on his table, causing everything on it and around it to rattle noisily. The back of his shirt formed the smallest of tears as his muscles became engorged with furious energies.

Yan’s voice remained calm on the other end of the connection. “Joel and I like to get results from our investigations. So far you’ve come up with squat. One month later and we’re still no closer to finding out why Mark Stone is resistant to our time-lock ability. He’s the only one in the world that we know of with this ability. We could use him to bring down Redfern’s Utopia, if only we could recruit his ability. Enerflex is in very short supp...“  

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know,” Trey interjected sharply.

His table-thump had already attracted the attention of Maury, who immediately approached the table. “Everything alright, Trey?” He was only concerned about his crockery and furniture. The last thing Maury needed right now was to make an enemy of Trey Waters, not since Maury Jr. had taken to gym workouts like a duck to water, and after years of a sedentary teenage lifestyle.

“Yeah, sorry Maury. Just some crap I need to take care of, is all,” Trey apologized, then shot Maury an “excuse me, I’m on the phone” look. Maury got the hint and left. Other diners immediately returned to their food and drink.

 “So, our business arrangement is just “crap” to you, is it?” Carter Yan never raised his voice or acted indignantly. Even when working out he did so quietly. He was never one to cast too much of an imposing shadow, even though, at over four hundred pounds, he was quite an imposing fellah, to put things mildly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Look, you will never have me over a barrel, if that’s what you think. Just look at the fucking size of me, Carter. I’m doing my best to figure out Mark. Amnesia is a tricky state of mind. I can’t just blurt something out and expect him to make sense of it. I need more time, is all. Besides, you and Joel together could never hope to overpower me. Now back off, fucker.”

“And If I were to rally Raul to our cause, that would be three against one. You wouldn’t stand a chance then, Trey. But I’m not a man to make threats, idle or otherwise.” Yan hung up. Anger rising, Trey crushed the phone to smithereens in his hand, for his grip was that of a vice. It was the second phone he had destroyed in a month (the other had been Mark’s, crushed to bits in his enormous chest cleavage). Yan’s words had been designed to grate on Trey. The four had managed to successfully break free of the Mathias Redfern Utopian Collective, taking with them enough Enerflex serum to secure several months of incredible growth. But the serum eventually voided itself beyond the Collective walls, and so far the four mega-men didn’t know how to prevent this. Carter and Yan had once shown great promise as interns to Redfern’s genius, but the scientist would only teach them so much, an insurance policy against coming to an untimely end at the hands of a massive bodybuilder eager for an Enerflex overload. Kill the source - the very creator of that which is needed the most - and the supply is forever cut off.  

Yan was close to recreating Redfern’s experiments, but he was missing one vital component: Redfern himself. The man lived in an impregnable fortress, surrounded by extremely powerful bodybuilder sentinels and protectors. It wasn’t totally impossible to get into the Collective but getting to Redfern was. The time-locks only lasted a few minutes, and his guards could break the lock at the same time as those whose muscles generated it. Mark Stone’s secret must be learned. If Yan could reproduce this ability in himself and his three accomplices, they could create time-locks but be immune to their effects. Redfern’s fate would finally be in their hands.  

From across the restaurant an attractive Asian woman, apparently waiting for her dinner date to arrive, popped a small phone into her bag and uncrossed her legs to get up from her table in an isolated corner of the dining area. Trey was already making another call, this time from his boyfriend’s phone, the one he’d purchased to replace the previous one, the fate of which was tied up with amnesia-string somewhere in his mind. He needed to speak to Raul. Damn, what’s keeping Mark, he thought agitatedly as he waited for Ortega to pick up on his end.

The Asian woman made towards the restrooms, her red chiffon dress billowing out behind her like a spray of red rose petals caught on a sudden breeze. She was a little overdressed for Maury’s Steakhouse, but no one seemed to pay her any heed.

In the bathroom Mark was cross-examining himself in the mirror over the wash basin. He stared intently at himself, hands pressed firmly on the rim of the sink, his bony fingers displaying white knuckles as his nails dug against the ceramic. He was trying to break into his own mind to peel back the tarpaulin that had been flung over his memory, throwing everything down into a tarred darkness from which no shred of memory could escape. He thought of a number. He said it in his mind. He uttered it aloud: “Five hundred and six, five hundred and six, five hundred and fucking SIX!!!”

The Asian woman in chiffon came into the men’s bathroom, apparently not the slightest bit surprised to have done so. “Ahem, could you help me? Mark?”  

It was enough to break Mark out of his brief self-analytical reverie. Being gay, a woman resembling the Malaysian actress Michelle Yeoh had no effect on his libido. A straight guy might have fared better. “Uh… wrong restroom, lady,” he said simply, deciding to wash his hands and get back to Trey.

 “No, Mark? I’m in the right place alright. Unfortunately, you are not!? The woman’s dress began to move, falling away from her lithe figure like runnels of blood, exposing her taut but shapely breasts to a man who didn’t give a shit about that sort of thing. The blood solution collected around her waist and legs and immediately took on the shape of sateen jogging pants (if such things existed). The first of two transformations was more subtle than what came directly after.

“Fucking answering machine, the bastard!” Trey resisted the urge to crush yet another phone, the only downside to being so huge and so strong was that it was costly having to replace all the clothes and everyday commodities that made life a little easier. Raul must be teleporting near-constantly, Trey reasoned, perhaps accounting for why Ortega failed to answer the phone from his end. He would be near the Fortress of Redfern, using his teleportation ability to keep a half-second ahead of the muscle-freak guards and robotic armaments. The extent and range of his teleports were extremely limited, therefore he had to keep his wits about him if he were to make it right into the vault containing the Enerflex. That was assuming, of course, that Ortega hadn’t already been killed in action. When dealing with a power such as Redfern, the brute strength possessed by Raul, Carter, Joel and especially… especially… Trey, was simply just not enough. Strength could never hope to beat ingenuity; it was a simple yet incontrovertible law.

A loud crash coming from the rear of the restaurant sent everyone into a panic. Women began to scream, men began to holler. All hell broke loose as the entire restaurant shook. Trey immediately thought about Mark’s safety, not even stopping to examine why he was putting the focus of his mission before his own welfare. Fuck it, if the place crashed down around him, Trey Waters would walk free without a scratch. In the panic to flee, no one paid Trey any attention as the behemoth shrugged out of his shirt just as the overhead lights went out. A flare of naked flame erupted from the service hatch through to the kitchen. Several of the staff could be heard crying out in pain but Trey wasn’t a superhero and didn’t abide by such a selfless philosophy. Until now. In the orange glare of the fire that begun to engulf everything, Trey’s magnificent body seemed to flare ever larger. Every vein and striation, every gully that formed deep lines of separation between his vast muscles, absorbed and refracted light to such a degree, it seemed that parts of Trey were glowing in the firelight. As exertion made his skin perspire, light was refracted further. He was a magnificent sight to behold, although at this time no one cared beyond their own desperation to get to safety.

“Mark?MARK!!!!” Too big to get through the door to the restrooms, Trey simply bashed a larger door out of the surrounding concrete, large enough for him to get through. There in the men’s room he found Mark lying unconscious on the floor. There was a huge hole in the side of the restaurant where Mark’s assailant had been strong enough to escape by bashing through the bare restroom wall. Trey stooped to pick up his boyfriend, and as he tried to revive him, he felt love - genuine love - for the scrawny fellah. “Wake up, Sweetie. Wake up for Trey. Puh-please.” As Trey gently tilted Mark’s head he noticed the mark from the hypodermic on his neck.

“Carter Yan!” Anger made his blood boil. Trey was the biggest of the four, therefore the others had agreed to let him investigate Mark Stone in whatever way he saw fit. The amnesia that came out of Ortega’s own brand of investigation had provided a much-needed smokescreen within which to hide Trey’s true intentions and allow him to pose as Mark’s boyfriend so he could learn everything about him. Ok, so Carter had a point when he said Trey had so far discovered nothing. But now Carter, growing ever impatient with Trey’s lack of results, had decided to fuck everything up. There was no telling what a second attack on Mark at the hands of a huge bodybuilder would do to his already fragile psyche.

“Mark. Wake up for me... please.” And for the first time since this sham relationship began, Trey Waters kissed Mark Stone, and truly meant it. This was enough to snap Mark back from unconsciousness. When he came to, Trey had already gotten him to safety. Hiding behind some bushes in the town’s municipal park and picnic area, they were invisible to the motorcade of police cars and fire engines that roared past, enroute to everyone’s favorite Steakhouse to restore normality and make things safe once again. Trey didn’t care about any of that. He held his boyfriend lovingly to his bare, massive chest, adrenalin pumping to every corner of his body, possibly reacting with his raised sugar levels to promote yet more insane muscle growth. Below his waist, his sexy pants began to lose the battle against the expansion of his thighs, his balls, his impossibly huge dick.

“Trey… thank god. She… the Asian. First a woman, then she became… Carter! He… he… changed form right in front of me. He… injected me…with a hypo… took blood.” Mark’s voice had become a feeble croak.

Trey felt the back of his head and his fingers came back sticky with blood. “Shh, don’t talk any more. You may have a concussion. Got to get you to an emergency room.” Trey lifted Mark into his arms as though he was feather light.

Before passing out again, Mark marveled at how much larger Trey had become since the calamity at the Steakhouse. “You’re huger than ever now. 1000 maybe? Not sure. Trey? What’s happening? Tell me please.”

As two kinds of darkness descended on the town that evening, spreading out to the tune of wailing sirens and cries of utter distress, Trey Waters, more massive than he was aware of at this time, made a solemn promise to the man he now loved so much.  “When this is over, when I get your head looked at, I’m going to tell you the truth, Mark. I’m going to tell you… everything.”

To be continued...

[FallenAway]

Part 6

It was fortunate that Mark Stone’s second trip to hospital in just one month was without repercussions. Trey had feared a concussion, but the blood he’d found at the back of Mark’s head proved to be little more than a graze. That was good because Trey needed to get him to safety as soon as possible. Under the cover of darkness, he’d been able to lope back to the apartment to get some clothes and an overnight bag of things they would need. Obviously, Carter would be nowhere in sight, thanks to Joel’s duck-blind ability, which meant that the highly mobile laboratory could be hidden literally anywhere. The abilities that Raul, Carter, and Joel had developed as a side-effect to Redfern’s experiments into extreme muscle-growth often sent a shiver down Trey’s spine. It was a possibility that his extra talent was in squeezing greater performance out of the Enerflex-glycogen bonds that were stored between his muscle fibers. But compared to teleportation, hiding rooms inside folds in space/time, and shape shifting, Trey could hardly depend on brute size and strength alone to take on the might of his former colleagues.

He tried Raul on Mark’s phone again. They had once been good buddies, lovers for a time, before Redfern wove his taint into them. Raul had a penchant for gay rape and had served time in prison for it. But a gut instinct in Trey told him that he wasn’t beyond redemption. If he could just convince Raul to stand by him and Mark, the odds of resisting whatever Carter and Joel would soon unleash upon them (and this town), would be a little more in Trey’s favor. There was still no answer from Raul. Perhaps he hadn’t made it to Redfern’s vault.  

“We can’t stay here, honey,” said Trey as he tossed whatever he could find into two tote bags.

“Yeah, the police will know we were at the Steakhouse. They’ll want to question us,” said Mark, downing some aspirin given to him at the hospital.

“There is a van out back with a big enough interior to just about accommodate me,” said Trey, rushing about the apartment as if Armageddon was about to descend upon them. Perhaps it already had. Raul kept a safe hidden behind a framed painting of Jack Nicholson in full Joker getup. The leer/grimace of the Joker’s exaggerated grin could be unnerving if viewed for two long, but Trey ignored it and went straight for the safe behind the frame. His strength was incredible. He grabbed the handle of the safe and pulled without applying too much force. It broke off in his hand. Not a problem. He made a fist and pounded the iron door until it gave in. Iron was like putty to someone as strong as Trey.

Inside the safe were several wads of bank notes, more money than Mark ever thought he would see in his lifetime. There was also a small velvet pouch tied at the neck. “Half a million in uncut diamonds, the best South Africa has to offer. Thirty thousand in cash. Should last us a while.” Trey stuffed the cash into the tote-bag and the diamonds went into a bum-bag which he kept secure around his waist. The sweat suit he wore was stretched tight over his tremendous frame, although it had fitted him with room to spare only that previous day. Trey was thinking too fast, trying to make sure they wouldn’t make any mistakes. He was too preoccupied to even notice how much bigger he had become. When extreme danger had reared its ugly head, the adrenaline rush it precipitated must have caused an extreme reaction when mixing with the Enerflex-glycogen bonds. But hopefully there would be time for analysis later. Now was certainly not the time.

Just when Trey thought he’d taken everything from the safe, he noticed that there was a secret panel at the back. It had been partially worried by the force of his punch to the safe door. “What’s this?” He removed the panel and found a silicone storage container, about twice the size of a pack of cigarettes. He wasted no time opening it up. He gasped.

“What is it, Trey?” Mark held his breath as a worried look washed across Trey’s face. Even when under stress he was still beautiful and had the face of a male supermodel. He was the most beautiful man alive. No one could match him in looks or size.

“Enerflex. And it’s fresh. Not yet corrupted. Jesus, we have to get out of here ASAP!!!” He slipped the container with its four filled syringes into the bum-bag.

“I know that, but can’t you slow down for a second?” Mark’s heart was beating so fast now. It made thinking difficult due to his temples throbbing and the fact he still felt a little out of sorts due to the bang to his head. “Raul is working for Redfern. And I think he’s setting a tr... “

Before he could finish, a mighty arm appeared as if from nowhere, hitting Trey’s sternum with the force of a tank crashing through concrete. Trey was sent flying through the air, through the double doors connecting the living room with the master bedroom. He landed on Raul’s king-size bed and his massive 1000+ lbs. of weight reduced the bed to splinters.

Transfixed with fear, Mark stood before the materializing form of Raul Ortega as he teleported directly in front of him. At that moment Mark remembered the attack. He suddenly remembered everything and recognized Raul as the man who’d almost killed him. But Raul had changed. He was bigger than he was one month ago. Hell, he was way bigger than he had been before leaving for the Collective. He was as big, if not bigger than Trey Waters.

“For someone so scrawny, you have a habit of healing way too easily, Mark. I wonder if this might be another of your curious gifts.” Raul was clad only in spandex gym shorts, stretched to an incredible degree by his elephantine thighs with quads and hamstrings that rippled with energy eager to make the muscles expand ever further. His cock was growing longer and thicker beneath the spandex, lancing outward to drive Raul’s insatiable hunger further. His upper body was immense, almost nine feet across at the shoulders, massive pec balloons so huge that seeing his own feet over them was impossible. Ropy veins, the largest ones - an inch and a half thick - meandered and intersected in a repeated pattern across his immense hide. Stretch marks flared red and were healed in that flashing manner right across his skin as the musculature beneath refused to stop expanding, tissues of immense diamond hardness colliding against one another, assaulting with the intention of tearing their brethren and forcing rapid healing and expansion. “I need to grow more, runt. And I need to fuck you to do it. You liked it the last time, didn’t you? Well, I’m bigger now. Bigger than that loser boyfriend of yours. And after I get my fix from you, I’m going to kill that blonde bastard!” Raul’s fury was as immense as his body, and he growled like the maniac he was. And to think Trey thought that he could be redeemed. His soul was lost. In its place there was only unfeeling enmity for all things.

“Leave the skeleton, Raul,” said a voice as if out of nowhere. Behind Raul, the vestige of a collapsing portal issued the resonant command of an authoritarian. “Widen the doorway so that I may enter. I need to see him for myself.” Raul obeyed his master at once, using his will to call up a tele-portal so that his boss could make his entrance.

Stunned in the other room, Trey tried to regain his feet as he picked himself up from the remains of the bed. How did Raul get to be so strong? That punch had been powerful. Trey found himself checking his ribs for breakage. Fortunately, he found none. But he would be bruised in the morning for sure.

Mathias Redfern was an imposing figure. Six and a half feet tall but thin as a lathe, his skin was pale and his face heavily lined, like ancient parchment. He was completely bald, save for a plaited lock of jet-black hair set below the crown of his head and ending just beyond the nape of his unnaturally long neck. His eyes were grey and toneless, tiny pupils almost subsumed by the murky opacity of the irises in which they were set. His mouth was incapable of conveying any shape of warmth. It was a cold aperture to a soul that was positively freezing. He was dressed in a simple black suit, giving him the look of a mortician, although the overall look about him could be summed up in one word: unearthly.

Redfern moved with surprising agility despite it was difficult to fathom his age (he could have been anywhere between 45 and 80). With lightning swiftness, he was into the bedroom and loomed over the stunned giant bodybuilder, Trey Waters - once his most promising project. But he had decided to leave his mentor behind, a lust for power corrupting an already tarnished mind. “Don’t try to get up, my boy. I’ve rendered your legs temporarily useless. They wouldn’t be able to support your weight.” Redfern had a crispness to his English accent, but often allowed the final syllable of a word to drag out a little, giving his speech a somewhat disjointed aspect. He spoke without any emotion.

Trey began to panic as he tried frantically to get up from the destroyed bed. It was impossible. Redfern still had power over him. Oh god, don’t let him revert me, Trey mentally wept.

Redfern stooped to bring himself closer to the behemoth. “Raul tells me that you were planning to raid the fortress for more Enerflex. That would have proved a fatal mistake, Trey. My Elite Guards are more powerful than ever. And their talents... ah yes… ever developing into myriad magical wonders.” Redfern paused to mull on his words for a moment before adding: “Still haven’t found out what your extra ability is though. Curious. I expected you to show something by now. I would have felt it, too, as a tremor on the Aaia-wave.”

“Raul was part of the escape, too, Mathias. But you seem to have brought him to heel rather well. What did you promise him, apart from a steady supply of Enerflex?” Fear momentarily turned to anger as Trey fought within to will extra power into his legs, to break the paralysis Redfern had inflicted on him. He managed to get himself into a sitting position, his back almost as wide as the cracked headboard it pressed against.

“Raul was never in your clique, Trey. He was working for me the whole time. I never trusted the union you formed with Carter Yan and Joel McIntyre, and their abilities make them slippery to catch. You three had to be watched, not stopped. I needed to know what you are capable of. Further to this, you are using one of my precious gyms to fuel your research and not what it was intended for. To start cleaning up this little mess, I shall be reacquiring my property as of this very moment.” Redfern’s words were final.

Raul came into the room, his hand clamped tightly around Mark’s bony wrist. There was no way he could break such a hold. Mark and Trey were in serious trouble. “Don’t you want to test the skeleton here for the condition?”

“Ah yes, of course,” said Redfern, turning swiftly on a heel to bear down on the helpless Mark like a vulture homing in on carrion. It was then Mark noticed that Redfern’s thumbnails were long and pointed, as though he’d filed them into useful points. Redfern brought one hand up to Mark’s face and his skin felt cold and leathery. The fiend briefly caressed Mark’s right cheek and appeared to like what he saw. Then he dug into the cheek with one of his claws and Mark screamed as the nail went through his flesh but drew no blood. Redfern, now in contact with Mark’s physiology through the most unlikely of interfaces, closed his eyes and seemed to focus distantly for a time. Mark’s entire body went limp, and he felt as though he were free-floating - a consciousness without substance. It was a terrifying feeling. While this happened, Raul held him more tightly so that he wouldn’t fall.

From across the room Trey watched this, aghast and fearful for his lover. “Please let him be like me… please let him have the condition… or else he’s dead,” Trey thought worriedly. He held his breath as Redfern’s reverie seemed to deepen. The temperature in the room dropped by three or four degrees.

“Aaaaah… confirmation… always intoxicating to me.” Redfern broke contact with Mark, his thumbnail leaving no exit wound.

“Wuh-what did you juh-just do?” Tears spilled freely down Mark’s cheeks now and he wasn’t ashamed to feel twelve years old again.

“Release him, Raul.” Redfern commanded. Ortega let go of Mark and pushed him towards his lover. Mark collapsed into Trey’s mammoth arms and sobbed into his chest, wishing that this nightmare would go away.

“You are Metozenic, Mark… like your so-called boyfriend and my faithful Raul here. Were you not a metozen, you would not have survived my examination. Congratulations, you have a reason to be kept alive… but as part of the Collective I have built. The Collective exists for ones such as you, Mark. I can unlock such amazing potential in you, oh yes.” There was no joy or enthusiasm to be felt from Redfern’s tone of voice, his expressions neutral… but falteringly so, as though some kind of elation was trying to burst forth from features of cold granite. But Trey knew moments such as these… knew that Redfern was secretly jumping for joy having discovered another Grade-A candidate for his dark sorcery.

“Don’t forget he has an ability already, Mathias,” Raul reminded his mentor, “one that manifested itself despite he has yet to be given Enerflex.” The giant was pleased that he had reminded his lord and master of that fact.

Redfern looked at him and his scowl deepened. “I forget nothing, you cretin,” he rasped, baring teeth that were yellow and far too fang-like. “It is merely a residual mutation from the first-gen experimentation asserting itself early. No doubt Yan will have found a way to sample this one’s blood by now. He learned his craft from me, perhaps a little too well.” For a moment Redfern said nothing but just gazed at the felled lovers, considering his next move. He took in the crippled Trey’s mammoth muscles and a flicker of regret glimmered in his rheumy gaze. Trey had been his favorite, his most promising. But he had developed megalomaniacal traits and challenged all that his master was in the Utopia of his making. The truth was that Redfern could have emotions if he wanted to, but he would never show them. He should have had Trey destroyed, a failed experiment. But it was a sin to annihilate perfection… for perfection and longevity was all that Redfern strived for.

“Raul, teleport the small one to my private workshop. And as for this once-masterpiece of mine? I shall spend a moment alone with him.” Redfern began to rub his crotch with his hand, kneading his twitching member as lust washed through him and made him its servant.

Raul immediately carried out his orders and picked up Mark to carry him away from his boyfriend. When that was done, Raul activated his power and Mark vanished. There was a brief flash of blue and the distinct smell of ozone in the air. That had never happened before.  “Huh?” Raul scratched his head in befuddlement. Was that supposed to happen?  “Uh, Mathias? Something just...“

“Be off with you, Raul!” Redfern snapped, now showing anger towards his muscular minion. Raul did what he was told and vanished into a tele-portal of his creation. He was hungry and needed a workout anyway. His muscles were so huge that they required greater maintenance.  

“So then, Trey. Here we are. What should I do with you? Kill you? Or better still…” Redfern’s corpse-like figure moved across the felled giant like a seeping shadow with the texture of an oil slick. His movements were convoluted, inhuman. “…or better still, revert you. My, but you were in a sorry state when first we met, weren’t you?”

Hearing that horrid word “revert” was enough to cause Trey to quake with fear. Every muscle of his amazing body flexed repeatedly as he trembled. “I would rather die than be like that again, Mathias. Okay, so you’ve won… just kill me and make it quick.” Trey felt some movement returning to his legs. They felt stronger, but not enough to allow him to get up off the smashed bed. Time was running out for him.

“Oh, but can an old man not have one last kiss from his once-object of greatest desire?” Redfern never spoke of his subjects as people, rather as objects or projects. This further distinguished him from human beings. And yet, like a human being he had his wants… his lusts. Trey saw a tent forming of the old man’s pants at the front. Redfern descended further onto Trey, his eyes glazing over with want, his heart quickening.

But then… Mathias was denied his fun as everything seemed to fold in on itself and then get twisted apart as though matter and reality were coming apart at the seams. Trey felt himself sinking… no… falling through some nameless cosm as the screams of rage from Redfern shrank from an ear-splitting cacophony to a dulling drone… then becoming the merest whimper on the aether until it was gone. Disoriented and still unable to walk, thankfully Trey knew that he was out of danger… or was he? Joel McIntyre could punch holes in space and space/time to hide things within. Trey had experienced this before, so now he knew that he was out of Redfern’s impossibly long reach. But was he now in even greater danger?  Yan had, only a short time ago, attacked Mark back at Maury’s.

As his senses returned to normal, the disorientation leaving him, Trey came to on the floor of Carter Yan’s secret laboratory, still in the same position he had been in back at Raul’s apartment. To his surprise and utter disbelief, Mark was standing over him, a look of relief and deep love causing his tears to drip onto Trey. “They want to help, Trey,” was all he said as he knelt to hug his beautiful boyfriend.

“We… we shouldn’t trust them. How did you wind up here? I saw Raul teleport you. You should be at the Collective… unless?” For a moment Trey feared the worst, that Redfern had re-recruited Carter and Joel and now they, too, were working for him again. If he was back at the Collective, then he was doomed. But as his senses further attuned themselves to normality, everything became clear.

“Looks like I pulled you two out in the nick of time, Trey. Thankfully Raul doesn’t know that I can intercept his tele-ports and short them out,” said Joel McIntyre, making one of his rare real-time appearances. Both men had grown considerably bigger and more defined since they last saw each other, which wasn’t that long ago at all.

“Just tell me one thing. You and Carter are definitely on our side now, right? Can you be trusted?” Trey eyed the 600-pound Scot with a determined, unwavering gaze that spoke volumes on behalf of his lack of trust for anyone at this time, anyone but Mark, of course.

“We weren’t sure about you and Raul. But now, since we’ve been monitoring recent events, we know what side Raul’s bread is buttered on… the burnt side. He’s one of Redfern’s, all right. And we simply can’t allow that fucking fiend to experiment on Mark.”

Joel’s tone seemed sincere enough. But Trey wasn’t about to trust him or Carter just yet. “So instead, Carter will experiment on him, so little change there.” Trey felt more power returning to his legs. He attempted to get up and had to grip the wall for support. He was so strong that his fingernails gouged into the plaster causing it to flake away in places.

“He just wants to run tests, that’s all. Mark is like us… will be like us if things go in our favor?  

Joel was a prize specimen. He was the youngest of the four of Redfern’s once-prized projects, recruited into the Collective at just 16. In just three years the teenager had blossomed into a massive bodybuilder, currently weighing about 600 lbs. Unlike the others, he had no desire to grow any larger, although the option to do so was always there. He was also the shortest, at just over six feet tall, although when first coming into Redfern’s custody he had stood at only five feet six inches in height. But the fact that he was almost a foot shorter than Trey, but only 400 lbs. lighter, meant that in proportion to his height, his body was more sizably and densely muscled. In fact, it could be argued that for his height, he was more muscular and aesthetically proportioned than Trey, Carter or even Raul.  

He had reddish hair, which he liked to keep shaved tight to his head. He was also quite hairy and loved how his pec-mane tapered down to a delicious treasure trail than ran along the center of his granite-sculpted abs. He wasn’t overly handsome but had a rugged aspect to his features: a nose that was slightly too wide for his face, a chin that tapered perhaps a little too much, robbing him of the angled jaw lines of his companions. His eyes were hazel and perhaps a little too small and set into sockets that were a tad too deep. But somehow his facial shortfalls seemed to marry together well, and he came across as reasonably good-looking. His body, in contrast, had no flaws whatsoever. He liked exposed button-fly pants as much as Trey and he wore his full-length, stretched tightly across his gargantuan thighs. Tucked into the pants was a button-front low-necked tank-top which he always wore unbuttoned down to his navel, exposing so much of his beefy, hairy muscle mass. Straining the button-fly to its limits was a coiled-up snake-phallus which enhanced his crotch to immense proportions. His biceps and triceps were a tad out of proportion with the rest of his body, but he liked them huge. At 600 lbs., his upper arms were easily fifty-five inches around. His chest, last time he measured, was in the high nineties. He was happy with these proportions.

“Test is just another word for experimentation, Joel. I’m at my wits end here,” Trey said gruffly. He took some tentative steps towards Joel, helped in part by Mark who’d never seen his boyfriend look so helpless before. Seeing Trey getting his walking strength back was a strange sight indeed. Knowing just how strong he was made Mark fear the power of Mathias Redfern even more.

“Then trust us, Trey. Maybe you should speak to Carter, although he shouted at me the last time I tried to ask him something. He’s busy examining Mark’s blood for…”

“What we already know... evidence of Metazens in his system,” said Trey, interjecting somewhat rudely on Joel, causing the smaller muscleman to frown his disapproval. Mark stayed with Trey, finding he could provide little support for the seven-foot tall giant as he made bolder and bolder steps to work full strength back into his legs. “And how do you feel about all of this, Sweetie,” Trey addressed his boyfriend, who seemed to have a permanently baffled look on his face. It was time to be honest and open now that the charade was at an end.

“I remember everything now. That day when you first came into the store. The time-freeze phenomenon, and that eerie fog that seemed to be issuing from a fake gymnasium.” Mark grew despondent. He deserved a full explanation as to what was going on. Okay, so he had pieced together quite a bit, assembling recent events into a mishmash of nonsense, things that required ironing out. Only Trey and the others could fill in the missing pieces.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” said Joel, leaving the room.

The room was rectangular, lit by strip lighting across the ceiling. The walls were grey, and the floor was rubber matted. There were storage containers, metal drums and filing cabinets placed neatly around the room. There was a counter for the preparation of protein shakes, along with a blender, mini refrigerator and storage space for foodstuffs and supplements. Trey sat down on an adapted chair and folded his arms on the table before him. Mark sat in the chair opposite, feeling like a little boy trying to fit into an adult-sized world. “Well, I’m listening. Tell me everything I need to know, Trey.” Mark fell silent and waited for his boyfriend’s story to unfold.

Trey would be completely honest with him and keep nothing back. He started talking about the condition known as Metazeniosis:

“I was born with the condition, as were Raul, Carter, Joel… and you, obviously. But there are many more of us out there, living mundane lives, not knowing of the power locked deep inside every cell in their bodies. Redfern seeks us out, drawing us into his Collective, the reasons for which he never divulges. But whatever the reason, one thing is certain: only he will benefit from it in the end, unless a more powerful order emerges to bring him down. In any case, his searches carry him all over the world. He found Raul in Mexico, pulling strings, and forking out a lot of money to get him out of prison. Joel is from Aberdeen Scotland and Carter is from Hong Kong. I was in Europe being treated for an eating disorder when Redfern found me.”

Hearing this caused Mark’s eyes to wax large in their sockets. Trey Waters had an eating disorder?

“I thought that would surprise you. When I failed to get a football scholarship to Heyden Carr University, I kind of went off the rails a little. Well actually… a lot. I stopped exercising altogether and took to eating. And boy when I ate, I could put away a lot of food. I went to Europe to try to take my mind off food, all the while gaining pound after pound of ugly fat. Within a year my weight had increased to 325 and I was fat… getting fatter, too. As my weight increased, so too did my appetite. I was 400+ lbs. by the time I reached Barcelona and the food there was simply marvelous. I met a local guy named Juan-Carlos who was into fat men and had a fetish about stuffing me with food to get me larger and eventually bed-ridden. By the end of my second year away from home, Juan-Carlos had achieved just that. I was well over 800 lbs. when eventually I was admitted to the clinic in Madrid. That’s when Redfern found me.”

Mark was too astonished to comment. But he could sense his boyfriend’s pain and reached across the table to lovingly take his hand in his own. Trey welcomed his support with a wavering half-smile. He continued with his story: “Redfern is extremely rich. How he made his wealth is a mystery, something with stocks and shares in the seventies, I reckon. And diamonds also… can’t forget those. With great wealth comes lots of power and influence. He could pull a lot of strings and always cover his tracks in doing so. He had people working in hospitals and clinics throughout the world, their jobs to seek out anyone with anomalous medical conditions, either congenital or brought on by other factors. In my case he found me through a nurse he’d stationed at the Madrid Clinic for Obesity Control. I was something of a medical marvel. At over 800 lbs. I was still somewhat mobile and didn’t suffer from any of the typical obesity-related conditions such as sleep apnea, diabetes, and high blood pressure. My liver worked fine; all my organs were in fine shape… including my heart. I had the resting heartbeat of an athlete. All of this filtered to Redfern, of course, and he was drawn to me.

“It turns out that the condition causes hyper-efficiency in the organs of the body and in the endocrine system. My skeletal structure is extremely dense, and my cardiovascular system is on par with that of a racehorse. Any of the conditions that I should have developed at this massive weight were rendered null and void. I could probably continue to get fatter and fatter, and my body systems would continue to compensate. Metazeniosis is an adaptive condition; that’s why I can continue to gain huge amounts of muscle and my heart and lungs, all my body functions, adapt to meet supply and demand. Carter believes, in theory, that there is no upper limit to how heavy and muscular I can get. The same goes for when I was morbidly obese, although not to parry to such vices would eventually get me so immobile that I would die from the boredom of not being able to move.” Trey paused to moisten his lips with some bottled water from the mobile fridge. He also offered one to Mark.

“You used interesting words… parry to vices... It seems like you’ve become more articulate,” Mark commented.

Trey thought about this. “Redfern paralyzed me from the waist down. Whenever he uses his strange powers on us, something affects our minds, making us more intelligent. The effects last less than eight hours, though. If Redfern is aware of this, he hasn’t mentioned it so far. Carter thinks it’s something we may be able to exploit. But back to my story. I said that I wanted to tell you everything and that’s what I intend to do.” Trey downed all of his water before continuing:

“When I first met Mathias Redfern, he came across as a genuinely benevolent person, willing to help me escape the trap my own body was fast becoming. He was congenial and eager to get to know me. He looked no different to what he looks like today, a tall, virtually living-specter, thin to a fault and yet his body belied strength of an unknown origin. Pale and sickly he might have looked, but the grip from his handshake was cold and vice-like. Still though, what he proposed to me was something that a young man in my condition would be mad to turn down.

“It involved having me air-lifted to one of his special clinics, in this case high in the Italian Alps. An unusual place for a clinic, maybe, but there was an eccentricity about Redfern that made me accept that a man of his wealth and influence could achieve anything he set his mind to. He explained that the altitude helped with the treatment of his “projects” as he liked to call us. He would have paid off the Madrid Clinic administrator to erase all records of my attendance there. Then, with a clean slate, I began my new lease of life as Mathias Redfern’s most promising diamond in the rough.

“My treatment began just over two years ago. Can you believe it? Two years ago, I was a massively overweight man despite that I was only turning 21. I should have been living life to the max, excelling at sports, and growing big and strong. Bodybuilding was something I’d always kept on the backburner, just in case I didn’t make it in pro-football. The binge-eating started me on a dark path to Oblivion. I thought at first that Mathias Redfern would be my ultimate salvation. Turned out he is Oblivion Incarnate.

“We… meaning his other project Raul Ortega - Carter and Joel were recruited some months after us - were started on a series of injections right away. This was Enerflex, developed by Redfern himself, only we didn’t know what it was called at first. We also didn’t know that we were to be the first humans to ever be treated with the stuff. We were human guinea pigs, nothing more. Raul was overweight as well, but that was because during his time in solitary he received little chance to exercise properly. Call it bad management in a Mexican prison. Redfern learnt about him through similar means, a spy placed inside the establishment. Raul’s vice was rape, so he had to be kept in solitary as much as possible. Thing about Raul was that he kept breaking out of the cells, for he was unnaturally strong, despite he had little in the way of muscle mass. One time he broke out of his cell and raped the shit out of two prison guards. This made him stronger. He was the first of Redfern’s subjects to sprout muscles before Enerflex was applied. The reason for this was made clear to us during our treatment: that basically there are different grades of Metazeniosis. I’m a grade three, whereas Raul is a grade two – he out-grades me. But our muscle-growth factors are distinctly different due to the fact they are triggered by different catalysts.” Trey paused to consider his next words carefully. He caressed Mark’s hand lovingly and looked him square in the eyes with nothing but honesty reflected in his own.  

“Judging by how Redfern reacted to his probing of you... I would guess that you are the first grade one Metazen that Redfern has yet encountered. Also, you seem to have developed an ability on its own, without the introduction of Enerflex into your system, namely your ability to resist our time-locks. Carter is determined to unlock the mystery of your cellular structure before Redfern does. You could turn out to be the most powerful Metazenic bodybuilder of all time.”

Trey paused from his story so that Mark could take everything in. It was a lot to digest all at once and Mark felt his head spinning as he attempted to process this important information. Finally, after a minute or so, Trey had to ask: “Do you have questions for me so far? There’s more to tell you but ask me whatever you want.”  

Mark thought long and hard, his head surging with questions for Trey. But one question more than any other refused to be put on the backburner. There was one thing Mark had to know above all else: “Why did you lie to me?”

Trey had expected this now that Mark’s full memory had returned. He leaned back in his seat and sighed long and hard as he clamped together the fingers of each hand behind his head, forming something of a comfortable headrest. It had been an exhausting few hours, even for him. With his arms locked in this position, his gigantic biceps swelled larger, pushing against his forearms, making the secondary peaks on each bi flare huger, as if to crush his head. His arms were getting bigger and bigger, but because he’d had less than an ideal evening, he had yet to examine himself for even more growth (although his head getting near-engulfed by his biceps when resting his hands behind was an all-new experience). He let out a vast, somewhat defeatist sigh. Then, puffing up his enormous chest so that the threads in the sweatshirt began to come apart between his pecs and along each colossal arm, Trey smirked one of his famous smug grins and declared: “I lied to you because I wanted to be the most powerful being on Earth. Mark… I wanted to rule the fucking world!”

To be continued . . .

[superkappa]

This is great, I never had the chance to read Lorus stories before he took them down, I'm so happy he's allowing you to repost them.