complete novel MadMutter’s Thicker than Water — Chapters 1-8

[scarletic]

MadMutter's

Thicker than Water

by Scarletic

7

Max Occupancy

Fitting a family’s three generations’ worth inside the Castillo-Moreno estate was one thing — something almost impossible not to do, considering the mini-mansion was notably spacious, taking up three thousand square meters of land. This was, of course, excluding the actual lot size, fenced around with seven-foot-tall concrete barriers.

While the walls of the house weren’t too impressive (hardly half a foot higher than the seven-and-a-half-foot-tall front double doors, its open plan interior allowed — no, demanded — hearty gatherings to fill its halls with proof of life.

This was such the case on the final evening of Jolias’ and Max’s stay, the other relatives returning from their day trips around Lake Titicaca to celebrate — occasionally remembering to mourn their abuela (if you could call emptying the buffet and depleting her prized wine reserves that) as was customary; though, albeit silently, everyone knew why they were there (Jolias had joked about it once: “It starts with an ‘m,’ ends with an ‘oney’.”).

However, the decadent merrymaking inside came to a sharp and terribly pregnant silence as everyone’s attention was pulled to the sound of the grandiose front doors crashing to the ground in a tumultuous boom.

The Castillo-Moreno house hadn’t been the same since.

Not after Jolias returned, grown even bigger and taller in the few hours he was gone. His entire head had disappeared above the doorframe. That, and his shoulders were now so broad he could hold both ends of the double-door frame and still have sufficient length to bend his elbows. No one in the house could believe Jolias — their cousin, nephew, uncle, and son — had inexplicably blown up into a muscular titan of a man. His former twin Marco could now fit under the dwellings of Jolias’ burgeoning chest. And still despite his size, no one could believe there was an ounce of fat on him. All across his now much more impressive arms and legs and torso was a vascular network of threads just beneath his skin. In fact, the only part visibly soft on him apart from his face was the endowment between his knees the size of a jumbo eggplant.

The cold air was already rushing into the house due to the absence of their front doors; but no one moved a muscle.

Their eyes and mouths ajar were still fixated on something else. Something that dwarfed even Jolias, a titanic body that loomed just behind him, as white as moonlight — someone whose top-most row of abs was grazing the top of the seven-and-a-half-foot doorframe.

Then they remembered who it was Jolias had arrived with earlier that day: a cute and quiet German boy who should only have been two inches shorter than Jolias. Yet as he came twisting and crouching and literally crawling into the house, falling to his knees in the process, that same adorably handsome face rose, and rose, and continued to rise until his back collided with the ceiling, creating a dent on impact. Jolias’ hair was brushing the eight-foot ceiling, but his entire head could comfortably nestle in the cleavage of his gigantic boyfriend. Just as buck naked, boasting an erect penis that made 12-year-old 5’2” Ethan seem small.

Jolias raised his arms, spanning the full width of Max’s chest as his backdrop, and he twisted his lips into a shit-eating grin, tilting his neck up to make it known there was no room for debate anymore: Jolias Castor was the man of the family — all 17 of them.

And he sang, “we’re home!”

◊ ◊ ◊

Another day passed, and the festivities were in full motion (at least, as full as they could be without anyone appearing to be a blatant parasitic gravedigger).

Max was sitting cross-legged on the tiled living room floor, his body now too big for even the couch to hold. Marco had had the visible displeasure of being the one tasked to wrap a fleece blanket around his waist — though most of the fabric did end up being used to mummify his now-constant erection. Being around so many puny persons, all of whom resembled children to him now, kept him in a perpetual state of arousal, of stimulation.

The night prior, they headed out to the yard where they had to pull out the stepladder (their tallest four-step one) just to get a height reference for the couple.

Max could still vividly remember seeing Jolias’ dad’s face as he read out the measurement for his son.

“Tell me how big I am, dad!” Jolias commanded, chuckling. “Come on; we don’t got all day.”

Julio’s face had lost all color, so close to his hulking son’s own that was easily double the size of his. “Y-you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re 239 centimeters…”

The glee written on Jolias’ face was mixed with a generous helping of confusion. Max knew he hadn’t used metric units in half a decade.

So Jolias turned to him, tilting his head back to ask. “What is that in silly American numbers?”

Max chortled. “It means you’re 7’11”, you doof. God, imagine if I never ended up growing earlier; you would’ve been a whole six inches taller than me by now.”

Jolias raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, shaking his head tauntingly. “And you’ve got a problem being the little spoon?”

Guffawing, Max walked up to him, threatening to shove him into the ladder, effectively sending Jolias Sr. to the ground, with a simple puff of the mounds of muscle and flesh he called a chest. “When I’m this huge? Yeah, I do.” And he bent forward, crouching almost, and whispered into Jolias’ ear. “Because I think I prefer always being bigger than you, Mr. Gym Rat. And I’ve got a cylindrical peg here that fits perfectly in your tight hole.”

Jolias gave Max’s unblemished cheek a quick lick and caught Marco staring in the corner of his eyes. “Did you hear dad, Marco? I’m over two feet taller than you. Than everyone else in this family.”

Marco was nonchalant, his delivery evidently loaded. “Yeah. None of us hold a candle to you now.”

“Aw, don’t say that. So is Ethan, see?” And there he was, little 12-year-old Ethan, standing in Marco’s shadow, wearing his favorite basketball jersey. All 5’2” of him. “You’d better start talking to Dr. Alice again soon, bro. Once Ethan there hits puberty, he’s gonna make you look like the 12-year-old.”

Marco forced out a laugh and crossed his arms against his chest.

Julio then gulped, quite loudly at that, and turned to face Max, the significantly larger of the two, someone whose height would likely need him to tip-toe on the top step just to barely bring the tape measure to the top of his messy head of mocha hair.

Max had been waiting patiently, excited for the grand reveal. “My turn?” He could feel his face light up just asking.

“…Yes.”

And he did exactly that, tiptoeing delicately on the teetering top step of the ladder, mouthing words of prayer as he measured. Whether they were for what he was seeing or hoping he didn’t fall, Max couldn’t tell — it could’ve easily been both.

“Well?” Jolias asked. “How big’s my bulky Bunyan boyfriend?”

“I’m not fat! I lost all that shit days ago— oh, sorry for the language, Mr. Jolias.”

“You look like a 12% to me. I’d say 12% body fat is pretty fat,” Jolias taunted.

“Oh, shut up. Just wait till we get in bed. I’ll show you how good 12% is.”

“I dare you to,” Jolias said, grinning widely.

Then Julio interrupted. “287 centimeters…” He wasn’t breathing.

And upon hearing those numbers, neither was Max.

“Max?” Jolias asked. “How tall are you?”

“I’m… 9’5”?” he asked, incredulously. “Holy— I’ve grown over three feet taller since we flew down here.”

And the rest of the night since had been a blur.

Since then, it was a barrage of questions directed at Max from aunts and uncles who treated him as a point of gathering. Though he did try sneaking away into Jolias’ room the night they returned from the lake, it was pointless; he could hardly stand without his torso — at most — stuck at a 45-degree angle. He had to crawl and squat around the house, and his shoulders were already wider than the stairs. It was insane to think a 45-inch waist looked slim compared to the rest of him.

Jolias, on the other hand, and much to Max’s displeasure, could still walk around without much trouble. And he took advantage of it while he still could and fled to his bedroom alone that night.

Max slept in the living room on a makeshift mattress of blankets.

It was around midnight of yesterday that Max woke up to the sound of water being dispensed from the refrigerator. Peering around the corner leading to the kitchen, he found Marco, dressed in yellow silk pajamas (stretched tight to accommodate his extra mass).

It was a quiet night, cold outside. Neither boy wanted to ruin the peace and wake everyone by accident.

They caught each other’s attention, and Marco held his glass close to his chest. “You’re still awake?” he asked. “Do you need more blankets?”

Max smiled softly and shook his head. “No, I’m good, thanks. A pillow would’ve been nice, but—“

Marco snickered. “It wouldn’t take you very long to turn even that into another blanket, would it?”

“Yeah. And you? Jolias got you doing thirsty work?” Max asked.

“Nah. My throat just dries around midnight. I think we’re finally putting that behind us. He’s found you, and I guess that has to be enough. Besides, I’m his bottom. Was, I mean. He’d turn my anus into a sinkhole now before he even got his tip in.”

Max grinned, showing teeth. “Yeah. I really am sorry if I took him away from you.”

Even from where Max was lying on the floor, he could see through Marco’s cheap little smile, a wallowing pool of sorrow hidden deep in the glimmer of his citrine eyes. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. Elias has a lot of things to love,” Marco said.

“He’s a lot to love, too. Physically, I mean.”

Marco tilted his head in acknowledgment. “That, too.”

The lone candle situated on the kitchen island was about to go out. It had been lit for a few hours and counting. Most of the older relatives requested less light in the house the later the night got, and candles were prepared for such an occasion.

Marco took another sip of his water before breaking the silence. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Max blinked himself awake. “Yeah?”

“Elias told me you were an immigrant like him. You came to America alone? My brother’s reasons for going alone, I get. But what are yours? I’ve only ever heard nothing but nice things about your country.”

It was a question Max had been dreading to answer since he arrived in the USA. People always asked him the same thing, wherever he went, wondering why he would choose to settle in a hellhole like America when — for each person like him — there were thousands more wishing they could live in Germany, instead. Even Jolias didn’t have the answer. Max often steered the conversation away, ending every attempt at inquisition with a masterfully practiced digression. ‘A secret for a secret,’ he often mentioned; yet he never asked anyone else of theirs. It was a security measure. He figured the less he knew, the less he’d need to worry.

But Max remembered his conversation with Jolias on the lakeshore. Jolias was owed a secret in turn.

Marco was his twin. He was there. No one else was around. He would have to do. “Promise not to tell. I haven’t even told Jolias.”

Marco’s eyes lit up at the mention. “Really?” he said, in disbelief. “Fine, then. I can keep a secret. Lord knows I forget some of my own. But I’ll remember yours.”

“I appreciate it,” Max started. “Alright, so it was a few years ago, yeah? I was still in college, then. And there was this guy. Name was Decon. He was big, like big-big. And black. 193 centimeters, 110 kilos. He was from Chicago, studying internationally for film or something. Anyway, we ended up dating for a while. He was the first boyfriend I ever had. Jolias thinks he’s the first, but I’d never tell him.

“Now Decon loved working out. It was kind of scary, actually, how focused he was on making himself bigger when he never even played sports or competed. Totally harmless. Then one day I asked him — since he was the top between us — how big he could push himself. Sad to admit, I had a terrible thing for big guys. I loved how hunky he was, and he knew I did, but I wanted to see if he could do more.

“And he did; he told me he’d get as big as I wanted him to. He went to the gym five days instead of three. He dropped a class just to have enough time, too. In half a year, he gained like 15 kilos. Almost none of it fat, just for me. And I don’t know if you’ve seen any pictures of me before I found the slime, but I was pretty hefty myself.”

Marco nodded. “Elias showed me a few pictures.”

“So when he told me his progress, I loved it. I mean, no one’s ever done that for me before, you know? I was only trying to test the limits. I never expected a hunk like him to be interested in a lardbag like me for too long. He even started putting on those in-soles that add two inches, so he was around seven inches taller than me whenever we went out.

“And it was good for a while. We had fun in and out of bed. I was just counting the days until he found someone more like him and moved on. But then he told me to come with him to the gym. He wanted to help me lose all my extra weight and turn it into muscle, just like him. Apparently, he also had a thing for muscle men, but he stuck around with me because he could ‘see my potential’ or something, and I guess he thought I was funny. I didn’t think it was a serious ask or anything.”

Marco’s cup of water had dried out by now. “I’m expecting a very big ‘but’ to follow.”

“But then he told me what his fantasy was. To turn the man of his dreams into a giant of muscle. Someone who could break him if they even breathed on him. I told him I wasn’t really into the whole ‘working out’ thing, but — I don’t know what happened — he took that as a sign that he wasn’t big enough himself? He just went to the gym more, wore higher boots, stood taller, tried to make himself as big as he possibly could. The more I said no, the more he grew until he ended up a roided 160-kilo brick shithouse.

“When we were finally graduating, he told me he’d give me one last chance before he flew back to Chicago. He came over to my house in a pink fucking thong and tried asking for my parents’ blessing to take me out.”

Marco didn’t even bother refilling his glass. “What happened next?”

“My dad beat him up. I told you, Decon was harmless. My dad didn’t know I was gay, and he was — I kid you not — one of the most conservative people I’ve ever known. Racist, too. I took Decon to the hospital, and I never saw him again after that. The next year, my mother wanted to help me get away from the house. Anywhere in the world, she said. She’d pay for everything on my dad’s card. So I picked Chicago. I guess some part of me still wanted to find Decon. But last I heard, he was in rehab in another state. And that was about the time I met your brother, ordering a black coffee, Peruvian coffee, from the café I worked at.”

Marco deposited his glass in the sink and walked over to Max, as if to marvel at the way this nearly-ten-foot-tall muscle-bound boy could possibly have ever been so weak. Max was still lying on his side. He was propping up his head with his forearm, grounding his elbow on the linoleum floor.

The sole candle’s light didn’t burn as bright anymore, nor did it even reach where Max was positioned, just outside the arch leading to the kitchen, but even Max could see that the uneasy waters that had plagued Marco’s very being since the day they met had gone. In their place was something else. Something lighter. Less threatening. Not as intimidating. Something that made Max glad he confided in Marco. Plus, there was that damn beguiling smile. Damn twins.

Marco placed his hand on Max’s bare chest, just above his heart. His hand was far too little (smaller than either of Max’s nipples), but the gesture was appreciated. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, but… thanks for trusting me.”

Max lifted his free arm and pulled Marco in, squeezing the tiny man against his torso. “Of course. If your brother and I end up getting married, you’re going to have another brother to play around with.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Marco scolded.

“Yes, mommy dearest.”

“I still can’t believe you left Germany and flew halfway around the world for a man,” Marco said. “Does everyone in Europe look that bad in person?”

Max shrugged, the rumble of his shoulders unintentionally shaking up Marco’s entire body. “I’m clingy. What can I say? Special people mean a lot to me. Why else do you think I flew down here with Jol’? To have a 17-person family orgy?”

The little man was having trouble breathing with the weight of a pig-sized arm pinning him against a wall of pec meat. “And look at you now. You’re exactly what Decon wanted you to be. A hulking behemoth of muscle that could crush me against your chest right now if you wanted to. If you were any taller, I would be able to walk under your crotch without bending my neck.”

“That sounds kind of hot, actually.” Max laughed, amused. “You’re funnier than I remembered.”

And for a moment, there was silence. Then, again, Marco spoke. He was quieter this time, as if he almost didn’t want to be heard. “I’m happy you and Elias found each other,” he muttered.

Max swooned at that. “Oh… I wasn’t expecting that from you. Always took you for the type to hold a grudge against me for putting a stop to your nefarious incestual schemes.”

“Oh, I am, gringo. But… I like you. I like that my brother likes you. I know you were worried about that Dick-on guy leaving you, but… I think you and Elias are a perfect match. The perfect couple. Don’t let your anxiety make you believe anything else.”

Max couldn’t help but grin like a fool, hugging Marco even tighter. “Thanks for the blessing. I’ll give Jol’ enough love for the two of us. No matter how big we plan on growing, we’ll always have a spot for you. Somewhere on our bodies.”

“Thanks.”

And the candle, finally, went out.

◊ ◊ ◊

The twins’ bedroom had, as Marco explained, been converted into a storage room of sorts. Cardboard boxes and random knick-knacks were scattered and piling up against the already cramped walls, almost like fungus. There was dust everywhere, creating a gray haze that coated everything. All that remained of the old room, the bygone memories, was the bed.

That, and Jolias.

Jolias was sat on his bedroom floor, bare ass on the textured rug at the foot of his double bed.

It was a bitter realization when he came home after their accident at the lake and had their heights measured by his father that he’d become too big to lie on his bed without breaking its rotten wooden legs. He would’ve destroyed the frame before he even closed his eyes had he attempted. The floor was the next best thing; at least he could rest his back against the bedframe. Little consolation though it was.

The party was raging downstairs, likely a spectacle for so many of them, face-to-face (or face-to-abs, in Max’s case) with a legitimate flesh-and-blood giant.

Ethan’s caregiver had come in a few minutes ago to ask if Jolias wanted anything from the buffet. There was, of course, nothing in the house he wanted, nothing that could satisfy him — not when his mother Marcela had let herself in his room earlier without a word or knock of warning.

His mind had been wandering in a slurry of pitch-black muck since then. And, all at once — no preamble or nothing — everything that had happened since they arrived in South America, all the unbelievable things that he’d lived through, it came hurtling to a painful halt, compounding and blurring into a void at the forefront of his brain. The world around him had lost its luster, no more than a surreal mess he wanted to wake up from.

His eyes, with a heavy sigh, fell to the floor, and there he saw his penis, an immense 18-inch thing that outsized a baseball bat in girth. It was attached to him, somehow, as the rest of his muscle-endowed body was.

Even idle, there was still so much power flowing, coursing, through his body; he could feel it even as he lifted a finger, that inexplicable urge to flex his bicep and watch it explode under his skin into a bowling ball. He stroked the inside of his thigh and felt its smooth, hairless flesh, listened to the way skin brushed against skin. His body was immaculate, perfectly sculpted to be the embodiment of a bodybuilder’s ultimate self-realization. But, as the clock ticked on the wall above his bed, the noise drowned of people yammering downstairs: none of it felt real.

Then the floor rumbled, and he knew that Max was coming up to fetch him. A dreaded eventuality. He knew Max had crawled to just outside his door when the unmistakable sound of ceiling plaster crumbling sounded in his ears.

“Jol’? Are you in there?” Max asked.

Jolias considered not replying, his motivation to move — much less open his mouth — gone with the wind; but this was Max, his boyfriend, his giant idiot. “Yeah. Come in; the door’s unlocked.” The door lock had been screwed out. It was another thing his parents had stripped him of: privacy.

Max took several attempts to open the door, eventually caving in and slamming the side of his fist into it, breaking it off its hinges. “Sorry about the door. Figured you wouldn’t mind an open plan bedroom.”

From the moment Max squeezed — or, more aptly, wriggled — his way into the bedroom, Jolias’ mood lifted like a high he’d taken for granted. That square-cut European face, the uncorrupted life hidden behind those soft gray eyes, his damn dimpled smile. They’d been together so often, he forgot what life felt like without him. The difference was night and day.

Max couldn’t stand up in the little room, and he was unwilling to spend a second hunched over. ‘I don’t want to end up having a hunchback like Quasimodo,’ Max had told him; so, he crawled, and he sat, crossing his legs and maneuvering around box after box, facing Jolias. Even when both were seated on the floor, Max was still a full head taller. Jolias had enjoyed his brief time as the taller one, but there was a comfort in looking up to Max, because he knew Max wanted him, Max would protect him, and Max felt like home.

“What are you doing here all alone?” Max asked, smiling. He peeled off the bedsheet wrapped around his crotch and threw it to the bed, unleashing his two-foot-long semi, poking Jolias’ smaller cock with its softball-sized mushroom cap. They hadn’t had sex in so long, Max’s genitals were becoming a bit unmanageable. “Your family’s getting all riled-up downstairs. They keep calling me some sort of divine reincarnation or something.”

Jolias raised a brow in doubt. “You? Mr. I-Don’t-Believe-in-God?”

Max snorted and raised his arms in a massive double bicep flex, creating mountains from skin that outsized his already-large head. “Yeah, man, don’t I look like a god to you?” he asked with a crunchy Californian accent. Then he bent forward and plucked Jolias’ chin with his forefingers. “Because you look like one to me. Inti was the name they used for you. God of the sun.”

Jolias snatched Max’s fingers and plunged them into his mouth, suckling on their tenderness. He finished with a pop, unceremoniously releasing Max’s wet fingers. “That answer your question, big man?”

The two giants giggled to themselves as they read one another’s eyes, savoring their mutual infatuation for one another. Silently competing to see who could adore the other man more.

“Come downstairs with me,” Max said.

“You know I can’t do that.”

And the room went quiet.

◊ ◊ ◊

Jolias had had another outburst earlier that day.

It was just past noon, and the entire family was celebrating in the yard. There were buffet tables, and an ancient boombox blasting latin pop throughout the estate. They were all lovingly trapped in a bubble of festivities. The sun was high in the sky, and the only clouds in sight were from some uncles’ cigarettes. A lot of folks had taken off a piece or two of clothing. They were prone to sweating, and sweat meant body odor.

Max and Jolias, unforgivingly, were still naked. Max had had it in his mind that not having any clothes would’ve made the heat more bearable — but it was only the opposite. Marco was behind him, using the stepladder to apply copious amounts of sunblock to Max’s radioactively sunburnt back. Max wanted to complain about the speed (Marco was taking his sweet time with his small hands) but he wouldn’t dare — not when Marco volunteered.

Besides, Jolias was preoccupied.

There was a moment where Max considered rescuing him from another confrontational conversation with his parents. Marco stopped him.

“Just enjoy the buffet, Max,” Marco said, under his breath, actively turning away from Jolias’ direction. “If he’s talking to our parents, he’s doing it for a reason. Leave him be.”

“…But…” Max’s worry, of course, was not unfounded. He understood where Jolias was coming from.

While Max was celebrated by elderly folk he’d never met before as a living creator diety of sorts, the attention fizzled when Jolias stepped into the limelight. Then Jolias’ face would sour when everyone shunned him, and he would step back and let Max absorb the adoration once again. He was a different person at home. Max didn’t like seeing him so upset.

“He didn’t want me to tell you,” Marco said, slapping another handful of sunblock on Max’s back. “But he doesn’t like you seeing him like this. The relatives like you. You’re gigantic, but you act so small.” He sighed. “He’s used to acting big, and that’s something no one in the family likes about him. They always try making him feel like the small one.”

Max pouted his lips, considering what Jolias and his parents could be talking about at the other end of the yard. “But what’s the point?”

“There is none. That’s just how they are,” Marco said. “Anyway, it’s not something you need to worry about. We’re all heading home after tonight, so we’ll be out of these people’s hair by morning.”

And for a few minutes, Max was hoping that Jolias’ talk wouldn’t end in another scene. But Max knew him too well, and he could already see Jolias turning red, his forehead crinkling, his eyes widening, fangs showing. He was raising his volume. Enough to compete against the music and jovial chatter for attention. Then Jolias stood to his full height, and he slammed his fist into his parents’ table with the force of a metric tonne. The old wooden thing surrendered without resistance, becoming a wreck of splinters and planks, and Julio and Marcela stood in fear, ready to yell back.

Max and Marco both saw.

Marco chose to stay out of it.

Max didn’t.

He stood and lunged across the yard in a few steps, pulling everyone’s gazes toward him, realizing where he was going.

“If I’m not your son, then what am I?!” Jolias yelled, saliva falling from his lips. “I’m fucking sick of you two treating me like a stranger.”

There was a glint in Jolias’ eye that told Max he knew he was there at his side. Though he didn’t acknowledge his presence.

“You need to calm down and stop overreacting,” Marcela chided. “You’ve done nothing but embarrass the family since you got here, and you either need to show some respect or get out of my house.”

Julio rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Listen to your mother, Julias. We didn’t raise you to be an ogre. Just because you’ve… changed like this… doesn’t give you any right to be ruining this for all of us.”

“Are you kidding me, old man?” Jolias screamed, grabbing a vacant table and smashing it into splinters against the concrete fence. “You never raised me at all!” He glanced at Max through his peripheral vision and winced. “The two of you keep telling me how much you love my boyfriend, but you haven’t said a single fucking kind thing to me since I got here. I am not his pet, and I have never been Marco’s second-best.”

Max wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. He searched among the gathering crowd for Marco but saw him at the back, hiding, staring at Max with an almost look of pity, as if praying that Max knew how to defuse the situation.

But all he could do was hold Jolias’ elbow before Jolias too saw the crowd, all eyes on him. Fear, annoyance, and disapproval only some of the many faces.

“Julias, control yourself; people are staring—“ Marcela grumbled, shaking in her attempt to maintain a powerful stance next to the behemoth.

“Good! Let all the relatives know how terrible you two are as parents,” Jolias announced. “You’ve done nothing but abuse me emotionally and treat me like dogshit since I was a kid. If I knew that you were going to torture me with your unbelievable excuse for parenting my whole life, then I wish you’d just aborted me. Then you wouldn’t have had a fucking failure four minutes too late for your worthless approval.”

Max could see both Jolias and Marcela tearing up now. Both their pressed lips were visibly shaking, and their hands, always so poised, were trembling against their chests.

“You fuckers don’t deserve a son like me.”

The crowd too had gone silent, and the music had, at some point, been cut.

Marco had disappeared from the crowd, and Max couldn’t blame him. It was, after all, the right — and only — thing left to do. He tugged Jolias’ arm, even with the resistance, moving what felt like a stubborn statue rooted six feet in the soil.

“Jol’—“ Max whispered.

Julio had buried his face in his hand. “Max—“

Then Jolias flung his arm back, releasing Max’s grip, and he stormed off. “You don’t have to fucking say anything,” he said. “I’m going.” And the love of Max’s life disappeared into the house, shattering a glass door somewhere inside.

Max turned on his heel and saw everyone’s eyes on him, but their expressions of anger and disgust had melted away, now reading as concern and worry. But he scoffed. He knew those feelings weren’t meant for Jolias. The attention was nice for a while, but he wasn’t the one lacking it for so long. He didn’t need it. He never needed it.

“He’ll cool off,” Julio said, offering to lead Max back to the buffet. “Please. Come, eat something with me.”

He considered following Jolias, but he supposed his father did know enough about him, because they both came to that same conclusion. And right now, they needed a distraction.

And, for now, Jolias needed to be alone.

“Sure thing, Mr. C.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Jolias couldn’t believe what he’d heard — an insane request, coming from his boyfriend of all people. Especially when he was there when he suffered another lapse. Another mistake. One he doubted he could ever be forgiven for.

‘Come downstairs with me,’ Max had said.

The reply came out of his mouth by instinct. “You know I can’t do that,” Jolias said. “The next time I leave this room, I’m out of here for good, Max.”

The obliviously positive smile on the German’s face told Jolias that he had no clue what he meant. What he genuinely meant.

“What are you talking about?” Max asked, trying to provoke a laugh. “Nothing’s going to happen if you come down with me. Your dad walked me through it. He tried dragging your name through the mud, saying you always did things like this, but you know I’d never—“

“I’m not talking about that,” Jolias said, unable to look Max in the eyes. Even trying to triggered a visceral cringe that made him shudder. It was like a weight, keeping his head down. An instinct of self-preservation.

Max’s smile melted, and he placed a hand on Jolias’ neck. “Then what? Could you tell me what’s bothering you?”

A million things Jolias wanted to say stormed around in his mind. His mouth couldn’t keep up; his tongue suffocated his throat. He wanted to stop remembering, stop thinking.

“My— my mother came in here earlier,” Jolias said, quietly.

“What did she say?”

“She said I was right,” Jolias said, mustering a sad snicker. “I wasn’t her son. She never wanted me to be. A promiscuous faggot was the last thing she wanted in her family. And she said she wanted me gone by tonight, with or without you. I knew you were having a good time, so I didn’t want to ruin the fun for you until I was gone.”

Max was taken aback, the shock and disgust stretching his handsome face. “What? You’re fucking with me, right? There’s no way she said something like that.”

“I’m sorry, Max. I know you like her. And she likes you. But I still know her more than you do, and disowning her golden child is not something she’s above doing.”

“But… what the fuck? Marco needs to say something,” Max said.

“Don’t bother. Our parents already know about us, and they blame me for ruining him. They don’t care that he’s gay; as long as he’s single and doesn’t start doing drag, they can keep up the lie that they at least didn’t fail one kid.” Jolias sighed, half-choked, struggling to hold back tears, straining his ducts. “Where is he, anyway? He’d want to hear about this.”

Max glanced out the window at the black-blue nothing of the early evening. “He left an hour ago without telling anyone. We don’t know where he went; he isn’t picking up his phone. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. He’s better off getting used to being an only child, I guess. Sorry for putting you through this. I know you didn’t come for my stupid family drama.”

“Hey, hey,” Max said, pulling Jolias off the floor, spinning him around, and resting him on his much wider lap, pressing his semi-hard cock against Jolias’ ample cheeks. “I didn’t come to become a giant, either. I came for you and only you, okay?” Max wrapped Jolias in an embrace that felt ungodly constrictive, like a cobra squeezing a rabbit.

But Jolias didn’t care. In Max’s arms, in his caress, he felt safe. A petty comfort compared to the hell of the house.

“If your parents want you gone, then we can go,” Max continued. Then he bent down, pulling back Jolias’ black hair to reveal a pointed ear, eager to listen. “But we do it my way.”

Jolias had no idea what he meant. “‘Your way’? We only fit through the front doors, Max, there is no other way.”

And Max squeezed Jolias’ individual pecs with the force of a pressing machine. “Oho, but there’s where you’re wrong for once.” Then his hands travelled down, pressing and massaging his way through his abs, then Jolias’ Adonis’ belt, then his crotch — and what a cock, both men marvelling at the speed Jolias’ penis swelled with blood, practically on command with Max’s slightest touch.

“If they want you out of the house so bad, then we’re gone,” Max said. “But we’re taking the house down with us.”

A devilish smirk blessed Jolias’ face, and his spirits lifted at the proposal. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. Though, in retrospect, he really should’ve. Max wouldn’t have objected — especially now that he put it on the table.

“You’re fucking nuts,” Jolias said. “Let’s do it, you big oaf. I’ll fuck you big. Then we’ll fuck so hard we tear the walls down.”

Max grinned with all his teeth, standing and tossing Jolias’ onto the bed, on his stomach, without so much as a breath of effort. “Now we’re talking!”

Jolias primed himself for what was to come. He spread himself out on the bed, keeping his feet firm on the ground, wide, exposing his delicates, his arms and hands touching both ends of the frame, his perky ass pried open for Max’s entry.

He couldn’t spin to see the big man, not when his shoulders and delts took up way too much real estate, but he could hear his higher-pitched chuckling, tinged with excitement. A fire they both felt.

Then Jolias felt the bulbous head of Max’s cock kissed tightly between his muscled cheeks, its slit against his ass. Max’s warm breath was running down Jolias’ bare spine. Jolias was unsure of how his boyfriend’s cock was meant to fit inside him — but then Max shoved his way into him, the force enough to make the bed buckle, and he slid inside without resistance. He was tight beyond belief, so much of his insides pressed against the walls of skin and bone. But it wasn’t painful; it was almost relieving, a sensual tightness that made his ass practically beg for more and more of Max’s stupidly fat cock. And more and more of it he got. More until he felt it smash against his prostate.

Jolias could tell there was still more length to go, but he physically could not accommodate any more. Not yet, anyway.

“Christ, you’re a tight little hole,” Max grunted, laughing. “I’m gonna plow you so hard you have no idea.”

“Oh, I have some idea, big guy.”

Then Max fell forward, resting his extreme torso against Jolias’ back, squashing him against the bed, and he grabbed Jolias’ wrists, breathing down Jolias’ neck, whispering sweet nothings as the bed fell to the carpet, as Max pulled out a quarter, slid back in a third.

Both men were now on the floor, flattening the mattress into a pancake with their combined weights as Max continued to maneuver himself in and on Jolias. His cock was devilishly flawless, and Jolias — almost as if by will — had ribbed his intestines for Max’s pleasure.

“How big do you want me to make you?” Max whispered, nibbling on Jolias’ earlobe.

“Big enough to fit inside you,” Jolias whispered back. “Big enough to make you bigger.”

Max kissed Jolias’ nape and tightened his vice-like grip on his wrists, pinning Jolias to the mattress. “Is a nine-foot-tall giant not big enough for you, little man? My two-foot cock not big enough for you?”

“Not yet. We could still double those numbers.”

“Why don’t we do triple?” Max replied, increasing his fervor, pumping himself in and out with heightened speed, his breathing quickening, his voice shaking.

“Quadruple? You ever thought of being 36 feet tall before?”

Max released his weight and let Jolias’ body tank the entirety of his multi-ton enormity. “I’m no good at math, but let’s up that by two.”

Jolias sniggered, wincing as he could feel as though Max’s cock had widened inside him by a quarter-inch in his roughening penetration, Max’s balls slamming into his own like sacks of boulders.

“Sextuple.”

Max pulled up his knees to his waist and rose from the ground, pulling Jolias’ up with him with the sheer strength of his penis alone.

Now at an angle, Jolias felt his ass open up like it had never been before, and he gasped at how much more of Max’s cock he could suddenly take as his body was piledriven into the ground by a man who’d only ever made coffee for a living.

“Fuuuck…!” Max cried, as explosive rounds of raw, hot cum blasted their way into Jolias, each load somehow thicker than the last. Yet despite spurt after spurt, Max’s balls didn’t seem to be contracting much if at all. They were still obscenely massive, practically the size of Marco’s head each.

Jolias’ eye twitched as he didn’t need to wait long for the power to immediately take effect as it entered him, now drastically more potent than ever. It made his blood boil, and he felt his veins swell with a wellspring of power that circulated into him from Max’s gargantuan manhood. He watched his arms, the only parts of him he could see, grow and pump and widen with each passing breath, each inhale, exhale.

The rest of his body followed suit.

He didn’t need to see to know that his body was visibly stretching taller, wider, thicker, all over. His head inched up closer to his pillows as his hands hung over the sides of the mattress. Max’s hands slid up Jolias’ lengthening arms, to his forearms, then to his elbows.

Max’s breathing suddenly felt so far away. And he only mindlessly continued to plow Jolias, no longer bearing the same force he had only moments ago.

Then Max lost his grip on Jolias, and Jolias knew he was once again the bigger, the stronger of the two. Jolias spilled out from every end of his double bed, now dwarfed beneath him.

When Max was spent for the first round, he flopped to the side, momentarily drained of his entire being.

They both watched as Jolias rose from the ground, the wooden floor creaking beneath them as he planted his steps. His shadow darkened the room, and he rose, and rose until his head collided with the ceiling light — and still he continued to rise, bending forward, hunching, just like Max.

“Holy shit,” the German muttered.

With one step forward, Jolias’ spirits lifted as he heard the unmistakeable sound of floorboards splitting beneath him. He had already grown so much, matched Max inch for inch almost, though not quite pound for pound. But it was only the beginning.

It was Max’s turn now.

Jolias bent forward, savoring each crackle of wood, and picked up Max, tossing his full weight onto the depressed mattress, and bodyslammed him. The floor was ready to give way, but Jolias wouldn’t allow that. Not when Max had yet to fill up his room. Not until Max’s hands and legs couldn’t stretch to any side of the walls.

Now they were in the same position, though opposite roles: Jolias on top, Max underneath. Already, Jolias could see Max’s balls filling up again, as if by magic.

He leaned forward, taking a deep whiff of Max’s musky hair, and whispered. “I’m about ready to outgrow this old place. What do you think?”

Max’s arms wrapped around him and pressed Jolias’ ass, demanding him inside him. “I think it’s about time you make me huge. Make me humongous. We’re tearing this house down, Jol’. We’re becoming actual giants tonight.”

Jolias positioned his cock against Max’s fat ass, and he pulled Max’s shoulders towards him, ready to make Max the biggest man the world had ever seen.

[citizenies]

Oh no the end is next 

Thanks for the new chapter ~ love how big theyre getting 

[scarletic]

MadMutter's

Thicker than Water

by Scarletic

Finale

They Might Be Giants

The sand was cold where Marco sat at the lake’s shore.

It was a chilly night, the midnight breeze unrelenting, and he regretted fleeing from the wake in just a tank top and chino shorts.

He hugged his knees close to his chest for warmth. And he stared past, transfixed on the full moon’s reflection on the water’s surface — a lesser echo of the real thing.

Under the surface was an ominous blue glow that hadn’t been there before. He had a feeling what it was, but he wasn’t about to find out.

Too much was already happening too fast. He wasn’t going to add to the problem by becoming part of it. It was beautiful to look at, and he was content with leaving the strange underwater fog as just that.

He’d been gone a few hours now. He kept his phone silent to avoid scaring away the birds that had come to scour the beach for seeds and little crabs. Back up the hill, he could still hear the Latin music blasting from their home. A never-ending thrum that haunted the silence that followed him wherever he went.

Marco scrolled through the assortment of missed calls on his phone. Some were from his parents, likely wondering where he’d run off to; others were from Max, whose name would haunt Marco for the rest of his life.

Max knew where the lake was; more importantly, Max knew where Marco’s hidden spot was — if he needed him, he knew where to come get him. At his size, Marco would probably feel the ground shake before either of them even caught sight of the other. How a person could be so tall and have shoulders and thighs nearly as wide and still move like a normal human being was a physics and biology question Marco had no answer for. Just imagining Max walking towards him reminded his ears of the constant slapping his hamstrings would make whenever he took a step.

Elias never had that problem. Though his natural leanness was probably why.

Then, near the bottom of the list of missed calls was a different name that stood out, one he hadn’t seen or heard in days.

The woman who offered him a vial that grew him just enough to make Elias’ transformation all the more extreme. The only woman with answers.

Marco hadn’t heard from her since the train ride, Dr. Alice. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to call her back. Though it probably wasn’t urgent; if it were, she would have remotely set his phone on fire and inconvenienced some unwitting passer-by by calling Marco through their phone instead.

The first ring didn’t even finish before she picked up. “Marco? C’est toi?”

“Si. You called?” Marco replied.

“I just wanted to check up on my favorite gay boy. The sample I gave you — any negative side effects you might be ‘aving?”

“No, none. It just made me grow three inches, maybe made my muscles 20 pounds heavier. Nothing crazy.”

“And your brother? How ‘as he been ‘olding up since the train?”

“He’s… uh…”

“What? If my calculations are correct, he should be just around six feet tall, yes?” Dr. Alice asked.

Six feet tall?

“Oh, my god.” The realization took a second to form in Marco’s brain, realizing her warning about his food intake on the train wasn’t just hot gas — she’d done something: no, she’d planned for this to happen.

The generous train ride wasn’t just a simple gesture of thanks for the sample. It was a test tube on tracks.

Though, clearly, her numbers were way off.

But — and it was a long-standing doubt that just now sucker punched him when he thought it through — Elias’ two-foot-tall leap in size (a solid quadrupling of her estimations) was his fault. She’d warned him, after all, not to let Elias eat too much. It was his fault his twin was no longer his twin. His fault that Elias had become a giant. And he wondered what else he’d done, unwittingly or no, to push Elias away.

“Oja, Marco? ‘Ello? Did you die on me?” Dr. Alice asked.

“Yes, I’m still here. I’m just a bit… I don’t know what you did to my brother, but he’s not six feet tall.”

“Oh? How many inches was I off?”

“If you were only planning for him to grow six inches, then I’m sorry, but you were off by another 18, doc. He was 7’6” when he left the train.”

On the other end of the call, suddenly, Marco heard a mug shatter and Dr. Alice violently choking on what he could only assume was her usual pint of black coffee.

The sound was so viscerally painful that he subconsciously swallowed to ensure his throat was still intact.

“He was what?!” she yelled, her voice coarse as sand.

“And I think they may have found more of those meteor slimes you mentioned here. Elias and Max both grew bigger. My brother is almost eight feet tall, doc. And I think he only plans on keeping it up.”

“…Merde. Okay, okay. So, both of the boys are now infected? Where exactly did you find more of the organisms?”

“Lake Titicaca.”

She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but Marco could assume she was cursing Titicaca with every fiber of her being. Even accents and foreign languages didn’t hide emotions.

“I’m flying over first thing in the morning, Marco. Do not — and I mean absolutely under no circumstances — let those two boys host any more of the slime! If there are still living specimens in that lake, I need to preserve them for my research. I don’t know ‘ow much they might grow if they become any more infected than they already are. If you still want your brother and his boyfriend to fit inside your house, you need to keep them away from the lake until I get there. Do you understand?”

“Loud and not very clear, doc.”

And without a goodbye, the call ended.

Marco peered up at the flood of lights atop the hill, wondering what it was Elias and Max were up to.

MEANWHILE

Back at the estate, Jolias and Max’s intensity rattled the house. It had already shattered some fixtures downstairs.

Jolias’ gargantuan body was pressed to the floor, on his stomach, cushioned only by a flattened mattress no more than three inches thick ― that, and a fully erect penis the size of a man’s leg, tucked in the spacious cleavage of his pecs.

He was sprawled out on the aged wooden planks, his face twisted, ground back and forth as another elephantine cock tore his ass apart in its conquest.

He hardly had any time to savor the newfound size he’d gained, no time to relish in the way the room he’d grown up in had become too small to support any more growth. It was a tissue box to him now, the walls mere feet away from the tips of his fingers, his toes.

And right above him, nailing him to the floor with the full weight of his mass, was Max ― a true behemoth of a man who threatened to make Jolias feel small again.

They were locked in a game of back-and-forth, growing the other and growing themselves in the process. Whoever they were when they arrived the day before was nothing compared to the incomprehensible masses of muscle and skin that were now filling the room, arms and legs the size of people, enough strength in each swollen fiber to pulverize a tank.

Even the German man had grown larger still after Jolias. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the once-meek and timid homebody had become the embodiment of muscle and sex, soared past 10-feet-tall (maybe even 12 at this point; Jolias knew there had to be at least three feet of difference between them), with no limits anywhere in sight ― except, maybe, the walls.

Max pounded Jolias with every ounce of strength in his body, enough force to knock out a bull, to punch a hole through concrete. With every grunt, his upper arms would tense and grow another inch bigger.

Jolias’ prostate was tough, but Max was putting it through the wringer.

His thoughts had travelled down to his groin. There was no thinking, just the insatiable, unstoppable urge to fuck, to grow, and grow, and grow. He hadn’t said a word since he put Jolias through his last spurt. All he could muster on his face was a gentle smile that never failed to melt Jolias’ heart, sweating, and salivating from his dimples onto Jolias’ soaked back. He clearly wanted Jolias to keep getting bigger. But never bigger than him.

Neither of them would fit through the doorframe anymore. The windows wouldn’t do, either. Jolias was doing the thinking for them both.

There was no turning back for him, for either of them. They would become the gods everyone wanted them to be.  

Gone were the days of part-timing at the gym, at an accounting firm. He was a bona fide giant now, and only the sky was the limit.

And even that didn’t seem too far away anymore.

 Just as he was finally getting settled into the rhythm of Max’s jackhammer thrusts, he felt the ever-familiar surge of white-hot spunk flooding into him from his anus, enrapturing every nerve in his body, a visible shudder that detonated fiber after fiber.

“Oh, fuck… oh, fuck!” Max yelled, digging his hands into Jolias’ back for support.

Jolias’ eyes twitched as he clenched his asshole to trap as much of Max’s cum as he physically could, refusing to waste a single drop.

And immediately he felt himself inflate with even greater size and power, his enormous penis beneath him growing taller and fatter as it neared his face. His body rose taller from the ground as Max seemed to shrink above him, his weight not applying as much pressure as before. His limbs and even now his nipples spilled off the mattress and edged towards the corners of the room. The bedframe was reduced to nothing as even Jolias’ cock alone was almost enough to dwarf it.

Max released a primal cry as he pounded Jolias again, forcing as much of his cum into his embiggening boyfriend.

As he did, the floorboards began to crackle and break.

Outside, Jolias could hear the footsteps of several relatives rushing upstairs to investigate the commotion. Their feet sounded almost like fingers tapping on the floor by how big Jolias had become in seconds. He had to laugh as Max panted so loudly as to echo throughout the house.

And Jolias struck the floor with a balled-up fist and watched the wood splinter in two, revealing the wooden beams holding them up.

The heat was enveloping his entire body, blinding him, making it difficult to see. Yet still he could tell that Max was experiencing his own metamorphic changes behind and above him, enlarging his already bloated physique, his muscles upon muscles, nearing the point of near immobility. Though he never quite reached that point. His skeleton seemed adjusted to stretching and multiplying at a molecular level, enough to magnify Max’s already extreme height and accelerate his ascent into deification. The boy-next-door was quickly and uncontrollably becoming as big as the house next-door. Growing wider, taller, thicker, and more, and more.

Together, they were becoming an incomprehensible mass of power, limbs tangled against limbs, arms and shoulders and feet all pressing and fighting against the room’s confines for emancipation.

Jolias couldn’t stomach hearing his voice and ruining the euphoric stupor they had both surrendered to. The growth almost seemed never-ending. But he knew it would slow down soon enough, and he knew it was when he heard his father’s voice yelling from the hallway. There was no door separating Jolias and Max from the reality of their old world, and everyone spectating from the doorway struggled to comprehend what it was they were witnessing in the old bedroom, a surging mountain of muscle that inched closer and closer to the ceiling with every breath.

“Julias? Julias?!” Julio asked. “What’s happening to you?”

Max groaned and attempted to face Julio but struggled to turn his head past his engorged delts. “Don’t you people knock in this house?” he asked, snarkly.

“You destroyed the door!” Julio cursed under his breath in Spanish, indecipherably fast. “Dios mio, how are we supposed to get you two out of there?”

“Fuck off, dad. Worry about your tiny ass self. This house won’t be standing much longer,” Jolias added.

Max didn’t give Jolias a chance to breathe before retreating his cock and fingering Jolias’ prostate with a finger coated in slime-infused cum, textured like velvet in his rectum.

Max pulled his body back, still on his knees, and he whimpered as his head burst through the 8-foot ceiling, not even at his full height. His torso was as wide as a sedan, Jolias could tell as much from the shadow Max was forming. No light could pass through or around so much muscle, not when he had pecs the size of exercise balls or shoulders that were nearly as big.

“I didn’t expect to outgrow your bedroom so quickly,” Max joked.

Jolias snarled back, wanting his dad to hear. “We’re not done here yet, you big lug. Not when we’ve still got four walls and the floor to break through.”

Then, without warning, Max scooped Jolias’ marble cock from under him and squeezed it, though without much effect. The penis was more rigid than tempered steel, and even Max’s grip didn’t seem to make much of a dent in its surface.

Max stroked the beast with a controlled intensity, ravishing Jolias and simultaneously teasing Jolias off the edge of climax with every tug of his foreskin. The unstoppable barrage of sensory overload pushed Jolias to drool, to groan, and roar, and accidentally kick a man-sized hole into the wall behind him. His family, only an arm’s length away from the impact, screamed and fled.

Only Julio and Ethan remained, stupefied by the sight of Jolias being fondled by a cream-white god among men.

As the house crackled in protest, Jolias felt Max collapse his torso on Jolias’ back, Max now reaching over with both hands, to grope and torture Jolias’ fattening testicles.

Both their balls were now sagging from the sheer volume of cum the slime was pumping inside of them. Even with ejaculation after ejaculation, their balloons of sperm seemed to churn out more and more of the viscous goo. Neither could slap their thighs together. Not anymore. Not when their scrotums were pounding against the floor and sloshing with the inhuman amount of cum swirling around inside. Everyone could hear it; from the sound alone, the onlookers could feel it.

Max used both his hands and the full lengths of his muscular arms to stroke and prod Jolias’ raging hard-on, squeezing and caressing its every inch of skin with his excitable fingers. But even with Max’s height advantage, he couldn’t reach the lower half of Jolias’ manhood. It was too big, too long — regardless, Jolias could feel every touch as if it resonated and spread throughout his cock, as if it were one singular unit, and what a unit it was.

And Max didn’t stop there. Jolias held his breath as Max jammed his oversized erection back into Jolias’ ass. Max was overwhelming him, the sexual pleasure of an ass-fucking, a supersized handjob, and the sheer mass of Max’s entire body resting on Jolias’ back. His face flushed red with heat, and he went numb from the neck up. He knew he was moaning, but how loud? He didn’t know.

It barely took over a minute for Jolias’ to start feeling that familiar sensation, stemming, churning, rising from his balls. This was going to be the biggest one yet, and he could hear as much — from both their testicles.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna fucking blow, Jol’…!” Max cried, struggling to hold himself back from yelling. “Holy… holy fuck!”

Standing at the door, Julio cried out. “Julias!” But it was an empty effort.

Jolias surrendered to the slime inside his genitals. He shook violently as enormous globules of steaming hot cum projectile-fired out the shaft of his cock, blasting into the valley of his dome-like pecs, laying waste to the mattress, to the floor, leaking through the holes he’d made into the kitchen below.

Behind him was no different: Max too was firing nuke after nuke into Jolias’ ass, the great remainder of it spraying out like a plugged firehose.

The two giants were showering themselves in a typhoon of their infected sperm, Jolias’ entire body — head to toe — and Max’s massively bloated pecs and wall of football-sized abs, covered in an inch-thick layer of luminescent white cum.

Some of it splattered to the onlookers standing in the doorway, Julio among them, staggering back as he spat out what little found his lips.

Barely a moment later, not giving Jolias even a moment’s respite to catch his breath, he felt the building surge of growth spurts readying to pour molten tons of muscle into his already superhuman body, larger than any Olympian bodybuilder before, bigger than any who would dare to outmuscle even one of  his legs, each thigh thicker around than a full ham.

Max’s body trembled against his as his own series of growth spurts seemed even more violent than any of theirs before.

Drenched in each other’s cum, Jolias and Max trembled as they welcomed the ensuing flood of mass that added itself to their bodies, enlarging each muscle to approach rock-hard spheres and boulders in size. Jolias kept one eye shut from the cum, but through his other, he watched. His bicep alone, already big enough to crush a medicine ball, grew and swelled to be bigger than his own head. Grotesquely bloated pecs that could demolish a car. His body crawled against the floor as his head collided with the far end of the room, at the same time his feet did the opposite. With no room left to go, Jolias was forced to bend at the knees, to crouch and tilt his head, but the growth was unceasing. The room was being deprived of air. He and Max were literally becoming too big to even lie flat in its confines.

Above him, Jolias heard the sound of Max’s expansive back bursting through the ceiling above them, his sheer volume of mass nearly double Jolias’.

They were too much for the eight-foot room, too much for the second floor of the estate. Soon, too much for the entire house.

Jolias unleashed the fury within him, and he punched his feet, his hands, and his head, through the now-paper-thin walls that trapped them. His legs burst into the hallway, trapping Julio in a pen of man-sized calves.

Jolias couldn’t tell how enormous he’d become, how small his own father seemed to be compared to half his legs.

With a loud, triumphant chortle, Jolias finally felt the flimsy wooden floor beneath them crumble in defeat.

◊ ◊ ◊

The walk home should have been uneventful, Marco thought, but — it seemed — nothing was as predictable as he’d hoped anymore.

Midway up the stone pathway leading up to the estate, he panicked at the explosive sound of something destructively loud coming from the house. The echoes of raining debris, concrete and wood, and cacophonous screams tore through the silence of the town. A nuclear explosion in the dead of night.

Marco trapped his breath as he felt his heart pound against ribs, knowing what it could have been — no, who it could have been.

He raced as fast as he could, his sense of pain unresponsive, his legs driven by adrenaline and pure instinct alone. He needed to check up on his brother.

When he got home, he entered through the front doorway — the ruined doors still tossed aside — and found a haunting emptiness in the foyer. There was a warm breeze coming from the back of the house, dust, and a million whispering rumors and hushed yelps mingled with it.

Marco dragged his body to investigate, the urge to self-paralyze, to retreat, overwhelming. And he didn’t need a full picture to understand what had happened. With barely an eye’s view around the corner, he spotted the night sky coming in through a wall in the back of the kitchen. Another hole coming from the ceiling, where his and Jolias’ bedroom used to be. All the furniture had fallen into the dining room. Drenched, glistening with fresh and paint-white cum. In the center of the carnage was an indiscernible mass of bodies, pulsating with steaming muscle, ripples upon ripples, mounds unlike any Marco had ever seen before. Burgeoning muscle that more closely resembled an elephant in size. Just in front of him — for god’s sake — was a gigantic foot in his own shade of brown, half the size of his 5’9” frame.

When Marco pulled into the archway, he was witness to two colossal young men untangling from one another, each reforming into two titans of unbridled strength, muscles the size of which was unheard of.

Much to his horror, the foot had belonged to his former twin, now nearly triple his height, definitely at least ten times his weight.

Just behind was Max, who just the night before was only 9 feet tall. He could still fit in the living room albeit sideways. But now, there was no fitting the overgrown specimen anywhere. The miniscule relatives surrounding the two statuesque goliaths resembled toddlers surrounding two living mountains whose heads — even seated — were grazing and colliding with the wooden ceiling. If someone dared to stand in the little space between their legs, they would be wrestling with testicles as big as basketballs, penises closing in on oak trunks, and crushed under a terrace of couch-like pecs that protruded dangerously far from their chests by almost three feet.

As the dust settled, and most of the onlookers were too stuck in place to flee, Jolias and Max slammed their feet into the ground, causing the linoleum tiles to splinter and crack.

There was no standing in the kitchen anymore. No kneeling either. Even crawling was a tight fit, but Max did away with the rest of the second floor’s ceiling, effectively demolishing the bedroom and replacing it with a loft.

Marco watched in horror as Jolias glanced at him, his lips slick with wet cum, and he grinned. Lost in the madness of the situation, Marco didn’t comprehend fast enough the gigantic hand that had grabbed him by the torso and pulled him close. He was mortified at how easily Jolias hadn’t said a word, and yet, with a cannibalistic fire in his eyes, let Marco know how easily he could crush him with less effort than it would take to snap a toothpick. There was more mass in either one of Jolias’ fibrous, ribbed pecs than Marco’s entire body.

There was fear. Arousal. Horror. And Admiration. All at once, tearing through him and leaving nothing but submission to his giant of a brother in its wake.

“There’s my little bro!” Jolias yelled. “Glad you could join the party.”

Their mother Marcela was cowering in the corner with Ethan, trying but failing to maintain her facade of authority. “Julias! Put Marco down! I told you to leave hours ago; now, you’ve destroyed the house! Get out of here before you and Maxito get even bigger, please.”

Before Jolias could even speak, Max faced Marcela, destroying the chandelier in the process, and scowled with the anger of a god. “Whoa, no. You don’t get to make nicknames for me. Not when you can’t even mother — or even try to care for your own sons.” Max pressed forward and dug a giant finger into her stomach, pinning her against the wall, trapping her against it and his face that was wider than she was tall. “We’re going to get even bigger, and if you think we’re done with the house, then you haven’t seen anything yet!”

Marco was too surprised by Max’s outburst to notice that he was hovering over a growing puddle of pre-cum, leaking out of Jolias’ cock. His balls were still churning out more and more cum, and he was in a losing battle to contain it all. The humongous head of Jolias’ cock was glowing red with both pleasure and agony.

If he only so much as reached out and touched it, Marco could make Jolias explode and suffer another bout of boundless growth, each spurt always more potent than the last.

And he knew, trapped in his brother’s grip, understanding what his ex-twin was destined to become, that it needed to be done. Marco reached out and shoved his fistfull into the slit of Jolias’ cock, triggering a primal cry of arousal and a shudder that released him into the pool of sperm below.

With his cock unplugged, Jolias’ endowment rocketed toward the ceiling as visible nukes of sperm burst out and splattered over the ceiling, waterfalling over him and Max, and all the other relatives, who puked and gagged at the nauseatingly undiluted bleach-like stench of cum. Ethan most of all had disappeared under a blanket of it, and more and more only continued to rain upon them. Finally, some relatives found the willpower to flee, but Julio, Marcela, and Ethan remained as mortified onlookers of Max and Jolias’ endless, growth-inducing lovemaking.

Max too was visibly captivated by the foot in length Jolias’ cock had stretched in the past half-minute. In the midst of it all, his leg-sized cock bounced with excitement, pounding its fat, juicy head into the tiled floor.

With his hands in the grime of Jolias’ white swamp, Marco had a delayed response in noticing that the pools of cum had begun to come alive. They moved and wriggled, living bubbles that coagulated and gathered around Max and Jolias’ feet. Animated sperm, infected with god-bearing extraterrestrial slime, desperate to return to its source. Seemingly begging to climb back into Jolias’ and Max’s slits. Undoubtedly aching to make them grow even more, if that were even possible. Marco couldn’t believe, even seeing it with his own eyes, that human beings could ever grow to such proportions. The same boy he shared a womb with, a childhood, a bed.

“I can feel it coming! It’s a damn big one!” Jolias yelled, holding onto Max for support.

Everyone in the room felt the walls shake as Jolias’ body exploded with even more muscle, more height, stretching taller and wider with each passing second, inch by inch in every direction. Pecs growing even fuller, reaching further, arms with biceps already bigger than Marco’s body, legs that soared past the size of their now-ruined double bed. Max was shoved against the wall, and Marco took a cum-soaked Ethan out of harm’s way as Jolias’ unending growth pushed his head into the ceiling, through the walls, shoulders digging into the corners of the kitchen. Marco couldn’t even see Jolias’ face from where he stood anymore. His body had become too big to be seen from so low.

“Yes, yes! I’m still growing so fucking gigantic; I’m going to blow out of the house — it’s too tight in here!” Jolias yelled.

Jolias’ cock was twitching with lust, growing larger than Marco’s 5’9” frame, and Marco watched it shove Marcela against the last whole wall of the house. She was too weak to pry it off her, and her hands weren’t making a dent in the fat brown cockhead that was crawling up to her head, already bigger than her skull.

“Julias! Stop growing! You’re getting too big; I can’t get out!” Marcela cried, voice cracking with fear.

But whether Jolias heard her or not, he only kept laughing. And Marco watched in fascinated horror as the impossible happened.

In Marcela’s struggle to break free, she accidentally dug her left arm, up to her elbow, into the wet slit of Jolias’ godlike penis. She screamed for help, but Jolias’ laughing drowned her out. It only worsened as he continued to rise taller, wider, head nearing the second storey’s roof. Marco and Ethan stared as Jolias’ manhood appeared to be reverse-orgasming, devouring little Marcela as her arm disappeared in his shaft, processed into mulch, followed by her head, then body, then legs. Her bones crackled, and her joints shattered, destroyed beyond repair as the slime ingested her alive. All the while the cock expanded to accommodate her entire body, sliding her flesh down his urethra, trapping her in a sack of cum that threatened to outsize a sedan.

“Tia Marcela!” Ethan screamed, watching his aunt get eaten by her own son’s titanic endowment.

Marco didn’t want to join her. The house was falling apart around Jolias’ still growing body, now twice the size of Max’s own 15-foot-something self. He took a cum-soaked Ethan and sprinted to the front of the house where the other relatives took refuge.

But Marco stopped to look back after leading Ethan to the foyer. He ran as fast as he could to avoid getting crushed under the raining debris, and he froze.

Even as he continued to grow, Jolias picked up a submissive Max and plugged the smaller man’s muscle-bound anus with his human-sized phallus.

“You’re so fucking huge, Jol’!” Max cheered, holding onto Jolias’ huge tits as his ass got impaled. “I can’t wait to grow bigger than you again! I want to feel gigantic! Make me so fucking massive!”

“Oh, I’m gonna keep growing all right!” Jolias yelled. “And I’m making you the biggest motherfucker of them all.”

“Do it! Grow me huge!”

Jolias grabbed Max’s body with both hands and pumped him up and down his cock, both men roaring with immeasurable ecstasy, enough to kill a man, Max raising two Herculean arms in a double bicep pose as he readied his body for a growth spurt to remember.

But the house was falling apart, and Marco had no choice but to drag himself out of the house, joining the rest of his family.

◊ ◊ ◊

Jolias’ feet broke through the supporting walls holding the house up — his legs had run out of room to stretch to their full length. They’d had to bend to accommodate not only their superhuman length but also the ungodly dirigibles of muscle he called thighs. His rising knees forced his arms to spread outward, demolishing the neighboring walls with his elbows. It wasn’t much of a problem, thankfully; the V-taper of Jolias’ torso had only become impossibly pronounced as he grew taller. His shoulders were nearly the size of his head.

In the madness of his latest growth spurt, the raining dust and debris from the collapsing roof barely registered in his mind. The brick-and-mortar chunks that would have smothered anyone caught in their descent were akin to snowflakes on Jolias’ brown, bulletproof skin.

He was in a state of mania, his cheeks aching from a grin that he hadn’t worn in years.

And in the middle of the bedlam was little Max: his lover of a best friend, the guy who’d become host to a giant-making slime, the guy who grew with every orgasm, sharing the miracle with him, the two of them now impossibly supersized. The seven- and nine-foot versions of themselves from that morning had become a shadow now.

Jolias took one look at his arm and pictured his old self in comparison to it — he would have fit inside his flexed upper arm.

He held Max’s overgrown lats in his hands, the fifteen-foot-tall giant, and plugged his ass with a man-eating penis that yet again, already begged for further release.

Something in his testicles had awakened, and his libido refused to go down.

There was too much reason to cum again, to unleash another series of growth spurts in both him and the semi-conscious Max. Being over 30-feet-tall had its perks. He was unbelievably gigantic now. The furniture around him had shrunk exponentially into dollhouse toys. Fragile, so breakable — he could wrap his old mattress around his penis as a fleshlight now, could compress the couch in his hands into a mound of fabric. The house he could crouch into before now barely able to contain him seated down. His head was only a few feet away from the roof, and he was already ass-glued to the first-floor kitchen.

As the final walls and supporting pillars fell away, cascading over them, Jolias’ cock exploded up Max’s ass. The smaller giant yelled in a flurry of euphoric pain as excess cum sprayed out from under him and joined the puddles of cum already gathered on the floor tiles. Their legs, feet, dripping with potent spunk.

There was so much force that Max nearly rocketed off Jolias’ cock, but he clenched his anus around Jolias’ cock and was taking in as much of the growth-inducing cum as he could.

As the dust settled around them, Jolias marvelled at the chunks and fragments of the ruined mansion they’d burst out of, surrounding them. Broken walls, worthless paintings, permanent marks left behind on the doorsill, meant to measure their heights as children.

He’d grown up in it, the first home he ever knew, but he didn’t hesitate to tear it all down, now a behemoth that could tear down buildings with ease.

Because he found a home in someone else.

Max, now exhausted, fell off Jolias’ manhood and collapsed in the pools of animated cum they’d created. Bubbles, ripples, indication of a consciousness.

His relatives were backed against the garden walls protecting the estate, visibly shaking from fear, even from his new height. None dared to confront Jolias, much less look at him.

No one but one.

Marco stood his ground closer to Jolias than anyone else. And he peered up, and up, and up at his ex-twin, who even seated was over ten feet taller than him.

Jolias could barely make out the words he was saying. He was too big: the voices of tiny people had become ant-like chirps in his ears.

“You’re gonna have to speak louder, Marco!” Jolias said. “I’ve gotta be, like, over 30 feet tall now; you’ll need to talk like a man over five times your size if you want me to hear you.”

Marco’s face reddened as he braced his lungs to yell. “I said you’ve destroyed our home!” he paused, gathering another breath. “And you grew way too big! How are you supposed to get back to Chicago? You don’t even fit in a cargo plane! You might not even fit on a city street!”

Jolias perked up at the sight of his tiny brother’s worry. He wasn’t wrong to be thinking about regular people things — but Jolias already gave up that life.

His other relatives cowered behind Marco, staring at the incorrigible giant looming so high above them. They never treated him right, always tried to keep his head close to the ground, out of the clouds.

Now he would show them what that felt like. He would show them the monster they wanted him to be.

Beneath him, Max grunted loud enough for everyone to hear. He’d picked himself up on all fours, the surviving pools of cum visibly soaking into his pores, into every orifice on his 15-foot body; his hands were glued to the ground by the organism-infected cum, melding with his body, readying him for even more unimaginable growth — the likes of which the world had never seen before.

Jolias wasn’t oblivious to his boyfriend’s metamorphosis. He jostled, shaking the ground, as he rose from the soil, shooting higher and higher and terrifyingly higher into the sky as he stood to his full height.

Marco disappeared from his sight, something that amused him. His brother, his former equal, was now shorter than his knees. He couldn’t believe it.

Even being the giant he was, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he would have ever had to look up at someone’s calves. But he was living that fantasy. His relatives now smaller than his own human-sized phallus, now permanently erect, shadowing the little people beneath. And he wasn’t content just yet. No, he still planned on growing. Growing some more, then even more.

‘Insatiable’ couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Then Max’s stocky, musclebound body shuddered, and he exploded with a series of embiggening spasms that packed copious amounts of beef onto his frame. So much so that they appeared to be almost breaking his bones underneath, but there was no pain in his emotive groans.

And Jolias watched as Max’s growth overshadowed his own: He was visibly growing at a quarter of a foot per second, stretching along the ground, hands and knees digging craters into the soil, widening, expanding, a growing blimp-sized muscle-god dashing any chance a normal human could have had at achieving his size.

Though he may have been ten feet shorter than Jolias now, with every breath everyone took (and every breath everyone held), he closed that gap with accelerating fervor.

Everyone stepped back to allow Max the space he needed to grow. Getting caught in his war path would have been disastrous, especially for normal-sized littles.

Some relatives sprinted away as Max buckled and groaned, growing impossibly fast and stronger still.

Others weren’t as lucky; Jolias squinted with annoyance and plucked them off the ground, into his fist, and pressed them against his chest, trapping them in his cavernous cleavage. He didn’t even know their names. Not that that mattered — they would all be subjected to the same fate as his mother. Used as fuel to empower the slime and blow him and Max up to new heights.

When he finally gathered enough fodder, Max’s body appeared to explode as he flung his limbs and torso into a stretch that finally pushed him past Jolias’ size.

He stood, and the world shrunk around him. His gray eyes were wide with disbelief, and his lips quivered between a self-pleased smile and fear of what he’d become.

Jolias peered down at his feet, craning his neck painfully tight to do so, and sniggered at the sight of Marco and Ethan. The tops of their heads didn’t reach his or Max’s knees anymore; the rubble of the house they’d grown out of only reached their hips. Even if he or Max were of average height, they still would not have been anything close to ‘normal’ — Jolias could tell that, scaled down, he would’ve had at the very least 25-inch arms, a measurement that would have put some men’s legs to shame. His chest might’ve measured 66 inches around; he shuddered, realizing that 66 inches was the height he’d started at when this trip began. And these measurements were already based on a six-foot-tall man. And his legs? The part of his body he’d worked on most: They were no slimmer than 33 inches around. Even thinking that an average American man could have had his measurements baffled him. Impossible without steroids. It struck fear in his heart, even more still knowing that he was several times bigger scaled back up to his 30-plus-foot stature.

And he loved it.

Max spun around and slapped his fat silo of a cock into Jolias’ thigh. He struggled to find Jolias’ eyes, being a full head taller and boasting pecs that protruded dangerously far from his ribcage, blocking his vision.

His boyish face hadn’t changed at all. Something Jolias was grateful for, because his big German lover was his constant, his home. And he never seemed to lose his eternal smile, his warm innocence. Jolias wanted nothing more than to be a bigger part of him, to play a larger role in his ascent to godlihood.

This latest growth spurt was the most powerful one yet. But Jolias knew that they would surpass their monumental numbers before the night ended.

“Holy jeez…” Max said, marveling at how he’d become a 40-something-foot-tall giant. The young trees he used for shade just that afternoon had become overgrown patches of grass at his shins. “I’m gigantic!” he shouted. “How did we get so big so fast?”

“I think it’s probably all the slime we’ve got in our balls,” Jolias replied, lifting up his junk and shaking around his swollen testicles. “And I don’t think they’re shrinking back any time soon.”

Max chuckled nervously. “What? So we’re just going to have to sit on our balls every time we take a break from standing? Your cock and balls already double the size of mine.”

“Seems like it. Are you complaining?” Jolias teased.

“Is that a serious question?” Max prodded. He bent over, struggling because of his immensity, and lifted Jolias’ dreadfully sensitive cock with both hands, bouncing it around like a hot potato. “If I could fit my cock inside yours again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Jolias lifted his foot and remembered that they’d been standing in a pond of their cum for the past few minutes.

“You’re really getting into this whole growing thing,” Jolias said. “Are you really that excited to grow even bigger again already?”

Max lifted both arms in the air, flexing them into a demolishing double-bicep pose. “As big as I can possibly get, Jol’! I’m gonna milk this shit as much as I can. I’m tired of being small. This is the size that feels right to me. Like I’ve always been meant to be bigger than life.”

Jolias grinned, cracking his neck from looking up at Max for so long. “Always bigger than me.”

Max chuckled in response. “You bet.”

Then Jolias pulled out the captives he’d trapped in his muscle tits and poked them to check for signs of life. They’d passed out from asphyxiation, but they were still breathing.

In his distraction, a lakeshore breeze brushed past his nose, chilling his bare skin in the evening wind. He was tall enough to look past the other houses and enjoy a panoramic view of Lake Titicaca. It was glowing in the moonlight, a seafoam-green glow that emanated from deep beneath the surface, now closer to the shore than ever before.

Jolias grabbed Max’s hand and looked him in the eyes, determined to put his plan into action.

“Are you ready to get even bigger?” Jolias asked, revealing the relatives he’d captured in his hand. “Because I’ve got a plan. I just need you to trust me.”

Max was baffled by the sight of the doll-like aunts and uncles on Jolias’ palm. “Are those…?”

“It doesn’t matter who they are. They all treated me the same way. And now we’re going to make them a part of us.”

There was a flash of confusion on Max’s face. “What do you mean? You want us to eat them?”

Jolias smiled, shaking his head.  “Not us. We’re feeding them to the slime. I figured that if it uses our balls to make us grow, if we give it some more human material, it can grow us even bigger than you could ever imagine.”

A pause broke their conversation, just enough time for Jolias to hear the whispering call of the lake in the distance.

“You know what?” Max yelled, fanatically. “Fuck it! Let’s do it.” Max slapped his penis jokingly. “This bratwurst of mine has a bigger appetite for people than I do.”

Jolias cheered and twisted Max towards the lake. “And there’s our stop.”

“Should we really be walking to the lake at our size?” Max asked, his voice barely sounding concerned anymore.

“You can feel it pulling you in, too, can’t you?” Jolias said. “Just wait till we become real titans. Then we won’t need to walk.”

“It’ll just be a step away,” Max finished.

“We could cross Chicago in a single leap.”

“And cause a few earthquakes,” Max said, snickering.

The town of Copacabana had riled up in the chaos, every house within sight alit. Hundreds of people staring from their windows and roofs at the two muscle-blessed giants, tearing down whatever was left of the Castillo-Moreno estate. The destruction echoed for miles, and Jolias knew soon enough thousands more would come to bear witness to a miracle in his image.

Jolias took Max’s hand in his and led him down the cobblestone path leading to the lake.

Only yesterday, they were walking up that same road with all their luggage in tow, just a foot taller than most — now their feet were squished on both sides by brick walls with each step they took. Jolias had become big enough to fill the entire walkway with a single foot. Each step left a soft tremor in its wake, an oddly shaped impression where stone should have been flat. It was impossible to walk straight anymore. Some houses ended up becoming collateral damage. Thankfully, Jolias wasn’t so big he was blind; he could at least see the families emptying their homes, the neighbors beckoning him to use their lots as stepping space.

Behind Jolias, Max was making a far bigger mess. The town layout was still alien to him, and most of Jolias’ neighbors had never seen a Caucasian man so big so close before.

No one screamed when Jolias came by. Everyone did with Max. His clumsy destruction was a symphony to Jolias’ ears; his non-stop apologies mingling harmoniously with houses being crushed under his feet, walls being demolished, powerlines being toppled over.

Jolias wanted so bad to be mad at Max for hurting innocents — but he couldn’t. Not when Max was trying so hard to be gentle. Not when Max was thousands of pounds heavier and almost ten feet taller.

He’d studied competitive bodybuilding physiques his whole life (never forgetting the influence someone like Schwarzenegger had on his adolescence), but Jolias knew there was no one on Earth who could compare to Max now. His body, even scaled down, was impossible to fit on a frame shorter than 6’6”.

There was too much beef to compress onto the frame of a human skeleton.

Having a barrelous chest, rounded and dome-like from front to back, jutting out dangerously far from his ribcage would have crushed any normal man. The sheer weight of it was visible with a glance. His torso was as wide as it was long, decorated by bulging obliques and sharp delts and lats that framed his pecs and shoulders in a perfect, angular diamond. Each tit was so swollen with engorged muscle that they filled out every stretch mark from the non-stop growth — Jolias guessed that they could have been no smaller than 3/4 of a sliced bowling ball. Smooth and pumped full with impenetrable meat, all the way around from the collar bones to the armpits.

Max was having trouble maneuvering his new size. He would bump into something without much regard. Especially when he couldn’t see a thing below eye level.

All Jolias saw looking straight up at him were his ridiculously juicy palm-sized nipples, each pink and plump and wiggling, begging to be suckled.

And to his sides were two enormously powerful arms that could have easily been 34 inches around, again, scaled down to 6’6” or just over 198 cm.

Where a burgeoning wall of abs should have been was instead a turtle shell wrapped in a tight sack of fat that had reappeared. It had melted off in the earliest stages of gigantism, but slowly but surely minute fractions of it came pouring back. Not that the lovers minded, of course, since it was really only visible on his stomach. It only served to emphasize his sheer thickness everywhere else, making him appear bigger, move heavier.

That amount of muscle mass would have pulped the average bodybuilder’s legs into nothing just from standing.

But Max’s legs were, somehow, even bigger around than Jolias’ own waist. They waddled and jiggled with each step, outsizing any record-breaking hams.

If Max dared to trap someone’s head in between his thighs, there was no doubt in Jolias’ mind that he wouldn’t even finish a cough before crushing their skull into honey.

When they’d made their way halfway down the hill leading to the lake, Max had caused more damage in his short walk than his entire vacation combined. Jolias at least knew how his body worked, how each muscle cooperated with another. Max was a klutz — and he’d been blessed with the size of a god.

Most of the surviving relatives fled the hilltop, leaving only Marco and Ethan standing.

As Max blasted his way down the hill, crushing houses and endlessly fighting the eventual fall waiting to happen, Jolias stopped. He paused. He and Marco caught each other’s eyes, and with Jolias so far down the hill, it was the first time in a few days they were anywhere near eye-to-eye again.

There was no point in Marco calling out to Jolias. His voice was too small, just like the rest of him. Ethan even more so.

So Jolias did all he could: He waved, gesturing for Marco to follow him. Marco pointed at the unconscious relatives in Jolias’ hand. Jolias only smirked. They both knew it was what the old bastards deserved. Marco was only trying not to join their ranks, Jolias knew that. It took a few seconds of contemplation. Hesitation. It was Ethan who moved first, who tugged Marco’s hand and led him down the hill path.

Marco’s face was unlegible. Whether it was fear, excitement, apprehension, anticipation, arousal, or some amalagamation or other, Jolias knew Marco loved him. He would always love him.

They all made their way down to the lake, now glowing a vibrant aquamarine — an underwater aurora borealis.

Max hyped himself up, shaking the sand and riling up more chaos back up the town. He was hopping and flexing his godly body to its limits, relishing in the peaks and curves that never seemed to lose their pumps, keeping small inklings of size with each grunt and flex, priming his body for a nuke of raw power in the form of his cock.

Jolias calmed the big man down for a second to introduce what it was he’d meant. The miniatures in his hand, crumpled together like noodles.

“Are we really doing this?” Max asked.

Jolias tiptoed his tallest and held Max’s chin as he slathered his pink lips with a wet kiss. “We’re not not doing this. Even if you don’t want to”—Jolias lifted Max’s cock with both hands, pointing the slit at his bellybutton—“I’ll do it for you.”

Max spread out his feet in fearful expectancy, unsure of what was about to happen, eyes obscured above a mountain range of pecs.

Jolias plucked the first uncle out of his hand and slid him head-first into the slit of Max’s cock. Almost immediately, the plump mushroom cap seemed to welcome the flesh, inflating like a wet balloon almost, engulfing and visibly swallowing the unsuspecting man with a mechanical rhythm. Max was silently moaning overhead, twitching from what Jolias knew to be a sensual bombardment of pleasure.

The cock then fattened further and stretched longer towards Jolias as more and more of the man disappeared into the urethra, leaving only the ankles visible.

When the man had been deposited in Max’s truck-sized testicles, Jolias did Max the liberty of doing it again.

An aunt this time. Plumper than the uncle. More meat to feed Max’s insatiable hunger for musclebound glory. She too was devoured without any trouble; at this point, Max’s penis was quickly becoming far too unwieldy, already nearing the size of one of Jolias’ arms. With a last hurrah, Jolias sent Max to his knees with one more cousin. Totalling his body count to three. Thankfully, there wasn’t much of a physical effect this time — Max’s cock was already enormous enough to fit fully grown people.

Jolias followed suit and fed the last uncle to his genitals, relishing in that intoxicating velvety rush of skin running down the insides of his shaft.

A rumble echoed in the air, heralding the incoming explosion in their balls, producing more cum than any human should have been able to.

Max staggered back up to his feet with the help of Jolias, and he stared wistfully at the lake. “I’m going in there,” he said. “You’re coming with me, right?”

Jolias smiled. “I’m always one step behind you, big guy.”

With a nod, Max stepped forward towards the shore, sinking one massive foot into the sand, disappearing into the luminescent, murky waters of Lake Titicaca.

Jolias was ready to follow. But he heard the sound of sprinting footsteps coming from behind him.

Just like yesterday afternoon, Jolias found himself between the two people he cared for most in the world. Max. Marco.

Max, the German lover whom he would soon join in a growth spurt to rattle the world, the barista who made Jolias feel safe in an unfamiliar world, the guy who filled the emptiness in Jolias’ heart after the abandonment of another.

And Marco, the brother who’d always lived in Jolias’ shadow, encouraging him, endlessly thinking of him — the twin Jolias was once again leaving behind.

Jolias crawled on his knees and offered his hands as a platform for Marco. Marco, of course, hopped on, clearly terrified by how close he was to being outsized by a finger. It only took a second for Jolias to lift his former twin up to his face. It was the only way they could have a conversation — likely the last time they ever could this easily.

Marco held onto Jolias’ nose for support as the giant man sniffled, amused by how ticklish such tiny fingers felt on his face.

“You’re so small now,” Jolias said, smouldering. “How does it feel to finally see me as the giant you used to masturbate to?”

Marco gulped. “It’s… surreal. I still remember when we used to play in the bedroom you destroyed. When I would lie on the bed; you would stand over me, pretending to tower over me as if we weren’t twins.”

“And now look at us. I’ve got you eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“It’s already hard enough to talk to you when you’re this big. I don’t think I could manage doing this very often,” Marco said. “I’m worried, Elias. I don’t want this to be the last time we ever speak like this again.”

Jolias saddled Marco up against his cheek. “It won’t be. I promise. Don’t forget: You were the first guy to ever tell me you loved me.”

Marco raises a brow and smiled with curiosity. “What about it?”

“What, ‘what about it’?” Jolias scoffed, surprised Marco didn’t know what he’d done for him. “Marco, you were the first person in the world to ever let me know I could be loved. You made me feel like I was worth loving. Even when the rest of the family wanted me gone, you always followed. I’m never going to forget that. I don’t think there’s any way I could tell you how much I love you any more than I already do.”

Marco kissed him on the cheek and patted his nostril. “It’s alright. I know you do. Now go be with Max. He’s waiting for you at the bottom of the fucking lake or something. He hasn’t swam back up the whole time we’ve been talking.”

Jolias chuckled. “Yeah.” He lowered Marco back down to the sand and stood up to his full height, shrinking Marco back down into an ant at his feet. “I guess I should catch up.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

◊ ◊ ◊

For the first time in his life, Max was thankful to be as heavy as he was. Sinking to the bottom of the lake, where the pull was emanating strongest, was as simple as a gentle glide down into the flourescent abyss. The cool water parted around his feet, cutting around him.

It was a deeper lake than he anticipated.

The sand floor had ended somewhere closer to the lake’s edge. There, a hole presented itself in the epicenter, encircled by an underwater storm of bright seafoam wisp-like tentacles. He looked up to find the moon and saw nothing but darkness. The water pressure was squeezing him from every which way, but he wasn’t built to be human anymore. It wasn’t crushing — more like a cold embrace he couldn’t shake off. His muscles protected him, thick and veiny and layered beyond belief.

In fact, he’d lost track of how long he’d been underwater. How long had he been holding his breath now? He’d been waiting at the same spot on the outer rim of the abyss for Jolias, yet he didn’t feel as though he needed to hold his breath. As if something in his mind told him it would be okay.

On a whim, he opened his mouth, and exhaled.

Then he inhaled. And he was breathing.

“Am I really talking to myself underwater?” he asked himself. “I’m really losing my mind.”

He studied the way the water seemed forbidden from entering his mouth, as if it were intaking only the oxygen and filtering out the rest.

Jolias then appeared from above, descending upon Max like an angel. His hair flowed in the water like black grass on a windy field, silk-like and beautifully metallic. There was still fear in his eyes, the thought of drowning written across his face. Once reunited, Max pulled Jolias in and shared lips. Some air passed through, and Jolias took a feverish gasp. He panicked, threatening to flail like a madman, but Max restrained him. They held hands, and that was enough to calm Jolias down.

“Nice to see you could make it,” Max said.

Jolias’ eyes bugged out as he coughed from shock.

“How are you talking—“ Jolias caught himself, surprised by the sudden ability to talk underwater. “How…”

Max shrugged lackadaisically. “Probably the alien colony in our balls, if I had to guess.”

“Good point.” Jolias inspected the dark hole inviting them in. “Have you been down there?”

“Not yet. I was waiting here for you,” Max stood at the edge of the drop, trying to find some sort of answer as to what else lay down there besides more extraterrestrial slime. “Had to distract myself somehow.”

Jolias raised a brow and rested a hand against Max’s expansive back. “So you learned how to breathe underwater in the five minutes I was gone? Damn. I should leave you alone more often.”

“You know I’d never let you do that. Not when I’m so much bigger than you,” Max said, matter-of-factly.

“And we’re only just getting started.”

“Huh?”

With no warning, Jolias shoved Max into the hole, sending him spiralling down into the great nothing.

The walls were vantablack with only the smallest specks of deepsea light and wisps of turquoise telling him where he was, how far he’d sunk. The increasing water pressure was getting to him now. In a blink, nothing around him was familiar; Jolias was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak, the water was rushing up onto his face too fast, a barrage of stonecold aqua against his mouth and nose.

Then the world came to a stop, and he froze. His feet hadn’t touched the bottom, but he could feel another sort of otherworldly force suspending him in place amid blotches of neverending darkness. A compartment in the water fit just for him — a 40-foot-something-tall giant with a cock nearly a quarter of his height.

And he realized: He was glowing. Not freakishly bright but enough for him to see his limbs, his beige skin, even in the purest absence of light.

Something stirred in him in that moment — the call, the summons from above water, whatever it was, pulling them towards the lake, into the bowels of its cool waters. An energy was circulating in the water around him. Buzzing, electric. Soft static shocks. Using him as a conductor to pass currents of power through, though not inspiring any physical changes.

“Where are we?” Jolias asked from behind him.

“You didn’t know, and you threw me down here anyway?” Max asked, amused. There wasn’t much that could scare a man of his caliber now.

“I was right behind you. You know I’d follow you anywhere,” Jolias said. “Though it was fun watching you spin around in the water like a frisbee.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Max rolled his eyes.

And then he saw it, no doubt in his mind, the thing that had been whispering to their souls, resonating with their superpowered bodies.

It was several meters beneath his feet. And several times bigger than even him.

An impossibly smooth dome at the bottom of the lake. Ivory. Yet now glowing like an orb of sapphire moonlight.

A makeshift prison, holding back a swarm of seafoam tendrils from enveloping Max and Jolias.

Max descended upon it.

“What is that?” he asked.

And he noticed a socket. Then another next to it: two circular holes in its side, spacious enough to fit even his huge self, perhaps even the Castillo-Moreno estate (if it were still standing). Whatever it was, the slithering swarm of alien organisms seemed bound to it. The colony refused to escape through the prominent exits.

Confused, Max examined the rest of the lake’s bottom; he was only half-surprised to see dozens more of the planetoid domes, all similarly decorated with two circular holes. Some weren’t as pristine, cracked or damaged after years of wasting away under what felt like a sea’s worth of water.

Max wasn’t sure why he felt so attuned to what he was seeing, what he was living. His wrecking ball testicles were humming with resonance. An energy coursed through his body in a flood of vibrations.

He wanted to wait it out, to see what would happen next. Too much was happening too fast — he wanted to stop keeping up with the chain of events he’d unleashed.

Jolias never gave him that chance, because the moment Max caught sight of him, it was too late. The smaller giant was already rocketing towards the dome, charged with destructive force. He was intending to break it, to unleash its contents into the water around them.

Max wanted to stop him, but he lost all control over his arms before the thought even processed in his mind. The miniature vibrations in his body had pulled on his nerves, paralyzing him for the moment. He could only watch as Jolias effectively speared through the outer egg shell with a leg the size of a torpedo.

“Jol’!” Max cried out.

Then a flash of neon seafoam erupted from the penetrated hollow. The epicenter was too bright for even Max to open his eyes, but he could see Jolias flying back up towards him, recoiling from the immeasurable force of a million slimes exploding outwards. They used to seem so big to Max, back when one could fit in his hand so easily in an underground spring — now they were more akin to ant-sized slugs, squirming around in the water like sperm, surrounding them both.

Jolias crashed into Max, and they held onto each other, witnessing as a planet’s worth of slimes enveloped them, encroaching towards them, trapping them in a spherical enclosure of their making. All the darkness of the lake’s bottom had been replaced by an ethereal glow, illuminating them in radioactive blue-green fluorescence.

Max and Jolias met eyes for an instant before the slimes encapsulated them completely, separating them from one another, and holding them hostage, suspended in a bubble of ancient alien matter.

The water had gone. In its place, the slime tortured them, emulating the unbearable pleasure of post-ejaculation penile contact all over their bodies.

Max lost the ability to speak, to breathe, to shut his eyes. He could only watch — breathless — as his overgrown body was compressed in an ever-tightening space with the force of a hydraulic press. His engorged muscles struggled to shrink, but the slime continued its assault regardless. Soon there was nothing left to do but surrender control. The slimes’ tendrils had been teasing the outskirts of his every orifice for the past minute, and he knew what they wanted to do. The unimaginable amount of growth that would ensue enticed him, but he was afraid of losing himself in the process — of losing Jolias.

Unable to hold up against the slimes’ resistance, he lowered his defenses and braced for the inevitable.

He grimaced as hundreds of slimes penetrated his mouth, his anus, the slit of his cock, some through his eyes, his navel, his ears. It was an ungodly amount of violent slithering inside his body, using him as a host to house them all. The muscle mass he’d accumulated was being pushed aside, renewed, reaccommodated. Every internal part of his body was in perpetual motion, and he could feel every bit of it. A volcanic heat was emanating from his genitals, as he felt the bodies of Jolias’ relatives be dissolved and used as fuel to enhance the growth spurt to come. The heat dispersed all throughout his body, through every fiber, every nerve, bone.

Parts of his body were moving without his consent, some with only half his knowledge. His sight flashed white as he fought a battle of will against an extraterrestrial species that turned mankind into giants beyond human comprehension.

Then he realized what it was those domes had been — they were skulls, people from Easter Island who had been buried here, in the lake, to stop them from growing any bigger. It was the only story that made sense, despite everything.

He was ravaged from the inside out, more so as the thousands of slimes struggled to fill him fast enough.

They became desperate. Max shuddered in pain as the slimes forced their way directly through the pores in his skin, feeding into the muscular system lying underneath. It was a hostile takeover.

As more and more of the slime disappeared and fought for supremacy over his body from within, the bubble surrounding them slowly shrank, allowing the water to wash over his face. He could breathe again. But the brief relief was overshadowed. The slime already inside him ricocheted and flew like bullets to and from end to end of his skin.

There was so much more mass in his body than it was used to. With nowhere else to house the rising amount of slime, his body expanded, his muscles bounded outwards, to fit them all. He was losing mobility in his limbs as every muscle exploded to immobile proportions. His skeleton was being crushed from the inside out, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. More skin, however, meant more pores, more muscle for the slime to force its way in.

All the while, Max wondered if Jolias was experiencing the same thing. He still couldn’t see him, not when he was unable to turn his neck past his delts.

The next minute, he was back in the darkness. All the slime from that one skull had nested inside him and Jolias.

Their testicles were floating, so much of the weight was gone. But they were ridiculous. Max didn’t need to see the full sack to know it was nearly as big around as the rest of his body combined.

When the flurry of little tentacles finally disappeared inside him, he twisted his neck to find Jolias. There, next to him, he was floating in the cold water.

He was just as inebriated, helpless in his own muscle-trapped body.

Max nearly teared up, seeing Jolias so helpless.

Then a rumbling in the heart of his genitals seized his attention. The heat returned, and it singed with a volcanic fury as it flowed through his body, melting the impenetrable layers of muscle that had immobilized them both. Bubbles formed from the water evaporating around them, and Max could almost wriggle his arm, fold it at the elbow. He was quickly reaching boiling temperatures, and his pale skin reddened because of it.

He swam over to Jolias. And Jolias, upon seeing Max’s handsome face, squirmed until they were glued together.

Jolias wrapped his arms around Max’s expansive midsection and coddled his soft, balloon-like pecs with his face.

“I’m sorry,” Jolias whimpered. “I don’t know what I just did.”

Max comforted him, returning the hug and tussling Jolias’ lush hair. “You smashed an ancient giant’s skull and unleashed a colony of aliens into our balls. I think that was pretty clear.”

“I… I don’t know what came over me. It was that damn call. The stupid whispering in my head.”

The heat was starting to burn now. Max could hardly move without every inch of his skin stinging like a sunburn.

“It’s fine, Jol’. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. You were right. Maybe, we were meant to be giants. You just did what you needed to do. In another life, I would’ve done the same thing.”

Jolias scoffed, amused. “In another life, you wouldn’t even be in South America in the first place, stupid.”

Max kissed Jolias on the forehead. “A life without you isn’t worth living, I think.”

“Don’t pamper my ego,” Jolias joked. “You’re gonna make it go to my head.”

“You’re, like, 30-something feet tall, Jol’. Your head’s plenty big as is.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

Jolias winced as he ran his fingers along Max’s back, at least as far as his fingers could reach. “And I think we’re about to get even bigger. This one’s burning me up like a motherfucker.”

“I feel it too. It’s like they set up a factory of hormones in my damn nutsack or something.”

Max could feel it coming, a nuke’s worth of growth ready to implode from his balls, ready to supercharge his body with enough power to ascend.

Double his height sounded like a good start.

“Are you ready?” Max asked.

“Born ready.”

Like a pulled trigger, Max felt a tidal wave of raw euphoria wash over him. There was no light, but he was growing dangerously fast. His bones had never crackled before, trying to keep up with the rate his muscles swelled to inhuman proportions. Every passing second was more growth in his skeleton than ever; he could feel himself displacing the water around him, feel the flexibility return to his limbs. There was a lot of catching up to do, but Max’s body adapted to accommodate a nonstop onslaught of boundless size.

For a moment, Jolias had disappeared from his sight, though he knew the tinier giant was still somewhere on his torso. Then he too caught up, and he was back in Max’s arms, growing alongside him. Still, Jolias wasn’t growing as monumentally fast as Max was — the height difference between them had doubled, and it was only stretching further and further as Max relished in the strength and hardened muscle that poured itself onto his frame.

In his stupor, Max failed to notice the skulls at his feet, the rest already so much smaller than minutes ago. Suddenly, they weren’t as intimidating. And he could see, even from his towering vantage, that they all had colonies of their own, begging for escape, for release — for a chance to make him and Jolias even bigger.

With a proud foot, Max stomped into the first, unleashing a cloud of slimes around his ankle.

The power that came with his gargantuan size was intoxicating. No man in the world came close, even if the strongest men were ballooned up to his size. He was a young giant straight out of a fantasy. He wanted more, and there, inches away, was more still.

And he lifted his leg for the next.

MEANWHILE

The lake’s waters had become peaceful again, and Marco stood at the edge, digging his toes into the sand, watching, waiting, wondering when Elias would come back up again.

Minutes had passed since the water closed over the space left behind from where Elias and Max entered. They’d been down there longer than any normal person should have been able to. Something was going on, that, once again, he wasn’t privy to.

All was quiet, and Marco was struggling to differentiate between reality and fantasy. Calling what’d just happened surreal was putting it lightly. His world was fragile and on the verge of crumbling. Nothing felt real; nothing was as it should’ve.

Nothing he had control over. Nothing he felt part of.

Even the birds that flocked and nested for the night along the shores, the cliffs, had left. Abandoned their homes in search of somewhere safer.

Behind him, Marco heard two sets of footsteps approach from the hill.

“Marco!”

It was his cousin Ethan and father Julio. They were pale white, faces soaked with cold sweat. Somehow they’d survived and avoided being caught by Elias — they were hauntingly likely the only three members of the Castillo-Moreno family left. Their entire clan, gone. A good number ended up being used as fodder, the rest were unaccounted for.

Julio stormed up to his taller son and grappled his shoulders with a hold that could bend steel. “Where is your brother?!” he asked. “And have you seen your mother?”

“Let go of me.” Marco pried his father’s hands off and brushed the filth left behind from the rubble. “I haven’t seen mom, no. And Elias is in the lake with Max. Why are you even still here? And why’d you take Ethan? He’s not safe.”

“I’m safe enough!” Ethan cried, his pre-pubescent voice cracking.

“I thought she would’ve been with you; that’s why I came down here to look for her. I can’t get in touch with your aunts and uncles, either. It’s like they all just vanished,” Julio said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “And what do you mean Julias is in the lake? How long has he been down there?”

“Long enough,” Marco muttered. “You should just go, dad. It’s not safe here. Elias might lose it if he sees you with me.”

“I’m not leaving without you and my wife, Marco.” Julio latched onto Marco’s wrist and tugged him sharply. “Come on! We’ve got to catch the bus to Puno before your twin comes back.”

Marco shook his head and pulled back, separating himself from Julio. “I’m not leaving my brother here.”

“Haven’t you seen him?! He’s massive! If he loses control, he could crush you.”

“I’d rather risk being squashed like a bug than live like one with you,” Marco said, shooing Julio away. “If you’ve got nothing else to say, then get out of here. And take Ethan with you. His parents aren’t coming back.”

“I’m not going!” Ethan yelled. “I want to be here with you!”

Marco sighed. “Look, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you if you stay here, Ethan. And your uncle here is too stubborn. I need you to be the one to drag him to the damn bus and get away from here. When it’s safe to call you, I will. But you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“This asshole is the closest thing you’ve got left to a dad.”

The ground rumbled beneath them, causing pebbles and grains of sand to bounce against their sandals.

The intensity rose sharply, enough to topple all three of them standing on the lakeshore, and the water simmered enough for the humidity to scald, forcing Marco to drag Julio and Ethan further back up the hill. Any closer to the lake and they would begin to boil alive. A volcano was forming somewhere deep beneath the lake, and they were close enough to the core to feel the heat.

“What’s going on, Marco?” Julio asked, pressing his loose glasses against his nose. “Is your brother causing these earthquakes?”

Around them, motorcycles and alarms were sounding all across Copacabana. Front doors were slamming open as neighbors poured out of their homes in fear of the tremors. Screams of terror from those not already alarmed were echoing for miles. Windows were shattering, roof panels were smashing to the ground, and babies were crying around the neighborhood.

Marco could hardly keep one foot stable on the ground, especially not with so many random explosive bursts coming from deep below the crust. “I said you two need to go!” The erratic spurts were unpredictable.

“I am not leaving without my son!” Julio yelled, holding onto his glasses for dear life.

“Don’t you fucking call me your son,” Marco said. “Now get the hell out of here before I turn into a damn giant myself and throw you all the way to Brazil!”

“Marco!” Julio yelled, desperately.

Marco lifted a leg, “I said go!” And kicked Julio to the ground along the path.

Ethan rushed over to saddle Julio over his shoulder. “Tio!” He glanced at Marco one last time, a poignant fear and disappointment in his eyes, before he turned tail and escorted Julio away.

With every step they took, the ground continued to tremor with increasing intensity. It was as if something or, more likely, someone were rampaging in the earth’s core. There was definitely slime in the lake, Marco knew that much. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he grossly underestimated just how prolific the nest was, sitting just beneath his feet, grown up around it, as if it were never there. Waiting to be found.

‘What the hell are you two doing down there?’ Marco thought.

And just when the trembling had become predictable enough, Marco fell to his knees as skyhigh waves began to wash onto shore. The water was still hot enough to singe, but Marco avoided getting wet. The water seemed a life of its own. As if the water had just avoided Marco completely, instead crashing around him, stranding him on the sole patch of dry sand left around the lake.

He didn’t have time to blink before the impossible erupted from the surface of the water — and, against his better understanding of the laws of nature, became mortifyingly real.

A small hill rose from the depths of the lake, though it wasn’t like anything Marco had ever witnessed before. Where grass should have been, a thick brush of stretched out lengths of wet, black, fibrous hair covered its top, the whole thing still rising towards the clouds. Then ears began to rise from the water, the same dark brown as Marco’s. Except that ears should not have been big enough to park four SUVs.

Marco took a moment to process that what he was seeing was none other than Jolias’ own gargantuan head, re-emerging from the lake’s depths, almost 10 times bigger than it was when he first dove in.

Only minutes ago, Marco was able to at least fathom his hands being around Jolias’ face. Now, he could have squeezed into either nostril.

Jolias’ head was now rivaling in size what once used to be their estate, the same house they’d torn down in their beastial spurs of unbound sex. Which led to an uncontrollable amount of growth, enough to send them skyrocketing from 7- and 9-foot supermen into 30- and 40-foot giants. Now they were even more unbelievably massive, still. Whatever they’d found at the bottom of the lake had no doubt made its way into their bodies. Stretching them impossibly taller, stronger, and bigger, enough to capsize the entirety of Copacabana, enough to span the length of Easter Island with a single step.

Jolias was facing away from Marco, but Marco wasn’t ready to have his body be outsized by an eyeball.

The head continued to rise, and an ear-pounding gasp of air defeaned Marco for a split-second. Marco was dumbfounded: Already, the top of Jolias’ head was taller than any house around the lake, and his shoulders had only just begun clearing the water’s surface. Two more mounds exploded out of the water, strapped with veins and fibrous cords at opposite ends of Jolias’ head. They were supposedly shoulders, but Marco couldn’t help but mistake them for miniature peninsulas, especially with delts that consumed Jolias’ neck, trailing into a perfectly cone-shaped mountain that travelled to opposite ends.

Marco forgot to breathe as he gasped for air. He was paralyzed from the neck down, and he was helpless in his trying to escape his giant of a brother.

Jolias did a complete 360-degree turn in the water, causing more water to displace as his back and chest had become so muscular that they had rounded into an impenetrable sphere of muscle. Each pec alone was nearly as voluminous as his head, and a single nipple was longer in diameter than Marco’s entire body.

Jolias looked around at the little town and cackled at what he saw.

Houses that looked no bigger than his fists, people and hillside paths slimmer than any one of his hyperpumped veins. And he was unceasing in his ascension, as he stepped forward, lumbering towards the lakeshore with the determination of a god.

More and more of his bulk began to reveal itself, each muscle somehow bigger than the last. Water was cascading off every inch of his body, waterfalls upon waterfalls that soaked Marco to the bone. He boasted a billboard of abs that protruded from his stomach; lats that resembled wings in their magnitude. His arms, each muscle (biceps and triceps and forearms) all rounder than bowling balls, making it unfeasible for him to even dare clip his arms against his sides.

Jolias still couldn’t see Marco on the sand, even as he continued making his way towards the shore. Marco was starting to panic now, but even if his mind wanted to get up and run, his body was locked in a state of paralysis. The sand was no help, either, not when it flung his body inches into the air with each step Jolias took.

His cock hadn’t even completely emerged from the lake, yet the bulbous head was already jutting out and reaching for the stars. With every step he took, more and more of the cargo train-sized shaft rained water down from storeys high above the surface. Permanently erect.

If a penis a quarter that size were mammoth enough to fit a grown person… Marco didn’t want to imagine what it could do now — now especially that he could slide into its slit standing up.

Two mountain-sized legs then exploded from the water, each thigh parading a circumference greater around than Jolias’ whole waist. A foot the size of half a basketball court hovered over the shore, veiling Marco in a shroud of darkness. No matter where his eyes darted, it would have taken three steps minimum to get out of harm’s way. Not that he was in it, thankfully.

Jolias had spotted his speck of a brother kneeling helplessly on the sand so close to his feet, and he delighted at the sight.

“There you are!” Jolias yelled. “I was wondering where you’d run off to!”

“Jesus Christ,” Marco muttered. There was no way anything he said or shouted was going to be heard.

But he didn’t care; he had nothing to say, nothing left he wanted to do. He was helpless to the whim, to revel in awe, of the muscular titan now looming before him. To even think they used to be the same height made Marco want to vomit. They were never equals. Now there was no question, no point trying to match his brother’s shadow.

“How do you like the view from down there, little bro?”

Jolias kneeled down and snatched Marco from the sand, propelling him up and up and higher until he sat him back down on the root of his endowment. The bush of pubic hair hadn’t grown with the rest of him, instead leaving behind a small patch of ungroomed hair that was hardly the size of atoms compared to his chestnut obelisk of a penis.

Even seated, wrapping his legs around the shaft, Marco couldn’t even get halfway around the whole thing. It was too much, too big.

Jolias laughed, seeing how pathetically small his brother looked on his manhood. “You comfy?” he asked.

It took him moments to become conscious to the fact that he was tens of feet in the air. From so high up, Marco could see the cities neighboring Copacaban from miles away. Their lights lit up the night like fireflies, and he wondered what other incredible sights he was missing out on, what other wonders of the world dared compete to Jolias’ might.

And then, from behind Jolias, another watery nuke imploded from the lake.

“There’s the big man!” Jolias cheered. He spun on his heel again, ready to give him, Marco, and the world a show to remember.

“Just wait. If you think I’m gigantic…”

◊ ◊ ◊

Max’s bones cracked and lengthened as his frame stretched taller and taller still to accommodate the insurmountable amount of raw meat being loaded under his skin.

He’d lost track of how colossal he’d become.

The underwater cave was still bathed in darkness, and all he had to determine how his body was changing was that he was no longer an immobile ball of overloaded muscle. He could finally stretch and feel that his regained mobility, but there was still enough difficulty moving around that he still had more muscle in a single forearm than most groups of men combined.

Perhaps he’d rushed into it too fast; there were so many skulls, so much slime to rehome. He’d subjected Jolias and himself to an invasion of their bodies, believing that it would turn them into the behemoths they envisioned themselves as.

Jolias had floated back up to the surface since then, leaving Max. Even out of sight, the crumbling cave walls never had Jolias out of mind for too long.

There was nothing left down here for Max. He raised his arm, staring at how unbelieving engorged it was with obscene amounts of unrealistic muscle. His fingertips up to his shoulder was glowing a curious blue. More than likely it had something to do with the literal millions of living organisms circulating through him.

Max’s feet were crushing the skeletons beneath him. He was too tall now to even stand comfortably in the cave, the same atrium that had seemed so cavernous minutes ago. His head was digging into the stalactites above him, and he was having to duck just to fit.

With every passing moment, he continued to grow and surge in size, his body continuing to expand in every possible direction.

There was nowhere left to go.

It was time to show the world what he’d become.

Mustering a powerful leap, Max kicked against the shattered bones at his feet and crawled his way through the chute leading back up to the surface. It was a tight fit, considering he was now likely dwarfing even his old 40-something-foot self, but he persevered. He wasn’t going to allow himself to get crushed before he got to see Jolias at his biggest yet.

When he finally poked his head out of the hole, he was met with two ankles the size of giant redwoods. He knew they were Jolias’, but they still caught him off-guard.

Around them, the lake had seemingly shrunk in the time they were gone. Following their ensuing growth spurts, Lake Titicaca had been diminished into nothing more than a water basin. 

The surface of the water was a breath away from Max’s face.

With one final hurrah, he anchored himself into the lake floor to thrust himself up and out of the water. “This is my damn exercise quota for the week!”

Channeling a driblet of the alien vigor radiating throughout his body, he pushed against the sand and tore through tons of water without a second breath. His eyes soared up Jolias’ ankles, to his calves, knees, thighs, his waist, until ― finally ― Max’s head erupted from the lake, leading to the biggest tsunami the quiet town of Copacabana had ever seen. Gallons of water rained down from the sky as he flung his mocha hair back, resulting in a cascade of streams.

Max had become so accustomed to the infinite blue nothing of the lake’s bowels. Now that he could open his eyes and truly bear witness to how astronomically sized he’d become. He climbed out of the water and shook his body of the water, planting his feet into the sand as he rose to his full height.

He’d never noticed before how much mass he was carrying now; even the slightest action, the quickest turn, caused tons upon tons of muscle to jiggle and sway, lagging wherever he moved.

He was impossibly heavy.

Every muscle sprouting out of his body was protruding lasciviously, triggering thousands of aroused expressions, taunting thousands more curious eyes.

No part of him even looked remotely human anymore: Max kept the human anatomy in check, but the sheer amount of burgeoning beef distending and swelling was unlike even the most absurd works of erotic art he’d ever seen before.

His arms and legs mirrored the other pair in girth and length, and his torso was swollen beyond belief. The moon, of all things, found competition in his succulent tits that had ballooned to the point that they appeared to be inflated with hot air, despite being rigid as adamantine when flexed. Much like Jolias, Max too found extreme difficulty in turning his head. His delts had turned into far-reaching mountains that seemed to drive on for tens of feet before arriving at his shoulders, two meteorite spheres that had outsized his own head.

“Did you really have to get SO big?” Jolias yelled, from down, down below Max’s vantage.

Standing there, an arm’s reach away from him, was a bushy head of black hair. It was the same he was used to, and it was a familiarity he was accustomed to, only supersized to unthinkable proportions.

The crown of Jolias’ head only peaked out through the cleavage of Max’s tits. His chest was protruding so far from his ribcage ― which was still, unbelievably, continuing to expand ― that Jolias, another giant in his own right, was obscured from sight.

Even back when they were still normal-sized people, Jolias had never been so difficult to see. Now, Max would’ve had to take some steps back, crouch, and probably bend over just to be anywhere near Jolias’ face. It was futile even attempting to bend his neck low enough as he was; his sharp chin collided with his collarbones with the slightest tilt and refused to go any further.

“It’s not my fault you ended up so much smaller!” Max joked. “You may be a giant now, but you make me feel like a real giant among giants.”

Jolias rolled his eyes and cupped Max’s ass with two hands, barely making it halfway around his cheeks before his face was halfway deep into the canyon that ran through his pecs.

Their erections were battling for space between them, forced to bend in uncomfortable positions just to breathe.

Jolias fingered Max’s asshole and reveled in the way he winced in pleasure. “I think you forgot you’ve always been a big, ol’ giant to me. Even when you started growing, I always had a feeling you would end up making me feel like a toy next to you. Even when I ended up becoming a, what, 90-foot-tall fuck, you still somehow ended up even bigger compared to me than when we started. What are you now, 110 feet tall? No, definitely 120.”

Every inch of his uber-sized body was teeming with slime, squirming through his bloodstream, expelling an infinite amount of mass to pack onto his frame. His entire body had come to life, and his skin was sensitive beyond belief. Even the slightest touch could make him cum, and more cum meant more growth.

He was already painfully hard. Any more of Jolias’ teasing, and the lake wouldn’t be enough to fit them both, much less him alone.

Jolias’ finger being literal feet deep inside him was driving him over the edge. “How’d you ― ungh ― figure I was 120 feet tall?” Max asked.

“Just look around ya. You’re not exactly a dainty little princess anymore, Max. I’m only making estimates for now. It’s not like we can get an accurate measurement anymore. But there’s a reason I’m the personal trainer and accountant, and you’re the one counting milk cups at the café.”

Max groaned playfully, ruffling Jolias’ hair. “I’m no good with numbers, but I’m still smart enough to know I’m bigger than you. Bigger than this tiny ass town.”

And he was right. In one left-to-right pan, he realized just how small Copacabana had become in his absence. The houses could fit on his palm, some even on a finger, and pathways could’ve been mistaken for the veins and wrinkles on his skin. There were slabs of muscle bulging out of his back bigger than some of the hills surrounding the lake.

To think it was insane to even consider growing out of the Castillo-Moreno house barely an hour ago. Now he could smother any mansion within reach with the push of a finger. As if they were just a button.

“And you’ll always be bigger than me.” Jolias said. “I’d ask if you were ready to get even more stupidly huge, but I’m not sure if you’ve had enough yet.”

“It’d be good to settle into our new bodies first. Or, I guess, at least try. I’m still not used to… y’know… being a fucking country-sized alien colony. It’s like there’s a goddamn parade going on in my armpits and an excavation going on in my knees.”

“Apparently, it’s turned your eyes blue too. Now you really do look like a German stereotype. Huge, muscled, thick, blue eyes, brown-almost-blonde hair. You-know-who would be proud.”

“My eyes are… blue?” Max inspected Jolias’ face to see if he had the same change, and, sure enough, one of his two vermillion eyes had shifted to a neon shade of seafoam green.

If he needed any sign that he and the slime had fully merged, this was it.

Max eyed Jolias’ earth-shattering penis pointing its man-eating slit at him, and he squinted tight and hard, unsure if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

He lifted a finger to point at the little speck climbing up the vein-ridden shaft. “Is that… Marco?” Max asked. “You’re making your first love climb up your dick?”

Jolias didn’t move to help little Marco reach the mountain’s peak any faster; he just cackled, amused that someone he used to be the same size as was now no bigger than a thumbtack.

“Yeah, it is! Hey, you made it pretty damn far, little bro!”

In their shared delight over Marco’s record-breaking climb, Max knelt down, causing some earthquakes to tear down some houses on their last legs. It was then that he fully felt the overwhelming immensity of his bloated thighs. He’d nearly crumpled over trying to bend his knees, his ham-like thighs forcing his calves to compress.

Jolias’ balls had shrunk down somewhat, enough to become manageable again, but they still slammed into Max’s face with the force of two wrecking balls. Now hidden underneath the shade of Jolias’ endowment, Max had full frontal view of Jolias’ fibrous legs, seemingly striped with how many ridges and valleys ran down from his groin to his knees to his ankles. Impenetrable sacks of muscle that bulged and moved with every breath Jolias took. He wanted to wrap his arms around one quad, but Max, bad as he was with numbers, wasn’t sure if he could make it all the way around. And even though the rest of his legs beneath his knees were submerged, it didn’t take a genius to know the rest of him was just as impressively vascular.

Max couldn’t help but feel a tad bit envious. His entire body, not just his legs, jiggled and bounced with how much fat had returned. Though it wasn’t obvious and acted as more of a layer equally spread throughout his body (emphasis on his tits and ass).

Max’s erection nearly burst with how engorged with blood it had become. His body struggled to keep it lifted, but it had become heavy enough that it sagged. The missile silo of a penis crashed into the water below, sending waves flying around them.

“Fuck, just looking at your legs is getting me horny,” Max grumbled. He started stroking his cock, standing back up to his full height, towering over Jolias, and tossed his wet cock over to his giant boyfriend.

Jolias caught on to what Max was implying and didn’t hesitate to smirk, preening his hair at what (and who) he knew was bound to come next.

Within a few strokes, Max’s balls were starting to rumble loud enough for the mountaintops to hear. Already, his body was paving the way for even more growth, ready to please its insatiable master.

Max looked Jolias in the eyes one last time. And he felt peace, self-assurance, satisfaction in what he’d become. How a simple guy like him could ever be grateful enough to have this happen to him, he had no idea.

There was one thing for sure, though, and it was that he couldn’t have imagined not accompanying his best friend on a quiet little vacation to South America.

His penis filled with enough cum to fill a dam, and he stretched out his arms and legs, ready for release. “Get your camera out and take a picture for the doc, Marco! She’s going to want to see this!”

[citizenies]

Quite the titanic end for the story ~ 

Can't wait for your next work/s and as always thank you

[jwood]

Since there is no "The End" in the last chapter, I can't help but think of good names for an epilogue, like "Moving Mountains" or "From Sea to Shining Sea"

[jwood]

And now I'm imagining a scenario where they bring about world peace by becoming a holy triumvirate and everyone worshiping them as the One True Religion... and maybe they stop growing?

Sorry, I should stop.  This was a fantastic story!

[MadMutter]

Oh yes, this was such a fantastic story and so much fun. I loved every chapter and every part of it.

I am still really thankful you have worked with me and wrote such a massive and detailed story.

I'll always treasure this commission as something very special! I can't wait to forget details about it, so i can read it once again!

[scarletic]

On 12/27/2022 at 12:42 PM, MadMutter said:

Oh yes, this was such a fantastic story and so much fun. I loved every chapter and every part of it.

I am still really thankful you have worked with me and wrote such a massive and detailed story.

I'll always treasure this commission as something very special! I can't wait to forget details about it, so i can read it once again!

And it was an absolute pleasure working with you and bringing this to life. It did end up being nearly four times longer than I initially planned (longer than any full-length novel I've ever written), but I don't regret any minute of it. I said it months ago, and I'll say it again: thank you so much for trusting me with your story!