Thomas' Year of Growth (Long Short Story)

[boardman]

Damn hot 

[Ozymandias]

Time for Thomas to start juicing, I think!

[Surali]

2 hours ago, Ozymandias said:

Time for Thomas to start juicing, I think!

Wouldn't it be better if he exceeded his natural limits first?  the author gave him good genetics

[musclegin30]

39 minutes ago, Surali said:

Wouldn't it be better if he exceeded his natural limits first?  the author gave him good genetics

True, but I also gave him and insatiable hunger for growth...

[musclegin30]

September

 

            I must admit, seeing Thomas’ impressive gains had me a little bit jealous. I had mostly trained for maintenance, since my physique was aesthetic as it was, but Thomas’ development inspired me to go after some gains. I got a gym membership at Thomas’ gym and began working out there four days a week. Two of those times coincided with Thomas’ workouts. I would have loved for every day to coincide, but our schedules didn’t overlap that way.

            On the days I did workout with him, I got to see the aggressiveness and determination with which he trained. It was nothing like what he had shown in the apartment. Warrior Sports Club bought out the animal in him. He was like an unchained beast of testosterone fueled growth. Every workout he pushed himself to failure, lifting more weight than he had previously. He would be so sore and muscles so pumped and swollen, that he would struggle to move. No wonder he was growing like a freak. He was training like a freak.

            “You friends with that guy?” One of the gym goers asked me, referring to Thomas.

            “Yeah, I am,” I said. We were watching Thomas crank out rep after rep of overhead presses, pumping up his boulder shoulders, while we rested between sets of our own.

            “I’ve never seen anyone make gains in size and strength like that while staying so lean,” the man said. “I told him to tell me his cycle so I could try it. He said he hadn’t started a cycle yet. I didn’t believe him. Now you look like an honest guy. What kind of stuff is he on, because whatever it is I want some?”

            I laughed. “Believe it or not, buddy, but my friend is all natural.”

            The guy pursed his lips and shook his head. “You don’t want to tell me either, ok. Well, see you around.”

            I laid down on the bench to continue my next set of chest flies. As I did so, I thought about what the man had said Thomas had told him: he hadn’t started a cycle yet. Yet. Not ‘I don’t do roids’ or ‘I’m not taking anything’, but “I haven’t started a cycle, yet.” Was Thomas considering steroids. It didn’t seem like he needed them. By all observations, his body was producing natural steroids. But he was so growth obsessed now, I couldn’t put it passed him. I felt myself stiffen at the thought of the kind of growth he’d have on juice. I quickly started thinking about other things so as not to pop a full boner in my gym shorts.

            We continued training. Outside of work our lives were dominated by lifting, eating, and fucking. Of course, Thomas out-lifted and out-ate me at every turn. Despite that I was making some progress. I saw my physique getting more defined. It was nothing like Thomas’, however.

            By the end of the month, he weighed 184, much to his disappointment. Four pounds of muscle in a month would be satisfying for anyone, but Thomas wasn’t just anyone. He had been accustomed to gaining 10 or more pounds a month now and considered 4 going backwards.

            “Your freakish newbie gains are over,” I told him, “but it’s alright, your still progressing.”

            “Four pounds isn’t good enough,” he said, sounding angry. He was shirtless and I could see his muscles tense and veins pop out in high relief.

            “There was no way you could have kept up that pace, even with your freak genetics,” I said.

            “Four pounds is shit!” He said. “I need more mass, faster.” Then he grinned. “And I know just how to get it.”

            I raised my eyebrows expectantly. “And how is that.”

            “Roids.”

            Playing the devil’s advocate I said, “Are you sure you want to jump on hardcore stuff your first year training.”

            “What’s there not to be sure about. I want to be a muscle freak and steroids are the way. I was going to have to start them soon or later. I might as well make it sooner.”

            I wasn’t going to try to convince him not to, because honestly, I wanted to see just how freaky he could get. My cock was leaking pre-cum just thinking about it. I grabbed him right then and there and pressed his hard body against the wall. Then I fucked his muscle ass. God knows how many times I came inside of him.

            “How big are you going to get stud?” I asked as I pushed inside him.

            “Twice as much as you weigh. My arms will be bigger than your fuckin’ thighs. I’ll be so thick and wide, I’ll struggle to get through doorways.”

            “I can’t wait,” I whispered into his ear. 

              

October

 

            Thomas absorbed as much knowledge as he could on steroids, both from the internet and from experienced users at the gym (those willing to admit to it). In no time he became a fountain of knowledge on all things relating to gear: the types, dosages, side effects, best suppliers, cycle lengths, dosing time, injections vs. orals, pct, and more. While he was working, eating, or lifting, he was meticulously planning his first cycle. He had one goal and he pursued it with a laser focus: to get huge! He ordered his stack from the same company a successful bodybuilder at the gym used. The guy had competed in several shows and looked great. When the goods finally arrived Thomas could hardly contain his excitement. He was like a kid opening a present on Christmas morning. His growing shredded muscles ripped into the box. He took the vials in his hand and grinned. “Want to watch my first injection?”

            “Hell yeah,” I said, imagining the needle of roids plunging into his muscle ass.

            I watched with rapt attention as he bought the vial of Test-E up to eye-level and with the care and precision of a nurse, filled a syringe with his dose.

            “How much are you using?” I asked.

            “500 mg.”

            I had never seen a vial of testosterone in person before. The liquid was more viscous than expected and slightly yellowish. When Thomas was done prepping the syringe, he sat it down, pulled his pants down, exposing his ass cheeks, and sanitized one spot with an alcohol swab. He lifted the syringe, ready to inject himself, then paused, looking at me. He held the syringe to me. “Care to do the honors.”

            “I’ve never injected anything into anyone, a day in my life.” I said, surprised.

            “Just stick it straight it and squeeze.”

            I smiled and took the syringe. “Well, it’s not the first thing I’ve stuck in your ass.” In the needle went. I squeezed.

            We were both immensely hard after I injected him. It was a strangely erotic act for the both of us. Who knew needles could be sexy? “Here’s to turning you into a freak,” I said. I wrapped my arms around his muscular frame, and we kissed, grinding our rock-hard dicks into each other.

            Thomas also included D-bol in his first cycle. 30 mg a day, taken orally. The combination of the two certainly worked. If his growth had been astonishing before, it was absolutely unbelievable now. He was growing visibly bigger by the day, straining all of his clothes to their limits, and plowing through food like a one-man football team.

            One day, near the end of the month we were both in the kitchen. Thomas was wearing a nice dress shirt, ready for work. He reached for a coffee thermos on the top shelf of the cabinet, and I heard a loud rip as the fabric below his arm gave way, shredding across his bulging lats.

            “Fuck!” I said. “The hulk has entered the building.”

            “Another one bites the dust. Third shirt this week!” Thomas said. “Oh well. Fuck it.” He grabbed the fabric and tore the shirt off as easily as if it had been made of paper, releasing his bulging physique. His wife-beater clung to muscles like it was painted on, stretched almost see through. I could see his dark nipples through the fabric.

            “What do you think they’d say if I walked into work like this?” Thomas bounced his meaty pecs, then did a double biceps pose.

            “They’d be speechless,” I said. “They’d probably faint.”

            “Probably. I’m easily the most jacked guy there. My arms are bigger than all the taller guys, and even amongst the ones who work out I’m the most shredded.”

            “The office alpha,” I said.

            “Damn right,” Thomas went into a most muscular pose and looked down at himself, admiring his thick roided muscles. “It’s a shame there’s a dress code, otherwise I’d give them a show. Well, I gotta go find a shirt that fits… If I can.” He laughed, swaggering away.

            Thomas indeed found a shirt that fit, just barely. It clung to his bulging physique, accentuating his beautiful god-like muscles. What his co-workers must have though… That shirt didn’t last long however, as he continued to balloon in size over the rest of the month. He went clothes shopping again to update his wardrobe with larger sizes, even buying some that were far too big for him, saying that he’d grow into them. Around the apartment, he didn’t wear clothes, however, preferring to go about in just his skimpy underwear. It was a pleasing sight that never failed to leave me hard and leaking. Even if I had just cum, the sight of him could get me ready to explode again. With every inch, every pound, Thomas grew sexier.

            On the last day of the month, he called me into the bathroom to witness his weigh in. Normally, he didn’t do this. He would simply tell me the weight later on, but with this being his first month of juicing, I guess he felt it was a special occasion. Thomas faced me, every inch of his lean, hard body on full display. He stepped on the scale between us. We both looked down as the numbers rose, settling on 200.

            “Holy shit!” I said. “16 pounds this month. That’s four pounds a week! What you gained all last month, you gained every week this month.”

            He leapt off the scale, beaming. “Finally, 200 lbs. That’s as much as you.”

            “Almost.” I smiled. “I’m 203 now.” I had put on a little more muscle since joining Warrior Sport’s Club.

            “Three pounds,” Thomas rolled his eyes jokingly and smiled. “That’s in the margin of error.”

            Whether I weighed more than him or not, 200 pounds packed onto his 5’ 7’’ frame meant that he looked much bigger than me. His arms dwarfed mine. Every part of him was thick. The dude was stacked. He looked like he belonged on a bodybuilding stage. He had grown so much and so fast that I noticed it was starting to catch up with him. His once flawless skin now had stretch marks near his delts and biceps, and on his quads. I had to admit, they looked sexy, though. Battle scars. He was literally growing out of his skin! With how my freak of a roommate was hyper-responding to the roids, I could hardly imagine how freaky he’d look in November.

[Ro20316]

Thomas has relly grown a lot in justa  few months and now with the gear he will make his dreams come true.

[musclegin30]

November

 

            The steroids raised Thomas’s libido. He was horny enough before, but after the roids, he was always horny. If we weren’t fucking, then he was fucking someone else. Man or woman, it didn’t matter, as long as he could blow his load daily, usually multiple times a day. His roid fueled muscular body craved stimulation. On his sensitive nipples, up the ass, and along his biceps, abs, and feet. He had so many erogenous zones to play with that sex with him was never a boring affair. Whatever you were into, you could bet it would get him off. And when Thomas got off, he really got off, blowing load after load of his alpha seed everywhere. He had to be producing 10 times the cum that I could produce in a day! It was unbelievable.

         He told me he had to start taking extra breaks at work, because feeling his expanding body pressing against his tight clothes made him hard and he had to go to the bathroom several times a day to jackoff or else he’d start leaking in his work pants.

        “Do you ever get blowjobs at work,” I asked, “because it seem like such a waste to flush your superior seed down the drain.”

        “Sometimes my boss likes to suck me off,” Thomas said with a cocky grin.

        “Your boss!?”

        “Yeah,” Thomas said, “I even let him worship my muscles from time to time in exchange for a raise, which he was more than happy to give.”

       “Wow.” I could hardly believe it. “I always thought your boss was a hard ass.”

        Thomas laughed. “He is, usually, but he’s also a muscle loving bottom, who’ll do whatever the right guy tells him to. He may be my ‘superior’, but we both know who the real boss is.” Thomas lifted his arms into a double biceps pose, straining his tee shirt to the limit.

         It was amazing seeing the total muscle alpha he was growing into. He was an entirely different person than he was at the start of the year. Back then he was meek and unsure. Now he was aggressive and dripped confidence.

        He loved showing off now, something he never did before, which was understandable since he had nothing to show off before. Once, around the middle of the month, he wanted to show me how solid his mid-section was. He sauntered into my room, shirtless, and demanded that I punch him in the stomach as hard as I could. I did so.

        “Harder!” he screamed.

        I punched him harder.

        “Harder! I hardly felt that.”

        I hit him again, and so it went on and on. Now I can hit. I once took down an asshole in college with one blow, but my punches had no effect on Thomas’ steel midsection. By the end of it my hands were in pain, while Thomas merely smiled like I had only tickled him. his body was truly a rock-hard mass of impenetrable muscle.

        All that muscle needed fuel, and Thomas dominated the kitchen. The pantry was filled with his dry goods and supplements. The freezer and fridge were stuffed with meat, veggies, eggs, cheese, and milk for Thomas’ never-ending parade of meals. I had to put a mini fridge in my room, just to have room for my food.

         It was important not to leave food, especially meat, unattended around Thomas, or it would find its way into his ever-hungry roid gut. It was hard to comprehend how he ate so much. His abs, while lean and defined, were now always slightly distended during the day. He wanted freaky size, and he was getting what he wanted.

          When Thanksgiving rolled around, we each went to visit our respective families for dinner. Thomas sent me a text that afternoon to say how he was the talk of the day. His family was blown away by his size. They could hardly keep their hands off his new muscles, constantly asking him to flex. His cousins, who had always been bigger than him, were both impressed and jealous. His own parents didn’t even recognize him when he came to the door.

           That evening I bought three plates of food back to the apartment from my family. I found Thomas already home, sitting on the couch (shirtless of course) looking wide and extra bloated.

        “How many plates did you eat?” I asked.

         “Six, not including dessert.”

         “Impressive.” I had only managed three, myself.

        “But I could probably eat more,” Thomas grinned, eyeing the plates in my hand.

        “Well, one of the plates is for you,” I said.

       “Thanks.”

         I had to put the plates in the main fridge since they didn’t fit in my mini fridge. The next morning, I woke up to find Thomas had eaten Two whole plates and half of the third after I went to bed. While frustrated, I couldn’t be mad at him. Not when I thought about all those calories feeding his muscles and making him grow even bigger.

            At the end of the month Thomas weighed in at 212 shirt busting pounds. To celebrate he had a hulk out session. I sat on the couch and watched as he put on every piece of clothing, he still had left, that was too small for him, and proceeding to grunt and stretch and flex until he had turned all of them to shreds. Pant-legs gave way to quads, biceps burst through sleeves, buttons popped over pecs. It was a better show than anything on television.

 

December

 

            Thomas’ growth continued unabated. He was putting up impressive numbers in the gym as well. Benching 395, squatting 500, and deadlifting 590. Seeing him pumped up after a heavy workout was truly a sight to behold. He seemed to double in size before your eyes, swelling out of his workout clothes.

            He had started his muscle building journey in February, and it was hard to comprehend just how much progress he had made in 10 months. I watched him in the kitchen, washing his dishes one day, wearing nothing but his underwear. His back was toward me, eclipsing the entire sink area. I studied his physique. His neck had thickened. It connected to two sloping traps that not only bulged upwards, but backwards as well. They were framed by a pair of capped delts lined with striations that rippled with every movement of his arms. Visible veins formed a web across his delts, and you could see the faintest row of stretchmarks etching light lines in his dark skin.

            Below that, his lats flared out like a cobra’s neck. There were so many nooks and crannies across his back it looked like a topographical map of the Himalayas. His waist had thickened, losing some of its wasp like quality. It was only a matter of time before it happened, of course, considering how much muscle he had packed onto such a short frame. The small of his back looked deep because it was nestled between hills of muscle. It sloped gently down to his glutes which jutted out to form an ass shelf. His briefs were stretched so tightly across his bulbous ass that you could make out the definition of the muscle through the fabric.

            Then came his quads. Where once there was a gap, there was none now. His thick thighs pressed together, leaving no space between them. On the sides, they jutted out past his waist. In the back his over-developed hamstrings were on full display. Below them, a set of diamond shaped calves, hard and lean, formed the base of the mountain of freaky muscle Thomas had become.   

            Thomas turned from the sink and caught site of me staring at him. He smirked. “Like what you see?”

            “Every inch of it,” I said.

            He strutted over to me and without warning I was in the air, slung over his bulging shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I weighed almost as much as he did and yet I seemed so light to him. He carried me as if I were nothing, down the hall and into his room, where he tossed me on to the bed. I bounced once before stretching out on my back and propping myself up on my elbows. I licked my lips and watched him with hungry eyes, exited to see where this was going.

            Thomas stood at the foot of the bed and pushed his underwear down to his ankles. He kicked them aside. I saw he was growing an erection, and I salivated at the sight of it. He reached for a bottle of baby oil from his dresser and held it in front of himself. He leaned back slightly and let drops of the viscous liquid fall across his chest. With his other hand he rubbed it across his pecs. They were so round, so thick. Then he slid down to his abs. His fingers moved slowly, rising and falling with each cobblestone. Thomas gave similar treatment to his whole body, until he glistened like polished stone, every muscle highlighted. He leaned forward onto the bed. I watched the horse shoe of his triceps knot up as he crawled to me. His pecs pushed together. His delts moving up and down, looking like two extra heads.

            He stopped in front of me and rose up on his knees. He brought his arms up into a double biceps pose. Thomas flexed, squeezing his muscles so hard he shook. The veins erupted through his skin. His cock was now at full mast, stretching out in front of him, leaking pre. Thomas turned his head and looked at one of his biceps. Then at the other. “Oh God. Fuck! Look at me. Look at how big I’ve gotten.” He flexed harder, tensing every muscle in his body. His cock bobbed up and down. I drank in the sight of him, enamored. In awe.

            “Who’s your muscle god?” Thomas asked.

            “You are,” I said, as he climbed on top of me, covering me with his mass. I was drunk on the sight of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. So drunk I couldn’t tell you all we did. I only know I was happy.

            Thomas ended the year at 223 pounds, 18 pounds more than I weighed. With his extreme definition, he looked even bigger than he was. In one year, he was put on an amazing 103 lbs of muscle.

            “You’ll be double your starting weight in a couple of months at this rate,” I remarked as we waited for the New Year to come in.

            “And I can’t wait,” he said. “I never want to stop growing. I’m addicted to muscle.”

            I smiled and raised a glass of champagne to toast. “Here’s to another year of growth.”     

[Ro20316]

Thomas made the year his best.

He will grow more im sure.

[TheOnceandFutureFreak]

God I want more 

[musclegin30]

13 minutes ago, TheOnceandFutureFreak said:

God I want more 

I'm considering doing "Thomas' Second Year of Growth" and taking him over 300 lbs