Bigger...Much Bigger

[musclegin30]

This is a quick one shot.

Synopsis : Liam is a bodybuilder with big goals, and during a late-night muscle worship session, he just might reach them. 

 

            Up.

            Down.

            Up.

            Down.

            I lay on the bench, pushing the bar up. It’s loaded with 295 pounds of steel, but it is only slightly challenging. I am stronger than I was last week. Every week I grow stronger and bigger, but it’s not enough. I always want to be bigger.

            Up.

            Down.

            My pecs and tris contract when I push the weight up, expanded against my thin, tanned skin, becoming pumped, engorged with blood. I can feel the sweat run down my forehead, my neck, my arms, my chest, soaking into my tank. I am hot, covered in sweat, though the gym’s AC is blasting cool air.

            Up.

            Down.

            I force out rep after rep, tearing my muscle fibers down so that I can rebuild them later, bigger and more powerful. A protein shake churns in my belly, below a wall of chiseled abs. Test, Dbol, and Tren coarse through my veins.

            “One more rep,” I tell myself. “One more. Gotta get one more.” I get it and push for another. I’m always pushing for more. My muscles are so pumped they ache, and it feels good. Around me, the din of the other gym goers doesn’t reach my ears. The crowded gym might as well be empty. All that exists is me and the weight, in this moment.

            Up.

            Down.

            Up.

            I rack the weight, finishing my set. As I rise up to the sitting position my ‘cheerleader’ (I mean spotter) taps me on both shoulders and exclaims “You’re a beast, Liam!”

            I know.

            He’s 27, my age, but smaller. His name is Tom and I know he only spots me so he can be close to me, so he can gaze on my bulging muscles. His 150-pound physique pales in comparison to my 195 pound one. My muscles are something to behold, I think, as I stare at my pumped form in the gym mirror. But they aren’t big enough. I imagine myself some time in the future, after a decade of roid use, eating big, and lifting heavy, standing beside the then Mr. Olympia, making him look small. I will not be Mr. Olympia, of course. I will be too obscene, to grotesquely large for that stage. Unjudgeable. An anomaly that no one will understand. Just being so much larger than Mr. Oympia will give me satisfaction enough.

            Or will it?

            Probably not. I’ll still want to be bigger. Much bigger.

            “Hey, look.” Tom taps me on my trap. It must feel like stone to his little hand. He’s a cardio junkie, who runs on the treadmill more often than he pumps iron. He draws my attention to the other end of the room, past the rows of benches, machines, and free weights, to the gym entrance. A Colossal man has entered. He looks like a competitive bodybuilder, bigger than anyone else here, but not as big I one day hope to be.

            “I bet he can’t even wipe his own ass,” Tom whispers to me.

            “Yeah,” I say, eying the mass monster with envy.

            Tom meant his comment to be derisive, but my cock twitched at the thought. Oh, to be that big. So big, I can’t touch my back. So big, I can’t wipe my own ass. Obese with lean, hard, thick, dense, beautiful mounds of muscle, forcing my arms to stick out stiff like the branches of a tree, and making me walk with a waddle.

            “You’re not planning to get that big, are you?” Tom asks with mock concern plastered on his face.

            “Not that big,” I say. “Bigger.” I grin devilishly and stare into his brown eyes.

            Tom looks at me with surprise and scratches his scalp, his hand getting lost in his mop of black hair. “Really?” He says. “It’s just not practical, you know. Maybe another 10 or 15 pounds on you and you’d be perfect.”

            “Fuck practical.” I laugh. “If I wanted practical, I’d have taken up swimming. I took up lifting because I want to be huge, with a capital H U G and E!”

            “You’re already pretty huge, dude.”

            Compared to you. “Nah, this isn’t huge.” I flex my arms, watching as the peaks rise like little mountains. I can see the separation between the long and short heads. They glisten with sweat. If I was home, I would whip my cock out and masturbate to my hot body, but I’m not home and not trying to go to jail (Though half the gym would probably enjoy the show). Instead, I must be content to just look at them, basking in my own vanity. Tom watches me ogling myself and I see him shake his head in the mirror, though he’s smiling, staring at my arms, as well.

            Tom reaches out quickly and steals a squeeze. His fingers don’t dent the hard muscle. They linger just a little too long, I think, for a straight man. Was he straight? I wasn’t sure. I sure as hell am not. “Pretty huge,” he says and gives me a look. Envy? Lust? Admiration? Sometimes a look can be so hard to read.

            “Well, I’m done.” I rise up to my full 6-foot height. Two inches taller than Tom. “Gotta go eat.”

            “See you next time, dude. I’m gonna hit the treadmill.” Tom gives me a pound and we part ways.

            As I leave the workout area, I spy the massive bodybuilder shoulder pressing with 100-pound dumbbells, His massive muscles swelling up with each rep. One day, I think, one day. In the locker room, I pull a pre-mixed mass-gainer shake from my gym bag and chug it, before leaving. The shake has 1200 calories and 50 grams of protein to fuel my continued growth. I flex in the mirrors near the sink, standing between two smaller men, enjoying the sight of my pumped-up physique and wishing the pump would never go away. I must be standing there too long, because I get strange looks. Look at that vain guy they must be thinking. Meathead. Dumb jock. My cock is rock hard. The pleasure I experience from my own body is magnified by their stares.

             I stand further back, peel off my sweat-soaked tank, and drop my joggers so my striated quads are on full display. The teardrop in my legs bulges forward, perfectly defined. I love my symmetry, my veins, my leanness. The only thing I don’t love is my size. Too small. I want more.

            More.

            MORE!

            The thought of more fills my head as I drive home. It fills my head as I consume my first of two dinners (Chicken breast, sweet potatoes, and broccoli). As I masturbate naked in front of my full-length mirror. As I inject the syringe of test into my glutes. As I drink my casein shake before bed. And as I check my messages before finally getting some shut eye.

            I have a message from a potential muscle-worship client. It reads: Hey Liam. My name is Jessie. Tom referred me to you. He’s a friend of mine and said you do muscle-worship sessions. I checked out your picks online and would love to meet up. You’re hot!

            Tom knows I do muscle-worship. It was never something I tried to hide. Getting big is expensive and I do whatever it takes to pay for it. After I had mentioned it to him months ago, however, he never bought it up to me again. He certainly never referred a client to me. I honestly thought he had forgotten all about it.

            Me and the potential client message each other back and forth, discussing desires, boundaries, payment, and any other particulars. It turns out he lives nearby, and we agree to meet the following night. I go to bed exited. I love being worshipped. It makes me feel like the muscle god I one day hope to grow in to.

            The next day I go to my job at GNC, workout, eat, and shower and, when the evening rolls around, I get dressed in a pair of black tapered joggers, white sneakers, and a very tight white henley. I drive to our agreed upon meeting spot, a picnic park near a nature preserve on the edge of town. Jessie had said he wanted to worship me outdoors, under the stars. I admit, I thought it was a little strange, but I had spoken with Tom over the phone during the day and he assured me Jessie was a normal guy (albeit very obsessed with muscle), not a psycho. His words eased my doubts.

            I swagger across the wet grass of the park; the cool night air is bracing. Jessie stands beside a picnic table, a cone of lamp light illuminating the space around him. I smile. He waves. Jessie’s hair is blonde, made golden by the lamp light. His face is average, but his smile is perfect, big and welcoming. When I reach him, I see that he is very short, maybe 5’ 4’’. He wears blue jeans and a red t-shirt, that drapes his twig body like a sheet. He is 21 but could pass for 16.

            “Hello,” I say, looking down at him, and extending my hand.

 

            “Hey,” he says, his eyes moving over my whole body. He smiles even wider as my large, calloused hands envelope his soft, small ones. I feel a tingle when we touch, like static, a slight electric pulse that starts in my hand, moves up my arm, and courses through my body causing my muscles to twitch. I’ve heard of sparks flying between two people, but I didn’t think it literally happened.

            “So, little guy. You like muscle, huh?” I ask, smiling cockily as I bounce my thick pecs.

            “Oh, yeah.” He is eye level with my chest.

            “Well, feast your eyes-” I go to remove my shirt, but he stops me with a “no”. He wants to worship me with my clothes on. Strange.

            “Why?” I ask. “No one’s ever wanted that before. Don’t you want to see what’s under this shirt?” I do a double bicep pose. “You’re paying for a full show.”

            “Oh, I’ll see it soon enough, believe me,” he says. “But it’s more fun for me this way. You’re not attached to these clothes, are you?”

            “No. Why?”

            “You’ll see.”

            He reaches out and feels my arm, squeezing my bicep, as I flex. There goes that electric pulse again. He can’t fit both of his tiny hands around my arm. I find that so hot. I look from my arm to his and can’t believe how much bigger I am than him. It’s like comparing a log to a stick. My arm seems to grow tighter against the fabric of my shirt, stretching the cloth to its limits.

            “God, you’re big,” Jessie says.

            “Not big enough,” I reply.

            “You’ll grow,” he says.

            “I know.”

            “No, you’ll grow tonight.”

            I look him in the eyes. They are piercing. Serious. Sexy. I wonder what he means by ‘you’ll grow tonight’, as he runs his hands from my biceps to my chest. Another pulse. My shirt grows tighter. I feel like I have the biggest pump, like I’ve down 50 reps of bench flies. I perform a most muscular pose and when I look down at my arms, I notice one is bigger than the other. The first arm Jessie touched, my right, is bigger than my left!

            “Wha-?” I look down at it, concerned, eyes ready to jump from my head. Jessie immediately grips my smaller arm. Electric pulse. It grows to match the size of the larger one. I estimate that Jessie has added 2 inched to both of my arms.

            Impossible. “What are you doing to me?”

            “I have a peculiar talent,” Jessie says. “I can fulfill men’s dreams about their bodies by just touching them.”

            I stare at him, incredulous. It sounds unbelievable, but… I squeeze my arms and they truly are bigger. I’m not imagining it, so… It’s real!

            “Most men I’ve touched just want to be hotter, a little bigger, a little more defined, a little this, a little that,” Jessie continues “But I’ve longed to touch someone with truly immense goals. When Tom told me about you, I knew I had found my man.”

            “I dreamed of being much bigger than this,” I say.

            “Well, I’m not done worshipping you yet. The change doesn’t come all at once.”

            Jessie reaches up and takes my shoulders in his hands. “Tell me how much you love to grow. I want to hear.”

            “I love growing bigger,” I say. “It’s the best feeling in the world. It’s all I think about. Bigger. Bigger! BIGGER! So big I have trouble fitting through doorways. So big I brush up against ceilings. So big, furniture crumbles beneath my weight.”

            “Yes!” Jessie screams. “That’s what I hoped. That’s why I wanted to worship you outside. To give you room to grow, to expand to the full extent of your dreams. Grow for me. Grow!”

            I’ve grown stiff as a two by four, pitching a tent in my joggers. His cock is hard as well. His jeans show an ever-expanding wet spot. Jessie rubs my shoulders vigorously and I feel them expand, my traps as well, rise up, consuming my neck. I stretch outward, Jessie’s hands moving farther and farther apart with my expanding body. My delts are obscene, literally the size of cantaloupes. And them: Boom! My Henley gives out. It was amazingly stretchy and put up a good fight, but it is no match for my expanding frame. It tears, with a loud Rip! exploding off me in ribbons and drifting to the grass.

            Jessie moves back to my arms. They expand again. 20 inches. 21 inches. 22. 23. 24. 25…29. They are bigger around than Jessies waist. The bicep alone is the size of his head. The electric pulses coursing through my body with every touch feel orgasmic. I never want it to stop. I raise my arms as jessie is still gripping one of my biceps, raising him off the ground. He lets go, landing on his feet and begins to work over my torso. He grips my lats and they spread out like a cobra’s neck, as he runs his tongue over my sweaty abs. Each ab grows to the size of a fist, with grooves between them, impossibly deep. I can’t help but run my fingers up and down them, over and over again, like strumming a guitar.

            I must be a queer sight, a real-life Jonny Bravo. My upper body is colossal, yet my legs are the same size as before. I look like I might topple over, but, as though he knows what I am thinking, Jessie goes to his knees and begins to worship my glutes, quads, and calves. My ass juts backward. I hear the seam in back split, yielding to my new bubble butt. My quads and calves grow, expanding outward, but they also grow longer as the bones in my legs stretch out. I am growing taller! Jussie stands up and runs his fingers up and down my spine. It grows as well, stretching my torso out. I rise into the air, now over 7 feet tall.

            My expanding leg muscles are too much for my jogger and underwear. They suffer the same fate as my shirt and burst to threads, exposing my rock-hard 9-inch cock. The muscles of my inner thigh push my legs apart forcing me to walk with a waddle. I feel a little awkward on my size twelve feet. They weren’t made for this much mass. But once again Jussie seems to read my mind. He places his hand on my feet and they burst through my sneakers.

            I kick the tattered fragments of leather away, with my knew size twenty feet, which sink slightly into the ground, under my new weight. I can’t imagine how much I must weigh, but it must be well in excess of 600 pounds. I am so wide, so thick. Every muscle is developed beyond reason. I can only lumber forward, stiffly, and hit approximations of the major body building poses. I can’t touch my ass, or my toes. I can barely touch my own head because my biceps get in the way. I love it! As I look down at my shredded body, covered in a web of bulging veins I realize with concern I can hardly see my manhood over my pec shelf.

            “You can make everything grow, can’t you?” I ask.

            “Of course. What man’s dream would be complete without making that grow.” Jessie grins slyly and lunges for my throbbing cock. He places both of his hands on it, lubricated by his on saliva and begins to stroke it up and down. I’m in heaven as I feel it thicken and lengthen, growing heavier. When he is done it is 18 inches long and as thick as a gutter pipe My balls have grown as well. They hang low, as large a navel oranges. I don’t care how impractical it is. It’s my dream and it is fulfilled. Wait until Tom and everyone at the gym sees me tomorrow, I think.

            Jessie, steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking up at the god he created from my fantasy. I am a freak, the most grotesquely muscled being the world has ever seen, so musclebound I won’t be able to work. I will have to hire live in help, just to go about my daily life. The thought arouses me so much I feel my balls churn and cock twitch. I blow my load without even touching them and what a load it is. It shoots out of my cock with such force, that when it strikes Jessie, and it sends him flying back several feet.

            “Oh my God!” I say, “sorry, little guy.” Secretly I love how powerful my cumshot is.

            Jessie lies on his back a few seconds, before rising up to a sitting position. His face and torso are dripping with my sticky cum. It dangles in thick ribbons from his chin as he shakes his head and wipes it from his eyes. He smiles widely and licks the cum from his lips.

            “Are you happy?” Jessie asks. “I know I am.”

            I flex my muscles, my massive member bobbing in front of me, dripping cum. “I’m happy, but I think I can dream bigger…much bigger.”

            Jessie rises to his feet and walks towards me, his magic hands outstretched, and I close my eyes, imagining myself bigger and bigger still.

            There goes that electric pulse again.       

[spacevlad]

Fuuuuuuuck, super hot story, bud. That insatiable need for more... nothing hotter than that!

[arpeejay]

Outstanding! 

[NTMuscle]

Love it! And what he is becoming!

[NeedMore123]

Ideal scenario, touch me with those magic hands!

[pasidious]

This was quite the story and one of my favorite scenarios.  I absolutely love the concept of growth through worship.

[Bigger]

Hot damn! I love those insatiable growing stories!

[Guest]

Fuck, that was hot! I hope a part 2 comes around someday!

[LoverBoy]

I wonder how big sweet little Jessie is going to make Liam? Something tells me, once he REALLY gets going, he's not going to want to stop...and neither is Liam!

[musclegin30]

Thanks for the likes and comments. Glad you all enjoyed this one-shot. It's an open-ended short story. How big will Liam grow? The answer is: however big you want him to, lol.