The Storm, Chapter 5 added, 10/9

[Maxum]

I dusted off an old, partially written story (I have many of them) and added a second chapter (and a few more). Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should continue.

 

The Storm

 Chapter 1

The storm was coming. Even though the forecasts and long range models still drew diverging pathways on the maps, and the meteorologists still spoke in percentages and probabilities, I could tell this storm was headed straight toward me. I also knew that where I lived and the beach where I loved to surf was going to take a full force hit. The outcome had already been determined, and only I knew with one hundred percent certainty what that outcome was going to be. 

Although the tropical depression was still days away from becoming a full fledge hurricane, and although it was at least a week away in distance, I could already feel it in the water, and I could feel it coursing through my body. Strength was building – both the storm’s intensity and my own. Last night’s invigorating midnight swim and dreams that followed as well as the more than usual abundance of the flesh in my morning hard-on were proof enough to me. Fuck! It felt good,… and it was big… bigger than before. The flesh was hard as any steel, and now it more than filled my hand. To boot, to the rhythm of my pleasure, my nutsack slapped against my thighs with more force than I recalled. My balls were fuller, bigger.

I raised my fist and flexed my biceps as I continued jacking with my other hand. The muscle mounded up round and large and full. It wasn’t huge yet, but it was bigger than before, and large enough to make me gasp in self-appreciation. Fuuuck! I felt a tingling in my cock and in my balls. Power. I felt the power, and suddenly the strength was more than I could stand.  I thrust my left hand to the base of my erection and stroked the nob and remaining seven inches with my right, abandoning my flex to coax the storm within me. 

My hard-on surged within my hand, and I could feel the tension building. Waves of pleasure caressed my ass and balls and perineum. It became too much, and I arched my back and felt my glutes and hamstrings cramp with pleasure. In anticipation, my entire body flexed, and I felt my muscles growing. The wave of tension built within me, and I inhaled and held a breath so large that I thought it might explode my chest, but my ribcage held together. 

Then I felt the second phase. The wave was cresting, and I knew the thrill was coming. I felt my sphincter spasm and my balls draw up as semen filled the reservoirs  within my prostate. I shut my eyes shut so tight that I couldn’t pry them open, but I didn’t need to see in order to experience the vision in my mind. My body was expanding, just a bit for now, but more was coming. This moment before I came was all potential, and despite how much I loved the anticipation thrill, I knew the best was yet to come, and then it happened.

My cock expanded in my hands as the wave of pleasure crashed upon me. My body shook, and I roared with pleasure as the motherload of all ejaculations vaulted ropes of white, hot cum from deep within my pelvis up my shaft and through the air in all directions. I lost my sense of being as I tumbled through the abyss of bliss. I smelled the ocean in the air and tasted its salty essence on my lips. It splashed across my face and chest and pooled between the ridges of my belly. The intensity was mind-blowing, and my orgasm lasted longer than expected, but in the end, the power of the wave dispersed and was replaced by a  tranquil relaxation that deposited me breathless and tangled in my sheets. Exhausted, I relaxed completely on my bed and felt the force of gravity against my increased mass, the mattress pushing harder against my back and glutes and limbs, the heft of my cock and balls weighing more substantially upon my thighs. I could feel the force and power. I was bigger,… and I was stronger,… and I was going to grow again. The coming storm was my assurance, and it was going to be more powerful and destructive than anyone yet knew.   

 

 

Chapter 2

The vibration of my phone against the nightstand was enough to rouse me from my slumber. It was a text from Billy:

Dawn Patrol

That was it. Nothing else -- but nothing else was needed. The surf was rising, and “dawn patrol” meant that although the sun had not yet crested the horizon, Billy was headed for the water. Sand was probably already pushing up between his toes, board leashed to his left ankle, eyes fixed on the horizon, sensing, anticipating. 

I rolled on my side and looked out the window of my beachfront shack which was perched on stilts, just high enough to see the sandy beach beyond the dunes. A lone surfer’s silhouette against the sherbet dawn jogged across the sand, board held high. It was Billy. He wanted to catch a few good rides before the break filled with every Benny, Barney and Kook who would never be good enough to deserve the kind of break that was right out my window. Billy was a disciple of the sea. He lived for the ocean and the waves, and both of them were calling. I looked to the water beyond his silhouette, and my heart pumped. With the coming storm, the swell was gaining size and strength, and the curls were peeling in perfect, long, slow barrels with nothing but glassy water in-between. It was a surfer’s wet dream, and at least for now it was mine and Billy’s, ours alone.  The ocean beckoned, and we were obligated to respond. 

I rolled out of bed and stepped into my favorite board shorts. As I pulled them up my muscled thighs, I couldn’t help but notice that they were tighter. My quads and hamstrings now strained against the cloth, making it hard to hoist them into place. I worked the fabric up and over the thickness of my glutes and had to strain to pull the waist up high enough to settle into place along the narrow of my lower back. I relaxed and exhaled loudly thinking that I had achieved my goal. But  then I realized that when it came time to seal the deal, there was just no room left for my amped up bait and tackle. While the storm was gaining size and strength, so too was I. I could feel the power building, manifesting itself in me as strength and size. I felt the need to exert myself, to dominate - to lift something or crush something or fuck something, but there was nothing in my shack to foot the bill. I picked up the dumbbells by my bed, but they were only 35 pounders - inadequately light; so I did next what came most naturally to me. I flexed. I raised my arms into a double biceps pose, and I flexed hard, squeezing every muscle in my body with all my might, concentrating all my energy into the flex and luxuriating in the erotic pain and pleasure of my muscles cramping as they struggled one against the other. Feeling the tightness of the boardshorts against my by glutes and thighs, I sent more effort below my waist, flexing even harder, willing my legs and ass to grow. The fabric tightened, at first snuggly caressing every curve and hollow and then constricting with discomfort. 

I took a breath and changed my pose to a crushing most muscular pose, and I flexed harder than I had flexed in my entire life. My body shook with effort, and the glow of perspiration turned into beads of sweat that converged into rivulets of moisture that began to flow into the valleys between my bulging muscles. I crunched down even harder, stomping my foot against the floor, concentrating my efforts in my lower body and waiting for the moment when my trunks would split. But no matter how hard I flexed and twisted, I couldn’t cause the cloth to rip. It enraged me, and in one final blinding effort, I flexed with all my might, and I felt the fabric give. I had destroyed my boardshorts, and, I felt like I had won. I knew right then that from now on I would always win. I was Samson, Hercules and Poseidon all rolled up into one, and I would never be defeated. I relaxed my flex and surveyed the situation. The board shorts were ripped in no less than seven places. To say that they had merely ripped was to understate the situation. They had exploded! To cause such damage, I must have had a substantial growth spurt all at once. I caught my breath and admired the increased mass of muscle in my thighs, and then I noticed that my hands were also larger and that my forearms were twitching, muscular and swollen. I clenched my fists and  rolled my wrists, marveling as the muscle bellies bulged. I then relaxed and I rolled my fingers, delighting as the individual muscles danced and flexed in a ballet upon my forearm.

My vision traveled north, and when it reached my upper arms, I was unprepared for the effect the bulging muscle would have upon my loins. I bent my elbow slowly, and the unflexed biceps bunched and rounded as the triceps lengthened fully. My dick responded harder than it had ever been. It throbbed as I cast my eyes upon the mirror. In my ripped board shorts, my newly enlarged, pumped body bulging with strength and power and glistening with sweat, I looked like some amped up comic book hero –  lean, heavily muscled and strong. I crossed my wrists at the level of my waist, and my thickened pecs flexed and thickened in striated glory. Then my arms began the slow, erotic, upward arc that I knew would end in a stunning double biceps pose, the likes of which I’d never seen. Something flipped a switch in me. My mind was focused, and a flurry of image fantasies flashed before my mind’s eye. Samson, Heracles, Poseidon. Muscle, Size, Power. That was all I wanted, and I could feel it all amassing in my body as I flexed. My vision cleared, and a gazed upon my reflection in the mirror. No longer a Marvel hero. I was a god! Big and strong and proud and proud. My hard-on looked enormous, and my ball sack bulged with its twin egg-sized cargo. The seed of deities flowed withing me, and finally it was more than I could handle. I stared at my reflection, the embodiment of maleness, strength and power, and I increased the effort of my flex and thrusted my pelvis forward. The dam was breaking. I could feel the anticipatory tingle around my ass and perineum and then the near panic as my ejaculatory reservoirs filled with semen. Finally, I was overcome with the erotic hammer of ejaculation and white, hot ropes for cum arced across the room, painting the mirror and my reflection with liquid adulation. Fuck! It had never felt so good, and with the pleasure came a cramping in my muscles that I knew would make me grow again. 

Intoxication of the pleasure overwhelmed me, crippling my mind and body. My flex began to fail, and I dropped one arm and wrapped my hand around my hardon and felt another bolt of pleasure. Before the first orgasm had fully ended, I stroked twice, and came again in spasms, more violent than before.  

When it ended, I was spent, and the drive to flex and fuck and cum subsided, if only for a while. For a moment, I was satiated, weak and breathless. I crumpled to the bed beside me and milked a few last few drops of glistening cum from my softening erection. I tasted the elixir, and its salty essence reminded of the ocean and how it called me. I was exhausted, but I knew the water would revive me. I needed  the ocean, waves and water. I craved the power of the storm. 

[Orca]

Can we witness future storms please .

[Guest]

Short but very damn hot. Need a second part for sure!

[Maxum]

Of course there's more. Better batten down the hatches. There's a big one coming.

[Guest]

14 minutes ago, Maxum said:

Of course there's more. Better batten down the hatches. There's a big one coming.

Fuck! Can't wait!

[Maxum]

Chapter 2 added 9/30/2023

[Ro20316]

fuck. That second part was hot and someone is waiting for him. Its gonna be an amazing reunion

[Maxum]

I banged out another quick chapter this morning. Please let me know if I should continue.

Chapter 3: Rhea

I turned toward to face the mirror once again, and what I saw was enough to take my breath. I was shredded and bigger than before. Noticeably bigger. Rounder, thicker, more massive. Everywhere,… and by everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE. Broader shoulders, rounder delts, pecs now wider and more swollen than my best pump ever, oval areolae stretched across the contours of my chest, nipples angled downward, gazing across my tight, ripped six pack along the furry trail that led beyond my navel until it thickened at the base of my amazing shaft. I wasn’t beyond the realm of normal for a jacked up surfer, but I had gone from lanky board stud to burgeoning Adonis in 12 hours. To boot, I felt strong, powerful, even dare I say invincible. I felt like a god, and I was beginning to look the part. Fuck!  I was hot, and I was hung. My bait and tackle now had some major heft and took up more space between my narrow hips and rested heavy on my muscled thighs – for now. Just the act of taking inventory of my body soon had me boning up again, my larger cock lengthening and swelling thick before rising from my pelvis like the swing arm of a crane. Fuck! It made me horny. I had to look away to make it soften, and even then it remained more turgid than before.

With my favorite boardshorts left in tatters on the floor I stepped aside and slid into my lifeguard speedo, the souvenir from a hunky conquest just last summer. Paul the lifeguard had been extra-large in every way, and so too was the speedo he left behind. I had fanaticized about building up my body and growing into it once day, but that had never happened until now, and who knew that it would happen overnight. Now the fabric snugged against my narrow hips and stretched tight across my hardened glutes. Needless to say the cup stretched beyond its limit. 

I pulled out the waistband and adjusted my cock and balls in an attempt to diminish the vulgarity of my bulge. I thought for just a minute that perhaps its size was just an illusion of the perspective from my downward gaze; so, I checked the mirror once again and realized I was wrong. My balls more than filled the speedo's cup, and my monster cock laid lazily horizontal stretching the fabric nearly to my hip bone. “Holy shit!” I uttered softly. I swallowed hard and looked some more. I was a wet dream. Raw maleness -- everything after which I’d ever lusted. Well, almost everything. Don't get me wrong. I'd do me in a minute, but if I were honest with myself, I’d admit I that I wanted to be bigger -- more muscle, obscenely big, like the kind of big that makes guys shoot loads in their pants when I walk by -- the kind of big that makes girls' pussies quiver sopping wet should I bend my elbow to scratch my nose. Bigger, stronger, sexier than anyone could handle. That's what I really wanted, and I had a feeling it was coming. I was still growing, and so too was the storm.

I glanced back at the mirror and felt the urge to raise my arm again and flex, but the ocean was still calling; so instead I looked away to break the cycle of self-indulgent worship. It was time to hit the waves, and my reflection would still be there when I returned.  I slid a pair of oversized drawstring baggies up over my speedo, grabbed my long board, and headed out the door.

Once outside, mist from nearby crashing waves began to lightly coat my face and hair, and the salty scent of the seas penetrated deep into my mind and body. At that point all I wanted was the ocean. With my board held high, I jogged along the boardwalk without effort. I could sense my increased mass with every footfall and I could feel muscles flexing and relaxing as I moved. Otherwise, it felt like I was floating toward my destination, or was it toward my destiny?

I hit the water with a splash. As soon as my right foot was submerged, I felt a surge of power. Tendrils of potential rose from my foot and ankle up my leg. By the time my left foot hit the water and I dove on my board to paddle out, the feeling had spread throughout my body. I felt stronger than I ever had, paddling powerfully and covering lengths of ocean with each stroke, approaching my destination at the break with agility and speed.

I looked for Billy and realized he had just ridden a bomb wave nearly to the shore. Thirty minutes of constant riding had sapped his energy, and he was lagging in his efforts to paddle out again. Me, I felt conversely, more amped, more juiced than I had ever felt. I read the swell and nearly immediately caught a grinder wave that deposited my board and me near Billy. Then I joined him on the paddle out.

“S’up, Bro? You look totally kanckered.”

Billy chuckled. “Never thought I’d say it, Dude, but the surf’s too good. Every time I make the break, the first swell turns into an epic wall that pushes me to shore. Not complaining. The walls are glassy. Beautiful barrels. No close-outs. It’s total perfection, but I can’t keep it up much longer. That was my eleventh bomb today. One more wave, and then I’m done, at least until I get some grub. I’m fucking ravenous, Dude.”

“No worries, Bro. I’m spring fresh and feel like I could paddle out to Cuba." I pulled ahead of Billy. "Grab my leash, and I’ll tow you out.”

“Nah, Man. I think I’m done. I’ll never keep up with you right now. I’m going in. Mind if I raid your fridge and shower.”

“Have at it. Door’s unlocked. Not much in the icebox though. There’s some protein powder on the counter that tastes like shit. A lot of local stores are down on stock on account of the coming storm. No bread, milk, eggs or T.P., but I got plenty of those already. I’m craving a mound seafood myself. I could prolly eat a two ton grouper. You might want to stop by Sullivan’s at the Dock for fresh catch and anything else that looks good. The trawlers are probably not making another round trip till this one’s done. What are they calling her?

“‘Rhea.’ Interesting stuff, kinda. The weather dude says ‘Rhea’ was the mother of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, and it looks like she’s gonna be a mother, haha, of a storm. She just graduated to Cat 3, and they’re expecting Cat 5 by landfall tomorrow or early Thursday. Headed for Daytona.” 

“That’s such bullshit, man. They don’t know where or when or how strong these storms are gonna be. This girl’s headed straight for us, I can feel it, and we’re 500 miles north of Daytona. But I think they might have one thing right – she won’t come purring in like a kitten. Rhea’s pissed about something, and she’s bringing her rage to the Carolina coast.

“Okay, junior meteorology dude. Whatever you say. I’ll heed your warning, but first...” 

"Yeah?"

" I think I left my wallet somewhere else. You got any cash?” (Typical Billy)

“You know I do, Bro. There’s a wad in the coffee pot. Take what you need. Just get me a mountain of food while you’re out.”

“Sure thing, Dude. Later”

“Later, Bro.” 

Billy peeled off to the right, and I pointed my surf nose toward the break and started paddling, just as effortlessly as before. In the little time I’d talked to Billy, I could see a difference in the waves. They looked more angry, more powerful, and amped higher than before. There was less glassy water in-between and more roiling sea. I was glad Billy had gone in. It was time for me to tame some waves.

[HawkShark]

This is great! Definitely give us more

[DawnFire98]

@Maxum, you pulled me in like the tides, and now I want to read even more of this tale.