A trip in Oman. From nothing to musclegods (Pt.s 7/8 added 19/01/24)

[boson]

PART 7

I looked at him stunned. Yussef had completely lost his mind. I didn't want to listen to him when he begged me to sit down again to enjoy the whole show. The scene I witnessed can only be described as a miracle. One of the most extraordinary miracles possible. I was about to reply, to express my disbelief once again, when Yussef immediately interrupted me by asking: "Take my tablet and the things you find on the table. I looked: there was a tape measure and a wide, low cardboard box. "Who is the tallest NBA player ever?" "Do you want me to look it up?" I replied hesitantly. "Sure." The name was a bit long and difficult to pronounce: "He's Romanian, his name is Gheorghe Muresan...". "I'm not interested in that. The stature!" "231 cm (7 feet 7 inches)". He smiled: "Well, 231 seems a good figure to me. But you can do better. How about 235 cm (7 feet 8.5 inches)?"
    I didn't understand what he was getting at. But suddenly I understood. Yussef was probably a few inches taller than me, maybe 180 cm (5 feet 10 inches). But suddenly I noticed that his face was grimacing and he was breathing heavily. It looked as if he was under great physical strain: and indeed he was. His jeans were showing more and more of the space between the hem and the sandals he was wearing. His ankles were getting longer, yes: his legs! What I was witnessing was simply impossible... her torso also began to grow longer and longer. I was astonished and open-mouthed, but Yussef didn't seem to care and kept grunting and panting. He was sweating and panting and the effort really seemed enormous. I tried to move closer and stand beside him, but he pushed me away with a wave of his hand before letting out another muffled cry. He clenched his teeth and frowned, his spine rising to dizzying new heights. His arms, too, stretched proportionally further out to his sides to match the new stature of his body. His face, his features, his neck: every single detail of his body seemed to adjust to the new dimensions he had assumed, growing by more than half a metre. He seemed to have finally recovered from his fatigue. He smiled at me theatrically: his body was thin, emaciated and tired from this sudden and unstoppable growth. "You know," he sneered, "I've always had a fetish...": his feet, which had already grown very large, grew again in one last burst: they were unbelievably huge. He lifted them up and showed them to me, almost throwing them in my face, and I had to take a step back to avoid finding them on me: his kilometre-long leg covered the whole distance between us. "You see it, don't you? It's beautiful, isn't it? Do you know what size Shaquille O'Neal wears? He brags about having the biggest foot in the NBA," he laughed. "Well, I'll tell you. 22 US, translated, so you understand me better... 58 EU. And you know how big these babies are? 25 US. For you Europeans: 60'. He had a devilish grin on his face as he said this. The size of his feet greatly excited him.
    His appearance was slender and his thinness was exaggerated: he looked as if he had been fasting for weeks, he was skinny and stringy. As soon as I noticed him, Yussef seemed to have regained his health and regained his usual athletic, lithe physique. His trousers were comically short and already very tight, and his T-shirt was now well above his navel. "I'm still not satisfied," he drew a grimace. "I'm still not what I want to be." By now he was walking barefoot, his huge feet unable to cope with those skimpy sandals. He walked over to the mirror and began to stroke his face: he had to bend down to see his reflection. I could hardly see anything because his huge body blocked my entire view. I could hear her gasping and moaning: I didn't understand what was happening and wondered if I wasn't dreaming. After a few seconds he turned towards me and I could clearly see a horrible and disgusting phenomenon. It was as if his face was being deformed, his skull was being torn to pieces and his bones were expanding and clenching together. A horrible and disgusting scene, I could see him stretching cartilage, features and flesh. I stifled a groan and a sudden feeling of nausea and disgust. When I suddenly closed my eyes, I was literally out of breath.

***

PART 8

In front of me I no longer recognised Yussef. The man towering in front of me was a giant who put me in fear and awe because of his monstrous stature. But what made me tremble, more than anything else, was the extraordinary appearance of his face. A not too high forehead was framed by beautiful, arched eyebrows. Underneath were two large eyes, bordered by wonderfully thick and sensual long black eyelashes, so beautiful and harmonious that it almost looked as if nature had made him up with a touch of eyeliner to further accentuate his gaze. His eyes could not be described in words: bright green and brilliant, like emeralds mottled with beautiful almost blue veins. They had a touch both sensual and deeply seductive and vaguely melancholic. The perfect symmetry of the long oval of her face was complemented by a long, delicately wavy nose in the exact centre. His plump, dense and lustful lips smiled captivatingly, emphasising even more the inhuman beauty of his very elegant square jaw and the charm of his cheekbones chiselled as if by an expert craftsman. A smile studded with teeth of the whitest and finest ivory completed that masterpiece without flaw or possibility of criticism. His ears, which were a little protruding before this transformation, had now returned to the most appropriate size and fullest symmetry. No one could remain insensitive to that face, hollowed out in the right places, on the cheeks, rounded around the cheekbones, squared along the jaw and absolutely balanced. There was not a spot that was excessively sharp, large or small. Everything was arranged in such a way as to please the eye of his interlocutors. The real torture he had undergone had transformed him into an Adonis so beautiful that anyone would be astounded.
    "Oh my God, Yussef." I could not exclaim anything else to express my astonishment, my wonder and, also, my monstrous and insatiable appetite for how he had transformed. "You like it huh?" he smiled. His voice had changed a little, as if it sounded more set than before. "But I've only started," he said before suddenly becoming serious again. He touched his skin, at this point, and the rest of his body, all at once. I don't know how I could describe it, because what happened was very strange, to have to explain it. It was as if his whole physical, bony structure, his whole constitution, took on the marvellous harmony of his face: the fingers of his hands became long and tapered, his wrists became stronger, the very framework of his shoulders expanded and his waistline began to narrow considerably, the shape of his gigantic feet became more regular and elegant. His complexion - he was already olive in colour - became much darker, a really bright brown. From what I could see under his shirt, every single hair seemed to recede and recede into his body. His hair, on the other hand, became blacker, shinier, thicker and silkier than before: he looked as if he had just come out of the hairdresser. "Touch my skin," he ordered me. I, hesitant, my hands really shaking, approached. He lifted the T-shirt over his long, lean back: I saw that pimples, scars, boils, blemishes and imperfections of all kinds simply disappeared. Her flesh was now, to the touch of my fingertips, like an immense expanse of satin, perfect and beautiful as porcelain. I could not believe what I was feeling with my hands, until at some point, Yussef stole my attention again.
    His glasses were left on the table. He threw them on the floor: "Now I don't need them any more. And I can throw these away too,' he said, removing the lenses from his beautiful green eyes. "This huge body is like an empty room. It's time to fill it." His Adam's apple swelled to an enormous size: never had I thought how sexy this single detail could be that, in another man's body, would only be unnecessarily disproportionate, in his it only gave more power and virility. "And now comes the best part..." he smiled, flexing his biceps as all his muscle mass began to slowly increase in size by a few centimetres.

I could not resist: I had tried to hold back but at that heavenly sight I exploded and came in my trousers. The cum stain was evident even through my jeans: Yussef paused, watching me moaning to himself. He grabbed me by the hair and forced me to look at him. His clothes were struggling to contain his bulk: 'You like it, huh? You little bastard." His manner had suddenly become authoritarian and domineering, he pinched my cheek and slapped me in the face, which, however sweet it was, was dealt by a man who was perhaps three times my size. "And to think you didn't want to... Do you realise what we can do together?" he said flexing his biceps and putting it in front of my face. "Yes... yes..." I replied dazed and confused. He picked me up from under my armpits, roughly and violently, and lifted me up to his lips, kissing me. His mouth felt as if it was flooding me with electric shocks, such was the pleasure it gave me to feel him on my skin. I caressed that perfect face and felt his wonderful skin with emotion: touching him was like being addicted to the strongest of drugs and I never wanted it to end. He placed me back on the floor: "you know what you can have by being with me. And you know that you are the only person I want by my side'. He lowered himself onto his knees to look at me, with his hypnotic eyes and his magic gaze. It was like being under a spell.
    "Yes, Yussef, yes!" I grabbed his head, mussed him all over, kissed him on his forehead, on his lips, on his nose, on his neck, everywhere. "Yes, Yussef, I want to be like you, I want to be with you! I'm ready!" I was so excited, so confused, that I didn't understand absolutely anything anymore: but the promise of having the sex of that extraordinary man, his breathtaking body and possessing him as if he were mine alone was literally driving me crazy and I couldn't think of anything else. "Very well," he said after satisfying all my motions. "It's the right time to start then." He stroked me gently and looked at me with intensity, "you just have to let yourself go. Release all your fantasies. Even the deepest ones. And join me up here," he said, smiling, and returning to his upright height.
    I don't know what happened in that exact second, but I began to feel as if all my flesh was burning from the inside out: it was like hell in my body, and as I burned and groaned, I felt myself bursting. But, also, I could see myself getting closer and closer to him, more and more. Even my clothes were now too tight for me, or so it seemed: when I finally opened my eyes again after all that suffering, I found myself eye-to-eye with him. He turned behind me: what had happened? "Great!" said Yussef, picking up the tape measure. "Stand still here, against the wall." I did not move an inch, despite the headache. "Not bad, I'd say," he affirmed, staring at the two ends of the tape measure. "228 cm (7 feet 5 inches). One of the tallest men in the world." He showed me the mirror: my chin was well above the upper edge of the reflection. I had to bend down to see myself in full: it was me, still the same, but my stature was something else entirely. "I want to change, Yussef. I want to be perfect... perfect for you!" I thought to myself. I concentrated and, as if in a moment, I felt that terrible feeling again, only focused on my face: I brought my hands to my face, out of a sudden unconditional reflex. I didn't understand what was going on at the touch: then I realised it from the excited smile on Yussef's face, as the last discharges of pain ran through my whole body.
    My brown hair had suddenly brightened up to an extraordinary brown colour, with really refined and elegant reddish highlights. On top of that, my skin was no longer the same: my pale complexion of a northern Italian had now been replaced by a wonderful dark amber hue. I could have looked Arab too. My features had mellowed: my face was that of a supermodel, a perfect nose, with a dazzling smile, sensual lips, pronounced cheekbones and shockingly beautiful eyes. Perfectly blue, a deep blue like the sea, embellished with beautiful eyelashes. My smooth, perfumed skin left no room for blemishes: I embodied all the perfection that Yussef represented. What emotion when he put his face as beautiful as paradise next to mine and I saw our kiss in the mirror. It was like unreal this perfect interweaving of symmetries and delights. No one could resist, not even for a second: I smiled and immediately began to kiss him greedily.

Who can understand the feeling I felt that time? The knowledge that I possessed perfection, that I had it in my hands, in my body, and that I could offer it to the man who loved me, in exchange for his infinite beauty, simply made me so happy that I started sobbing and crying. I collapsed to the ground and began to moan really loudly. Perhaps Yussef, poor boy, was frightened, because very gently and with that kindness that had already won me over, he sat down, and began to cuddle and console me. "Why are you crying? What's going on? I am here."
    I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes and hid in his chest, "Yussef... I don't deserve all this... all this blessing." "What are you talking about, you fool!" he patted me lightly on the shoulder and heartened me. "You don't know what you've done for me, you don't know how good I've been to you... it's my way of saying thank you!" "But... Yussef do you realise what it means to go all the way? It will mean leaving everything behind, changing your life completely." "You want that, do you really believe that? I, unfortunately, know that I have no alternative." The question was terrible: what would become of my family, my friendships, my job? To become someone else would have meant losing everything. On the other hand, however, I knew that I was not satisfied with what I had. I knew that was not the life I wanted. I would have had to make a great sacrifice: but the opportunity, even amidst so much suffering, was the right one. Yussef pressed me again with his question: 'Are you really convinced? You know you are free. Free not to go on, free to stay like this, free to go. Really... I want it to be absolutely clear." I sighed and swallowed the last of my tears. "No, Yussef. I am sure. Let's go on, all the way."