muscle-growth Atlas Liquor's Muscle Mixer Part One by F_R_Eaky

[FREaky]

Atlas Liquor's Muscle Mixer Part One

By F_R_Eaky

 

Marcus walked into the grand ball room of the Ursa Major Hotel and Conference center.  Breathing in a nervous sigh, he approached the head table to sign in.  The staff member of Rainbow Connections greeted him with a voice and a smile that was practiced, rehearsed, and pasted on.  Although after looking up and down Marcus' lanky, six foot one inch, wiry frame his tone gained a bit of question-ess about it.

 

"Hello, are you here for the Rainbow Connections' Mixer?"

 

"Uh....yes.  I am."

 

"Wonderful... ... ... Name?"

 

"Marcus.  Marcus Damiani" 

 

Marcus flipped his head to get his semi-long, exceptionally thin dust colored hair out of his muddy brown eyes so he could see the greeter clearly.  The greeter originally tried to play off Marcus, feign not seeing his name or his name tag listed anywhere until another co-worker found it right in line, alphabetically, with all the other registered guests.

 

Pinning his name tag on the baggy clothes that fit him poorly, Marcus then turned and went to find a group of men he might find mentally attractive as well as physically.  Physically he wouldn't have to think about it; he could turn and point anywhere in the room to find someone who was modelesque in features and had a body that would go anywhere from Adonis to Ahr-nold in build.  If there were any smaller than that, they at least had a swimmer or surfers' build that still gave them some ab definition and crescent shapes for their chest.  That was complete contrast to Marcus who looked like a walking stick figure.

 

He tried to get into a few circles at some tables and at the bar, but eventually everyone would switch their stance and he'd somehow be out of the circle.  If that group happened to move, they'd forget he had been a part of them and walk off without him.

 

"Maybe this was a giant mistake." He thought to himself.  "I shouldn't have planned my two week vacation here."

 

The company Marcus worked for had sent him to a convention here in the Seattle, Washington area.  Before he received that assignment he was planning his upcoming two week vacation and had given thought to attending the week long festivities of the meet and greet date group, Rainbow Connections, specifically for gay, lesbian, transsexual,  or poly-amorous people.   When Marcus was given the job of attending the company's week long convention in the same area the week before, he saw that as a sign and joined the group, booked his vacation, and then made his hotel reservations.  He booked the second week only on the hope and dream he'd find someone and then maybe spend a week after the mixer to have mad passionate love.  So far that plan didn't seem to be happening and not meeting anyone yet at the cocktail mixer, he decided to head over and get his dinner that came with tonight's affair - a free meal is a free meal even if by one's self when eating it. 

 

He wasn't paying attention and neither was the man behind the dolly, when suddenly Marcus was scooped up by the dolly carried a few feet across the lobby before he finally let out a yelp and fell off the dolly contents while scrambling to get to his feet.  Sprawled on the rich carpet, Marcus saw the dolly and its contents, several cases of wine, come to a stop and a man step out from behind them.

 

"Oh my gawd!  I am so sorry sir.  I was busy looking an my invoice and didn't see you.  Are you alright?"

 

Marcus looked up as the man stuck his hand out in offer to assist pulling Marcus up off the floor and onto his feet.  Even standing, Marcus looked up and up and up at the gentleman and then became lost in a dream world.  The man was exceptionally tall.  Almost head and shoulders taller than Marcus himself.  He had broad shoulders, wide back and a strong v that pushed at his arms which strained the sleeves of his uniform polo.  His chest pulled the fabric tightly across itself and caused the collar to become somewhat morphed as it was pulled too wide.  The man's neck didn't help in that department either; incredibly thick with muscle and tall supporting a gorgeous face.

 

The man had a strong jaw line, strong chin, high cheek bones, kind of thin yet large lips, straight broad nose, ice blue eyes, and a thick head of nearly platinum blond hair.  Then as another apology ushered out of his mouth, the whole room became a thousand times brighter as this man's smile so perfectly straight and white brightened Marcus' day and melted his heart.

 

"Sir... are you alright?"

 

"What? uh.... yeah.... yes.... that is I'm ok.  Nothing's broken or anything like that. I was just a little surprised, stunned by what happened.  Not every day one gets picked up by a dolly."

 

"No, I guess not." The man laughed.  "Well, I am sorry.  I'm glad you're not hurt, no torn clothes either from the looks of it, but I should still be responsible.  Let me make it up to you.  I can't do anything right now as I have delivery to make to the chef in the depths of the hotel, but here is my card.  I'm Bram Van Assen,  I own Atlas Liquors  next door, on the left as you face the hotel front.  If you give me your name I'll leave it with my staff and you can come over and anything you'd like will be on the house.  Don't worry if you don't imbibe alcohol.  I've got plenty of other things to drink like soda, punches, and the like."

 

"oh...." stammered Marcus still lost in the sight of Bram. "Thank you.  I... I appreciate that.  My name is Marcus Damiani.  Let me write that out on the back of another of your cards.  I don't have anything to write it down on."

 

"Sure, no problem."

 

Names exchanged Bram said good bye to finish getting the cases of wine down to the chef and Marcus went to have his dinner.

 

Marcus was enjoying his surf 'n turf dinner when the second greeter stopped by.

 

"Mind if I join you for a little bit?"

 

Marcus, a bit surprised stammered out, "No, not at all.  Please, sit down.  Would you like something to drink or eat.  I can call the waiter..."

 

"No... no I'm fine.  I just wanted to stop by and do a couple of things.  The first one is to apologize for my coworker.  He seems to think we should be more elite in choosing our members and if you don't fit his cookie cutter, California sun kissed, marble cut Adonis, he just doesn't think you should belong or deserve to find a partner."

 

"Well, he lives in a very superficial world, doesn't he..."

 

"Exceptionally so.  Unfortunately so do a lot of others, but it's kind of a superficial superficiality.  It's not that they really are superficial, but they will make assumptions on first glances.  Please don't take this the wrong way.  I'm not saying you're horrid or need a huge makeover or anything, but can I give you a couple of pointers?  I'd really like everyone to hopefully come out of here with at least a date, new friends, if not a live time partner.  Would you mind?"

 

Marcus sighed deeply, but squared his shoulder and put on a smile and looking back at the assistant organizer said, "No.  Not at all.  Hit me with it."

 

"Awwww.  It's not that bad, just some pointers.    Like you have long hair, which a lot of guys find attractive; however, with it constantly in your eyes you can't make a connection.  People can't look at you.  They only see your hair and so they think you want to be alone or are keeping some great dark secret.  For the open meet and greets, do something with it, even if it's just putting it in a pony tail in the back.  Although you'll earn some extra bonus points if you can braid it or even bun it is some nice fashion."

 

"Well.... that's too bad.  Not really a change on me, just my hairstyle."

 

"Yeah. Most of the time it's just little things.  You don't need a nose job or a tummy tuck or dying of hair."

 

"So any other suggestions?"

 

"Yeah.  Now you felt a little defensive when I mentioned this and you squared your shoulders and sat up in your seat.  Do that when you're around other men.  You don't have to be angry or arrogant, but sitting up or standing straight with shoulders squared gives an air of confidence and that attracts men's attention."

 

"Ok... I can do that.  Anything else?"

 

"No.... just two more things and one has nothing to do with your looks or mannerisms.  The first one is your clothing.  Now you're style is ok.  It's you.  The fit of your clothes however, is off.  They seem to kind of fit you length wise, but build wise, dude, you are swimming in them.  Even if you are skinny as a rail or a toothpick, it is better to have clothes that at least hug your body somewhat than sag and bag all over you.  So, if you happen to have any clothes that fit a little better... put them on for the meet and greets.  If you don't have any, go buy a new pair of jeans, and about three shirts that you can switch for the various activates."

 

"Still... not that bad.  What was the last item?  The one non me thing?"

 

"Did you bring any booze with you this week?"

 

"Bring booze with me?"

 

"Yeah.  You know a lot of guys will love to continue a party upstairs in a room, either as a group, like a big frat party, or as one on one.  You could use the hotel's booze, but the real stuff down here is expensive as hell to order and the stuff in the mini-fridges are way too small and expensive as hell too.  So it's always best to have a few items on hand bought elsewhere.  That way if you and one special guy or you and several guys get together you can have a blast without paying  nine to twenty-five dollars per glass."

 

"Oh jeeze!"

 

"Yeah, so if you have the opportunity to go grab some spirits, I would do so.  Besides it's also a great ice breaker and way to introduce yourself as people can see what your tastes are."

 

"Well... I'm not sure I can, so I'll have to remember that....for....next...."

 

"Are you alright?"

 

"Yes... I think I might be able to handle that last one. Probably not for tonight but I think I can handle it."

 

"Well that's great.  Listen, if you have any questions or problems, let me know.  I'll be glad to help you as much as I can."

 

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

 

Marcus sat picking at his dinner.  His boss gave him a company credit card and told him to "use it to schmooze people and clients."  Problem was the convention had tons of people in his field, but no one wanting the services of his field.  No one to spend money on.  Marcus also remembered his boss telling him this was part of his travel account but if he didn't use it, he would lose it, and the funds would go to someone else.

"Well," thought Marcus. "My boss will have no idea whom all those people are that I entertained.  I could ask here and there to see if anyone is interested in my company for a list of potential clients I could "work on" and used the card to buy chips, dip, and extra alcohol along with the one freebie I get from Bram."

 

******************************************************************

 

Marcus left the Hotel and walked out onto the street.  Turning to face the Hotel he recalled Bram's words and looked immediately to his left.  There was a fairly large, cinder block building painted white with a top border of flags from around the world and a bottom border of black.  The entrance doors were cut into the right corner of the building and on either side in the walls were two very large and nice display windows.  The window on the left showed an Ompapa Band and a table of people cheering a beer-girl who was carrying with only two hands enough steins for the whole party.  The window on the right showed someone's high rise apartment with lots of people milling about drinking wine and champagne.  Above the door was a neon sign showing the Greek titan, Atlas, holding a globe of the world, the words "Atlas Liquors" above the globe in large size and in smaller size the words "Bringing the world of spirits to you" beneath Atlas' feet.

 

As he entered the building a little bell above the door announced his presence.  Marcus stood still, shocked beyond belief.  There were rows upon rows upon rows of alcohol.  He never knew there were so many brands, so many styles.

 

"Greetings.  Can I help you?"

 

Marcus jumped, being a little startled since he was lost in thought.  Turning his attention towards the main checkout counter he saw a man that nearly took his breath away almost as much Bram did.  His frame was a bit shorter and not quite as full as Bram's, but he still was strikingly handsome with that same brilliant smile.

 

"Uhm yes....I...."

 

"It's okay if you think I'm someone else but not quite the same.  I'm Bram's brother, Daan.  We look slightly similar in the face, although he's a fair bit taller and broader than me."

 

"Yes, I can see the family resemblance. Uhm....I came over to buy some chips and dips and alcohol as well as get one item for free.  I'm Marcus."

 

"Marcus Damiani?  The guy my brother nearly plowed over with the full dolly like you were a deer and he was a semi-truck?"

 

Marcus laughed nervously.  "Yeah.... uhm... that would be me."

 

"Didn't think you'd be here to collect so soon."

 

"Well I wouldn't have, but I'm here for a convention."

 

"Wait... are you here for that  gay mixer?"

 

"Yes.  Why?"

 

"Dude, you didn't bring an alcohol stash with you?!"

 

"Uhm.... no I just found out about the necessity of it a few minutes ago."

 

"Well then it's a lucky thing my brother ran into you.  So, what's your poison?"

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

"What's your poison.  You know... what is it you like to drink."

 

Marcus stammered, "I... I.... like some wines.....fruity schnappses....Look the truth is, I haven't the slightest clue of what kind of alcohol to buy to entertain."

 

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here.  We've got a great selection of stuff from the world over, as well as some local favorites.  What you need to do is to grab a decent collection of items that will mix well with other alcohols or sodas, or that a good many people will drink.  You also, however, should get a couple of personal things just in case you don't host a party in your room and can't find one you'd like to attend."

 

"Ok...uhmmmm...great where do I start?"

 

"Well first to get a party started you want to have some big fun.  I would suggest this over here: Bunyan's Yard Long Glass of Larger Logger Lager.  Say that ten times fast.  It's a locally brewed beer, or more correctly lager style of beer.  It's great fun to watch someone try and down in one tip.  Most people usually can't, although some folks do.  If they can't you can always pour what's behind into glasses and serve.

 

"Oh, I would suggest though that anyone attempting that actually takes a shot of Vasilii's White Vodka first."

 

"White vodka?  Isn't vodka clear?"

 

"Ha ha ha you really a new to buying alcohol, aren't you?  Yes, usually vodka is clear, but color isn't the reason why this is called white vodka.  It's because the vodka is actually made from milk."

 

"Milk?  I thought it was made from potatoes."

 

"Actually its usually made from grains, but potatoes can be used.  Usually by the lesser brands of vodka.  Now, for the part set... I would suggest some tequila for the party crowd, as well as some rum or whiskey.  Now if you don't want to buy full blown bottles of those, we have some game kind of things with those in it: Anaconda Ale n Snake River Whiskey - 3 to 1 Boiler Maker where you take up to one, two, or three shots of whiskey and then follow it with an ale chaser, or  Seamen's Rum Shots.  They come prepackaged as shots, set them up for one or several people to down and see who can still walk or who has sea legs.

 

"Of course having beer and wine is good.  If you think you're going to have a semi-large crowd in your room you can get the personal kegs or barrels of wine or beer.  For the wine I suggest getting a Merlot.  Of course we also have various flavored wines, which might be good to pick up a bottle or two of those for those who aren't keen on a Merlot.  Oh and you might want to get a bottle of champagne in case you have really high brow guests or you wish to celebrate something.  Course then some folks pick up a bottle just to celebrate personally.

 

"If you think you might be drawing a crowd that's more Latino or one that just like Latino drinks then I would suggest getting a bottle of mezcal to go with the tequila. If you have more of the Irish crowd grabbing some stout would be good, or perhaps even getting this, Fionn Mac's Double Bi one bottle of Irish Stout and Phooka Pale Ale.  You make the Irish call a half and half with that.  The rest of the world calls it a Black and Tan, them not realizing that was the nick name for the army that kind of ran through Ireland in the 1920's.

 

"Anyway,  if more towards the mixed drinks then you will need to get rum, tequila, and pick up some flavored liquors like Midori watermelon liquor, some arrack as that tastes like cocoa nut, or some Ouzo which has an anise flavor and that tastes like licorice, if you didn't know.  And of course you might want several juices like orange or cranberry juice for some mixed drinks as well.

 

"And for those who are really picky, a bottle of mead will usually cover them because it's made from honey and who's gonna be able to resist that?   And for just you personal consumption we've got six packs and long neck bottles of all sorts and styles."

 

"Which ones are your favorite?"

 

"Well, I go for Bigfoot Cider as far as bottles are concerned.  It's made by Appleseed's Tall Tale Cider Company.  And regular beer in a six pack I go for Brickyard Beer made by the Cobblestone Brewery."

 

"Wow.... I feel like I'm more in a pastry shop right now, cause I'm pretty sure my eyes have got to be glazed over."

 

"Ha ha ha ha... Well it's okay.  Take a look around.  Ask questions.  If you need assistance and no other customer is in the store I can help you out."

 

Marcus took quite a while figuring out everything he would buy from alcohol to juices to snacks and rung up a decent sized bill which he nervously placed on his company's credit card.  As it would have been so much for one person to carry back to the hotel in bags, Daan suggested that he would drive it over as a delivery since a coworker arrived to help out with weekend shift - Friday nights they usually get slammed.

 

Marcus attempted to meet and greet at the next round of the cocktail mixer but still was kind of shunned by most everyone and he eventually decided to give up and spend tonight alone and try again in the morning.

 

Opening the door he discovered a number of boxes by the bar in his room.  As this was his vacation, Marcus had saved and splurged a little reserving a Duke & Duchess room which had ten foot tall ceilings, kitchenette with bar area, living room, bedroom with a king sized bed, and bathroom.  Next to one of the boxes was a small bottle with a fairy on it, full of green liquid, and   a card.

 

"Thank you for your large order.  I hope you have a great time at your convention.  Best of luck - Daan."

 

"Well," thought Marcus. "At least someone at least appreciates me."

 

Kicking off his shoes in the bedroom doorway, he went and lied down on the bed, turning the television on with the remote.  He tried to get comfortable but he preferred to recline sideways when watching t.v.  After several minutes of attempting to get comfortable, trying to find a show or movie he found interesting, he finally called it quits exasperatedly.

 

"Fine.  You know what.  Maybe if I cut loose by myself and I do so better in front of people.  Party by myself!"

 

Picking up the phone he punched in the required numbers ordering the adult stations and then walked to the bar area and grabbed the small bottle full of green liquid. Downing it on the way back into the bed room, he sat back down to watch some skin flick, whichever movie just happened to catch his attention.

 

Soon his fingers stopped clicking and he landed on a porno with two men going at it.  They were writhing.  They were moaning.  They were caressing and fondling, sucking and fucking.  Marcus was get hot....very hot.  Warm all over.  A tingling sensation was running from his head all across his entire body including a strong rush to his balls and cock.  Finally, Marcus undid his belt, unzipped his fly, reached into his underwear and began to rub his cock furiously.

 

"You're not going to stop at just that drink there, are you?"

 

Marcus sat up in the bed.  He must have been dreaming about jacking off and dreamt hearing someone talking to him.

 

"Yeah man, don't stop now.  Get tight. Get loose.  Come join us."

 

Marcus now looked at the tv across the room and could swear he saw the two men on the bed in the movie were sitting up and talking to him.  One of them raise up on his back and legs exposing his butt hole and groan moaning as he spoke.

 

"Come on, Marcus.  Join us.  Fill me with your huge rod."

 

"Here that, Marcus?  Caesar wants you so badly, stud.  Please, come join us."

 

And with that the actor's hand came through the TV screen in full 3D and beckoned Marcus to join them.

 

"AAAAUGH!"

 

Marcus screamed and leaped from the bed.  Running out to the living room area, going past the kitchenette, he flung the hotel room door open and then froze.

 

"What am I doing?  I'm about to run out into the hall with my pants undone.  I am running from a TV movie.  I fell asleep... I was dreaming.... a 3D movie came on and my eyes were bleary enough to somehow focus and see the 3d effect without glasses."

 

Calming himself down, he shut, locked, and bolted the door, then went back into the bedroom.  He got relaxed listening to the rhythm of the two men going at it, fucking like bunnies, so he lie down back on the bed and began to stroke himself once more.  Then he felt it.  The mattress went down on either side of him as though two people were joining him in bed.  Opening his eyes it was the two men from the movie.

 

"Oh, Marcus.  Thank you for joining us."

 

"Yes, it is always so much better as a threesome."

 

Marcus could feel their hands going up and down all over him: over his head, across his neck, gliding down his chest and his abs, caressing his arms, fondling his cock and balls.  Marcus began to moan and groan as his cock rose and achieved its full rock hard five inches.

 

"Thissssss......this isn't real.....no...... it's can't be real."

 

"Caesar, kiss him and shut him up.  No, words, love, only groans."

 

"But this.... this can't be....real....."

 

"You need to loosen up more.  Go grab something else to drink.  You're sooooo hot and bothered. You need something to cool your brow and quench your parched....dry.....throat....."

 

"HUH!"  Marcus sat up in bed again.  He was alone, although the room seemed to move a little as though he was in gyro whirling around.

 

Stumbling he decided having something to drink would be the right thing to do and so he walked to the bar and looked at the contents of the boxes.

 

"Which of these were to be my personal, drink alone, drinks?  Maybe it was this one.  This....Fionn Mac's Irish Stout....."

 

Popping the  cap off the bottle he walked back to the bed, sat down and began to chug the bottle down.  With each chug his temperature began to rise.  With each chug what little fat he had began to disappear.  With each chug his muscles all began to swell and grow, becoming thicker, fuller, harder, denser.  But there was something odd about this muscle growth.  Marcus wasn't becoming fuller and stronger like some kind of bodybuilder after years and years of training, it was more like the size of his muscles were becoming proportionately bigger than most adult male humans his size.  Not developed but definitely over sized.  Each chug they became larger and larger.  Each chug they became denser and stronger.  Each chug made him more and more muscle hypertrophied. With sweat pouring down his brow the two men who were not there began to clamor over Marcus again.

 

"Ooooh yes... Marcus.  Your muscles getting bigger and stronger is so hot.  Such as strong specimen of man."

 

"Oooooo, Caesar... feel how taut, how tight, how hard his muscles are.  Even his fingers are full of musculature.  He probably has more strength in his body  than five men."

 

Marcus sat up in the bed again. 

 

"What are those two porn stars talking about?  I need..... damn I'm so thirsty.  I need something else to drink...."

 

Marcus got up and walked back to the bar area in the kitchenette.  He stopped when he saw himself in the mirrored wall.  His muscles bunched and hunched, swelled and welled, getting fuller and harder.  He didn't have true cut definition or development, but his muscles had become pronounced, thick, dense, and strong.  One could see each group, each section, every individual muscle.  Marcus' body could be painted in orange, red, and pink body paint and he would look like one of those medical posters describing the muscles to medical students everywhere.

 

Marcus shook his head to clear his vision.  "I..... I..... need......I'm so...... I need.....need.... I need food!"

 

Marcus tripped towards the phone and grabbing it called down to the kitchen to try and order some food.  Of course the main kitchen was closed by now and all they could do was make sandwiches or serve some leftovers.

 

"Oh..... no..... ok.....I.... understand..... it's just..... I have.....this .....condition.... missed my dinner....and haven't had....anything to eat.......condition causes me to .....actually starve..... missing one meal......Anything you can put together will be.....fine.....just get it here as soon as you can.... please....."

 

Marcus paced the floor in the bedroom while waiting for his order.  Stopping occasionally, he stared at himself in window and picture glass reflections.  His clothes were still kind of too large for him, but they were definitely wearing better, not quite so loose and baggy or shapeless on him.  He could see when the fabric moved, he had arms, biceps and triceps!  He had a chest!  His pants showed he had some legs!  Even possibly a butt!

 

A knock came at the door and Marcus sprinted with ease to it and flung it open.

 

"Oh my gawd!  You look absolutely famished, sir.  Uhm... if you don't me saying that is.  We're so sorry about your condition.  We hope we could accommodate you.  On the top part is all the left over soups that we had along with bread rolls and garlic bread too.  On the middle shelf is a specialty sandwich we made for you.  It is a foot long with all the cold cuts, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and cheese we could put together.  And on the bottom we had three steaks that were returned for being overcooked that we had yet put into the trash so we figured we give them to you.  The left-overs and the returns are free, of course."

 

"Thank you!  Oh my....."

 

Marcus barely had enough sense to hand the bell hop a very generous tip to be split between him and the cooks.

 

Picking up one of the soup crocks he began to drink it down like it was a giant glass of some kind of drink.  Then he stopped himself and started taking the rolls and daubing them into the soup and scarfing them down.  Once that soup crock was empty, he set it down upon the bar and then grabbed one of the boxes of alcohol and put it on the trolley and rolled everything in to the bedroom.

 

Reaching down for the foot long sandwich once there, he began to dunk it into the other soup and stuffed his face with it.  He also sopped up the soup with the rest of the left over rolls and garlic bread before picking it up and sucking it down like a large beverage.  Turning to look at the boxes, he needed something to drink to cleanse his pallet before he began on the three steaks, so he plunged his hand in and pulled out the ouzo.

 

Then he stopped.  He hesitated.  Wasn't there one of the bottles folks was supposed to drink before they had one of the others.  He should've started with that one.  He might be unsafe drinking any of the others first.  He might be in hangover danger or something for having had the stout first.  No!  The stout second.  That damn green liquid first.

 

Setting the bottle of ouzo down he stared at the contents of the box and tried to think.  It was something....fruity?  No.....  Something.....ciderish?  No.... Something hard?  Yes!  It was one of the harder drinks....and it was a color as well... It was the white vodka.  Not seeing it in this box, Marcus went back to the kitchenette and grabbed that box off the bar and brought it to the bed.  Setting it down he reached in and found what he was looking for: Vasilii's White Vodka.  Popping it open he began to drink it, then to guzzle it.  Gulp after gulp of this alcohol entered his body and as it did so, his body began to thicken and thicken.  Fuller, slightly broader he became.  His muscles weren't growing, although they were becoming slightly larger proportionately, but it was more like he was becoming raw or big boned.  That kind of skeletal frame where some man's wrists even though he is emaciated is so thick, hand cuffs can hardly go around them.  And now...now, Marcus was both raw boned and hypertrophied.  He looked huge and yet still looked like he hadn't ever worked out a day in his life.

 

What's more his pants and shirt were now slightly off in the length department. Not by much, but he certainly looked like the school boy attempting to get into school clothes after summer vacation.  Sleeves riding up into the crook between biceps and deltoids, while the pants' hem rides up just above the ankle. Not only had Marcus' bones become thicker and stronger to support much large muscles, but he had actually grown a couple of inches in height too.

 

"Oooooh Caesar.... he's beginning to become so big and thick!"

 

"Probably just like his cock.  If he works out his body can become even further than it: big, thick, and hard and veiny."

 

Marcus ignored the men this time as they began their accosting caresses over his chest and shoulders.  His mind was too focused on the steaks, which he held like some kind of wild man, with his two bare hands and tearing into the meat with his teeth.  The grease and fat was running down his hands and arm into his shirt as well as down his chin, chest, and shirt front.  He polished all three of them off in mere minutes and then sucked down the mushrooms and au jus left on the plate.

 

"Hmmmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmooooooore. MORE!"

 

Needing something else to drink once again, Marcus with extreme fumble fingers rooted through the boxes and picked out a single bottle of Appleseed's Tall Tale Cider Company's Bigfoot Cider.  Tilting the bottle all the way up when it touched his lips, and as his head went back, he guzzled this long neck of cider down in one huge gulp.  When done he let out a satisfied belch most definitely heard into the next room if not down the hotel corridor.  Dropping the bottle onto the floor, he started moaning softly and began rolling his eyes back in pleasure.  He leaned back a bit and raised both legs up in the air while flexing his toes and feet.

 

The two porno men moved off the bed and onto the floor, caressing Marcus' legs through his pants, and his feet through his socks.

 

"Ooooh yes..... feet....big feet.  Every man loves a man with big feet because we know what that means.  When a man has big feet he has...."

 

"BIG SHOES!"

 

The two laughed and snickered as they massaged Marcus' growing dawgs which with every pulse of his blood swelled larger, longer, wider, thicker, the toes stretching and reaching becoming longer and longer looking like fingers, long fingers enclosed in a mitten.  Marcus continued to lift and flex his feet, eventually staring at them with a look of bewilderment.  Eventually his socks became too small. the tops of the socks worked their way over the heel and then snapped and shrunk as they gathered in the middle of Marcus' massive feet.  The two porno men ooohed and ahhhhed in amazement as his feet became so grand all four of their hands could barely hold and massage just one of Marcus' feet.  If Marcus were to do a flat footed kick to their torso, his foot would easily make contact with their torso from waist to clavicle.

 

Marcus reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a bag of chips.  He tore the package open easily, too easily sending a blizzard of chips everywhere from floor to bed.  They didn't stay there long for as soon as Marcus had the dip opened, his hand was grabbing up the chips and dipping them as fast as he could so that he might stuff them in his mouth.

 

"Still sooooooo hungry and now I'm a thirsty from all the salt!"

 

The muscle hypertrophy had made is body need more calories, more protein to build and keep up the plus sized muscle it contained.  Because of that Marcus' appetite was fast becoming insatiable and he was losing the battle of mind over desire.  Having made him thirsty, the chips now made him dig into the boxes again, where upon he pulled out the bottle of Correr del Toro's Mezcal.

 

"Bull's Run Mezcal....huh...." thought Marcus as he proceeded to suck down the entire contents of the bottle.  "mmmmmtaaaaahhhhh....sssssssmokey!" He cried as he tossed the bottle behind him and knelt down to root more through the boxes.

 

Soon he began to bounce.  It's as if he needed to flex or lift, to raise his legs if he needed but couldn't do in his kneeling position.  As he bounced his calves began to twitch and swell, slowly inflating and growing, becoming larger and larger, fuller and thicker.  It became at first a little bulbous, then became somewhat heart like in appearance, until finally they swelled and pulsed into these huge diamonds with strong chords and engorged blood vessels tying them down to the shin.  The air was filled with the sounds of tearing fabric as the calves pulled the lower pants' leg tighter and tighter until the leg hems and side seams burst and tore apart. By the time all was done with its tremendous growth, Marcus' attempts to kneel and sit back on his hind legs were almost in vain. His own calves had him sitting up and forward, the butt unable to become parallel with the floor.

 

Marcus smacked his lips and declared he needed more mezcal, but the closest thing he could find was the bottle of Corredor Fronterizo's Tequila - Muslo.  In a matter of seconds it seemed the bottle was tilted up and the contents were gone.  The old joke of "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila , FLOOR!" was not going to hold up this time.  The hunger gnawing away at Marcus' stomach, he stood up, shakily, but managed to walk over and grab from the third box on the counter some cocktail weenies and barbeque sauce.  Shoving the wieners in his mouth as fast as he could, he'd chew and swallow some the follow it with a sauce chaser.  But shortly after his wiener-fest began, he begun to start squatting down, almost looking like he was going to take a crap in the middle of the bedroom floor. 

 

No.  Instead he began to stand up, slowly, and then keep on standing rolling up onto the balls of his feet.  Reaching as high as he could go. he then slowly went back down returning to his low squatting position.  Each time he did this his pants began to become unwrinkled, the loose folds stretching out as the denim began to be pulled taut.  He was performing squats and calf raises and with each set his calves swelled a little more, but the thighs were blowing up immensely.  The thigh biceps making the mound between buttocks and calves, while the hamstrings snapped taut and tight becoming steel cable in mere seconds.  The trio of tear drops began to form  quivering and swelling longer and larger with each squat.  Eventually the jeans Marcus was wearing weren't just tight on him but form fitting and then... ... .... RIIIIIP STRIIIIIIIITCH POP CHEEEEEERK! ... The denim fabric and the jean's seams gave way all at once revealing thunderous thighs above his colossal calves and now Marcus was only wearing a swimsuit of denim finished with a hula skirt of the same.

 

Marcus stumbled a bit, unable to walk straight due to his inebriated state and also to the burgeoning thighs that pressed together and fought for room.  His body figured out more so than he did how to adjust his gate to be able to walk.  This sent some bar stools and chairs flying across the room as he walked over to the bar to finish off the cocktail weenies and open up the vegetable tray.

 

As he stood there munching down on the food, spilling it all over himself as the desire was so strong he couldn't even wait to finish chewing and swallowing, the two porno men appeared again, sitting on the floor at Marcus' feet caressing and holding onto Marcus' legs like they were columns.

 

 "Oh Ceasar!  These legs are soooo thick.  I think they're almost three times as thick as his own waist, each.  My gawd, have you seen such power before?  It's soooo brutish.... so manly.... makes me so horny."

 

"Oh indeed.  Marcus should drink some more and celebrate!  Toast such an awesome job he's doing on his physique."

 

Marcus looked up into the mirrors and was slightly confused, but then began to laugh a little bit.  Even though he had larger base muscles than most men of the world, his legs had just developed into Hulk like proportions on his much shorter frame. He giggled because he was the reverse of the bodybuilder's "chicken leg syndrome."  But still somewhere in the back of his mind he was proud, very proud of this new look and he agreed he should be celebrating.  Heading back to the bedroom he rummaged through the two boxes of alcohol until he stumbled upon Bubble King's Champagne.

 

"Celebrate... toast....." was all Marcus could think of to say.

 

Surprisingly in one swift motion the bottle was out and his right thumb had popped the cork and its cage off the bottle.  Marcus chugged the bottle down in just a minute, then dropped it, and belched loudly as though it were a mere bottle of Seven-up he had consumed.  He tried to focus attention on what was left of the vegetable tray, but had to wiggle his ass as he felt an itch, a tingling sensation there.  He kept shaking and twitching his buttocks like he was attempting some kind of twerk dance or some male stripper's  booty shaking.  As he kept gyrating his hips and shaking his ass, his ass started to swell, to bounce, to firm, to swell again, and then to harden.  With is twisting gyration his tush began to increase in size and firm up.  It was bubbling out and started tearing the crotch and bottom section of his jeans away.  The only piece of his jeans still intact was the waist band and its button.

 

After finishing the vegetable tray, the broccoli specifically, Marcus went to look for something else to drink to wash down all the small branch like broccoli pieces stuck between his teeth and inner cheek.  While looking down he remembered he had bought the alcohol for a party and should be drinking just the couple of items he could consume individually.

 

"Yes...return what I don't use... or sell... to someone... else...."

 

He searched the bag until he found the six pack.  Yes. The six pack would do.  It was a personal drink.  And s, out came a six pack of Brickyard Beer by Cobblestone Brewery, which was sucked down rather quickly with the cans crushed on the floor and the plastic set of rings being twirled on Marcus' left pointer finger.

 

Marcus laughed, giggled, and smiled broadly as he collapsed backwards upon the bed.  The room was spinning slightly, but then so was Marcus' stomach.  Instantly Marcus sat up and belched loud, long, and reverberatingly.  He then began to do crunches and then sit ups, and side sit ups.  He walked over to the balcony area and opened the sliding glass door.

 

The breeze swooshed very fully into the room, causing the strips of denim and Marcus' shirt to flutter wildly in the current.    Marcus stood there inhaling deeply until he reached up and placed his finger tips into the window ledge above the door and he began to do hanging leg raises first just pulling his knees up to meet his abs and then pulling the legs up, together straight out while twisting his waist while doing so.  Over and over he did this alternating between hopping down and performing sit ups, or placing his feet on the outdoor table and doing crunches, or kneeling on the balcony while letting his hands glide across the carpet and performing ab wheel motions.

 

Over and over he did this and as he did so his abdominal and oblique muscles began to scrunch and bunch, swell and bulge.  As they inflated the lines and deep crevices that defined and showed them off began to develop and his lower torso assumed an appearance from a science fiction or horror movie where a computer or body is being infected, lines spreading out and expanding from one point.  Within minutes Marcus' lower torso was defined and cut with a washboard stomach that one could scrub chainmail on to get it clean.

Standing up the hunger over took him again and he went back to the third box to search for something else to devour.  This time it was a box of RocherFerrero chocolates, plus a bag each chocolate and white chocolate-yogurt covered pretzels.  The rich chocolate coating his tongue and lips, while the pretzel bits became packed in between his teeth and cheeks, and their saltiness, made Marcus extremely thirsty yet again after he had wolfed down all three packages.

 

"Something.... that....goes....with....chocolate...." was all Marcus could think of, but then he remembered, "... arrack as that tastes like cocoa nut..."

 

His hands nearly slamming the remaining bottles around, Marcus desperately searched for the bottle containing arrack so he could wash down the chocolaty items from his throat.  Finally he found it, " Cobra-Hood Arrack: cocoa nut liquor from Sri Lanka," which he guzzled down in earnest.

 

Turning his attention to finding something else to quell his raging hunger, Marcus never noticed that as he moved towards the food box his shirt starting rising up from his waist area and up over the first row of abs and his belly button.  It was doing this not because Marcus was getting taller, but because the fabric of the shirt was getting stretched wider and wider as his lats and back grew thicker, broader, fuller of muscle.  First it was just noticeably wide back, then the lats began to help form the typical v.  But that v quickly increased in size into a w, and then that w into a bracket and that bracket kept getting wider and thicker.  Likewise Marcus' back was widening and expanding, developing and tightening and it cause small rips and tears down the back of Marcus' shirt, which if it wasn't there one could clearly see that fantastic Christmas tree shape.  Marcus began to find it hard to move but soon the lats and back had the arm pits torn away and they formed a shape exactly as described by the company who produced the arrack, cobra hood.

 

But while all that was growing on and spreading out, Marcus has torn into a fruit and cheese platter making quick work of it and then began the search of something to wash it down.  He decided the personal barrel of Chateau Pectoral Épais' full bodied Merlot would do the trick.

 

Hoisting the small barrel up, he popped the cork and took a slug.  The wine tasted good and he took in a deep breath savoring the taste.  His chest didn't go back down once he exhaled.  Over and over again he took slug after slug from the barrel of wine and his chest kept inflating out but never deflating.  Fuller and wider it grew and grew from two half crescents to two small globes.  These globes then became a bit more square in appearance then the outer corners went down and they looked more like a trapezoid.  Wider and wider they grew, fuller and fuller they rose until they were huge rolling mounds of muscular flesh that sent Marcus' nips rolling over and, from his point of view, off the edge.  The growth continued until his chest had assisted in pulling the under arm seams further apart as well as tearing the front of the shirt straight down the middle.  Eventually his chest was like the item he was drinking from, huge and barrel like.

 

Smacking his lips, Marcus began looking for something else to drink, the merlot tasting too much like fruit to him.  Plunging his hands into the bag he pulled out a bottle with clear golden liquid in it: Mountain Man Mead.  Marcus damn near drank down the lid of bottle, he got it open and too his mouth so fast, practically inhaling the honey alcohol.  That bottle finished, he dropped it and torn open the food box to see what was left: a jar of salted peanuts.

 

Marcus had a bit of a time eating these peanuts for as he kept raising the jar to tip it towards his mouth, his body gave a spastic jerk and he had to roll his shoulders or shrug them.  This caused him to miss his mouth slightly, causing peanuts to fall, hit his massive pectorals, and bounce across the room.  Shrug after shrug, roll after roll, Marcus' shoulders, his trapezius and his deltoids mounded up higher and higher, rounded and grew fuller and larger.  Grapefruits appeared that increased into melons, which in turn grew into bowling balls, and those became medicine balls which capped off on both sides a growing and rising range of mountains that threatened to pinch off the neck and overtake the head.  Marcus' shirt split down the shoulder tops and just barely hung together by his collar which was pulled into a deformed oval from the width of his shoulders.  Looking at Marcus now it seemed as though he was wearing only a pair of sleeves that were connected by the thinnest of straps to a collar around the neck.

 

Looking down into the debris of the box, Marcus found nothing left and groaned, practically growled in disappointment.  The kitchen was closed.  He needed more sustenance.  More protein was needed to fuel his growing muscles.   Was there any place open he could call to order a pizza or drive through to hit for burgers?  Wait, he couldn't go out.  His legs and torso had blown his clothing to shreds.  Nothing he had would cover this much bulk.  It would all tear asunder the moment he moved.

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

"Hello?  Room service....."

 

Marcus froze and slowly tuned his head towards the door.

 

"What do you think....even without your arm workout you're more than enough man to be able to take care of him.  Don't you agree, Caesar?"

 

Marcus heard the lock being worked on.  Not like a key was being used to unlock it, but something else.  The bell hop wasn't using a security card and a pass key.  He was using a hacked card and a set of picks.  The door opened slightly and then a thin piece of metal snaked and curved into and around the door.  The door was then pulled shut and the piece of metal yanked back out hard and fast.  This caused the bar and ball to snap out of the slide mechanism.

 

"I do believe he is breaking in, and yes, you can take him even without massive arms.  Quickly stand over there and when he steps in kick his legs out from underneath him.  No man could stand up to those quads and calves once in motion."

The two porno men faded from sight.  Marcus trod as quietly as he could near the doorway, standing in the entrance to the bar and kitchenette.  The man walked in.

 

"Hello?  It's room service.  Mr. Damiani are you here?"

 

As soon as the man walked past the small entrance way he was tripped by a powerful force that kicked his legs out from under him.  Landing face first, he just barely had enough time to get his hands and arms out to break his fall.  However, once down into a down position of a push up, the man was quickly flipped onto his back and Marcus sat upon his legs.

 

"Oh!  HEY!  WHAT ARE YOU....Mr. Damiani?  Get off of me.  It's me Daan, from the liquor store."

 

Daan tried to push Marcus off of him, but Marcus' legs and torso proved to be too heavy for him to move, even if Marcus' neck and arms were still twigs.  Daan tried to plead and talk with Marcus, but Marcus simply stared at him and said, "Food."

[Ro20316]

Love the name of those drinks.

Oh Dann must know what happened here. 

[cutlerfan]

Terrific! Loved the plot, the liquor names, and the possibilities. Please continue! Do you have any non-alcoholic versions of those drinks? Thanks,  CF

[convolution]

Comical, clever, and very hot

Love your work.