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  1. No one was quite sure who started the Alpha Alpha Alpha fraternity. It kind of came up out of nowhere without a clear origin or history on the outskirts of the Groff College campus, its members taking up residence in a kind of run down fixer upper type three story house. Marcus wasn't even sure if the college recognized it as an actual fraternity because there were never any advertisements during rush week, but that didn't stop Alpha Alpha Alpha from making waves on campus. You could spot any of the brothers from damn near a mile off. Because they were fucking huge. Each frat brother was a sculpted mound of muscular perfection. To say each one was jacked would have been a tremendous understatement. Each man had some insane muscle definition that would make any man jealous. Marcus himself had a good build being a mountain biking enthusiast, but the muscle bros of Alpha Alpha Alpha took everything he had and made it look tiny. With just a little polish each one could easily pass for a competitive bodybuilder if that was what their true aspiration was, and these were just college guys mind you. It was impossible to understand how the fuck they looked like that outside of occupying most of their time at the campus gym where it seemed like each frat brother worked out seven days a week. There was always at last one brother working out at any given but during prime hours the entire student body got to ogle and marvel at the display of walking beefcake men in peak physical form. There was one particularly large guy, which is kind of an absurd term to apply because they were all large, that Marcus would watch every time he could get the chance too. His name was Thor which was fitting because he could easily give Chris Hemsworth a run for his money. It was always a sight seeing the muscles in his body ripple as he did squats with at least five times the weight of his own PR. The way he raised and lowered the immense weight was fucking hot and, no lie, it sometimes gave Marcus a stiffy that had to be taken care of in the shower room afterwards. That kind of shit was happening a lot in the past couple months and it wasn't easy trying to figure out why. It didn't really feel weird to get erect while watching these guys lift, hell it kind of felt natural in a sense, but it was odd having the urges to seek them out on campus and catch more glimpses whenever the occasion presented itself. What was kind of strange was watching how quickly a new pledge would become a walking muscular god. Marcus knew this one freshman named Richy who became a pledge the second he heard about the frat. He was a kind of a nerdy skinny red head kid that Marcus' got to know his first week of school during the social events. The kind of dude who might wear a pocket protector during bio lab or something. He was a total dweeb when they first met but after six months of pledging at Alpha Alpha Alpha, Richy had easily gained fifty pounds of muscle! The dude turned himself into a fucking fitness model with broad shoulders and toned abs that Marcus would stare at like he was a horny teenager. It didn't seem physically possible that he would have bulked up to that extent so fast without juicing up, and maybe he was, but it didn't seem to make sense. Richy was one of the smaller members of the frat but he still had lots of beef on his frame that just didn't seem possible to do in under six months. The whole scenario made no sense but that didn't stop the frat from getting pledges left and right. Richy still seemed friendly enough and still recognized him on campus when they saw one another in passing. He could swear that he smiled when he noticed Marcus checking him out. What shocked Marcus the most about the former dweeb's transformation was his sexual prowess, not that he had the chance of banging Richy himself, he could only dream of that shit, but because of Richy's sudden desire to bone anyone that breathed. Turned out the little red headed nerdy virgin was now a fucking stud with a big donkey dong between his legs. Yeah, Richy had an eight-inch pecker swinging between his newly toned legs and was apparently good at using it too. That had to be the benefits of the cocktails or whatever shit the frat members were getting plied up on to look like super studs. And it was legit fucking eight inches of dick. Marcus stole a glance once in the showers after a workout when Richy was waiting for the next stall to free up. Even in repose it was just dangling there like a meat lollipop. What the fuck did those guys eat to get those sorts of huge proportions? Was it some steroids concoction, a shot of HGH, maybe a batch of an experimental drugs... fuck, whatever it was they were really putting it to use as far as making their new members more hulking and muscular. The thing is... the thought of growing muscle like that kind of sounded... nice. Marcus always enjoyed going to the gym but he wouldn't really consider himself a gym rat or anything and his work outs were all kind of routine. The thing is the brothers in Alpha Alpha Alpha looked and had bodies of fitness models, that wasn't an overstatement or over blown hyperbolic description, those frat meatheads did legitimately look like their bodies were photoshopped. All he wanted was a piece of the pie, something that could help him put on some muscle and feel the sort of hard rock definition that all those Greek behemoths were rocking. It would do wonders for his dating life and it would look good having muscle instead of fat on his body when he was vacationing on summer break. So one faithful day Marcus saw Richie and Thor taking turns spotting each other during leg day and he figured if he could somehow slip by and strike a conversation, talk to them, maybe there'd be a chance they'd tell him what was actually going on. Before he could casually slide into their vicinity the two studs had left for the showers. Without much to lose, and with only his curiosity pushing him on, Marcus decided to follow after them and try and snoop on their conversations, or maybe even spy through the window at what they looked like soaped up in the shower. So off he went hoping his hunch wouldn't end up blowing up in his face. Marcus crept into the locker room and stood just outside the hallway to the showers were he heard the voices of the two studs. "Man, you were really hammering away at that weight. Nice job today bro." Thor boomed and Richy replied "Yeah I finally think I might be catching up to you dude. That set was no joke, but I didn't even feel a drop in strength till the fifth set. I used to really struggle with that weight." Thor nodded and casually undressed, slipping out of his tank and basketball shorts. The naked muscled behemoth casually stretched a bit before sauntering into the nearest shower stall in a way that told Marcus he was absolutely showing off for the red head. The blonde's body looked ridiculously well sculpted with a fat cock to boot. His massive torso was perfectly proportionate to the bulky muscles that topped out his biceps, shoulder caps, lats, glutes, quadriceps, calves, the whole fucking works. Every single inch looked to be corded and cut muscle that made the blonde guy's ass so bouncy and firm, Marcus had a real hard time prying his eyes away as the dude rubbed soap all over that thickly muscled frame. The guy's package, heavy and low hung with huge testicles, had him outright gawping. What the fuck had he been eating to get that large. Jesus he was huge. Ten fucking inches. Soft. "You about done checking out my ass Richy, or should I do another flex?" "Fuck yea bro!" Richy blushed, fumbling over himself to get to the larger jock and placed his hands right atop the jock's round mounds of bubbly beefy muscle. "Fuck you're so firm. Dude I love your ass so fucking much. Do a pose bro." Richy quickly backed away with his penis quickly reaching full erect height as he watched the giant blond hulk get back under the shower, raise up his leg and stick out his ass so the muscles popped up beautifully. Marcus was just frozen watching the spectacle, his penis aching at the thought of feeling how hard and muscular the blonde was there. Richy grabbed two big handfuls and tugged the cheeks apart, the water trailing down between the blonde's huge, thick, round ass. Slowly, Thor bent over and spread his hands against the wall, giving Richy (and unknowingly Marcus) a display of his enormous back and shoulder muscles, as well as his colossal bulging deltoids and thick, long muscular arms. The sexy bulging traps rose, and fell, with his steady breathing and arms flexed hard as he braced himself, showing thick veins running over the peaks. Richy simply couldn't stop staring at all that, he was like a dog salivating in front of a steak. Thor’s cock was pumping up with each beat of his heart as well, working the flaccid rod to a half erect state. Richy on the other hand was fully erect, his body almost humming with tension. All he could focus on were Thor's thick muscular buttocks, each one seemingly perfectly balanced on his spread legs and lightly swaying when he wiggled them, a slight bounce accompanying the motion. With both hands gripping tightly, the studly ginger placed the tip of his throbbing cock at the firm ass of his frat bro. “Watching you lift got me fucking hard, man. I worked my ass with those squats to get ready for this man. I know you want to fuck me, Richy. That cock looks like it’s hard as steel and ready to go. C’mon man, plow my hole. Fuckin’ give it to me, bro.” With no further preamble, the formerly nerdy redhead eagerly slid forward with his throbbing cock clutched firmly in one fist, pressing the head of his slick pole into his frat buddy's tight anus. Thor grunted appreciatively at the welcome feeling of fullness his friend's thick meat was giving his huge hard body, clamping his anal walls tight around it. “Oh god. Fuck. Holy shit. You’re so tight, man. Squeezing my cock fucking HARD, man. You’re so fucking hot man, making me so hard. Your huge fucking body is so sexy, so strong. God your so fucking big, man.” Richy leaned forward and pressed his body against the hulking blonde underneath him, his big arms encircling the muscle stud’s torso and feeling up his huge muscles. He caressed each bulging slab of meat he could get his hands on and squeezed everywhere he could, especially the blonde’s sensitive nipples. Thor moaned heavily, leaning his head back and letting his long golden locks shower his hard back. He grunted as he relished the stimulation he was getting from his frat bros delicious dick filling him. The feeling of the hard cock filling him was intense and erotic. He loved the sensation of being penetrated and the blonde god leaned back into Richy's thrusts, driving the smaller man to directly slam into his prostate. Richy gasped in disbelief as the angle of his strokes was forcibly changed but rose to the challenge and stood on his tiptoes to push his rock-hard meat all the way in, balls deep. The intense fucking began in earnest, their sweaty, muscled bodies slapping together loudly, echoing throughout the small shower room. "Yeah man," The huge blonde jock encouraged, bucking his hips backwards and forwards with increasing desperation, "Fuck my huge ass. I know you're close bro. Come on, give it to me man. Fill me up!" The combination of Richy’s hands on his massive muscles, a strong cock pounding his prostate and the hot and sweaty friction of the fuck sent the blonde over the edge and Thor roared out as his seed burst from the tip of his fat meat, covering the wall before him with over a dozen voluminous volleys of his fertile spunk. Feeling his bro’s anus clench and spasm around his hard meat set Richy off and with one last deep thrust he went as far as he could, clutching his hips hard around the blond giant and released his cum deep up the jock's anus. "GODDD YEEAAAAHH!!" Richy exclaimed, his hips jerking through his orgasm as the blissful euphoria of sexual satisfaction rippled throughout his studly physique. Marcus felt a ping of jealousy as he saw the look of unimaginable pleasure that adorned Richy's handsome face as he shot his hot virile semen deep into Thor’s ass. He unleashed so much hot jizz that it began seeping out of Thor's well-plowed anal passage and down the brute's muscular thighs, leaving a thick pool on the bottom of the shower. But just as Marcus thought they were finished; Richy began to moan. The smaller ginger was obviously feeling a newfound source of bliss as his hands were roaming all over his body, groping and squeezing his muscles. Richy's looked like he was bouncing his pecs, thickening his already large chest up and as his pecs popped out in stark relief. His arms seemed to be getting bulkier as well, filling out his body nicely. His entire torso seemed to have gotten harder and more chiseled, becoming a lot thicker than it ever was before. The muscles in his abs rippled and shifted and became more prominent and then his waist tightened up to complete the hot look of an Adonis. His ass plumped outward with each thrust of his hips and the legs keeping him steady swelled and rippled with new cords of muscle. Marcus stared in slack jawed disbelief. This wasn't a trick, or someone pranking him or some other bullshit. That sexy little dweeb had just had his muscles swell and grow after dumping his hot load into some other dudes ass. What the fuck was he looking at? It made no sense. Yet the more Marcus watched his former friend play with his growing muscular form and worship himself, the hotter he felt. Seeing those muscles swell in the blink of an eye and seeing Richy’s body get even bigger with rapidly growing slabs of beef made his mind start thinking of what it would feel like to grow his own muscles. It looked amazing, it was probably the hottest sight he had seen, and his body was heating up the more he watched the ginger transform. Richy, still moaning, slowly removed cock from Thor’s tight hole and Marcus’ jaw hit the floor when he noticed. Richy's dick was bigger, longer, harder, and covered in throbbing veins. It looked like it had added almost another solid half-inch of girth and at least one inch in length. Now his semi-limp member swung like a salami, looking about nine inches in length with a sizeable girth that would match the average mans wrist. Thor didn't seem surprised and only grinned back as the shorter man continued to feel himself up and moan like a bitch in heat. “You’re a fucking stud now, Richy. You’re bigger, stronger, more pumped , and an even better fuck. Shit man, you look like you’re about to unleash the beast all over again.” Thor chuckled as Richy slowly came down from his high and held the man’s gaze, his cock still throbbing with need. "Yeah man. Wow it feels fucking incredible. I feel so damn sexy dude, like I could lift for hours. Fuck for days. I'm fucking hot as shit bro. Is this what you feel all the time?" Thor only grinned in response. The gargantuan blonde left his muscled redheaded frat brother to adjust to his new body. Stepping out of the shower the blonde's fat member swung between his powerful thighs and his sculpted ass bobbed with each step as he strutted out of the shower. Without thinking , Marcus tore his eyes away from the studly ginger and quickly ducked down into a private changing stall to avoid being seen. He watched Thor drying his statuesque body with a towel, grinning his stupid sexy blonde grin in the reflection as he rubbed down his swollen muscles. They hadn't seemed to change, the same thickness, the same sharp chiseling of each muscle group. It was Richy that had ballooned up with sexy new muscles, but Thor seemed to have enjoyed it all the same. As the stud finished toweling himself off and dressing from his locker, he suddenly stopped with his back to Marcus. "I know you want it. I wanted it too. Come visit us at the house and we'll open the door to your new life." The muscular blonde spoke loud enough that there was no doubt his words were directed toward him. Without a moment's delay he was walking out the door whistling and without a backwards glance. *** More parts in the works as I finish editing them. I'm really shit at editing so it might take some time. If there are any glaring grammatical errors please point them out and i'll fix them quick. Hope you all enjoyed.
  2. Here's Part 4 of the Maximus Protein Series. This is (seriously) the last chapter. Thanks for reading! Travis was on the floor, breathing heavy, covered in cum and sweat and drool, having just swallowed what must have been gallons of Dan's cum. I looked over at the tub of Maximus Protein lying empty on the kitchen floor. "Travis.... did you... drink..." "All of it" Travis said with an exhausted smile on his face. "I drank the protein, and I drank the special ingredient." He gestured toward sperm-donator Dan, who appeared to have fallen asleep right on the table in a post-orgasm bliss. His eyelids fluttered as he snored softly, the huge bulk of his body rising and falling rhythmically with his breath. This was no time to be napping, but Dan looks so adorably innocent there, with his mouth slightly open, I figured it was better to let the behemoth sleep for now. "Ooohhh" Travis groaned from the floor as the rumbling in his stomach grew louder. "I think I drank too much, Scott. I don't feel so good." "I'll say. What the fuck is wrong with you Travis?" I remembered how angry I was that I hadn't gotten to drink any of Dan's cum explosion. I had barely stopped growing, but I was eager to feel myself swell again. If I couldn't drink Dan's, then maybe I could drink from Travis, who, if dosages had anything to do with amount of growth, was about to explode. I watched him carefully as he held his distended stomach and writhed around on the floor. He didn't look like he was growing, he look like he was about to puke. What a waste. I picked his body up carefully, which now felt so small in my giant arms, like picking up a dog, and laid him on the couch while he groaned and shook. he looked pale. "I think you might have just overdosed yourself buddy." Just sweat it out and see what happens. I watched him for a minute for any signs of growth, but nothing happened, just more groaning and intermittent stomach grumbling. "So much for getting your money's worth" I said as I turned away and walked to the mirror over the fireplace. I had felt myself change but I hadn't gotten a good look at myself yet. What I saw was astounding. I had gone from being a slightly fit twink to being a legitimate red haired muscle god. Pushing back my copper colored hair, I admired my strong masculine brow, my roman nose, which had always looked slightly awkward on my face, was now perfectly fitting with the rest of my features. I had evolved into a higher form of man. My Jaw was perfectly squared and evenly covered with a thick beard that complimented it perfectly. Even my lips seemed more masculine and commanding. I couldn't wait to his the bars and see how people reacted to my new looks. I looked kind of ferocious, like a wolf-man. I wondered if I would actually scare guys off. I did an experimental double bicep flex and was shocked at the mountains that rose into view on each of my arms. I brought my arms down into a crab pose, barely even flexing, and still muscle bulged from every angle. I looked like I could kill a man with one punch. I was turning myself on, big time. My sixteen inch cock was rising to attention anew, begging to finally release the load that had been churning in my balls since I transformed, and it would only take a minute to pump it out right here. Why not? I grabbed my tool with both of my huge hands, almost hurting myself with my newly stronger grip, and began pumping away, instantly moaning to myself as I felt what new pleasures my new XL body could bring. I had my eyes shut in ecstasy as I was on the edge of release. I flexed my abs and glutes, arching myback as I neared the point of no return, grunting and growling wildly. Just as I was on the edge, I felt two more hands, much smaller than mine, grip onto my cockhead as a tongue licked up my glans. "OH FUCK!" I jolted with shock and pleasure and snapped open my eyes just in time to see little Travis, having snuck off the couch, clamping his mouth down on my cockhead. "TRAVIS NO-AAAAAGGGHHH!!" I shouted but I was past the point of no return. I unloaded a boiling hot jet of cum straight down my roommate's throat. Then another, and another, and another, causing him to sputter and choke, tears streaming out of his eyes, but still he held on, jamming almost my whole cockhead in his mouth. Minutes passed as my head swam with pleasure and fear. I could barely think straight I was in so much orgasmic pleasure, but I knew I was unloading a record amount of spunk into my already full roommate. If he hadn't been ill before, this could be truly dangerous. "TRAVIS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" I shouted as my head cleared form my orgasm. Travis just gasped and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Thanks *gulp* broaahhh" He patted his stomach, now sticking out like a pot belly under his wifebeater shirt. "That was *burp* just the ticket." "TRAVIS YOU ALREADY OVERDOSED FROM DAN, THIS MUCH MIGHT KILL YOU." "Nah" he said with a cocky shake of his head. "I actually didn't get enough! You gotta *urrp* read the uh, fine print *burp-ahhh*. When you drink a glass of the protein *ooouhhh* you gotta drink a *buh* proportionate amount of cum to *ahh* activate it!" I shook my head in disbelief. Travis took a seat on the floor as he continued to burp and massage his grumbling stomach. He was sweating like a pig and looking quite a bit like one too. "Dan wasn't too much *ulp* cum, man, he wasn't *burp* ENOUGH! So thanks for the help! Now I can *urrrrrrrp* really get going" I was in shock. I was mouthing "what the fuck" to myself just as I saw Travis suddenly sit bolt upright with a look of surprise on his face. He burped loudly and his whole body kind of jumped. "What was that?!" he said aloud, to no one in particular, as his body spasmed and jumped again. He might have not noticed it yet but there seemed to be a little more of Travis every time his body spasmed. There was a little more muscle in the slender legs that were sticking out of his boxers, and his tank top looked a little more closely fit on him. *burp* Travis burped and involuntarily jerked his limbs. There was definitely some growth starting. There was even a little more bulge in the front of his boxers. "Am I *urp* growing yet, Scott? Can you *urp* tell? Ah!" Travis looked down as his latest spasm made his dick jerk against the front of his boxers, there was a respectable tent showing down there now. "Can you find my glasses?" he asked as he looked down at his arms. "I can't tell if anything's *UNHH* happening *AHH* yet" I was speechless. The guy had just taken an elephant dose of muscle growing protein powder and downed what must be enough cum for a hundred men, and here he was still acting like the nerd who loses his glasses. "I think you'll know soon enough" I said, watching as his feet inched a little further across the floor with every grunt and spasm. RRRRIIIIIIIIPPPPPP Travis threw his head back and moaned loudly as another spurt of growth caused his dick to tear out of the front of his boxers. It had to be about a foot long already, and Travis still hadn't grown that much yet. "UHMMM FUCK!" Travis exclaimed in a throaty (deeper already?) voice as he gave his cock a stroke. This seemed to accelerate the growth a bit, and his next two spasms took Travis from looking bigger to actually filling his boxers tightly. His white wifebeater shirt was now pulling down at the chest as his pecs bounced bigger with his stroking. the outlines of a six pack were showing through his soaked shirt. The arm he was using to prop himself up on the ground was now veiny and pulsing bigger and bigger as his triceps started to ripen over his elbow. "UMF! Scott I don't think I *URP* need my *UHN* glasses anymooOOOH!" Travis shook as he was hit by a big growth spurt that seemed to put a whole foot and 50 lbs of muscle on his frame in a second. His boxers were now tightly wrapped around bulky, muscular legs that were quivering and shaking with his stroking. The seams were tearing along the edges to reveal more sweaty hairy muscle bulging out. His wifebeater was hanging on by threads as his chest seemed ready to pop the shoulder straps at any minute. "YUP! I CAN SEE I'M DEFINITELY GROWING NO-O-O-OWWWHHHHHHFUUUUCK!" He bellowed as a new spurt hit his body and he simultaneously burst right out of his boxers while his whole upper body flexed the wifebeater into threads. Travis was now BIG, looking like a heavyweight professional bodybuilder, but off-season, cause he was sprinkled in brown hair and had a nice amount of body fat accentuating his muscles. He flexed his huge size 15 feet, and pounded a massive fist on the floor as another spasm took him just a bit bigger. Most noticeable of all was his giant dick, standing up at 16 inches, and complimented by two of the biggest, juiciest balls I had ever seen, spilling onto the floor between his legs and pulsing, actually pulsing as they generated more and more testosterone for their owner. "Scott *UNH* get a *AAHHH* load of this growth bro!" He was furiously pumping and groaning and he pulsed and flexed slightly bigger again. Now he was starting to worry me. He had to be close to six and a half, seven feet tall now, and inching bigger every minute. Already his dick was starting to rival mine, and there was no way he would be done soon. If I had any hope of not being the absolute smallest guy in the room, I had only one option: to drink Travis' cum. After all, he had taken mine already, right? He owed it to me. "Need a hand, stud?" I asked as I crouched down and palmed his softball size testicles with my hands. Another *UMF* from Travis and they grew even bigger in my hands, grapefruit size now. "I take that as a yes" I said as I started stroking his shaft with both hands. "AHhhhh Thanks bro!"Travis moaned even louder as he took his hand (which was bigger than mine already) off of his shaft and immediately started squeezing his meaty pecs, pinching each big brown nipple and causing little mini-growth spurts. Was he able to control his growth? I knelt down and started sucking Travis' rod with all the gusto I had. "Who-AAHAH!" Travis howled as he spasmed again and I felt his dick expand another inch into my already stuffed mouth. I used my hands to massage his giant testicles, squeezing them in my powerful grip, aching to get a taste of his man juice. Pre cum was oozing constantly out of his dick, making everything incredibly slick. I found some rhythm, pumping my head and trying not to choke on his pulsing dick as his grunts got louder and longer. Finally, I felt a vibration in his balls as they tightened in his scrotum, his cock flexed and grew even bigger in my mouth, causing me to almost panic but I held on. I needed to get his cum down my throat no matter what. His dick was boiling hot to the touch, I could feel the burst of cum about to travel up his shaft. Suddenly, I felt a giant hand grab the back of my hair and yank me off of Travis' dick. I was too shocked to fight it. I had forgotten about Dan! "What the-!!" But it wasn't Dan that had grabbed me away at the moment that Travis was about to shoot. It was Travis himself! The gargantuan man had thrown me off of his own dick and was now jerking himself off furiously and aiming for his own mouth!. "Travis NO!" I shouted but I was too late. With a frantic growl Travis shot like a firehose, hitting his own mouth directly, gurgling and sputtering but drinking it too, just like he had with Dan. "FUck!" Another thick rope of jism erupted from his dick, the majority of his going straight into his huge throat, the rest of his splashing over his stubbly square jaw and trickling down his neck onto his heaving pecs. Rope after rope shot out, Travis grunting and burping, but drinking more, then leaning forward and clamping his lips straight onto his own cockhead, sucking out every drop. I could only watch in disgusted shock. This growing giant had already taken Dan's load, then mine, and now he was guzzling his own? What was even going to happen to him? Dan fell back, orgasm subsiding, and belched loudly as his head popped up slightly higher. He had a smile of total satisfaction on his scruffy face. I was furious. Travis how could you do that to me?!? I exclaimed, not knowing whether to deck him or start pumping my own cock, which was, of course, hard again. I couldn't help feeling a bit turned on by Travis' sudden transformation into an insatiable cum guzzling muscle pig. "I'm *burp* sorry bud! I know you *ulp* wanted some, but I just get soooooooooo *URRRRP* THIRSTY!" "What the fuck is happening to you" I said, more of a statement than a question. I was pretty turned on by what I was seeing, and my cock was standing ramrod straight. Dan suddenly jumped up from the floor and I was shocked to discover that he was almost eye level with me now. He was almost as tall, but a lot wider, looking like a bodybuilder in off season. "What are you gonna do about it? He said cockily, showing his slightly protruding muscle gut into me a bit. I was more turned on that ever. No way this could be the same Travis I had been living with the past year. Guys get a bit of muscle and their whole personality changes, but this Travis was unrecognizable. He almost seemed to growl as he stared up at me, teeth clenched. I decided to call his bluff and spat directly in his face. "What are YOU gonna do about it, runt?" I said, privately shocked at my own new cocky attitude. Travis growled like a lion and wiped my spit off his face. The look of anger on his ultra-masculine face made me doubt my tactics. There was a new, almost feral look in his eye, one that hinted at certain shades of violence and lust. "I'll show you" he said calmly, and sucker punched me straight in the gut, catching me off-guard and causing me to double over in pain. Travis took his opportunity and grabbed me as I was doubled over and quickly position himself behind me pressing himself into me and holding he down with one strong hand on my back. I almost fell, but his strong grip held me up. Suddenly I felt his other hand, wet with precum, roughly lube up between my legs. I was scared, but I wasn't going to stop him, not when I was this close to getting his next load. Despite my newly giant, size, Travis cock still felt absolutely massive entering my hole. I gasped loudly as he rammed it in, yelling out in pain before feeling a huge shiver of pleasure wash over me. The shock of Travis doing this to me was mixed with the thrill of excitement. I couldn't believe this was happening. As Travis began to pump his still-expanding dick inside of me, I looked down at my own massive hands holding me up, the tensed, thick bulging arms that I never thought I'd see connected to my own shoulders. But these weren't my shoulders either, these were true cannonball delts now, the kind only seen on advanced bodybuilders that abused steroids. Was I on steroids? Is that was was int he Maximus Protein that had caused the truly freaky transformations of Dan, me, and Travis this afternoon? I stared at my huge hard cock slapping rhythmically against my washboard eight pack abs, I could feel my hefty balls swaying pendulously between my legs. Travis slammed into me, still grunting and occasionally shuddering as spasms of growth hit him at irregular intervals. I could feel his cock lurching bigger inside of me with every shake of his mammoth body. Soon I noticed it was actually darker in the room. Was the sun going down? I felt Travis's weight shift behind me as I saw his hands come down in front of me. Next to my giant hands, these looked absolutely monstrous. I was afraid to turn my neck and look to see how big Travis was now, but I when I did turn my head all I saw was the side of one of his heavy pecs, bigger than my head, with his underarm close to my shoulder I saw the bushy hair protruding from his armpit. Just the smell from his armpit was intoxicating and sent shivers up my spine as I inhaled deeply. It was the most pungent, most manly musk I had ever smelled. One inhale and I felt high on pure pheromones. Travis was on all fours, above me, his whole body eclipsing mine as he continued to pump his dick into mine. I could feel his muscle gut developing, sliding on my back with his thrusts at first, then starting to actually rest on my back as he grew bigger and his grunts grew louder. "TRAVIS YOU"RE GETTING TOO BIG" I yelled, but he only responded by grunting as he pumped into me more and more. His cock in my ass was starting to become painful as is tensed with a new pop of growth, Travis shook all over, Grunts lowering by another octave. I tried to squirm away from him but his arms had my huge body locked in on either side. His heavy muscle gut was pressing on my back and making it difficult for me to move, it was slowly pinning me flat on the floor. "TRAVIS STOP YOU'RE CRUSHING ME!" I yelled as loud as I could. I was about to get suffocated while being fucked to death by my giant roommate. "TRAVIS NO! YOU'RE TOO BIG!" Travis roared deeply in response. But then, he actually stopped pumping. I felt some of the weight of his gut lift off of me as he repositioned himself back onto his knees, and pulling out of my ass with a loud wet slick sound. "ARE YOU HURT?" his voice now sounded like it was being amplified through a stadium speaker. He was practically whispering but it sounded like a fog horn with a bass booster on it. I was relieved, and surprised. The hulk still had a little Banner in him. "I'm okay" I said, on my hands and knees, breathing heavily. "You just...scared me....." Even thought I now possessed the strength of a dozen men and a body that could fight a moose, I felt like a small boy under him. "I'M SORRY" Travis said. It was funny to hear a genuine tenderness in such an intimidating voice. "CAN WE...... UH.... CONTINUE?" All my anger melted away with this oddly touching, nervous question. I always wondered what Travis was like in bed, and now I was getting the XXXXXXXXL version of the surprisingly caring lover that I had supposed him to be. "Yeah" I said, and I finally actually turned to face him, and almost fell back down again. Travis reached his giant arms toward me, now bigger than my own legs, and said in a soft yet commanding baritone "C'MERE BOY." He was absolutely massive. As tall as I was standing up, his head was still a foot higher than me while he was on his knees. And he was WIDE. As I allowed him to pick me up and bring me close he took up almost my whole field of vision. He looked like a fucking viking, with shaggy hair, and a bushy beard that had sprouted up while he was growing. It made him look fierce and warrior like. His traps rose out of his shoulders almost to his ears, his neck was thicker than his head. And his shoulders were beyond being boulders, I was looking at whole mountain range. As he pulled me closer to him the striations rippled through his pecs, now covered in a pelt of deep brown hair, resting on top of a muscular gut. He was a mountain of a man in full-on bear mode. And right under his stomach, between his two titanic furry thighs, resting on top of the biggest balls I had ever seen, was his still hard cock rising up to me. It was dripping precum in a constant flow in anticipation of going into my ass again. I was ready and willing to let this giant put his seed in me. And when he did, I would become a giant too. "READY to CONTINUE?" He boomed. I nodded and jumped onto his dick, feeling it push into me with little resistance and howling with pleasure. Travis made me hold onto his traps as he bucked into me. Effortlessly slamming his multi-foot cock into me and holding almost all of my 500 pounds easily in his arms. "Come on, Travis! I want your giant cum!" I yelled, as I held on for dear life as he bucked away. I dug in and squeezed his traps with my powerful hands, then clenched as he increased his pace. He was getting close. Then I heard a loud hiccup from Travis and looked up to see a surprised look on his face. "OOPS *HIC* I THOUGHT I WAS *HIC*.... DOE GRO*HIC*WING..... BUT I GUESS NOT!" Every hiccup made his mountainous shoulders spring up just a little higher, as his whole body shuddered. His pecs flexed and bulged out more...and more.... and more with each hiccup. And most importantly his dick, already on the edge of what I could handle, pushed into me more and more. Travis shut his eyes and squeezed me right up against his huge warm body as the feelings shook through him. "OH!......FFFFFFFFFF.............FFFF........FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK" The shuddering gave way to a massive full body orgasm as Travis bellowed out and unleashed a fire hose of cum into me, instantly overfilling my insides and spilling out onto his balls. Travis could only moan loudly as the orgasm tore through his body and caused multiple aftershocks. I was pulling off of his cock, which only made more room for the cum he dumping into me. If this stuff had any kind of potency, I'd be leaving the world of normal humans behind in no time. "AAAAWWWWWWW" Travis fell back against the wall, crushing wha was left of the sofa to splinters. "Hey man, I'm not finished!" I yelled, pumping my rod at him. Travis pulled me forward and held me up to rub my dick between his pecs, which were deep enough to feel like a whole new orifice. "Ah fuck!" I was quickly getting close as he tensed and bounced his pecs against my cock. He playfully opened his mouth as my cock grew toward it, sticking his huge tongue out to playfully flick at the head. "Oh FUCK Trav!" I squirted a couple spurts of precum onto his face, coating his beard in sticky fluid. He lapped it up like a bear licking honey. Just as he was about to clamp his mouth onto my nearly-bursting cock, I stopped him. I held his huge square jaw closed with my hand, then waved a finger in his face. "Nah-uh. None for you this time, greedy bastard." Travis groaned loudly as he let go of me and I slid down his body. "Don't worry big guy, there's plenty to go around" I said as I walked toward the dining room table where Dan was still somehow passed out on the table. "But I owe Dan here a little help." I gently tapped (okay kind of slapped) his handsome dopey face and he jolted awake, looking dazed and adorably confused. "Holy SHIT!" He said when he saw the looming form of Travis taking up the whole living room. "Whaaat the ffuck did I miss?" He said confusedly, starting to rise up from the table and rub his head. "No time to explain buddy! I've got something that needs attending to!" I said as I pointed to my fully erect dick, which was ready to blow at any minute. "Yes SIR" Said Dan, huge grin on his face as he wasted no time in pulling himself to the side of the table and opening his mouth wide. I slid my cock in and before I could even get two pumps the sheer sucking force of his mouth and the pressure of his huge tongue against the glans caused me to go off like a rocket. I curled my toes and rocked back in forth in bliss as I pumped gallons of cum into his mouth. He finally coughed and pulled away, cum spilling out of his mouth and onto the floor. "Oh fuck! I'm still going!" I yelled, surprised to see new jets of cum still pumping out. I reached into the kitchen and grabbed the first thing that came to hand- the empty blender that Dan had used to make the initial batch of Maximus Protein, kicking off this whole situation. I had the big blender pitcher about halfway full when my cum flood subsided and I could think straight again. What was I going to do with the leftover cum? Surely I could drink some. I had just taken the biggest load of all time from Travis, and my very full abdomen was already starting o cramp and hint at the growth surge to come. I tingled with excitement thinking about what that cum was going to do to my physique. I lifted the pitcher to my lips to take a sip. I was a growing boy, after all. Then I heard a loud knock on the door that made me jump. Who the fuck could that be? Surely some neighbors had heard us. I grabbed a blanket and sloppily wrapped it around my waist, which didn't do much to cover much of anything, but I had to look at least somewhat presentable. I was about to give whoever was outside the shock of their life, probably. I opened the door not to see a stranger, but to see three of Travis and Dan's close buddies. There was Steve, a somewhat shorter guy who was slightly balding already, but the guys called him Chimp because of his apeman appearance. Then there was Swole Nick, who up until this afternoon had been the biggest and strongest of the group, the guy who always pulled all the women and had the respect of all men due to his imposing stature, chiseled good looks, and steely, confident demeanor. Finally there was Stick Nick, who was called that because where Swole Nick was thick with muscle, Stick Nick was thin and wiry, the polar opposite of his bigger friend. I towered over all three of them as they looked up at me awestruck. "Holy fuck." Swole Nick finally spoke. "The shit really works. Dan told us to get here as soon as we were done at the gym but I didn't expect..... I didn't....." I couldn't help but puff out my chest a little bit and enjoy the feeling of being stared at by men who had hardly even glanced at me before. "Yeah, I guess it works" I said cockily, flexing a mighty bicep and hearing Steve yelp a little bit in surprise. "Well it's a good thing Dan told me to bring the tub that I bought" Stick Nick said, and I saw that he was holding at his side a very familiar sight. "Pretty much blew the bank buying this shit, so let's hope it uh, pays off." He turned the tub of MAXIMUS PROTEIN that he was holding and held it up in front of him. "Got anything to mix this with?" He said. I looked down at the pitcher half-full of cum that was still in my hand. "I've got just the thing for that."
  3. PART 1 I noticed him the first day he came to my Mediterranean island with his model girlfriend. It was a scorchingly hot August afternoon that became unbearably hot when he took his shirt off at the beach. I could feel the water around my dick boil as he revealed the perfectly meaty v-taper that flourished into a smooth door-wide shoulder area adorned with fleshy round delts. If I were any closer to the shore, I bet I could feel the pebbles grind under his hefty mass. When he turned around, my suspicions were confirmed. He was an off-season amateur bodybuilder. He wasn't just a guy who lifts and throws a flex on Insta Stories once in a while. The square pecs were so heavy the nips pointed downwards, disappearing in the shadow the massive mounds of muscle threw onto his upper abs. The thickness of his abdominal area couldn't be hidden with a layer of off-season fat, and it was accentuated when he sat near his girlfriend. While she was showing him stuff on her smartphone, i gawked at his stacked 8-pack, each brick laying heavily atop another. They weren't keen on swimming. They put a large mat on the beach and sunbathed next to each other. I dreamed of his off-season physique glistening in the water, but he didn't want to mess up his perfect hairdo or get salt into his thick dark neatly-styled testosterone-induced beard. During the off-season, lot of bodybuilders sport a healthy pit bush, but his pits were neatly shaven. As was his whole body. Must have been a lot of work getting this smooth, because he definitely had testo levels few times higher than your average guy. As the afternoon went on, all I could see were his carved calves, as he laid cosily on the pebbles. He occasionally took pics of his girlfriend posing, so i got glimpses of his upper arm thickness. My dick leaked long strings of precum that mixed with the warm seawater. The Sun nearly dropped into the sea when the two of them decided to leave the beach. I was afraid he would catch me following them, so I kept my distance. You just never know with guys that big. I knew my fascination was a dangerous one. They were loading stuff in the car trunk the moment I passed them by. He took a shirt out of the bag and started to put it on, but I still managed to catch a glimpse of his side thickness. Lat and pecs and all. My dick reacted, trapped in my wet swimming shorts. I saw a wet stain on the back of his shorts, between the developed glutes. I could hear him talking to his girlfriend in his booming voice. In German. Something about taking a long shower. I came home and jerked a lot before I was ready to do anything else. Then I checked Instagram, and browsed through photos taken that day on our island. It's always been a very popular place. And then I saw it. A selfie of him and his girlfriend. Her taking a fake modelling pose. Him all relaxed, with his pec slab front and center. My drained dick got up again. I was so excited that I double-tapped the photo. It was like a muscle fan's reflex. I shouldn't have done that. A second later I received a new follower notification. It was fckin him. I was petrified - not just my dick, but my whole body. He noticed me. Awww fck. I followed him back, then went to the kitchen to chug down a bottle of cold water. When I came back, I saw an Instagram message notification. "The forest near the beach. Half past midnight." *** You know, it's not easy being a muscle admirer on an island. Your choice of muscle is slim, even in the Summer, when a lot of people come. I wish I lived in a big city where they have those large meathead factories with thousands of perfectly-fed muscular bodies. I bet a lot of you guys from the city would judge me for doing what I did, but I don't care. It was dangerous, but I decided to meet him. I came there ten minutes earlier. I was careful not to get noticed by anyone from the village. They already kinda suspected I was gay. I didn't want to supply them with a solid proof. It's a small island with many narrow-minded people. I felt needles through my feet. My dick was surprisingly limp. I heard the car approaching. I ran into the bushes. I wasn't sure it was him. I saw a white t-shirt catching the light from the moon. I saw how stretched it was over the chest. I noticed how the thighs filled out the cotton shorts. Definitely him. I approached and said hi. He as silent. Probably one of those guys who likes to get to business right away. I did what I usually do with guys - embraced him in a friendly manner and complimented his muscles. He was a guest on my island, after all. He showed me to the floor. His arm so heavy. I scraped my shin, but kept quiet. He hovered over me. Unbuckled his belt, rolled down his trousers and black Philipp Plein briefs. His expensive perfume filled the air. "Lecke!" The order was clear, even though my German was kind of rusty. The smooth globes of his glutes were outlined by moonlight. I rose from the dirt and knelt before the meat that was shaped by thousands of grueling squats. I spread the cheeks to discover the only place he had bodyhair in. Nestled between his meatball glutes was a rosy hole adorned with thick brown fur. I took a deep breath and dove in. The ripeness flooded my mouth, as the thick hard glutes smooshed my face. TO BE CONTINUED PART 2 If this kind of story makes you hard, leave a comment, it means a lot to me.
  4. MUSCLE MATING SQUIRT "I should have never taken that bet at the gym" Oliver, a 300-pound bodybuilding male deer, thought to himself. "Come on Oliver. What are you scared of? Big bucks like yourself can't be scared of a challenge!" It's my fault for listening. I could have left that locker room long before I dug myself into a hole almost as deep as this monster is digging into me. But I just had to prove I was bigger than Magno. That half-orc half manotaur hybrid beast was huge, but I didn't think he'd be bigger than me. Bucks like me are huge, our male figures are seen as thick veiny trophies to all who lay down with us bucks. I guess I'm not the biggest after all. SQUIRT 15 inches was 3 inches too short. When Magno and I agreed "smallest would bottom" I never expected any man to ever pack an 18-inch cock between their legs. I guess that orc manotaur mix got both specie's huge dick genetics. SQUIRT Now he's at my house... stuffing me like a jelly donut. What makes this worse is that even his loads are bigger than mine. This male has already squirted 10 squirts in me and hasn't stopped thrusting his 18-inch dick into me yet. I don't even think Magno has slowed down. It hurt at first, I felt like a telephone pole was being shoved up my core, but all that lubrication from his 10 squirts has made things a lot easier. SQUIRT 11 now. That squirt had to be the biggest yet. I felt that squirt up in my chest that time. I want Magno to think he's only a little more manly than me but even I couldn't breed like this. I'm sure I would have cum all the water in my body by now and this stallion still has cum to spare. I can't lie to myself any longer, he makes me look like a twig. SQUIRT. That one hurt. That squirt drizzled the back of my throat. I only felt a few drops splash against my throat but I didn't know his load would go that deep into me. Things are about to get a lot worse, aren't they? He's grunting a lot more now. His hands just tightened their grip on my legs. I can feel his cock throbbing faster now. These 12 squirts were only pre? Ok, he's slowing down now, what does that mean? Wait, I can feel his rod shaking, why is it shaking so much? WOSH It felt like all of the cum he had left blew out of his dick in one burst that was strong enough to shake my bed. I don't know how much cum he dumped into me but It was enough to make me feel like I gained 50 pounds. His sperm swam through every limb and every joint. Magno's seed is basically my blood now. I wouldn't be surprised if my body has more of his seed than my own blood. This doesn't worry me though, I can't imagine how much pure protein and testosterone I just soaked up. By this time tomorrow, my male hormones will be through the roof. This much male milk might even help me gain a few inches. It would be amazing if this cum can all swim down to my own cock and swell me up. Maybe next time Magno can dock me and make my balls bigger than my head. If I soak up this genetically gifted male's seed regularly I bet I could gain some of his genetics. I bet his protein could make my muscles unstoppable. "That was fun," Magno said holding my legs above me. "Are you done already," I said teasing him. "You couldn't dump half that much cum if I hooked you up to a milking machine!" I laid there for a few seconds to catch my breath before I clapped back. "Maybe I can if you keep filling me up like this," I told Magno winking. "I might have to," he told me winking back. Magno set my legs back down so that my knees were on the edge of my bed and he leaned down. Magno put both arms under my shoulder blades, put his head down next to mine, and squeezed my chest into his. He gripped my muscles into his muscles like my buff body was his new body pillow. I was exhausted from being flooded with his seed, but I managed to build up the strength to hug Magno back. "I'm glad you took up that challenge," Magno whispered. I thought he was being sweet until he said "I knew I was bigger and you proved it. Now all the guys in the locker room will stop asking!" "You're only bigger by three inches," I reminded him. Magno laughed and gripped my body again. I gripped him back. We fell asleep in that position. As I laid there under Magno's boulder-like body, I felt trillions of sperm tails swimming around my body... all swimming towards my chest. The liquid from the seamen felt like it was soaking into my muscles as the muscles extracted the protein and testosterone from Magno's slimy meal, but I could very clearly feel the sperm migrate to my chest. The muscles that absorbed the liquid felt mostly normal when they swallowed his gooey flood, but my chest felt like it was swelling up. There were so many sperm cells piling up in my chest that it felt like his seed was fertilizing my chest muscles. A noticeable lump began to form on either side of my chest that grew bigger as more sperm swam up my body to join in. Did Magno impregnate me? Was this alpha male's sperm so strong that it planted his offspring in me? As I laid there, feeling his sperm grow bigger in my chest and countless sperm cells travel through me, I thought about why they would gather in the chest. Then I realized that the chest, especially one as solid as mine, was actually the perfect spot on a male's body to grow offspring. The chest muscles are huge and can swell up without getting in the way of the male's daily life. Multiplying in the arms or legs would strain a male's body too much, and the abdominal muscles were too small. The chest made the most sense, and it was where Magno's sperm gathered. As Magno laid on top of me, wrapping his stiff muscles around me like a warm blanket, his solid body reassuringly held my muscular body. If Magno did impregnate me, this massive male was ready to multiply with me. He liked me, that was obvious, or he wouldn't be holding me so close. He probably would have at least pulled his cock out before he slept on top of me, if not slept next to me instead of on top, for that matter.
  5. Dylan’s Muscle Growth BY LORUS My name is Dylan. Dylan Mass. Can you actually believe that’s my surname? What were my parents thinking? My dad took part in some secret government experiment back in the early ‘90s and changed his surname from ‘Grady’ to ‘Mass’ in anticipation of “big changes” to come. Alas, the experiment was a failure. Or so the powers-that-be initially thought. One hundred men signed up for the trial of this serum connected to Area 51, or some shit like that. I don’t have all the details, as all records of the program were destroyed when the secret facility “accidentally” burned down. My dad, along with ninety-nine other suckers, were told their bodies would be transformed into supermen: Metazoans, to be exact. But it never happened. The 100 men went their separate ways and everything was forgotten over time. Until I and several dozen others were born some years later. And now most of us are in our late teens or early twenties, and things were very different for us. Before I continue my story, let me explain what Metazoans are. We’re super-HUGE bodybuilders, one and all. Of coure, we’re not all exactly the same. This is determined by when our genetic gifts passed on by our gay fathers – yup, you heard me – actually kick in. The guys who develop early into puberty have all that extra adolescent growth hormone to help them grow not only massive muscles, but reach huge heights, too. There’s one guy in America, Ronny Fortuna, who is over 12-feet tall, and weighs over 5000 lbs. He’s the biggest documented Metazoan in the world. Huge, yes, but it’s not just about height versus weight and the overall distribution of muscle mass around the body. It’s got to do with muscle density. That’s what all we growth-freaks focus on with our eating and training, as well as how much Metazenic activity is happening in our bodies’ cells. The lucky ones – like me and only two others in the world – were late bloomers. Sure, we went through adolescence like any other bloke, but we knew we were special because we were naturally big and athletic from late childhood onwards. But our heights developed more or less just beyond the natural threshold, so all three of us are pretty much of equal height . And, like all Metazoans, we were encouraged – with help from the Cyrus Redfern Institute of Metazenic Research – to bodybuild like fucking crazy, so that when our Metazenic genes finally kicked in post-puberty, our muscle gains would be crazy. I stopped gaining height when I turned 18. 6 feet 6 inches is really a terrific height for a bodybuilder. I may not be anywhere near Ronny Fortuna’s weight. But I’m half the height he is and, well... let me start at the beginning. Lots of good stuff here. And it’ll have you cumming like a fucking rutting bull, I guarantee it. So back then I stopped gaining height at 18. Which was fine. It meant that I could concentrate on packing on as much muscle as possible, which to guys like me, really is to grow without limit. The feeling of my muscles getting bigger and bigger and bigger with no end in sight, makes me want to jizz just by thinking about it. Oh man, if only you normals could live my life. Once the height increases stopped, I really began to fill out. I celebrated my 18th birthday at a special ceremony hosted by the good folks at the Redfern Institute. Cyrus Redfern came out of hiding three years before this, when the government approached him to not exactly re-initiate the program he’d designed that everyone thought had utterly failed, but to create a facility where the gay sons of the gay men who partook of the original experiment could now be monitored and studied. But it’s not like we’re lab rats or anything. We’re not locked in cages and prodded with sticks or nothing. We actually have every luxury afforded to us. Redfern and his team are particularly interested in me and the other two who no longer gain height, but seem to grow bigger, stronger and denser muscles as if by mental will alone. Daniel – from Sweden – weighs about the same as I did back then, but my pecs are way­ bigger than Daniel’s, which got him miffed every so often, when I’d beat his bench press record, sometimes with just one arm, heh heh heh. I will admit to being an upper-body growth freak, and although my legs are pretty well-developed, I tend to concentrate on growing my upper body as much as possible. I’m the bustiest bodybuilder on the planet, even “out-peccing” the 7- and 8-footers, who continue to gain height proportionate to their increases in mass, so it looks like they’re not really filling out as much as myself, Daniel and Flex. Flex is the baby of the three. 18 years-old now, but stopped gaining height when he was fifteen, reaching a respectable 6 feet 3 inches. He was bodybuilding near-constantly, even dropping out of school. There was no need for us to get smart. Everything we’d ever need monetarily would be provided by the Redfern Institute, so we could concentrate on being big dumb muscle-jocks building our bodies to godlike prortions and beyond. Flex doesn’t have the mass of me or Daniel, but his cock is fucking enormous. I love to get fucked by it as much as possible, because being fucked helps me to concentrate on training harder and getting huge beyond belief. In fact, Flex spends more time fucking us other “hugies” – sometimes even during our training sessions – than actually concentrating 500% on his own bodybuilding. Musky muscle-sex in a Redfern-facilitated gym is one of the best things ever. Even my gorgeous male model boyfriend Cole gets in on the action. He’s not a bodybuilder, and has no plans to ever take it up. He’s not Metazenic, but is a respectable 6 feet tall and a slender 145 lbs. His weight tends to fluctuate, though. And that’s my fault. But I’ll get to that later. A week after my 18th birthday, I noticed that I wasn’t gaining further muscle mass. I’d been recently measured, in awe of my 48-inch arms, 103-inch chest, taut 34 waist, mammoth 60-inch thighs and 32-inch calves. The Institute developed some amazing new training equipment as a present for my birthday, plus refinements to the Enerflex serum originally given to our fathers, only it didn’t work on them but instead passed into their semen, so that when they impregnated our mothers... well you get the idea. Enerflex helps us to grow in the same way steroids work on regular 'mortal' bodybuilders. Except with us the growth is more dramatic. Enerflex used to work pretty fast, actually increasing our mass in just minutes. But that led to uncomfortable skin-tightening – and in extreme but rare cases – actual tearing. The formula was refined and now it’s a slow-release metabolic catalyst. It also makes our skin more elastic, so we don’t get stretch marks or tearing. Redfern provided me a decent dose of Enerflex for my birthday, so I could put the new machines to the test. Using powerful electromagnets to provide the resistance where normal gym iron simply couldn’t give muscle-gods like us the workouts we deserved, I soon had their gears grinding and wailing as I pushed the machines to their limit. I broke all of my lifting records and grew ENORMOUS in just two hours, bursting out of my gym clothes until I was fuckin’ naked in front of my parents, younger step-brothers (non-Metazoans), as well as the onlooking team of understudies under Redfern’s tuition. It’s fine. My parents are really open-minded about this sort of thing because they accept and encourage me to become an even more exceptional son. My step-bros, whom my step-mum had prior to marrying my father are just typical averagely-built teenagers. Bud, the youngest, is into video-games and nothing but. He has no interest in getting a girlfriend, whereas Stevie is a bit of a slut and goes through girls like tenpins, which is his thing. Even though we’re not related, he has the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and angelic dimples as I do, so we could pass as biological brothers. Only I’m fifteen times his bodyweight, and it’s all fuckin’ muscle. I love my family, but enough about them. I packed on 150+ lbs of muscle, that day, much to my delight. I was a massive, bulging jock of hugeness. My veins looked like they were going to burst out of my skin as I flexed and growled and cockily displayed my massive size to all those staring in shock at my growth. “Well done, Dylan,” said Doctor Redfern, but he didn’t mind us calling him Uncle Cyrus. “That’s your most impessive growth spurt yet. And on your 18th birthday, too.” Laser scanners built into the gym-cum-lab took my measurements with ease. My fuckin’ gorgeously ballooning muscle-chest, had increased in part thanks to my birthday workout from 103 mind-blowing inches, to 116 inches. I was huge, but it simply wasn’t enough. I growled like the hulk, flexing my muscles harder and harder, my 16-inch cock swelling and hardening with every pose I struck. One of Redfern’s team was there with a vial to collect my precum for analysis, but Uncle Cyrus regularly drank the fluids of his muscle-god progeny, as it kept him feeling young and vital and full of vigor. My dad also took it in capsule form, as it helped him grow back his receding hairline, overcome impotency, and get my step-mum up the duff at 39 with a new half-sibling. I guess I’m a walking Wellbeing Clinic. Back to my growth spurt: “It’s impressive, yeah. But I want more. Much more. Can’t you give me a fuckin’ overdose of that Enerflex, Uncle Cyrus? I really want to grow my muscles bigger than Ronny Fortuna’s. Imagine me outmuscling the biggest Metazenic muscle-giant on planet Earth, actually weighing more than he does, but at only half his height? I’d be fucking amazing!” “You’re amazing already, son,” my dad assured me. I got my amazing good looks from him. Pity the Metazoan stuff from days long gone hadn’t worked on him. Turned out that of the 100 participants, only the gay ones actually produced the exceptional offspring. The reason for this is still being searched for and Redfern is confident he’ll nail it, one day. My dad is gay, but also pansexual, so pretty much anything with a pulse will turn him on, so long as it’s human. He’s very happy with his missus. Of course, all Metazenic bodybuilders like me are engineered to be gay. This was initially introduced to keep our numbers low and not turn the entire human race into massively muscled mega-hunks. Also, the serum only works on the Y-chromosomes, so women aren’t affected. Sorry girls, but all this muscle is for the guys. “You should both start drinking my jizz,” I’d often say to my step-bros. They’d yet to take me up on this, but if they took it in capsule form, like my dad, then what was there to be grossed about? It’d lenghten their lives and improve their overall fitness. I often drink my own, just for fun, and mostly after workouts. I hate wasting protein. In fact, I can’t get enough. I ate 24 chicken breast pizzas at my birthday along with a dozen massively protein-infused muscle shakes. Combined with the workout and the Enerflex, I should have grown more muscle on my birthday. “I’m not about to hand out Enerflex freely, Dylan. It’s hard to produce and slow to quicken. There is a batch in development, but it’ll be a week at least before it’s ready. For now continue to bodybuild as you normally would, by lifting fast and lifting heavy, getting plenty of sleep, and eating plenty of protein-rich foods. You can also try different steroid combinations, but we don’t provide them here. Just stick to trustworthy sources,” Redfern advised, Daniel once got hold of some sinister shit on the dark web that made him grow huge, but it also gave him the worst urinary infection in history, and he spent nine days in hospital. We all learned from that one. “So in a week, can I have a MASSIVE dose? I want to get fuckin’ gigantic, Uncle Cyrus,” and to demonstrate my rampant hunger to bodybuild and bodybuild and bodybuild beyond all sane thought, I exploded into a massive upper body lat-spread flex, puffing out my ribcage and inflating my muscle-boobs until you could barely see my head. I actually got out of breath doing this. Some of the research team got erections and wet stains in their pants, but that was to be expected. My body seemed to grow, but it was only just the muscles flexing with extra blood powered by my increased heart rate and adrenal gland going into overdrive. I soon came bucketloads, which, of course, was collected for study and consumption. I drank some of my own jizz back mixed with a protein shake, then worked out until long after my family had gone home. I spent a lot of time at the Institute, because I was too strong to live at home and was forever breaking things and putting my elbows through the walls and stuff. I could easily lift up the family car and toss it about fifty feet by this stage of my growth. I was even stronger after my growth spurt, so I could probably benchpress a fire truck now. On the night my birthday ended, I lay restless in my modified bed in my modified room at the Institute. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to get bigger. These are the thoughts that ran through my head, chanted as a personal mantra to help me grow... huger and huger and huger... When I go to the gym, I don’t go to hang out, or to be seen, or to socialize. I go for one reason only: to BODYBUILD. This is reason for being. My only reason to exist. I exist solely to bodybuild. I am a bodybuilder. I need to grow my body bigger and stronger. And I will gain more and more freakish muscle as I enhance my BODYBUILDING progress in order to get so much bigger. So while the ‘normals’ of this world are showing off their enhanced pics on Instagram and doing shitty workouts with shitty weights, just for show and to grab more and more followers, THIS huge fucker is BODYBUILDING and BODYBUILDING, and BODY-FUCKING-BUILDING, GRRRRRRRR, bigger than he’s ever been. I AM A BODYBUILDER. AND I AM GOING TO GROW. AND GROW. AND GROW. I am the best built bodybuilder. I am the biggest and densest bodybuilder relative to my height. Gotta bodybuild and do so much more bodybuilding, so I can bodybuild and bodybuild and bodybuild huger than ever I AM A BODYBULDER. Aw fuck yeah!!! Watch me grow huge... into a huge bodybuilder. So huge from bodybuilding to be bodybuilt with the body of a massive bodybuilder. THIS is what bodybuilding is. It’s what it is to be a gigantic bodybuilder. I will bodybuild more. And when it seems like my bodybuilder’s body can’t grow any more, I will do more and more bodybuilding, breaking new ground, bodybuilding and bodybuilding and BODY-FUCKING-BUILDING MORE AND MORE AND GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! But the next week was hell. Because I didn’t gain another pound of muscle. And that pissed me off a great deal.
  6. Neverstopgrowing

    Diatestrol

    “how big do you want to get James." I say to myself looking in the mirror. "there's no limit."” I respond holding the syringe in my hand. Ok.. so 1 ml…..ah fuck it lets just double it and see what happens. Now let me begin by saying I have always wanted to be massive. Like take a pro bodybuilder….then double it…no scratch that quadruple it. Mainly because quads are my favorite. Don’t get me wrong though if you saw me in person you would do a double take. I’m about 5’10 220lbs. any guy would kill to have my body as it already is, but not me. I want to be a freak and after this last coach ditching me for a bodybuilder who has more potential I’m done. I’m done relying on these guys. So this is where I’m at and I hope you’re ready for the journey. I begin by taking my eight mandatory poses and weight. 221.4 this morning. Ok not bad Xls fit tight and my ass looks amazing. But I did all this research and found a distributer of this new steroid on the market. It’s Diatestrol. Apparently it’s a super intense version of dianabol, test, and winstrol. Which ok whatever no one has tried it yet. My friend Thomas told me he could get me some before it’s pulled completely so I said fine and he ordered me as many vials as he could. Now theres suppose to be no side effects and I’m interested in knowing….hold on my phone is going off. Its Thomas…. Weird. “Hey Thomas.” “ James did you take the serum yet?” Shit…..should I tell him I just doubled the dosage and shot myself up. “No way why?” “Oh thank god. Throw it away James. Its completely pulled the doctors who made it are in prison.” OH FUCK.. WHAT THE HELL DID I DO. “James?” “Yeah?” “You ok? You didn’t take it did you?” “no way dude. I’ll get rid of it. Has anyone taken it?” “no one thank god. Apparently the government documentation said it causes mental, physical, and sexual disabilities.” Oh god……I think to myself “oh shit.. well thanks for calling me.” Well fuck…I guess I’m going to die. “wait before you go Thomas, has anyone died? And how does the government know this if there isn’t any human test subjects?” “oh they tested monkeys it says. No deaths it reports. I don’t know man just throw it out. See ya at the gym later.” Ok fuck.. well at least no one died. Damn I’m hungry. I really need to go to the grocery store. *gurgle*. Fuck I’m starving! I jump in my car and drive to the nearest taco bell. I know I know don’t judge me I’m just starving. Wait didn’t Thomas call me a few minutes ago…uhm yeah I guess he did . Weird I don’t’ even remember our conversation. Ah fuck the seatbelt is cutting into my pecs. “Welcome to taco bell how may I take your order.” “I want it all.” “excuse me?” “everything you have give me 10 of everything on the menu.” What the fuck am I saying. OH FUCK I’M STARVING! “sir seriously?” “YES I’M FUCKING SERIOUS!” woah james calm down what is getting into you. Wait didn’t you take some new steroid….. “sorry I mean yes please. I’m just really hungry.” “ok sir that will be 1068.72.” “sure thing.” “theres a lot here sir can you pull around front and we will bring.” “BRING IT TO ME AS ITS GETTING DONE!” Why does the girl look so terrified of me? Ah fuck this seatbelt is really hurting. God damnit…oh shit…. I just yanked the seat belt off the wall….. god damnit. Oh praise god the first order here and I begin stuffing my face. Just one after another and I’m keeping up with them. Almost an hour later and I’m still stuffing my face. My stomach protruding out fighting for space against my steering wheel. I finish my last bite. FUCK THAT FEELS AMAZING! “GYM TIME!” I floor it to the gym and get there seeing Gabe the big guy that trains here. 6’4 300lbs. Ya that sounds like a lot but at 6’4 he should be 360 to be a true freak. He still walks normal… its pathetic. I get out of the car and slam my door. I’m breathing abnormally heavy. Walking in I see Thomas my slender gay best friend. Tall dark and handsome with an ass that goes for days. He definitely has a models body but the brains of boy genius. “damn james.” “what?” “what are you on?” “what do youmean?” “You look like you’ve gained 10lbs since yesterday.” “dude I weighed myself this morni…..” I stop thinking to myself. Wait I did inject myself with that serum. I DID. DOUBLE THE DOSE OH FUUUUCK. I stare at Thomas with a look that obviously freaks him out. “james…. You ok?” “yeah I need to weigh my…” I spot the squat rack that Gabe is at. He has it loaded with 4 plates on each side. “I can squat that.” “What? You can squat what Big Gabe is squatting?” “fuck yes I can.” I said smacking my chest then smacking Thomas’ ass. “Come watch me crush this bitch.” I begin strutting over to Gabe. I see him sitting on the floor sweat pouring off of him. He looks beat. “are you fucking serious bro.” WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH ME TODAY. “excuse me”. Gabe grunted in between breaths. His pecs heaving up and down. “Watch a true muscle freak.” I go under the weight and hold on. I’ve never even lifted over 315 how do I think I’m going to lift this. I lift the weight. My knees shaking but I notice veins popping out everywhere. Thomas’ eyes are getting wider I can see in the mirror behind me. I begin to descend down my ass hitting the bottom of the hole. Then I try to push up. But I’m stuck. Gabe begins to laugh. “oh ya what a big tough muscle fr….”He stops mid sentence as I let out an obscene scream and explode up. I go again. And again. And again. I bust out 20 reps and throw the weight on the rack. “FUCK YA YOU BITCH.” I Look up at gabe my eyes level with his chin. He grabs my shirt “you calling me a bitch bro.” “Uh ya I am you fucking idiot.” I say grabbing his wrists and slowly starting to squeeze. I see pain overcome his face. I feel power building inside me. I look in the mirror as Gabe drops to his knees and his face lands in my crotch. My cock twitches in delight as a new slave is being made. Wait did I just say slave… also why am I getting so worked up. I see in the mirror my muscles bulging all over. I look massive. Veins popping out everywhere they almost seem to be pulsing. “You are a fucking asshole.” Gabe spits at me. “oh really? Fucking asshole?” I begin to squeeze his wrist harder until I hear a snap. Gabe screams out in pain and I look at Thomas who has a massive wet spot all over his pants. I look back in the mirror and at the weight I just demolished. I look around the gym and see people quickly collecting their things. What is their issue? I’m just trying to work out here. Damn why is gabe on the floor….. Oh fuck I’m starving. Noticing my clothes are so fucking tight. I knew I sucked at laundry. I then rip my shirt and a shorts off. Thomas lets out an audible gasp. I look fucking amazing. I’m huge. My biceps are massive and split down the center with mountain like peaks. My traps are raising up towards my ears. My pecs are so huge that my nipples can’t even be seen. My 6 no 8 no HOLY FUCK MY 12 PACK! Is so fucking shredded. I rub my hands over them a few time to which I see two legs…no they aren’t legs these are fucking tree trunks. They are so huge that I’m not even sure I’ll be able to walk. My calves are jutting out like perfect diamonds. My hands are running around my body. I finally find my nips and twist. “HOLY FUCK!” My semi hard cock lunges forward snapping the band off my briefs. Holy shit how big is my cock now. Its at least 9 inches and fuck its thick. I feel a hand on my now shelf like ass I try to see who it is in the mirror but I’m so massive I’m blocking them. A finger slips up into my hole. I drop to my knees and moan trying to hold my orgasm in. I feel the finger slide in deeper hitting my prostate and then I hear a deep voice. “cum.” And like that James Vesuvius came. All over Gabe, who seems to be relishing every moment, all over the mats, all over the mirror. I feel the finger slide out of me and I collapse on the ground. My body pulsing. I hear Thomas’ voice now. “James come here.” “Yes Thomas?” “get on the scale.” “Yes Thomas.” I step on the scale. I add 220 and the scale is too light. I had 5 lbs nothing. 10 lbs. nothing. 20lbs nothing. 30 lbs and finally the weight settles at 250. “Very good James.” “yes sir.” Wait why am I calling Thomas Sir “30lbs. in one day. Lets see if we can make it 50 tomorrow. Thomas slaps my ass one two and then I feel a stab I try to see what is going on but I a sudden overwhelming feeling of orgasmic euphoria comes over me. “How big do you want to get boy?” Thomas says to me. I stand up straight pecs bulging out. “there’s no limit sir.” I scream out like I’m in the military answering my sergeant “correct.” Thomas grins deliciously.
  7. "The Twenty" - Excerpt from Chapter 23 Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, And Makes a New Friend December 5th, 2021 Los Angeles: 2100 Hours The bus pulled up the drive at 9 PM, the first stop of the evening. It was a large cliff side home high in the Hollywood Hills, lavish and dark, with a glimmering Olympic-sized pool in the back and fountains quietly spraying gallons of illegal water. Zaftig’s longtime off campus associate, the puny weasel Dr. Shaft, would be waiting inside, in attendance with a group of 9 investors, all quite anxious to see the young gods in action. The bodybuilders filed off the bus in the dark. “Golly, who lives here?” asked Hension, awestruck by the size of the house. “Some Hollywood dude movie producer,” muttered Lang. “Who cares? Time to FLEX.” Casey barely noticed. He was eager, for soon he’d be headed back to his private muscle planet, the place he first visited on the morning his cadet buddies came to say goodbye and stayed a little to admire his muscles. He was all ready to flex for these dudes. He neither knew nor cared who they were. Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. Far below them the lights of the city twinkled, the magnificent blue mountains glowing in the coming dark of night. “Inspection. Strip down, men,” he commanded. “I don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.” The ten musclemen hopped and danced in the half light, removing slacks, baggies, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, underwear, jock straps, thongs, and boots as poor long-suffering Dr. Irving ran from man to man, frantically gathering up discarded clothing, quickly organizing as to owner, and distributing the proper poser to the proper man. Each poser was personally assigned, custom-tailored to cut across inches south of the lower abs, reveal generous slices of meaty glutes in back, and with frontal sag sufficient to generously reveal the top six inches of root and thick, plunging shaft of each man. The side straps, while thin, were strong to hold even at top erection. “Oil up, men.” Bottles of mineral oil were passed around. The men dutifully slathered the thick liquid onto their gleaming muscles. Soon they were ready, their muscles glowing fiercely in the night. “Line up, squad,” said Moster. “Adjust your posers. When you pull your slacks down, I want these dudes to see your top six inches of root and cockshaft.” He had stripped down himself and was now rubbing his own oil in to his mountainous black muscles. “I know with some of you that still leaves another 6 inches or more covered up. Right, Casey?” “More,” said Casey. Still, in the dark Casey turned deep red, still immediately shamed by the thoughts of his huge, unhideable cock. He still wasn’t quite over those years of taunting. Which always flashed his thoughts quickly to Tiffany. Good thing the ginger-haired terror wasn’t with them tonight. Casey always performed better when that boy was nowhere near. “Waring, get over here and do my back.” Waring went to Moster, dutifully pouring oil onto his calloused palms, mixing them back and forth as if he was tossing a muscle salad, and smacked Moster’s broad back hard, rubbing thick oil deep into Moster’s wide lats. The Sergeant felt the man’s rough blisters on his back and smiled. “You’ve been working, Private.” “Yes, sir, I sure have, sir.” The men fell into line, and awaited inspection. Moster paced in front of the muscle lineup and critically appraised his special forces team: Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst and Rockland. Muscle gods all. He nodded his satisfaction. “Line up according to height. Shortest man first. Private Hension, that’s you.” Hension was pushed to the head of the line. “Put the pretty boy first,” guffawed Obatu. Hension colored deeply, embarrassed as always to be referred to as the group ‘pretty boy’, but obeyed orders. “Dr. Irving, distribute White Caps,” Moster ordered. Irving passed the ration of capsules to the group. “It’s going that be that kind of showing, hunh?” chuckled Obatu. He popped a capsule and within seconds began to envision his powerful sexual fantasies come to life. He tugged slightly on his poser and glanced down to make sure the prominent, pulsing thick veins of his mighty dipping cockshaft were showing. He nudged Washington. “Check it out,” he said. Washington nodded. “Suckable,” he said, busily squeezing his own nipples into pointy hardness. Moster crossed behind the men and walked along, surveyed the lineup of rolling, hard, powerful glutes. He nodded. Huge mountains of gleaming, perfect, rock hard butt. “Butthole inspection,” he announced. Corporal Karim wished he had his butt plug with him, but didn’t betray himself with even a flicker across his stern face. He scowled, but even so, Moster knew what the man wanted. He glanced down at Karim’s tantalizingly firm, up-pointing glutes, round orbs of massive twin man muscle. “You clean, Corporal?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Moster knelt, lowered the man’s posers to his bulging hamstrings, and quickly inserted his thick fist deeply inside the man’s butthole, up to his wrist. Karim never flinched. Moster rotated his fist, and just as quickly withdrew, with a butthole POP!, noting to his satisfaction that the Corporal was indeed clean. “Keep your concentration.” He wiped his fist with anti-bacterial lube and moved on to the next man. The handsome muscleboy Hension was looking dreamy. Moster approached him. “Bend over.” “Yes, sir!” Hension bent over, showing his twin glutes of extreme hardness, shape and striation. Moster lowered the muscleboy’s posers, made a fist, and once again plunged his fist up to his wrist up Hension’s taut butthole, twisting, probing and turning. Like Abdul, Hension never even raised an eyebrow as his welcoming rosebud enveloped the powerful fist. He was excited about lay ahead. His cock began its 12-inch journey to solid stiffness. He pulled his posers back up with some difficulty and wrapped the taut cloth as best he could around his growing engine. Alvarez appeared serene. He knew a good Pose and Approve session was ahead. Lang glanced at him and smiled. Alvarez was best with an audience. An admiring audience. His cock twitched in anticipation. Moster was quick with Alvarez, nodding approval, quickly inserting a probing fist, and moving on to Lang, doing the same. Up the drive at the house, a curtain fluttered. Someone was watching. Alvarez nudged Lang. “What?” asked Lang, clueless. “You see that?” “See what?” Alvarez smiled. “This is gonna be fun.” He stood “Let’s see those biceps, Gunst,” Moster commanded. Gunst complied, and flexed his meaty guns. “26 inches this morning, sir.” “Excellent. Turn around and bend over.” Gunst complied and Moster’s fist entered his butthole. He nodded satisfaction. Moster continued down the line of musclemen, inspecting pecs, nipples, hard abs, and ending with each man by inserting a giant fist up an eager butthole. Finally it was Casey’s turn. “Ever been fisted before?” Moster asked crisply. Casey had to admit it. “Yes, sir.” He turned around and bent over, his perfect butt now in Moster’s face, his fists buried in his obliques, jutting out his butt. It was an incredible ass. Two round globes of muscular golden flesh, perfect, hard-as-nails ovals of sleek construction. Powerful, huge, an incredible human loading dock of rounded power. Inside the darkened buttcrack Moster could see close-up the throbbing, inviting deep of Casey’s perfect rosebud butthole. Moster plunged his fist in, deep and to the wrist, and turned it, pulling it out again after a minute. Clean as a whistle. “Good work, Rockland. “ Casey stood, turned and smiled. “I think you’re ready.” He turned to the driver, standing by the bus, impassively staring. “Ferdinand, Dr. Irving, come back in an hour. We should be done by then.” Then, quietly, he asked Irving, “Did the money come in yet?” “This afternoon, sir,” answered Irving. “$35,000.” “Good.” Moster took his place at the end of the line. “Dr. Shaft here yet?” “Inside, Sir.” Dr. Irving fiddled with his phone, getting frantic texts from Dr. Shaft. “Good. Give the men back their clothes. Men, get dressed.” Much fumbling and hopping about in the dark. “Move out, men.” The musclemen marched into the entranceway of the one-story cliff side glass house and, single file, marched into the brightly lit living room. ******* Click here to read the full chapter!
  8. Chapter 9: Good for Morale, Continued October 20th, 2021 1930 Hours Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part. Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21. Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed. Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone. Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst. Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation. Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader. Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates. Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously. Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding. Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all. Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is. But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session. Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of warm skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy. For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is. In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique. Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked. In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts. And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “ And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale. ” ******* Click here to read the full chapter....
  9. Excerpt fro "The Twenty" Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. The men’s powerful, over-developed glutes were fully exposed in back. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering, and all around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3. 8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if not as big as Gunst at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle. He was the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set. ” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling. ” “You know what I want. ” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras. ” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here. " The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now. ” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you. ” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome. ” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again. ” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. ****** Click here to read the full chapter!
  10. Excerpt from "The Twenty" Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered 2014 The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” Casey’s mind was racing. How could he pay for this? He needed it so bad. “I can work for you, sir!” he blurted. “I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed himself, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. Casey fell silent, hopeful, tense, waiting. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started.” Casey’s heart leapt for joy. “Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Okay, well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs.“ And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got. ” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young. ” “Pleeeeeaazzze…. . ” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whatchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. “Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, fuckface,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em. ” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s tiny, heavily packed posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small. ” “You must be used to it by now. ” “You never get used to it. ” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care? I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh. ” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself. ”Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant the nebbishy rich boyTyrone had both big bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. His cheeks bloomed with the pressing pressure of double cockheads. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt. ” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, back and forth, his face being buffeted by heavy cock slaps. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, first sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," crooned Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up his pants, putting his heavy, dripping cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles headed back towards his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. “Now!” called out Miles, without looking back. “And use your tongue.” Tyrone leapt eagerly to the matted floor and did as he was told. ***** Click here to read the full chapter!
  11. Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 M/M "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Chapter 23 Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, And Makes a New Friend February 10th, 2022 2110 Hours Casey knew he could trust Ensign Victor. Sam was, after all, a muscle worshipper. And Casey was close to the best there was. Casey had long dreamed of his very own muscle worshipper. The legend that bodybuilders are aloof and don’t want to be worshipped? Bullshit. Bodybuilders wanted their very own private worshippers just as much as muscle schmoes wanted bodybuilders. If Casey knew anything at all, he knew that. He’d learned it in LA. And now he was going to tell Sam all about it. And then tell Sam that he knew just exactly what he was. And Sam, of course, was all ears, all solicitation and comfort. Even as he felt his own excitement growing. He felt his cock, too, burgeoning in his trousers, until he didn’t think he could stand it much more. But of course, he’d have to stand it. At least until Casey was finished talking. And so, Sam listened. Patiently, as it happened. And Casey talked and talked. As Sam’s cock got stiffer and stiffer. “So talk about something else. Do you have friends?” “Well. The guys from the cadet dorm, I guess. But I don’t see them anymore. Guess I don’t get out as much as I’d like.” “No friends outside the compound?” “Naw.” “Are the men of The Twenty your friends?” “Well, I’m one of them….” Casey seemed uncomfortable, so Sam moved on. “Family?” Casey looked down, then looked back at Sam. “The Twenty are my family,” he said after a moment. He paused. ‘Guess we seem to be some kind of crazy cult, hunh?” “Kind of, yes.” Casey seemed to want to ask something. Sam half smiled, waiting. Finally he prompted. “Yes?” Casey was clearly embarrassed, but Sam could see determination in his eyes. “It’ll wait. What else?” “Well, how strong are you?” “Pretty strong. Maybe a little stronger than the others. I can bench 800 pounds. Easy. Curl 350. I run really, really fast, too. Oh, and I’m a good diver. I don’t know how that happened, but I am. I can do anything on a diving board. Don’t even think about it. And I look awesome in a Speedo. But I’m not as strong as Moster. Or Abdul. No one is. They could snap me in two.” Casey didn’t mention the Turkish wrestling night when they got covered in oil and he beat Karim Abdul. No sense in scaring Sam by acknowledging that maybe, yeah, just maybe, he was the strongest man there – and just 19. “I don’t believe that.” “Well, maybe not in two. But he could fuck me up pretty good if he wanted to. He’s an extreme fighter.” “I thought you were, too.” “Well, yeah…. .” “You got thrown out of school for fighting.” “Only once. I only fought once,” he said. “Some guy pissed you off?” Casey smiled. “18 guys pissed me off.” “Wow.” “Yeah, wow. I got ‘em all good, though.” “One after the other?” “All at once.” Casey grinned cockily. “I beat the shit out of all of them.” “Why?” “I got tired of them making fun of me.” “They made fun of you? Sounds dangerous.” “I wasn’t as big then.” “No, of course not. Why were they making fun of you?” Casey looked hard at Sam, and bit his lip. Then he shrugged his shoulders as if determined. He stood up, towering over the table. Sam watched him evenly. Casey reached down and unzipped the steel fly of his pants. He reached his hand in and pulled out his enormous, limp cock. He squatted so that his hips were even with the tabletop. It flopped heavily and noisily on the surface. Thwack. "…. And, boom… there it is,” said Casey. “There it is.” He looked up, shrugged and smiled shyly. “Yes, there it is.” “See, it’s really, really big.” Sam took in the tool’s impossible size for a moment, and whistled. “Yes, I see that. Nice,” he said sweetly. “It’s very big.” “It’s huge,” said Casey, with a sweet blend of sadness and pride. “It’s more than a 15 inches long. It’s like a fucking snake with a life of it’s own. I get hard all the time. I could never hide it in anything I wore. The kids at the home used to laugh at me, call me freak.” “They were jealous, no doubt.” “Probably, yeah, maybe, but fuck. But I got so sick of it.” He started to stuff it back into his jeans. “So one night, I beat them all up.” Sam reached out and lightly touched Casey’s hand. “It’s okay. Keep it out.” Casey looked up, hopefully. “You like it?” “I do.” Casey looked hard at him. He was suddenly shy. He wanted to tell Sam about the field trips for worship, and there was a lot more to tell, too. But he wasn’t certain how it would sound. Sam wanted to help him. “Was there a first time you were worshipped by ‘investors’? By a group of men you didn’t know before?” “Yeah…” “For money?” Pause. “Uh hunh.” Casey was clearly now afraid Sam would judge him. “A lot of money?” Casey didn’t quite know how to tell him exactly how much. “I’m not a prostitute.” “No, I know that. You’re not,” said Sam, looking pensively at Casey’s huge penis extending out of his open fly, lying quietly on the tabletop. “What you are is an uncommonly huge, sexual, handsome 19-year old bodybuilder with a need to show … what you have.” Casey looked at him gratefully. Now he knew he was falling in love with the calm young Navy officer. But even here, in the relative safety of his quarters at Valhalla Labs, and with the gym and training rooms and all the other men so close by, and especially after that wacky muscleshow earlier in the evening to the military brass, the sweet-natured muscle giant was suddenly seized with nervousness. But Sam seemed okay with it. And, indeed, he was. “And…how was it? The first time you were worshipped by strangers?” “Okay. I guess it was okay.” He paused, and his eyes flickered a bit. With excitement, at the memory. “Who were they?” “Some Hollywood dudes.” Sam suddenly recalled. Was that last year in LA the night that…? Oh, God! YES. It was briefly in the TMZ reports late last year, the latest conservative blast against the Hollywood Liberal Elite, some big party night that went south and required some hospitalizations and a lot of huge money. And then – silence on it. All stories withdrawn. No word on it. He’d googled it a few times. Nothing. But Casey remembered. In fact, it was incredible – all those fat old rich men schmoes, and then his new friend Mike later on privately swooning, licking his pecs and swooning over his big biceps and with his sweet little face in his hard butt and then closely inspecting with awe his mighty machine…. But he wasn’t quite sure about how all this would sound to Sam. There was a pause. Sam gazed at the muscle monster boy evenly a moment. “You can tell me all about it. I’m not here to judge.” Casey remembered the night. And his new friend, Mike. “I wonder how I’m gonna tell Sam about Mike?” he worried to himself. After a brief pause, Casey made his decision, and manfully, went on with his story. December 5th, 2021 Los Angeles: 2100 Hours The bus pulled up the drive at 9 PM, the first stop of the evening. It was a large cliff side home high in the Hollywood Hills, lavish and dark, with a glimmering Olympic-sized pool in the back and fountains quietly spraying gallons of illegal water. Beyond and far below, the glittering lights of LA shone in the far distance. Zaftig’s longtime off campus associate, the puny weasel Dr. Shaft, would be waiting inside, in attendance with a group of 9 investors, all quite anxious to see the young gods in action. The bodybuilders filed off the bus in the dark. “Golly, who lives here?” asked Hension, awestruck by the size of the house. “Some Hollywood dude movie producer,” muttered Lang. “Who cares? Time to FLEX.” Casey barely noticed. He was eager, for soon he’d be headed back to his private muscle planet, the place he first visited on the morning his cadet buddies came to say goodbye and stayed a little to admire his muscles. He was all ready to flex for these dudes. He neither knew nor cared who they were. Sergeant Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. “Inspection. Strip down, men,” he commanded. “I don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.” The ten musclemen hopped and danced in the half light, removing slacks, baggies, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, underwear, jock straps, thongs, and boots as poor long-suffering Dr. Irving ran from man to man, frantically gathering up discarded clothing, quickly organizing as to owner, and distributing the proper poser to the proper man. Each poser was personally assigned, custom-tailored to cut across inches south of the lower abs, reveal generous slices of meaty glutes in back, and with frontal sag sufficient to generously reveal the top six inches of root and thick, plunging shaft of each man. The side straps, while thin, were sufficiently strong to hold even at top erection. “Oil up, men.” Bottles of mineral oil were passed around, and the men dutifully applied slathers of oil to their muscles. Finally they were ready, their muscles gleaming in the night. “Line up, squad,” said Moster. “Adjust your posers. When you pull your pants down, I want these dudes to see your top six inches of root and cockshaft.” He had stripped down himself and was now rubbing his own oil in to his mountainous black muscles. “I know with some of you that still leaves another 6 inches or more covered up. Right, Casey?” “More,” said Casey. Still, in the dark Casey turned deep red, still immediately shamed by the thoughts of his huge, unhideable cock. He still wasn’t quite over those years of taunting. Which always flashed his thoughts quickly to Tiffany. Good thing the ginger-haired terror wasn’t with them tonight. Casey always performed better when that boy was nowhere near. “Waring, get over here and do my back.” Waring went to Moster, dutifully pouring oil onto his calloused palms, mixing them back and forth as if he was tossing a muscle salad, and smacked Moster’s broad back hard, rubbing thick oil deep into Moster’s wide lats. The Sergeant felt the man’s rough blisters on his back and smiled. “You’ve been working, Private.” “Yes, sir, I sure have, sir.” The men fell into line, and awaited inspection. Moster paced in front of the muscle lineup and critically appraised his special forces team: Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst and Rockland. Muscle gods all. He nodded his satisfaction. “Line up according to height. Shortest man first. Private Hension, that’s you.” Hension was pushed to the head of the line. “Put the pretty boy first,” guffawed Obatu. Hension colored deeply, embarrassed as always to be referred to as the group ‘pretty boy’, but obeyed orders. “Dr. Irving, distribute White Caps,” Moster ordered. Irving passed the ration of capsules to the group. “It’s going that be that kind of showing, hunh?” chuckled Obatu. He popped a capsule and within seconds began to envision his powerful sexual fantasies come to life. He tugged slightly on his poser and glanced down to make sure the prominent, pulsing thick veins of his mighty dipping cockshaft were showing. He nudged Washington. “Check it out,” he said. Washington nodded. “Suckable,” he said, busily squeezing his own nipples into pointy hardness. Moster crossed behind the men and walked along, surveyed the lineup of rolling, hard, powerful glutes. He nodded. Huge mountains of gleaming, perfect, rock hard butt. “Butthole inspection,” he announced. Corporal Karim wished he had his butt plug with him, but didn’t betray himself with even a flicker across his stern face. He scowled, but even so Moster knew what the man wanted. He glanced down at Karim’s achingly firm glutes. “You clean, Corporal?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Moster knelt, lowered the man’s posers for a moment to quad height, and quickly inserted his thick fist deeply up inside the man’s butthole, up to his wrist. Karim never flinched. Moster rotated his fist, and just as quickly withdrew, with a butthole POP!, noting to his satisfaction that the Corporal was indeed clean. “Keep your concentration.” He wiped his fist with anti-bacterial lube and moved on to the next man. Hension was looking apprehensive. Moster approached him. “Any women inside?” Hension asked nervously. “Why do you ask, Private?” “Sir, for my best performance, sir, I like to get my face slapped first. And during. By a pretty girl with muscles.” “Not here tonight,” said Moster. “Bend over.” “Yes, sir!” Hension bent over, showing his twin glutes of extreme hardness, shape and striation. Moster lowered the muscleboy’s posers, made a fist, and once again plunged his fist up to his wrist up Hension’s taut butthole, twisting, probing and turning. Like Abdul, Hension never even raised an eyebrow as his welcoming rosebud enveloped the powerful fist. He was excited about lay ahead. His cock began its 12-inch journey to solid stiffness. He pulled his posers back up with some difficulty and wrapped the taut cloth as best he could around his growing engine. Alvarez appeared serene. He knew a good Pose and Approve session was ahead. Lang glanced at him and smiled. Alvarez was best with an audience. An admiring audience. His cock twitched in anticipation. Moster was quick with Alvarez, nodding approval, quickly inserting a probing fist, and moving on to Lang, doing the same. Up the drive at the house, a curtain fluttered. Someone was watching. Alvarez nudged Lang. “What?” asked Lang, clueless. “You see that?” “See what?” Alvarez smiled. “This is gonna be fun.” He stood “Let’s see those biceps, Gunst,” Moster commanded. Gunst complied, and flexed his meaty guns. “26 inches this morning, sir.” “Excellent. Turn around and bend over.” Gunst complied and Moster’s fist entered his butthole. He nodded satisfaction. Moster continued down the line of musclemen, inspecting pecs, nipples, hard abs, and ending with each man by inserting a giant fist up an eager butthole. Finally it was Casey’s turn. “Ever been fisted before?” Moster asked crisply. Casey had to admit it. “Yes, sir.” He turned around and bent over, his perfect butt now in Moster’s face, his fists buried in his obliques, jutting out his butt. It was an incredible ass. Two round globes of muscular golden flesh, perfect, hard-as-nails ovals of sleek construction. Powerful, huge, an incredible human loading dock of rounded power. Inside the darkened buttcrack Moster could see close-up the throbbing, inviting deep of Casey’s perfect butthole. Moster plunged his fist in, and turned it, pulling it out again after a minute. Clean as a whistle. “Good work, Rockland. “ Casey stood, turned and smiled. “I think you’re ready.” He turned to the driver, standing by the bus, impassively staring. “Ferdinand, Dr. Irving, come back in an hour. We should be done by then.” Then, quietly, he asked Irving, “Did the money come in yet?” “This afternoon, sir,” answered Irving. “$35,000.” “Good.” Moster took his place at the end of the line. “Shaft here yet?” “Inside, Sir.” Dr. Irving fiddled with his phone, getting frantic texts from Dr. Shaft. “Good. Give the men back their clothes. Men, get dressed.” Much fumbling and hopping about in the dark. Then - “Move out, men.” The musclemen marched into the entranceway of the one-story cliff side glass house and, single file, marched into the brightly lit living room. Inside, nine manicured, pampered, plumpish Hollywood movie execs, dressed in expensive Italian suits, ties down, were draped around the room, propped up on large plush sofas, drinks in hand, cellphones and Blackberries at the ready, waiting inside. Two or three were handsome enough to gain Alvarez’s slight interest. The smell of marijuana wafted through the air. They’d been drinking. And smoking. And snorting lines of coke. In fact, they all appeared smashed. And ready to see serious muscle. The tenth, a slender young man, sat separately, almost shyly, by himself, across the room on a smaller sofa, right before the vast picture window with the lights of LA twinkling in the distance. “Fucking finally! Bring on the talent!” one of the fat schmoes yelled as the men entered. But as the musclemen got into the room and turned, facing their clients, at full attention, the movie dudes were stunned into silence. “Holy shit…look at them!” "Fuckin' A..." For their part, the musclemen were themselves stunned into a moment silence by the lavishness of the room that extended before them, and the extraordinary view of the city through the plate glass windows, far, far below. The drapes had been opened. The moon shone full in the sky. “Wow,” breathed Lang. “Where the fuck are we?” "Fuckin' A is right," whispered Hension. There were a few moments on silence while everyone was amazed, albeit for different reasons. Sergeant Moster was first to retain his composure. "Gentlemen, thank you for inviting us for the evening. We think we have quite a show ready for your personal delectation..." Dr. Shaft rose from a white sofa. Even as familiar with the muscle in the room as he was, he was never less than stunned each time he saw more than three of the bodybuilders together. The sight of ten of them, including the impossibly giant Sergeant Moster, was enough to momentarily knock the air out of him. “Yes, thank you, and good evening, Sergeant Moster. Good evening, men.” He whispered to Moster. "I'll handle this." Dr. Shaft was excited. The men had not only arrived on time, they all looked….well, incredible. Beyond incredible, in fact. Unreal. Inhuman. The years of P-21 meshed with hardcore raw training had built magnificent muscle specimens unlike the world had ever seen before. No bodybuilding contest – and Shaft had attended hundreds – ever had the kind of raw muscular development that stood before them now. It was as if every muscle on every man had a muscle. Heaped pounds of raw lean man beef. It was staggering. Moster hid his irritation, already planning the next black eye he'd happily plaster on Shaft's face in their next private. “Good evening, Dr. Shaft. Men, you all know ....Dr. Shaft.” Hi, yeah, sure, hello, uh hunh, yeah we see him, etc etc, came from the musclemen. “May I introduce the men to their hosts?” asked Dr. Shaft ceremoniously And the lineup of musclemen turned to their agog clients. Hands at their sides, fists clenched, veins popping, tight white shirts wrapped around massive physiques. Legs spread wide. Quads bursting out of slacks. Biceps about to tear shirt sleeves. Fly bulges loomed to the floor. And the clients, schmoes all, stared back. Breathing. Panting. Disbelieving the universe of muscle they were seeing. Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst. And Casey Rockland. Team leader, the massive Sergeant Moster. The muscle team was here at last. The clients, schmoes all, stared back. Breathing. Panting. “Fuck, man. They’re fucking huge,” said one of the fattest men. He gulped. “Whatta they gonna do to us?” “You mean…what are they going to do for you,” said Sergeant Moster. “May I present…. nine of the most muscular men on the planet today.” He paused, glanced at his watch. “You have two hours.” He turned to the men. “Men, you may go to work.” The men moved into a line, first marching single file and then fanning out towards the edge of the broad staircase leading down to the sunken living room. At the top step they stopped, stood still, and displayed themselves proudly. Below them, the room of wealthy Hollywood elite schmoes fell into shocked silence, turned their heads, and stared agog at the massive muscle before them. The schmoes were seated together, as if for protection, on a heavy plush creamy white sofa, overloaded with soft, luxurious pillows, extending twenty-five feet across the room from the large picture window. It was a perfect setting for bodybuilder muscle worship. And there they stood. Calm. Blank faced. Each man handsomer than the next. Perfect tanned skin. Waistlines no larger than 32 inches on men each weighing up to 300 pounds – and more. It was going to be a insane night of muscle worship. And a profitable one, too. Shaft had been circulating rumors inside the Hollywood mill for years about this army of ungodly huge and handsome musclemen, and finally had assembled just the sample group of mega-rich movers and shakers that he needed for the initial private presentation. This meant big bucks in the future for Valhalla Labs. Sergeant Moster had delivered as promised, in spite of Dr Zaftig’s worry and misgivings back at the Valhalla Lab. But Shaft had faith. He knew these musclemen. He’d had too many private sessions to not know a little about them all by now. As long as they all behaved, that is, and no one got seriously hurt. They were hard to control, he knew, once they really started flexing and posing and showing it all off with feats of ungodly strength and their insatiable need to dominate. He knew all about his own tendency to wind up in the San Jose ER after particularly enthusiastic sessions with Moster. But, damn, he just couldn’t help it. Shaft had to admit the fantasy of Moster’s (relatively speaking) lightly damaging face punches and the spirited butt spankings he received as punishment for his own poor cock and body and his lame cocksucking was, well, just what he deserved, being the worm he was. And the fantasy memory of all that abuse kept him masturbating feverishly for months after. He hoped his Hollywood schmoes might fare a little lighter punishment than the stuff that he was now addicted to – unless of course they wanted the same treatment? But then, it might get picked up as a tasty little news item, all over TMZ. That couldn’t happen. Could it? It could rock the Hollywood establishment. Top studio heads beaten by massive, crazed bodybuilders in bizarre Hollywood Hills muscle showdown. No. That wouldn’t do. It was all pretty dangerous, but, what the hell. Shaft licked his lips with drooling anticipation and inspected the astounding male muscle display that confronted them all. The ten magnificent young men, plus the-even-huger-still Sergeant Moster, were now lined up, beefy shoulder to shoulder, round and perfect tri-headed delts touching massive delts. They stood in a perfect lineup of muscle on the steps leading from the 20’ ceilinged foyer down into the sunken living room. The entry way was a perfect dais for display, more than 40’ long, roomy enough for a panorama of beautiful beef and rippling vascularity unlike anything the staring schmoes down below had ever seen, or even imagined, before. And even fully dressed in tight, tight t-shirts and ferociously clinging tan slacks, the men were an unbelievable sight to behold. As if carefully posed, men all stood casually with their hands planted on powerful hips, legs spread wide. Muscles gleamed and bulged. Physiques rippled enticingly, displayed for delectation in the clinging super-wide white spandex t-shirts. Every vein, every muscular bulge, every pound of sinew, every cut, every hard-packed slab of fatless lean and bulging male beef was on display for the stunned, wealthy Hollywood insiders. “Jesus fucking Christ,” someone mumbled. “Look at them. They’re not human.” Muscle worship was what these muscle giants lived for. Shaft knew that. Well, it was one of the things they lived for. He was fairly certain they also lived for training, lifting, eating, sex with each other and as many partners, male or female, that they could find. And – of course- getting huger every day. But Shaft couldn’t be sure that muscle worship might not be even more important. And of course, it made sense. After all, weren’t they all getting bigger, handsomer, stronger, more muscular, and more aggressive just so they could be worshipped? It hardly mattered, no more than the original intent of Dr. Zaftig all those years ago when he first started research on creating the ultimate team of massive male bodybuilders. For there they were, eleven muscle gods, still and easy, unmoving, posed, both tense and calm, showcasing magnificent, perfect male muscularity. And there were nine others, just as huge, handsome, and hung as the men before them, back at the lab. The atmosphere in the room crackled. And Shaft could feel it now, could even see the musclemen’s eager anticipation of the impeding worship of their physiques. Their excitement was just beginning to show, starting to loom now, like a faint musky aroma, getting stronger, seeping into the room. They seemed to be getting bigger, to be growing before them. They were certainly measurably heavier in their tight slacks, their flies just beginning to bulge forward and droop down with pointed pushing, with throbbing penis weight, their erections about to bloom and show and push out and forward and up inside their tightening pants. And considering the price tag of upwards of $85,000 the Hollywood elite schmoes had laid out for this private muscle show, inwardly he was relieved that it had all started out without the slightest hitch. And the new man, Casey Whatever His Name was, was there, too, there on the end. The handsomest of all? Shaft wasn’t sure. And, per Zaftig’s regular reports, on his way to being the biggest? And only 19 years old, too. The promise that lay ahead. He’d better be, at a price tag of $15,000 just for his appearance. That shorter man was also improbably handsome. Shaft studied the impressively beautiful Chris Hension, with his perpetual half erection always looming in his pants, thick masculine dark brown nipples, devilish smile and darting eyes; he was certainly a square-jawed piece of eye candy. And then there was Alvarez, always with the thick-lipped handsome Lang nearby – moist lips, always slightly shiny, always recently licked, lips that Shaft just knew glided lightly and lovingly up and down, root to head, over the long, thick penis shaft of his muscle husband Alvarez during their after-hours Pose and Approve sessions. And the scary hairy Karim Abdul, glowering in the middle of the lineup, with the shorter beefslab hardass Schumacher right next to him – weren’t they each other’s nemesis? Maybe they got hard posing together? And that giant Gunst, he of the amazing nearly 28 inch biceps. Shaft hurried over to Moster, just stepping down into the sunken living room, extending a wet hand. “Sergeant Moster, we’re so glad to see you -- ” He was suddenly cut off. Suddenly, from that muscle dais above, came an outraged roar. “Are you who the fuck I think you are?!!!” It was Gunst. He was shouting now, pointing down at someone in the room, at one of the waiting shmoes. All stopped and turned, stunned into silence. On the sofa was sprawled a fat, unshaved, tall mass of slob schmoe, who looked up from his phone, startled and scared. “Yeah, YOU, You FUCKING ASSHOLE!” “Do I know you…?” the schmoe blubbered. “I know you! You fucking asshole! I know you! You preyed on my sister!” Gunst was roaring now. “Get that worthless worm over here!” Waring and Lang stepped down, as if on cue, striding manfully into the room, heading to the creamy white sofa, then grabbing and holding down the particularly fat and ugly Hollywood former studio head, now sprawling agog, to prevent him from bolting. “Never mind, I’ll fuck him up myself…. ” Striding forward, every muscle in his massive frame now quivering with rage, Gunst pushed past Waring and Lang and into the room. The man was an impressive, fearful sight, his veins throbbing, ripped muscle on a mission, his huge pecs roiling and bursting in his tight t-shirt, his piston-thick arms slabs of disciplined beef, his fists clenched and ready to do damage. Casey was stunned. His mouth open, agape. He’d never heard the normally gentle giant Gunst so angry before, never even envisioned it. And he seemed crazed, pointing down at the terrified schmoe, accusing, now standing wide-legged and in full aggressive mode. “You don’t know me!” he screamed. “I don’t know you, either! What is this??? Dr. Shaft??” Shaft came forward, frightened but trying to maintain control. “Corporal Gunst?...” he started. He suddenly felt Moster’s hand on his shoulders, stopping him, pulling him back. Shaft tripped and fell on the carpet. Moster helped him up, shot him a quick look and a little smile, and putting a finger to his lips, shook his head. He mouthed, “No no.” He smiled. Shaft froze and, regaining his balance, stepped back, and did as he was told. Gunst was now standing above the cowering, terrified schmoe, roaring, his legs spread wide, his thick fists plunged into his obliques, ripped intercostals bulging like bricks, htting a powerful front lat spread. He rotated on his heels to show his lats at different angles. His pecs soared to the ceiling, his nipples went taut and pointed downward to the floor, bulging in his t-shirt, the luscious brown areola outlined. “You wanna see muscles, you fucking asshole?? check out these muscles!!! FUCKING WORTHLESS WORM!!! I’M GONNA SHOW YOU WHAT THESE BIG MUSCLES CAN REALLY DO!!!” From the facing sofa by the picture window, the small pipsqueak pencil neck schmoe was seemingly ignoring it all. Transfixing, he was staring directly at Casey now, seemingly unaware of the threatening Gunst, who was apparently on the verge of beating the fat schmoe to death right across the room from him. Casey, ever sensitive, knew he was being stared at. He turned his head slightly and returned the pencilneck’s gaze. He smiled. The pencilneck smiled back, tentative, shy. Casey began to do a slow, subtle, bubbling pec dance in his t-shirt, his mammoth chest bouncing slightly, right to left, left to right, his nipples taut and pushing powerfully into the tight fabric. He smiled a little more broadly. “You like that?” he mouthed. The pencilneck stared and nodded slightly. He did like it. Gunst was now in full flex fury mode. He glided from his threatening front lat spread into an equally threatening front double biceps. POW! he shouted, Just Look at these fucking guns! BOOM! His monster biceps broiled with iron packed sinew, laced with mammoth, pulsing cephalic veins. BAM!!! he added, extending his meaty arms to their full length, working the fingers of his powerful fists before clenching them into furious fist-weapons. “These are muscles, asshole!” he shouted. “And they’re comin’ to get YOU!” And then he bent, slowly, inexorably, coming closer, this huge mass of muscle and rage, smashing his fist in his meaty palm, and grabbed the schmoe by the shirt front, pulling his terrified ugly face up to his spitting, furious mouth. “I’m gonna FUCK YOU UP. I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, and I’m not even gonna touch you with THESE fists. I’m JUST gonna do it with my pecs. And then with my dick. I’m gonna beat your face bloody with my pecs and my dick!” The schmoe was blubbering now. Casey regarded it all somewhat calmly. He’d seen such behavior before at the Home, of course, and the Twenty were always wild and crazy like this on the gym floor, particularly during White Cap workout nights. They often beat the shit out of each other, bounding back for more. Nothing new here. What’s more, he figured it was probably all an act. Gunst was probably being paid for this interesting little muscle play. It was all working, of course, because none of the other musclemen had moved, as if they knew what was coming. And if there had been any serious, real danger, Karim Abdul and Moster, whose combined strength couldn’t even be gauged, would have stepped in to pull Gunst back and subdue him. More to the point, now he realized he recognized the schmoe from online. Something about how he had abused women for 30 years or more, and was now out of the studio, nationally shamed. Some big fat slob who ruined women’s careers if they didn’t fuck him. But he was still super rich, and he’d profited off of his exploitation and cruelty. Now set adrift in the Hollywood community and unable to work ever again, he was still worth several hundred million, and was not feeling any pain. Until tonight, of course. Now he was gonna get what he deserved. Still, Casey was more interested in his potential new friend, who seemed sober, quiet, respectful, and agog at the size of his muscles. That was just the way Casey figured he’d like them. Quiet and worshipful. As he walked over to the distant sofa, his cock twitched heavily, rolled in his pants, and began to point and grow. His new little fan seemed to be the exception in the room. He sat alone on his sofa across the room, maybe 20 feet away from the group of fat schmoes on the long couch. He was just staring at Casey, longingly, neither talking nor texting. Standing before him now not six feet away, Casey smiled in a friendly way. The pipsqueak smiled back, staring at Casey’s physique and handsome face and his ever-growing crotch bulge, blooming in his tight slacks. Tentative, nervous, a little frightened, shaking. “Hi,” said Casey, friendly. He got closer and extended a huge paw. “I’m Casey.” “I know. I’m….I’m Mike.” Mike reached up to shake hands, frightened and brave, his soft little hand covered by Casey’s enormous mitt. He stared at the pumping forearms as Casey gently shook his hand. He was very careful not to crush the little guy’s fingers. The fat slob was screaming now. “Hey, I’m just here to see a little muscle! You want money? I got a lot of money! I'll give it to you. Leave me alone!! Don't hurt me!!!” Gunst laughed nastily. “You just wanted to see a little muscle??? How about FUCKING HUGE MUSCLE??” He started slapping the man lightly across the face, back and forth, little humiliating stinging slaps that popped and smacked in echoes bouncing across the vast living room. “Ouch. Ouch! Leave me alone….!” “You belong to ME, asshole.” Gunst scooped the fat man (who must have weighed 300 pounds or more) up from the deep, sheltering confines of the plush sofa cushions. Effortlessly swinging the screaming man wide above his head, the man’s legs and feet flying in a circle around the work, Gunst swept the slob high above his head and held him there. Carrying him from the room, he yelled back to Waring and Lang, “You boys can join me later when you’ve finished with this group. But for now - he’s mine!” He turned his head up to the impotently squirming producer and lowered him down to meet his face. He spat his words. “Come to think of it, I’m gonna start you out nice and easy. You like glutes? How about some world-class musclebutt? I sure hope so. Casue I’m gonna sit on your face for the next 45 minutes. You’ll get to see my muscleass up close and personal….” And then they were gone, down the corridor. Silence. The schmoes staring, transfixed. “What was all that about? Who is that guy?” Hension whispered loudly to Obatu. Obatu shrugged. “Some movie producer.” “So why did Gunst go off on him like that?” “Maybe he didn’t like his movies.” “Private client,” said Alvarez. “It’s a put-up job. Extra money.” “This guy is paying Gunst to park his muscle ass on him for 45 minutes?” “No.” Alvarez smiled and whispered back. “The dude’s wife. Extra credit for public humiliation.” “Are the bedrooms through here?” Gunst asked, in the distance, his voice now conversational. “Noooooo…!” screamed the fat man. Down the hall they could hear a door opened. “Would in here be good for you?” Gunst asked calmly. “It’s good for me.” The schmoe’s screams continued for a moment, even after the door was closed. And then, they stopped. Very suddenly. Replaced by another sound, that could only be described as “mmmmpppphhhllllfffffffff…!!!... ..uuummmmm…” Presumably Gunst had undone his belt, lowered his slacks, squatted down his naked perfect butt, and was now getting comfortable on the man’s face. “Let me know if you have trouble breathing,” they heard him say, as if he was asking to pass the salt. Mike had watched in silence, his face surprisingly unexpressive. Unfrightened by Gunst’s outrage. That was interesting. He was clearly more nervous about Casey’s unanticipated friendliness. Casey turned back to the roomful of rich Hollywood schmoes, now numbering eight. For schmoes was what they were, and now, Casey had a pretty good gut level understanding of what a schmoe actually was. A schmoe was a creepy, ugly, fat, rich guy who was clueless, mean, selfish, liked musclemen, and was willing to pay his pleasure, and assumed money was all he needed. That was a schmoe. Casey’s lip curled in contempt. And far from frightened or intimated by the display of alpha male dominance Gunst had just performed, effortlessly carrying a kicking and screaming man over his head and out of the room, the schmoes were now quietly giggling, texting, snorting coke and toking up. They seemed to have enjoyed what they just witnessed. Nasty fuckers, thought Casey. He turned back to little Mike. “You’re not like those other guys.” “No.” “Why are you here, then?” “…..well….it’s my house.” Holy Shit. The Jackpot. That was fast. “Really? This is your place?” Mike nodded. “Yes.” Casey went to the point. “You like big muscles?” Casey asked, excited now. No sense in wasting time with pleasantries, although truth to be told, Casey probably had never heard the word before. “Yes, I do.” “Okay, then, watch this. All for you.” Casey moved fast into a front lat spread, rotating from side to side. “See these fucking pecs? They’re huge. You like this?” Casey’s shirt stretched and seemingly groaned from the strain. “….Golly….” Mike was breathing heavily. “Will ya look at that…?” His hand involuntarily moved to his crotch. Casey winked at him, nodding and smiling, reeling off his obvious talents. “Obliques, intercostals, abs like bricks, pecs like cannonballs, all hard and solid. And that’s just for starters. Here’s a most muscular crab shot.” His shirt fabric began to tear as his muscles exploded with sinew, mass and popping veins. “How about big guns?” he asked, flexing his brutal biceps. “26 inches,” he whispered proudly. “These guns measure 26 inches. You wanna touch ‘em?” Mike nodded, dumbly, reached out with tentative fingers, as Casey bent down to offer a closer view of his huge guns. “Touch ‘em! Go ahead and feel ‘em. Stroke ‘em. Ever felt anything so hard?” Mike’s fingers lightly caressed Casey’s 26 inch right biceps. “Wow,” he breathed, and stared up into Casey’s eyes. “I got great glutes, too,” he said conspiratorially, bringing his face now close to Mike. “It’s the ass of death. You’ll see. You can see them later. Really awesome.” Hey, he thought. This guy was kinda good-looking. Maybe he only weighed about 135, but he was cute. And probably really rich. Casey got even closer, flexed that powerful biceps right under Mike’s nose. “See that vein? It’s like a snake, watch it now…go ahead, lick it. Yeah. That’s right. Lick…” “Casey,” warned Moster. “Not yet.” Casey turned back, straightened up. “Yes, sir,” Casey said. “Join us,” said Moster. Casey looked at Moster, nodded, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” And then returned to look down at Mike for a second. “Just a moment. I’ll be right back. He wants us to flex for your buddies. Don’t be scared. It’s just an act.” Mike was nodding feverishly. Casey could see his fly was bulging, and the bulge was not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe he was hung a little? He hoped so. “Well, you shouldn’t be scared,” Casey added. “The guys may beat up those other assholes a little, but I’ll protect you. I’m strong. You won’t get too hurt. And I’ll flex for you, and you can suck my dick awhile, and play with my glutes, and I’ll suck your dick, too, and maybe I’ll even fuck you, if you can take it. You can fuck me! Your butthole big enough? We all good?” Mike nodded, breathless, staring. “Great!” Casey was excited. This was going to be fun. “I like being worshipped! It’ll be dope. Hang on. This’ll only take a second. You wait.” The words came in a rush. “I…can wait….sure.” “Awesome. I’ll be right back.” Casey bounded back and rejoined the team. He readied himself, changed his face, scowled, and looked mean. Moster hid his smile. He was mightily amused. He should have foreseen that Casey would somehow ferret out the one dude who was signing the checks. The other men of the Twenty were, at the end of the day, too narcissistic to note personalities, character, differences, subtleties. For them, it was only about dominating, posing, flexing, showing off muscle. And the schmoes? Like any muscle lovers who lived closeted, rich, narrow, spoiled lives, they were only in it for themselves. But Casey definitely had possibilities. Moster made a mental note. He must remember not to mention this to Dr. Zaftig. Then he spoke, and his voice brooked no dissent. “Gentlemen, you will now silence your devices. Per the agreement in our mutual contract, there are to be no pictures taken, no recorded video, no texting, no emails, Instagram, Facebook or tweets.” There was a pause. Mike pulled his phone from his pocket and switched it off, looked up at Casey, and smiled. The schmoes stared up at Moster, not moving. “I’m waiting.” Still nothing. “Boys?....” said Moster quietly. Together with Casey, the nine muscle giants took a step towards the big sofa, alert, ready hands at their sides. There was a tense pause. “I didn’t sign any agreement…” one of the schmoes started to protest.
  12. lucasdelepiane

    When i was 18 yo. Spanish & English

    I also tried to write my story in English, but I apologize . Not so very good writing it . So if anyone knows or can correct the Spanish version of my story in good English I appreciate it . Thanks for reading , enjoy it . No puedo aguantarme, cada vez que tengo tiempo necesito levantar pesas. La sensación de tener los músculos al límite me genera mucho placer. El ejercicio más placentero es el de los bíceps, ver como comienzan a salir cada vez más venas es increíble. Mi pene se pone erecto al instante cuando comienzo con los ejercicios, los hago desde que soy adolescente, la primera vez que me acabe fue sin tocarme, y mientras colgaba de la barra levantando mi cuerpo hasta no poder más. En ese momento tenía 14 años y estaba en secundaría. En clase, mis compañeros varones me pedían que flexionara los brazos porque no podían entender como yo era el único que tenia venas en los brazos y bíceps redondos que estiraban la piel al hacer fuerza. Siempre había alguien que quería tocarlos y sentir lo duros que eran. Hubo un año en el que tuve que faltar un mes a clases y me perdí un examen importante de educación física, así que tuve un examen especial. Al terminar la prueba la profesora me hizo un comentario que puso mi pene erecto al instante; “Se nota que eres deportista, mira cómo se hinchan tus bíceps cuando levantas la mochila”. Y la verdad es que nunca fui deportista. Sólo he sentido emoción desde siempre por ejercitar mis músculos. Recuerdo la primera vez que me excité, yo era un niño, tendría 4 o 5 años. Fue en la playa, estaba haciendo un castillo de arena cuando paso un muchacho caminando por la orilla que tenía los brazos más grande que jamás había visto, en ese momento pensé; “ wow, tiene como pelotas en los brazos“. No me di cuenta que me gustaban los hombres hasta los 15, 16 años, porque antes de atraerme uno, siempre me atrajeron los músculos primero. Ahora, a los 27, no puedo imaginarme con una mujer si no es sintiéndome fuerte y dominante frente a ella. Pero prefiero los labios de un hombre. A los 18 años tuve mi primer relación sexual, y fue con un compañero de secundaría con el que asistía a un programa del campus deportivo que consistía en natación, atletismo y musculación para adolescentes. Hacíamos los mismos ejercicios aunque a mis 18 yo podía levantar más peso que él, siempre estaba a mi lado cuando tocaban los ejercicios de biceps, a él le gustaba tocarlos sin que nadie nos viera cuando estaban al limite con las venas que salían por todos lados, yo me excitaba mucho, pero ninguno decía una palabra al respecto. Aunque a el le iba mejor con los ejercicios de abdominales. Yo los tenía marcados, pero él realmente tenía músculos en el abdomen, con mucha separación entre ellos, músculos que realmente salían hacia afuera y dos venas grandes que los recorrían, era realmente excitante verlo hacer los ejercicios y llegar a los 300 abdominales sin parar sin problema y yo apenas podía hacer 120 seguidos. Pero era cuando nos tocaba hacer natación que era realmente admirable, verlo hacer los ejercicios de estiramiento antes de saltar al agua era realmente excitante, y se llevaba la atención de todos los presentes, incluyendo la mía. Y sus piernas, dios mío, con muchas venas y cuadriceps marcados. Supongo que las historias siempre comienzan de forma similar. Fue una noche en la que me quedé en su casa a dormir, él ya vivía sólo porque venía de otra ciudad para estudiar. Siempre me recibía con el torso desnudo, como si se quitara la camiseta al saber que yo iba. Casi siempre estaba saliendo de la ducha o algo así, que casualidad. Sus abdominales eran increíbles, no era más alto que yo, pero eran más largos y anchos que los míos, y cuando se reía se le tensaban de una forma que parecía que se iban a salir. El propuso hacer ejercicios antes de ponernos a dormir. Así que comenzamos con lagartijas, haciendo series de 50. En un momento el se coloca sobre mí, y el universo se cruzo por mi mente. Él quería saber si yo podía soportar su peso. Y sí que podía, hice 10 flexiones con el sobre mí, el sujetaba mis brazos y podía sentir como disfrutaba tocar mis venas, mis tríceps y bíceps flexionándose una y otra vez. En la última flexión en el suelo, puso su mano entre mis pectorales y yo la apreté con fuerza, sentí un temblor en todo mi cuerpo, un placer inigualable. pude sentir su rápida erección en mi trasero. Fue inevitable que me diera vuelta y comenzar a besarnos como si nuestros cuerpos fueran imanes. Mi erección hacia rato que no podía más, me baje la bermuda y comencé a tocar sus abdominales tensos con mi pene, él sacó el suyo y lo paso por mis pectorales, me pidió que lo apreté con fuerza, y así lo hice hasta que comenzó a lanzar líquido pre seminal, luego lo puso entre mis bíceps y me pedía que flexionara. Amaba sus abdominales, así que se los lamí, los chupe los besé, recorría sus venas con mi lengua. Rodeó sus piernas en mi cintura y me pidió que lo levantara en el aire, me puse de pié, mi pene estaba tan mojado que no tuvo problema en introducirse en su culo. “Hijo de puta, tu pene es muy ancho”, me dijo. Lo levante sobre mi pene 4 o 5 veces y no tarde en acabarme dentro de él. Temblaba de placer, él seguía lanzando líquido pre seminal pero aún no se había acabado. Me lamió y beso los pectorales un rato, así que volví a excitarme rápidamente y a tener una dura erección. El se acostó boca arriba en el borde de la cama y me pidió que lo cogiera estando yo parado, así que sujete sus piernas e introducí mi pene otra vez en su culo. El tocaba mis pectorales y los apretaba, hasta que él comenzó a temblar y tensar sus abdominales increíblemente acabando mucho mucho semen sobre ellos. ...................................................................................................................................... Whenever I have time I need to lift weights. The feeling of having muscles to the limit generates me much pleasure. The most enjoyable exercises are biceps, see how they start growing out veins is amazing. My penis becomes erect instantly when I start with the exercises, I do since I was a teenager, the first time I cum without touching me was hanging on the bar, lifting my body till you drop. At the time I was 14 and was in high school. My classmates asked me to touch my arms because they could not understand how I was the only one who had veins in the arms and stretching round biceps straining the skin. There was always someone who wanted to touch them and feel how tough they were. There was one year when I had to miss one month classes and I missed an important test of physical education, so I had a special examination. When I finished the test the teacher made a comment that instantly put my erect penis; "It shows that you are an athlete, watch your biceps swell when you lift the bag". And the truth is that I was never an athlete. I just felt emotion always for exercising my muscles. I remember the first time I got excited, I was a kid, I would 4 or 5 years. It was on the beach, he was making a sandcastle, when a boy pass walking front of me with the biggest arms I had ever seen, in that moment I thought; "Wow, has balls in arms". I did not realize that I liked men to 15, 16 years because before pull me one, I always attracted the muscles first. Now, at 27, I can not imagine me with a woman if not feeling strong and dominant front of her. But I prefer a man's lips. At 18 yo I had my first sexual relationship, and was with a high school classmate with attending a sports campus program consisting of swimming, athletics and bodybuilding for teens. We were doing the same exercises, although my 18 I could lift more weight than him, he was always by my side when biceps exercises, he liked to touch them without anyone seeing us, when they were on the border with the veins coming out all sides, that excited me to much, but neither said a word about it. Although he was the best with abdominal exercises. I had them marked, but he really had muscles on abs, with much separation between them, muscles really out and two large veins that roamed was really exciting to see him do the exercises and reach 300 sit-ups without stopping without problem and I could barely do 120 in a row. But it was when we had to do was really admirable swimming, watching him do stretching exercises before jumping into the water was really exciting, and the attention of everyone present had, including mine. And his legs, my god, with many veins and quadriceps marked. I guess the stories always begin similarly. It was a night when I stayed at home to sleep, he was living alone because he came from another city to study. Always received me with the naked torso, as if the shirt was removed to know that I would. He was almost always out of the shower or something, that chance. His abs were amazing, was not taller than me, but they were longer and wider than mine, and when he laughed he strained in a way that seemed to be going out. He proposed exercise before we sleep. So we started with lizards, doing sets of 50. At one point placed on me, and the universe crossed my mind. He wanted to know if I could bear her weight. And yes I could, did 10 push ups with over me, holding my arms and could feel enjoyed playing my veins, my triceps and biceps flexing again and again. In the last bending on the floor, put his hand between my chest and I pressed strongly, I felt a tremor all over my body, a unique pleasure. I could feel his rapid erection in my back. It was inevitable that I would turn and start to kiss as if our bodies were magnets. My erection while since I could no longer, lower my short pants and started playing his abs tight with my penis, he took his and he pass by my pecs, he asked me what I pressed hard, and I did until I started to launch pre seminal fluid, then I put it between my biceps and asked me to flex. I loved his abs, so I licked, kissed them suck, through his veins with my tongue. She wrapped her legs around my waist and asked me to pick him up in the air, I stood up, my penis was so wet that had no problem in entering your ass. "Motherfucker, your penis is very wide," he said. Lift it on my penis 4 or 5 times and not finish me late in it. Quivered with pleasure, he kept throwing pre-cum but still was not finished. I licked and kissed the pectoral a while, so I went back to get excited quickly and to have a hard erection. The lay face up on the edge of the bed and asked me to fuck him standing still, so hold your legs and Enter my penis in her ass again. He played my chest and squeezed until he began to shiver and tighten your abdominal incredibly much much cum running out on them.
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