Tall Tale, Part 6

[Reeza]

Tall Tale
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5

In this chapter, the long, slow buildup continues with some character development and . . . other stuff . . .

TALL TALE, Part 6
by Reeza

Dan, are you there? What’s that noise . . . are you jacking off? You are, aren’t you? This isn’t phone sex, ya know! I called you to talk about this because I didn’t know where else to go with it. Well I can’t help it if it’s making you hard! Do you want me to tone it down . . . give you just the facts? Okay. Yeah, I know it was hot; I was there. Should I continue? Okay. Try to keep it in your pants, though.

I was still trying to understand this metabolism thing, and Paul. How could he be real? I have to keep asking myself if it really happened. But it happened . . . I wouldn’t be this worked up if it didn’t happen.

So I had my first taste of Paul. Oh, man! If I could bottle it and sell it, I’d be a millionaire. Indescribable. He was still towering over me, looking down at me with that beautiful smile. "You know, you never answered my question, Greg."

"Which question?"

"About the quarter barrel. Do I look like I could drink a quarter barrel of beer in one chug." He backed off me a little so I could have another look at his fantastic mid-section.

"You look like you could do just about anything, Paul." I was gushing like a school girl.

"Yeah, well . . . that’s not really true, but thanks. What I’m asking you is . . . as big as I am, can you believe that a quarter barrel of beer would fit in my belly?" He was stroking his abs again, fingering the hair. "That’s almost eight gallons of beer."

I tried to picture eight gallons. I had to admit, it didn’t seem likely. But I wanted to believe it. Then I wondered why I wanted to believe it. Why does this appeal to me? It’s weird, right?

In the absence of an answer, he went on. "When I was younger and I first started to realize that I had this . . . metabolism thing . . . I kept pushing the limits, you know? Trying to figure out how much it would take to really fill me up. I ate like crazy. My parents couldn’t believe it. At first it seemed like the normal teenager appetite, but then it started to get out of hand. I was cleaning them out almost every day, but I never got much bigger. That was before I figured out how to grow. They thought somebody else was stealing food from our kitchen, because there was no way I could have eaten that much. What they didn’t know, because I was afraid to tell them about it, was that I was getting heavier and stronger. Not bigger, remember . . . just harder, more dense." As he described this, he ran one hand over the opposite forearm, clenched his fist, and felt the hardness of his muscle.

"I knew this wasn’t normal, so I kept it to myself. I wanted to be normal, but I really liked what I was going through. It was exciting. I jacked off a lot, like most horny teenagers, but I wasn’t thinking about girls like other guys talked about. I was thinking about myself . . . my body . . . eating. Yeah. Eating got hooked up with sex in my head because I liked what it was doing to my body. I started to look at guys, comparing myself to them, noticing what I liked or didn’t like about each one. I started to wish I looked like certain men . . . really masculine guys . . . athletes, guys on TV, in magazines. I had fantasies about them. Then my parents found a magazine in my bedroom. It wasn’t even porn . . . just one of those fitness magazines with the overtrained, ripped up models on the cover. They panicked, and it was clear what they were thinking. So I had more to hide."

He was really into telling his story, almost like he forgot I was there.

"And then I hurt somebody at school. I didn’t mean to . . . well, I guess I did . . . but I didn’t realize I could hurt him that easily. This big idiot jock, a football player. He was always making fun of people, fucking with people. He caught me looking at him in the locker room and didn’t like it. He threatened me . . . brought his fist up to punch me . . . and I grabbed him. His arm just snapped. I could feel it break in my hand. I let go immediately. Then chaos . . . yelling . . . the coach, the principal, police . . . a big scene. I was so scared people would find out about me. He told everyone that I was a ‘faggot,’ but that’s not what I was worried about. It was the other secret . . . the one that no one would have believed anyway. They assumed it was some kind of freak accident. No charges were filed, but I was banned from sports. Then my parents decided to take me out of school anyway. They didn’t want people to know about my ‘tendencies.’ The preacher told them to keep me away from other boys so I wouldn’t ‘cultivate evil thoughts.’ Shit. I haven’t thought about all this for a while."

His story was bizarre, but also sort of familiar, like I could understand what he went through. I wanted him to know I was listening. "That’s really fucked up, Paul. Mm . . . maybe you should see a therapist or something."

He scoffed at that, but he lightened up. "So anyway, my Mom did the home schooling thing. She had been a teacher before. But I grew up pretty isolated. I was their only child. We had 40 acres, and my Dad kept me busy with a lot of farm work. I acted as normal as possible for them, but I kept exploring my limits and learning about my body and how it worked."

"I tried lifting weights, but it never got me anywhere. I was already strong, so it was too easy. Then I read something about focusing all your attention on the muscle you’re trying to train. This guy said it made a difference, helped him with the size and shape of his muscles. So I tried it. It didn’t do a thing for me while I was working out. But when I was alone, jacking off or just thinking about hot guys, I started to imagine the size and shape of what my muscles could be . . . and that was it . . . I figured it out. I started to shape my body according to what I liked in other guys."

"Within a couple of years I grew like a weed . . . way too tall. I would have looked like a bean pole if I hadn’t figured out how to fill myself out. I was careful to do it gradually, but sometimes I would steal food from the farms nearby and grow my muscles at night. I would get huge, just to see what I could do, and then I would burn it off before morning. It wasn’t easy, but I learned how to control it."

As I listened, I started to realize that there might be some disadvantages to being like Paul. But from where I was standing, it all looked good, you know? But I was curious. "Paul, . . . I don't get it . . . you’re saying you could swallow eight gallons of beer . . . all at once? And all that food you were talking about . . . how would you keep it down? Where would it go? Are you gonna tell me you have a hollow leg or something?"

"You mean you don’t believe me. Why am I even telling you this?" He sounded surprised, but also annoyed.

"No, that’s not it! I don’t want to piss you off again! I believe the part about growing because I saw you do it. I just don't get how it works."

He took a deep breath and let it out. I could feel the moist heat of it. "I guess I can’t blame you. I had all the same questions. About how much I can eat or drink . . . it’s hard to explain because I’m not sure what it feels like for normal guys to eat or drink a lot. I just feel this . . . pressure . . . building up inside. It doesn’t hurt or anything. It feels good. Like I said, it’s all tied in with sex for me. The more I put in there, the more I feel this intensity . . . I call it potential . . . for strength, for muscle . . . does that make sense?"

I hesitated to answer him, but then I went for it. "I don’t know . . . but it sounds really fuckin’ hot!" I was picturing him as a highly pressurized container of muscle and sex! He exuded strength and masculinity like no other man. It radiated from him like his intense body heat.

He smiled at my remark. "I don’t know how I got to be this way, Greg. I can’t ask questions without telling people more than I want them to know, so I gave up trying to figure it out. I left the farm, came to the city, and learned to enjoy it. And I’ve been enjoying it a lot!"

"I bet you have." I thought of all the possibilities. What it must be like to be Paul.

"Speaking of which . . ." He rubbed his hands together. "What about you, shorty?" He was kidding with me now, with his sly, crooked grin. "With your looks, you must see a lot of action."

"Well . . . you know . . ." I wasn’t going to tell him I hadn’t gone out for months. As usual, I wanted to shift the focus away from me. "Hey, what about those guys in the back room? Were you . . . you know?"

"Those guys? No . . . not this time. I was just stringing them along. I take advantage of them to make some extra cash. Those stupid frat boys love the thing I do with the quarter barrel. It’s one of my favorite games. Like I said before, they get off on it, but they would never admit it."

"So you really drank a whole quarter barrel of beer in there?" I still didn’t believe him.

"Hell, yeah! For 500 bucks? You bet I did. And the calories were like a bonus. That’s on top of all the pizza and shit they had in there. It’s a sweet deal for everybody involved . . . well, mostly for me. I’m sure they left here pretty frustrated. They’ll be back."

"So what did you do with all that beer? Besides taking the biggest piss I’ve ever seen." I know I was asking too many questions, but this metabolism thing was fascinating.

"Well, Greg . . . I used some of it to make my chest thicker for you . . ." He was using that low voice again. He rubbed his huge pectoral . . . the one I had tasted. "And some of it on my arms when you were watching me in the mirror before . . ." Purring. He flexed one arm, watching the biceps swell into a gigantic ball.

"Damn! How big is that?" I wondered if I would get to taste that, too.

"Big enough." With a smug smile. "I don’t do measurements. All that matters to me is that I’m a lot bigger than the guys I’m with. I still like to compare myself to other guys, except now it’s a whole new ball game." He flexed again. No one could measure up to him. "This is as big as I like to get when I’m out in public. I don’t want to draw too much attention. I already bulked up earlier today so I could intimidate the frat boys."

Without thinking, I said, "So this is it? You’re not getting any bigger?" Blurting. My biggest weakness, right?

He paused and looked at me. His eyes got a little narrow again and he shook his head. "You know, Greg, you really have a knack for saying the wrong thing." Slowly, deliberately, he raised both arms into a double biceps flex. He flexed hard. "I’m not big enough for you? Do you normally go for bigger guys than me?" Yep, he was annoyed with me. "Let’s see your arms, Greg!"

"Oh, no . . . I didn’t mean it like that, I just . . ."

"Come on, big guy . . . put ‘em up! You’re a big construction stud . . . let’s see your guns!" He pinned my arms against the wall on either side of my head. "Now flex!"

"Don’t do this . . . there’s no point . . . come on, man!"

"Say my name, Greg."

"Paul!" This again!

"Now flex those guns, Greg! Blow me away."

I didn’t want to, but I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until I did it. I flexed. My arms aren’t bad, you know. I still work them more than anything else. I like them to fill the sleeves of my tee shirts . . . to ball up when I bend my arms. I still see people glancing at them when they think I won’t notice. But I’m always looking out of the corners of my eyes. You know how I am. So I flexed for him. Reluctantly.

"Is that all you’ve got, Greg? Come on! Flex those babies!" Meanwhile I’m looking at his enormous arms on either side of me, tensing and twitching with muscle, lined with veins. I noticed his thick triceps had a fine coat of blonde hair that drew my attention away from his immense biceps. My wrists were hurting.

"Jesus! Paul, come on . . . this isn’t funny. I wasn’t saying you aren’t big enough . . ."

"Are you flexing yet, Greg?" He was really pushing my buttons now.

"Paul! Seriously . . . your arms are probably bigger than my legs! Knock it off!"

"Hmm." He took some pressure off my wrists and looked down at his own arms. "I like that, Greg. Let’s find out." He let go of my arms and took a step back. "Take off your jeans."

"What? W . . . wait a minute!"

"Take them off. Come on. This will be good." Stern.

"No! I’m not . . ."

"I’m not asking, Greg." In a low rumble.

"But I don’t . . ."

His left arm shot forward. He hooked his oversized hand under my right armpit. His thumb and fingers wrapped halfway around my shoulder. Tight! And he picked me up, roughly. Damn, he was strong! My weight was like nothing to him. I dangled at an awkward angle. It felt like my shoulder might separate. "Ow! Paul! What the fuck?!"

"You should have done it . . ."

"I was going to . . ."

"Not fast enough!" He unbuttoned my jeans with his right hand. "You don’t seem to learn, Greg." He raised me towards the ceiling and yanked my boots off. I swear my feet almost popped off with them. I felt like a small child being undressed by an angry mother. My heart was pounding, like . . . not like I was scared . . . there was something exciting about it. Because I had no control over it, I think. I always want to be in control. So I guess it was fear . . . I still don’t know.

"Paul, just put me down and I’ll do it . . ."

"Why, Greg? Are you going to tell me you don’t like this? You creamed all over me the first time I did it!" He pulled off my socks and threw them where my boots landed.

"That doesn’t mean you can just . . ."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want, Greg! That’s the best thing about this . . . I get to be in control! So shut up and stop pretending you don’t like it."

"I don’t let people do whatever . . ."

"Oh, yeah? Well it might be new to you, but I know you like it." He pulled on the legs of my jeans. They slid down my hips, exposing my bare ass and my hardening dick. "See what I mean, Greg? It gives you away every time!" He pulled the jeans all the way down and over my feet, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He held me up in that painful grip while he looked at the full length of my naked body. I felt my testicles shrink. "I wouldn’t have pegged you as a ‘free baller’, Greg, but I like it." I hadn’t done laundry for a while . . . I was out of clean underwear.

He smacked his free hand against one side of my ass, gave it a firm squeeze, and then ran his hand slowly down the back of my thigh. He paused to feel the thickness of it . . . appraising me. "Not bad, Greg. Pretty solid!" He continued down to my calf, wrapping his hand around it a little too tightly . . . watching my face for a reaction. It actually felt good, but my shoulder was killing me. "Nice hair, Greg. I like a man with dark hair on his legs." He ruffled the hair on my shin with his thumb, then with the backs of his fingers. Then, mercifully, he set me down.

"God dammit! I think you broke my fuckin’ shoulder!" I massaged it.

"If I wanted to break it, you would know it was broken." He pressed me against the wall with one finger in the middle of my chest. "Now stay there," he growled. He picked up my jeans and started searching the pockets. He found my keys and my wallet and threw them on the floor near my boots and socks. "We’re gonna answer your question, Greg. Are my arms bigger than your legs?" He slid his right arm into one of the legs of my jeans.

"It’s just an expression, but . . ."

"Oh, yeah?" He raised his eyebrows as he pushed his fist past the bottom of the pant leg. Holy shit! His forearm completely filled the space where my calf used to be! He stretched his arm straight out from his shoulder, clenched his fist and flexed his wrist back and forth a few times. I could hear quiet cracking noises from the joints. He pulled the waistband of my jeans onto his shoulder and gathered the excess fabric with his left hand until the denim was taut along the length of his arm. God! The thickness of his upper arm was obviously more than a match for my thigh! He looked me in the eye with an arrogant smirk. And then he started to flex.

He curled his fist up and bent his elbow, gradually. He was really putting on a show, now. My dick prepared itself for a standing ovation. The mound of biceps muscle expanded, stretching the denim tightly around it’s girth. His expression didn’t change as he continued to glare at me. He tightened the flex smoothly as the seam in my jeans began to open over the peak of his arm. The strong threads popped, surrendering in small groups before the invincible foe. As his fist approached his ear, a massive, tanned ball of muscle pushed up through the breach.

"Does that answer your question, Greg?"

"Fuuuuuuck!!" My dick rose up.

"Let’s just make sure you’re satisfied, Greg." He pulled the torn jeans off his right arm and inserted his left arm into the opposite leg of my pants. "I’ll do an encore for you." As he drew them up to his shoulder, I impulsively squeezed my erection with one hand. "Don’t touch that!" He scolded me . . . loudly! I immediately plastered my hands against the wall tiles. My dick was so startled it drooped a little. He sheathed his outstretched arm in denim, twisted and tensed his thick forearm, and abruptly pulled his arm up into a hard flex. The fabric gave way with a loud rip along the front of his arm, exposing the sharply defined curve below the head of his biceps.

"Ohhh!" I moaned. My dick lurched upwards and bobbed it’s head. I wanted to grab it so badly, but I knew I couldn’t. "Holy fucking shit, Paul! That was amazing!"

With a satisfied smile and a small nod, he dropped my ruined jeans on top of my other stuff. "So, let’s back up, Greg. Am I big enough for you?"

"Yes, Paul, yes!! You’re perfect! You’re so fucking huge . . ."

"So I’m not going to hear any more complaints?"

"I wasn’t complaining! I swear! Jesus fucking Christ, Paul! There’s nothing to complain about!" I was groveling. I was actually fucking groveling!

"Your little dick seems to be hard again, Greg."

"Yes. Yes, it is, Paul."

"Are you going to come on me again, Greg?"

I couldn’t decide what the best answer would be, so I told the truth. "I don’t think so, Paul."

"What’s that? You don’t think you’re going to come again? Why is that, Greg?"

"Well . . . it’s too soon . . . I just did it . . ."

"You don’t think you can come twice? Jesus, Greg! How old are you?"

"Umm . . ."

"You’re going to come again, Greg." Factual information.

"I am?"

"You are. Would you like that, Greg?"

"Yes . . . please. Paul."

"That’s good! You’re actually learning! You’re going to come again. But there have to be rules, and the rules must be followed. Do you understand, Greg?"

"Yes, Paul."

"Now here are the rules, so listen carefully. There are only two rules . . . you can’t touch yourself . . . and you won’t come until I tell you it’s time. Got it? Repeat the rules, Greg."

"B . . . wh . . . I . . ." I wanted to ask what would happen if I broke the rules, but I couldn’t.

"Repeat the rules, Greg!"

"I . . . I can’t touch myself . . . and I won’t come . . . until you say it’s time. Paul."

My heart was thumping against my ribs like a flock of birds flying into a pane of glass. I swear to God, my dick was already turning purple! And he’s standing there, bigger than life, hands on his hips, looking at me like I’m his next meal. I don’t even know who I was in there! Nobody ever treated me like that. But I wanted it. That’s what I don’t get. I actually wanted it to be that way.

Hang on, Dan . . . I need to get my smokes again.

*****

To be continued . . . Tall Tale Part 7

P.S. - Some of you might be disappointed to hear that Paul doesn’t want to grow any more right now. Sorry. However, the purpose of including the history and explanations of Paul's abilities was to set him up for future adventures beyond the men’s room in the back of the bar. Now that you know he can reduce the size of his muscles, you may have guessed that he will grow again some other day. You might also be interested to know that many of the peripheral characters mentioned in the story so far have roles in other scenarios that are swirling around in my head and keeping me awake at night.

And the sex scene is coming next, I promise. No more teasers. Like Greg, I hope I have the stamina to meet expectations.

Reeza

[Bradykins]

Awesome!

Ugh I can't wait for the next part. I still have my own version of this story going in my head, involving me...someone that would rather have Paul as a lover, than someone who was dick to him in the beginning.

[liftmehir]

Dang man great stuff! You just keep working on the next chapter, I can't wait. Billy

[rairf]

Reeza~ I'm nearly breathless just from reading this. I was expecting Paul to hold Greg's leg next to his arm and compare, but no, you had to blow my mind with the jeans flexing. Do you have an ETA on the next chapter? Just need to prepare myself....

[Reeza]

Remember the rules? Repeat the rules, rairf.

[BGryphon18]

Wow... just... wow. I have to give you kudos on an excellent chapter. I started out enjoying this story, but didn't really find much of a... spark about it, however with this one you not only gave me a spark, you gave me an explosion (in more ways than one). The "scene" with the jeans... absolutely indescribable... okay well you DID describe it with fantastic detail and build up, but that ranks up there in the most phenomenal scenes I've ever read. Fantastic job and I eagerly await your next chapter and/or story (fingers crossed on the and). You've got a real talent and I'm thrilled that you are cultivating it and allowing us to reap the benefits as well. Keep up the amazing work.

[Blake]

[quote=BGryphon18;75427]Wow... just... wow. I have to give you kudos on an excellent chapter. I started out enjoying this story, but didn't really find much of a... spark about it, however with this one you not only gave me a spark, you gave me an explosion (in more ways than one). The "scene" with the jeans... absolutely indescribable... okay well you DID describe it with fantastic detail and build up, but that ranks up there in the most phenomenal scenes I've ever read. Fantastic job and I eagerly await your next chapter and/or story (fingers crossed on the and). You've got a real talent and I'm thrilled that you are cultivating it and allowing us to reap the benefits as well. Keep up the amazing work.[/quote]

I couldn't agree more, have had several explosions...LOL

[rairf]

I won't touch myself. I won't come until it's time. I won't touch myself. I won't come until it's time. I won't touch... dammit!!!!!!

[Bradykins]

Originally Posted by rairf

I won't touch myself. I won't come until it's time. I won't touch myself. I won't come until it's time. I won't touch... dammit!!!!!!

Hmm...I must remember these.

But I don't even remember 5 minutes ago.