Random Acts of Muscle

[V.R.Goh]

Here's a story that isn't a story. How is that possible, you may ask? Well, anyone who wants can just write random muscle-related mini-stories whenever they want in this thread. Have fun. Here's a starting point.
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It was the moment Mitch had anticipated ever since he met his boyfriend, Brad. Brad had promised that, one day, he would fulfill Mitch's fantasy of seeing a guy hulk out of his clothes. He practically bounced with anticipation when Brad told him to come over to his condo at seven o'clock that night, saying only, "Hulk smash." Mitch knew this to be Brad's way of saying, "I'm gonna hulk out for you."

Mitch was always turned on by really muscular guys, the bigger the better. While Mitch was no slouch, weighing in at 175 pounds of lean muscle on 5'9" frame, Brad made him look nearly anorexic.

Brad, on the other hand, was 6'8" and weighed in at a scale-straining 325 pounds of lean, ripped muscle. Everyone at his gym told him that he should enter a bodybuilding contest, but Brad declined. He wanted to become a fitness model, and he certainly was handsome enough for the job. Just that morning, he was contacted by a representative from Abercrombie and Fitch, specifically the division that hires all those shirtless guys that pose for their pictures. One of their interns whom Brad trains (he also works as a personal trainer) dropped his (Brad's) name with his (the intern's) boss in the modeling division. They wanted Brad to pose for a few photos the very next day. Brad then decided to celebrate with Mitch by giving him his fantasy.

Mitch, ever the guy who hates to be late for anything, arrived at Brad's place at 6:50pm. Since Mitch had a key to his boyfriend's condo, he let himself in. Brad was busy doing the dishes when he heard the door open.

"That you, Mitch?" called Brad from the kitchen as he finished the last of the dishes.

"You bet, lover," Mitch responded as he sat down on the leather sofa. "So, how does it feel to be A&F's newest hunk?" Mitch heard the flow of water cease as Brad turned the faucet off.

"Incredible," Brad responded enthusiastically as he walked into the living room. He wore a bright red muscle shirt that looked a size or two too small and a pair of blue jeans that were practically painted on his redwood-sized legs.

"It's time," Brad said dramatically. Mitch shifted in anticipation as Brad raised his arms until they were parallel to the floor. Slowly and deliberately, he bent his arms at the elbow, gradually flexing his biceps. As he contracted the mountainous muscles of his upper arms, a small tear began to form along the sleeves. This rips divided the sleeves in two equal pieces, forced wider by Brad's steel-like muscles. The pieces of his sleeves rolled away like the peel of a banana. Brad then began to quickly pump his arms, forcing the sleeves to tear more and more. Eventually, his shirt sleeves were split all the way to the elbow. What remained was a pair of bulging biceps that peaked like the Himalayas and were just as hard. Mitch adjusted his growing hard-on as Mitch smiled.

"That's just part one," said Brad proudly. He planted his fists on his hips and performed a devastating lat spread. Massive muscles like the fins of a manta ray spread across his roadmap-like back, forcing a large tear down the rear of the shirt and two more along each side. It took all of Mitch's willpower to keep his hands off his throbbing erection.

Brad then clasped his hands in front of his navels and began to flex his pecs one by one. Left, right, left, right, together, faster and faster he bounced his meaty chest. Soon, he looked to have two weasels fighting each other under his shirt. Slowly the shirt expanded until, with an agonizing rip, the fabric ripped across his thickly muscled chest. What remained of the shirt fell away in tatters, revealing his powerful pecs, his linebacker-worthy traps, his cannonball shoulders, and his eight-pack abs that could probably grate cheese.

By this time, Mitch lost the battle of wills with his cock and was stroking away on himself. The sight of his boyfriend tearing his clothes using only the sheer brute strength of his muscles was too much for him to bear. He continued to jerk off, wanting to cum as a tribute to the muscle god that he loved with all his heart. Brad, however, was not done. As he rose onto his toes, his adamantine calves tore his jeans up to the knees with a few flexes. A few flexes of his titanic thighs reduced the legs of his jeans to shreds. With a single motion, Brad tore off the remnants of his pants, revealing a green Speedo.

"Now, for my favorite pose," Brad said with a large smile on his face. "I came up with this one just for you. Abs, quads, and cock." Mitch moaned in ecstasy as Brad pur his hands behind his head. He put one leg forward and, with a crunch, tightened his abs, quadriceps, and his sizable cock. Slowly, the small Speedo stretched until, with a small snap, it surrendered to the cock it failed to contain.

Brad then went into his final pose. In a single motion, he flexed a devastating most-muscular pose that would win him the Mr. Olympia in a second. This most giant-killer of poses sent Mitch over the edge. He yelled with sexual bliss as he came, ivory cum spewing from his engorged dick. He continued to erupt to his boyfriend's body as Brad watched.

"Oh, God, Brad!" Mitch yelled in orgasmic nirvana. "You're a muscle god! I can't stop cumming!"

[Mad Dog]

Steve was special. He'd been born with the ability to make his any wish come true, altering reality at will. And the best part was that he could make it so that no one would notice it if he didn't want them to. He didn't ask to be born with god-like powers. It just happened.

He was at the beach, his favorite place to watch beautiful bodies traipse about. Or make them. Whichever came first. Today he was standing by a juice stand, sipping on his favorite drink when he noticed a small, weak kid. He piqued Steve's curiosity and so he delved into his mind. His name was David. He was actually 14! This shocked Steve, since the kid looked maybe 9, tops. He was extremely short and skinny for his age, which made him the brunt of jokes as he was beginning high school. He was extremely depressed and if things didn't change soon, he was likely going to commit suicide. That made Steve gasp out loud.

Surely, he had to help this boy out. But maybe there was a fun way to do it, as well. He looked around and spotted a kid that looked like he could be David's age. The boy's name was Javier. He was Hispanic and, to put it mildly, obese. He had a severe weight problem that was causing serious health issues, but no matter what he did, the weight wouldn't come off. He came from a family of big people, and Steve could tell that his weight problem was largely genetic, and could not be solved through just diet and exercise. Javier was pushed around a lot at school, to the point where he was just as depressed as David. The next part made Steve gasp even louder: Javier and David were soul mates! If they ever got together, it would be the most loving, fulfilling romance of their lives! But... as things were, they were so caught up in misery that they didn't even notice each other, even though they were not more than 50 feet away from each other.

This was bad. Steve wasn't one to sit back idly while someone was suffering like this. He was going to help these two, and he was going to make sure they got everything they deserved and more! It all started with a thought...

The world froze. David, who had been sitting on the sand looking self-conscious, began to change. At first he just started getting taller, lankier. His proportions held as he grew taller and taller and taller, his arms and legs lengthening. He started out at a very short 5'2", but his growth made him rocket past 5'8", stretch past 6'2" until it finally seemed to settle at 6'8", making the formerly insignificant David tower over everyone else at the beach! His swimsuit, a pair of trunks that were far too big for him before, now seemed to be too tight on his proportionately larger frame. Steve figured that couldn't feel too good, so he changed the trunks into a form-fitting red speedo.

At the moment, David looked pretty strange. A 6'8" beanpole with practically no muscle mass whatsoever standing around in a tight speedo that didn't seem to show off much of anything except for his bony ass and the fact that he had next to nothing to fill the pouch with. Steve smiled. That wouldn't last for long. Now the real changes started. It began in the chest. David was flat as a board in that department... until Steve's powers worked their magic. Soon he had a small outcropping of a chest, his pecs slowly filling up with growing muscle fibers. Turning his attention below, David began to sculpt the abdominals. He wanted a six pack and soon the hint of one lay there, faint bumps lining his core. He paid attention to David's traps and delts, making them swell bit by bit until they had shape and form. Down to his arms, where the biceps and triceps began to develop, and his forearms swelled with muscular striation.

Although Steve definitely adored upper body, he went to work on the lower body. David's thighs ballooned a bit, giving them muscular shape, the calves swelling as well. Finally, Steven remembered the back muscles and David's torso began to gain a bit of a V-shaped taper to it. Steven looked at his creation. David looked like a decently athletic young man now. Who just happened to be really, really tall.

But Steve wasn't here just to make David "athletic." No, that early growth was just to keep proportions in mind. Whenever Steve just grew people willy-nilly because he was impatient or horny, they never quite wound up proportional. They still looked huge and handsome, but their arms would be bigger than they should be, or their chest would be extremely prominent, or their thighs would be gigantic... whatever was on his mind that day. While that was fun, he didn't want to mess around with these two.

Steve put Dave to the side for now and turned his attention to Javier. The first thing that had to go was all that blubber. Javier's body fat began to dwindle until he looked like he was at an average weight. He actually didn't look too bad, once the manboobs and triple chins were gone. He was a normal kid. Of course, now the baggy swim trunks he was wearing had fallen to the sand because his waist was trim now and his thighs weren't huge sacks of fat. Steve gave him another red speedo (red was his favorite color) to cover him up. He thought Javier deserved to be just as tall as his soul mate, so up he sprouted, going from his average 5'9" frame to a towering 6'8", just like David.

Steve made sure Javier's body would match David's, too, sculpting him like a master, making the shoulders bigger, the chest thicker, the back wider, his thighs meatier... even his intercostals and obliques. He looked almost completely different from his former fat self now. He was about a foot taller and looked like an athlete! The only thing that remained to show that it really was Javier was his face, which kept that sad look. Steve smiled. He wouldn't be sad for too much longer.

Now that his two boys were about matched, it was time for Steve's favorite part. The muscle! Yes, the boys were somewhat muscular now, but that didn't cut it as far as Steve was concerned. He LOVED muscle on men, and he thought these two poor boys deserved more of it. A LOT more! Their bodies started to swell, gaining more muscle everywhere at a gradual pace. Soon David looked like a swimmer, lithe and muscular, his groups very defined. It was a total 180 for Javier to look anything close to sleek, but he did! The speedos finally looked appropriate on these two! But they kept bulking up, soon reaching the realm of gymnasts. Their muscle bellies were long and full. Their shoulders had mounded up, their pecs nice and thick. Rounded, even. Their biceps produced a nice bulge. They had the kind of power that could spring them into a standing backflip, or propel them on the uneven bars like a gold medalist. Striation was happening all over, too, with the actual fibers of their strong muscles becoming visible. Their glutes began to fill their speedos in earnest, bubbling out as if they had been performing countless squats with heavy weights.

But then, they were leaving the realm of gymnasts and entering the kingdom of bodybuilding! They looked like two junior bodybuilders, with pumped, defined, striated mounds of muscle bulging all over. Their individual intercostals and obliques were razor sharp now, and their lats were ballooning to give them a truly wicked taper! They were nothing but lean muscle, and that muscle was built to be developed! Their quads were pretty hefty now, their teardrop shape becoming visible, the adductor and abductor muscle swelling in time, creating an amazing sweep and filling up the space between their legs. Their calves were rock hard stones. Their pecs were really starting to balloon, but filling with dense muscle rather than air. There was a definite separation between the upper and lower pecs, and they had cleavage between the two sacks of muscle, as well! Their arms were being pushed out by their lats and growing alongside, becoming powerful limbs capable of curling and lifting heavy weights.

They were starting to leave the juniors behind, becoming really massive! Leanness remained, but a fullness, a density, a mass that had been lacking was now coming in full force, causing their muscles to start to engorge, augmenting themselves bigger and bigger, pushing at their neighbors, competing for space and size on their giant bodies. They were vascular, too, veins wrapping themselves around their enormous muscles, pumping them to even larger heights. Soon they were heavyweights, their mass and size undeniable, their bodies almost radiating power. Steve licked his lips and kept going.

That's right, soon they were beyond even that, bigger than the biggest bodybuilders, gifted with muscle so hugely developed that it took all of Steve's concentration to remember that they were still just boys. Boys that were built bigger than Ronnie Coleman. In fact, they made Mr. Olympia look like an also-ran. Their bodies were just developed to a level that made all other men pale in comparison. They were still in perfect proportion... it's just that the proportions beggared the imagination.

Steve didn't think they were ready, though. They had exceptional bodies... but if you looked up at their faces, they were the normal, average faces of two 14 year-old boys. Steve decided to start with David. Since he was named after the legendary work of art, Steve decided he should look at least as beautiful. David's features began to transform, conforming more to classical ideas of beauty. His nose streamlined and shrunk a bit. His eyebrows got a more pleasing arch. His lips thickened a little more. His cheekbones became prominent. Steve kept intensifying his beauty, even past Michelangelo's creation, pumping more and more attractiveness into this boy until he caught himself almost falling in love with his creation! Shit, he thought, I almost took that one too far! Steve got a hold of himself and looked at David. Wow, he was a work of art. A face that could make your heart skip a beat atop a body that looked like some sort of exaggerated comic book superhero. Yum!

Now that David was more or less done, Steve turned his attention to Javier. The mocha-colored muscle god was in the same situation as David had been. A bland face on a rockin' bod. Steve began to push beauty upon Javier until he looked like a movie star. Was that enough? No way, Steve thought. He increased it until he looked like one of those models in magazines with faces so perfect you wondered if they had been grown in a lab. Still not handsome enough. Steve pushed the boundaries of masculine beauty farther and farther until he almost came looking at Javier. He had to ease himself back from the brink of orgasm before he could glance at Javier again. He added some five o' clock stubble. God. He was getting carried away today.

He stepped back and looked at the both of them. They were built beautifully, sculpted to nigh perfection. But still Steve felt something was missing. Then it clicked. How could he be so stupid?! These two were built like men (aside from the boyishly beautiful faces) but they were still hung like kids. Their speedos were straining simply from the pressure their enormous, bulbous glutes were putting on the material. Their crotches were still very flat. Steve corrected that as bulges slowly became noticeable under the red material. He could hear the speedo stretch as the endowments became bigger and bigger, the balls and length of cock becoming able to be distinguished underneath the elastic material. He didn't want their last stitch of clothing to rip itself asunder, so he allowed it to grow along with their bodies. Still the cocks and balls grew. They had reached average endowment, about three or four inches soft, but Steve swelled them beyond that. What would be the point of being average now? Soon they were six inches soft, but it still looked sort of small compared to their enormous frames. Eight inches soft and balls like a couple of jumbo eggs. Getting there, but still didn't seem spectacular enough. Ten inches and balls like oranges. Damn, tasty-looking morsels! But these boys deserved better! Twelve fucking inches soft with balls the size of grapefruits. Steve whistled. This was a sight to behold, these uber-muscular bodies squeezed into nothing more than a red speedo that was having trouble containing all of their cock and balls, not to mention their mammoth ass cheeks. The cocks swelled a bit more to thirteen unbelievable inches flaccid and Steve covered his own mouth in shock. Damn, he was really going too far today! But it looked sooo good on the two young studs, so he left it the way it was. Besides, he didn't like to make genitals smaller.

Their bodies looked done. Steve was afraid to trust himself to change them any more after going so overboard. Now came the details of their lives. He enjoyed the fact that these were two 14 year old boys in massively muscular and hugely endowed bodies far beyond the reach of any normal man, so he decided that these kids still had the normal amount of puberty to go through. They'd keep growing larger, more muscular, stronger until they reached adulthood! He wondered how hung they'd be by then... He also decided to increase their strength. By a lot. They were dozens of times stronger than they looked, and they looked PLENTY strong. That detail made him giddy. Why not make them extraordinary? They already looked the part! He upped their intellects until the two of them were super-geniuses. The smartest people to ever walk the earth and they were only 14. He wanted them to keep their options for a future open, so he made them extremely talented. Beautiful singing voices. Incredible ability to act. Natural poise and grace if they wanted to model. Aptitude at ever sport he could think of. Leadership skills out the wazoo. He could tell they were naturally kind and generous boys already, so he didn't have to alter that. They wouldn't get big heads and they'd share the bounty of their successes. And, of course, he made it so that they wouldn't have to exercise to maintain their hulking bodies. That would take so much time, how would they find time to do anything else?! He barely had to do anything about their libido. The horse-like equipment he'd given them already saw to the fact that they could cum like fire hoses several times a day and be ready for more.

Now to bring the both of them together. He made it so that they had met each other here on the beach a few weeks ago. After falling deeply in love with each other, they gave each other their virginities. They were happier than they'd ever been and they planned on being together forever. Steve agreed. They would be their first and only loves. Although the two boys had no idea how right they were on that "forever" part. Steve blessed them with eternal youth. He knew he might be going too far, but it felt good, so he did it. These two would never grow old. They'd just grow bigger!

He finally unfroze the world. Javier and David turned towards each other with a beaming smile on their beatific faces. David ran toward Javier and the two embraced, their muscles pushing against each other. Their bulging, bulbous pecs mashed against each other, like stone meeting stone. They had to crane their thick necks past their thick physiques in order to be close enough to kiss. And kiss they did! It was passionate, heartfelt, like the kiss of two soul mates. Which they were, of course. It was just another lazy weekend of laying around at the beach, horsing around, enjoying their youth and their incredible bodies. They were on top of the world and loved it. Who could ask for anything more?

Steve smiled and finished his juice. This had been a pretty productive day! He walked over to the two of them and complimented them on how wonderful it was to see two young men in love and not be afraid to show it. They gave a good-hearted laugh and said it wasn't hard at all when you really adored the other person as much as they did. Steve laughed with them and wished them a good day, whistling as he walked away.

[V.R.Goh]

James winced as he jabbed the needle into his arm. As he plunged the contents of the needle, the sum of his life's work as a geneticist, he could feel the formula spreading throughout his blood stream. He pulled out the needle and disposed of it properly, awaiting the desired results.

As a scientist for the federal government, James had been working on a super-soldier serum for the past two years. Now, he finally achieved the desired results. This formula, if successful, would increase a person's muscular strength, speed, stamina, and reflexes tenfold. Although it would be used to make an army of super-soldiers loyal to the U.S. government, James had secreted away one sample for himself. For years, he was belittled for his skinny physique. Despite that fact that he had very little bodyfat, he also had very little muscle. His boss, a man who looked more like a bodybuilder than a soldier, kept calling him Toothpick. Time for this toothpick to turn into a redwood, he thought.

Suddenly, he felt every muscle in his body tingle, like that pins-and-needles feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. That tingle quickly turned into a fast-paced throbbing that centered on his crotch. Then, a wave of pure power started radiating throughout his body from his testicles. It felt very primal, like a power that emerged at the dawn of man. It gave James a feeling of strength, of power times a billion. He felt like he could take on the world. Within moments, this pulse of primeval power filled his entire being.

James could feel his once-narrow shoulders broadening and thickening, turning into capstones of sinew the size of cannonballs. At the same time, his arms began filling the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He could feel his triceps weighing down his arms with their mass, while his biceps bulged beautifully. He raised his arms and, with a single flex of his massive arms, ripped his sleeves to shreds of cotton.

At the same time, his flat chest sprang to life. Thick, iron-hard cables of muscles emerged from the space between his ribcage and his skin, increasing the distance between the two. In a few short moments, he had actual pectorals whose rippling mass obstructed the view of anything below them. He fiercely flexed his newly burgeoned chest muscles. He moaned with pleasure as his powerful pecs freed themselves from their cotton confines, revealing a dark forest of chest hair.

His arms then began to be pushed out to the sides by some unstoppable force. He turned to the floor-length mirror behind him to realize that this force was his thickening back. His traps bulged obscenely as his lats flared like the hood of a king cobra. He decided to eliminate the flimsy shirt and, with a savage grunt, flexed a most muscular that blew out the back of his shirt. What once had been a dress shirt that he swam in was now reduced to shreds of cotton hanging from his massively muscular frame.

As his upper body became more and more like a muscle beast, his lower body was not to be outdone. The seams of his slacks were losing the battle with his swelling legs. One by one, he heard the stitches popping, surrendering to his superior. At the same time, his swelling bubble butt and pumping cock were causing his boxers to more and more resemble a thong. When James had flexed his most muscular to destroy his shirt, he made sure to flex his thick-as-sequoia legs, bulging muscle ass, and steel rod. As his shirt was reduced to shred of cotton, so too were his pants and boxers reduced to rags. What remained was a man, once weighing 135 pounds on a 5'8" frame, now packing 340 pounds on a frame that measured 6' even.

He panted savagely as his cock became rock hard with pleasure. He then started jerking off ferociously, his face contorted into a look of determination. He meant to cum then and there, and he was going to do it as if his life depended on spilling his load. His grunts became louder and louder as he drew closer and closer to climax. Finally, past the point of no return, he threw his arms and head back and roared as he came.

The very second he roared, three things happened simultaneously. First, the floor beneath his feet cracked, giving way to his ultimate mass. Second, the sheer force of his roar shattered every glass item in that lab. Windows, beakers, glass cabinet doors, all of them broke into tiny crystalline shards. Third, James's cock erupted like Vesuvius, spewing silver-white cum everywhere. The force of his orgasmic product was enough to crack the panel of the ceiling with which it collided. After the initial hit, his cum sprayed everywhere, coating nearly the entire lab with the sticky alabaster goo. After five minutes, James's cock ceased its superhuman eruption. James was now so humongous, so massively muscular, that he was barely recognizable as human. He resembled something that was at once a remnant of our Neanderthal ancestors and what might be the next evolution. This didn't come to James's mind, as he was too busy flexing his superhuman sinews in the mirror.

Once again, his cock hardened, and he was ready for more.

[V.R.Goh]

Jack,

Come to the basement for some action.

Brett

That was the note I found on my desk when I got home from class. It was uncharacteristically vague, which worried me. Brett's not one for beating around the proverbial bush. He's blunt, sometimes too blunt. I just attribute that to the fact that he's a Sagittarius. Being curious, I put my book bag down in front of my bed and went into the basement of the house we were renting. I was cautious, remembering that, whenever he wants to show and/or tell me something important, he leaves me vague messages.

When I got into the basement, I saw Brett standing in front of the pool table. He was wearing what he wore this morning: a pair of blue jeans and a green short-sleeved polo shirt.

"Hey, Jack," said my roommate, gesturing to a chair in front of me. "Have a seat." I approach my brown-haired, hazel-eyed roommate and sit down in front of him.

"What's going on, Brett?" I asked, worried about learning the answer.

"Remember all those stories you write for the Evolution Forum?" he asked. I nodded, bringing to mind the numerous muscle growth-themed stories I wrote. For a moment, I forgot I told him about them.

"Well," he continued with a devilish grin, "here's something else to write for your stories." He raised his right arm out, keeping it parallel to the floor. As he bent his arm at the elbow, I saw his biceps, once the size of a tennis ball, grow to the size of cantaloupes and beyond. The expanding orb of sinew quickly filled the sleeve of the polo to capacity by only flexing halfway. As he continued flexing his swelling biceps, the sounds of tearing fabric rang through the room as his sleeve began to rip in multiple places. A loud POP signaled the liberation of his massive muscular arm. The remains of his sleeve dangled down across his shoulder.

Holding his right arm in place, he repeated the same action with his left arm. He raised his slim left arm and bent it at the elbow. Immediately, the burgeoning ball of beefy brawn filled the cotton sleeve to capacity, then exceeded that capacity in one motion. Smaller rips formed a prelude to a second POP as a second sleeve surrendered to the superhuman muscles they failed to contain.

Brett lowered his arms, now engorged with life-giving blood and steel-crushing muscle. He inhaled and, as soon as he began to exhale, his torso began to expand like his arms before it. The collar fought in vain to contain his bull neck while his pecs battled their way out of their cotton confines. The only button that Brett buttoned on his polo began to quiver, like a gelatin mold in an earthquake. A small pop caused me to instinctively duck out of the way as a single button came flying over my left ear. I could see the defined cleavage of his pecs, which even now forced their way to freedom. As his shoulders widened and expanded, his chest thickened and grew. This time, instead of many smalls tears, I heard a duet of two large rifts forming in the fabric of his shirt. The tear visible to me started at the neck, where the buttons would be. As Brett's body grew into its full mega-muscular glory, the rip in his shirt front crawled down his torso, revealing his powerful pecs and awesome abs that could grate Parmesan cheese like it was Mozzarella.

The whole time that his upper body was transforming into a sensual symphony of superhumanly strong sinew, his legs were growing into the part of pillars of power. Without even moving, his quadriceps, hamstrings, and calves reduced his blue jeans to strips of scrap and what could pass as denim briefs. With a single motion that made my cock even more stiff than it already was, he grabbed the remains of his pants and tore them away like so much tissue paper.

Before, I would have seen a 5'9" fairly handsome young man with brown hair, hazel eyes and a swimmer's build. Now what stood before me was a 6'8" 300+ pound behemoth with a physique any bodybuilder would kill to obtain. I was already near my peak just by staring at his freakishly mega-masculine frame. Each movement caused his muscles to dance like the fingers of a pianist who could play the Minute Waltz in thirty seconds. Then, he pushed me over the edge by hitting a giant-killer of a most muscular pose.

Then, something happened to me that has never happened before: I came involuntarily. My cock began to spurt its ivory payload in tribute to the muscle god before me. I lost myself in sexual nirvana and, quite frankly, I loved every second of it.

"Oh Brett!" I screamed in ecstasy, "You're a fuckin' beast! I can't stop cumming!"

[V.R.Goh]

This random act was inspired by one of mbbbbb's amazing drawings. If you haven't already, check out his deviantart page. I believe the inspiration for this is called pecs-splosion. Note: you may end up needing to look up some words in the dictionary. I did that on purpose.
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Tyler closed his eyes, completely engrossed in the intoxicating feeling that his larger-than-life muscles gave him. All onlookers were transfixed by his rippling, mega-massive sinews that dwarfed seasoned bodybuilders with as much lifting experience as he had years on this Earth. Women and gay men instantly wanted to grope his powerful physique that filled any outfit he wore to the bursting threshold. Straight guys, on the other hand, were envious of the young man's body, wanting to have even half of the muscle that this pubescent powerhouse commanded. Even now, the T-shirt he wore looked as if it was painted on to his insanely beefy upper body, while his shorts left just as much of the power contained in his legs to the imagination.

At school, Tyler was known as the Muscle Kid for obvious reasons. Not only was he bigger and more muscular than even the biggest muscle-obsessed seniors, but he was even bigger than nearly all of the teachers. Only the wrestling coach, Coach Francisco, surpassed him in size. The award-winning super-heavyweight bodybuilder retired from the scene when he won Mr. Olympia for the tenth consecutive year, outweighing his nearest competitor by a good 45 pounds of raw muscle. The 28-year-old St. Croix-born muscleman, once the captain of his wrestling team in college, saw Tyler's enormous size and potential when the latter was only twelve and took him (Tyler) under his wing. In two short years, Tyler grew from a seventh-grader with the body of a fitness model into a high school freshman with twice the muscle of Ronnie Coleman. Eventually, the young musclebeast found out how intoxicatingly arousing it was to muscle through his clothes, which led him to this display.

Slowly, he raised his arms, his wing-like lats spreading out like the hood of a king cobra. He and those within earshot could hear the stretching of the cotton T-shirt and knew that, inevitably, the flimsy fabric would be torn apart by the superhuman force it dared to contain. As he brought his arms to a parallel position in relation to the ground, the shirt began to tear down the front and back, revealing muscles that looked to have been carved by rivers that flowed through those paths for thousands of years. The tantalizingly slow ripping sound signaled the liberation of his massive muscles from their cotton confines.

His shirt now remained in one piece only at the collar and the bottom of the shirt. The youthful musclegod smiled as his favorite moment of this exhibition had arrived. As slowly as he raised his arms to tear the majority of the shirt, he bent them at the same speed, powering through his sleeves with little to no visible effort. His inhumanly thick biceps and triceps rammed through the sleeves as the fabric peeled away like two self-peeling bananas. As large and well-defined as his arms were relaxed, they looked ten times more so contracted. With his arms fully flexed, his sleeves were devastated. The rips in the arms of his shirt even extended to the fabric of the torso.

The people surrounding him were in various stages of sexual arousal, while he enjoyed the praise he received for his combination of natural size and the hard work he put into every muscle on his body. He loved to show off his muscles by tearing through his clothes and the reception he gets every time; it's the sole reason why he wears all of his clothes at that size. Luckily, he makes enough in private muscle worship sessions (minus the nudity) to replenish his wardrobe.

Suddenly, he heard one guy screaming in ecstasy and the sound of a thick liquid squirting and hitting the floor. "Oh, you muscle god!" the worshiper said. "I didn't even touch myself, and you and your god-like muscles made me cum! No one's ever done that! Uh! UHH!!" Similar sounds erupted from all around him, and he didn't even finish his muscle show. He smiled even wider, knowing that he had the power to make someone cum simply by flexing his mega-manly muscles. What amazed him even more is that he still has growing to do before puberty finishes with him. He would keep packing on pound after pound of rippling muscle, testing the limits of his potential. It was part of the vow he made to become the biggest, most muscular man that ever walked the earth.

Tyler then placed his massive fists on his diamond-hard waist. He inhaled deeply and, with a single motion, spread his monstrous lats out like the wings of a overlarge bird. Two more tears developed on either side of his shirt as his devastating lat spread made his silhouette look not unlike a giant king cobra that has spread its hood. The wider he spread his massive back, the more the side tears and the rip in the back widened. Finally, a series of three soft pops signified the beginning of the end for his shirt.

All onlookers were silent as the pulchritudinous pubescent powerhouse (Say that three times fast) relaxed his wide-as-a-barn-door back. Some audibly gasped as he reached up to the cleft in his shirt, made by the slabs of pec meat beneath. He clutched the fabric on either side of the tear and, in one swift motion, tore the flimsy shirt from his titanic torso. A collective moan sounded from the crowd as various people went from zero to fully aroused in seconds. Not only was Tyler insanely massive and savagely strong, but he was also inhumanly ripped. He looked as if he didn't have a single ounce of fat on him. Every surface was covered with super-thick, rippling muscles that made gave every woman hard nipples and every man either an erection, an inferiority complex, or both. A single flex of his mighty legs, and the shorts he wore were reduced to rags that floated to the floor like autumn leaves.

The entire crowd fell deathly silent as they took in the sight of this massive mountain of muscle that had yet to finish growing. Every muscle was pumped beyond belief, displaying striations that looked like claw marks. Pencil-thick veins pumped nutrient-rich blood to his sizable sinews like viridian fire hoses. Only a vermillion posing strap restrained his cock, which was just as impressive as the rest of him. Those around him that weren't on the edge of orgasm approached that barrier upon gazing at his massive frame. Every nipple was as hard as every cock in the place. From his football-sized traps to his calves that were as hard as the diamonds they resembled, he was a work of perfection that few mortals could achieve.

Suddenly, with fists clenched tight, he exploded into a most muscular that could take every wannabe Mr. Olympia out of the competition. Every massive muscle bulged further than was thought possible, every striation became even more clearly delineated, and every visible vein jumped out even further. It was the ultimate giant-killer pose, and it was the one that won him three consecutive teen bodybuilding competitions.

There wasn't a single cock or pussy there that didn't cum immediately. Not a single onlooker could take in his physique while hitting this pose without orgasming at least once. Shouts of praises for the "young musclegod" made Tyler smile with pride. He agreed with them. On that day, he decided to call him YMG, the Young Muscle God.

[CelticMuscle]

Originally Posted by V.R.Goh

pulchritudinous pubescent powerhouse

If you told me how to pronouce that first word I might have a go!

[V.R.Goh]

Sorry about that. It's pronounced pul-kri-too-din-us. You can also go to dictionary.reference.com and look up any other words.

[iceman75]

Gotta say, I loved this last chapter, always been a fan of muscle on young teens, the bigger, the stronger, the better! I hope this story has many similar ones coming up, kids 13, 14, 15 years old, can't wait to see more if there is more.

[V.R.Goh]

Eddie finally had his costume. He thought that the old man at that small costume store was crazy when he said that this costume was "special." He was tired of going with the typical skinny-kid costumes. He wanted something unexpected, something that no one of his build would think of wearing. So, he went with one of his favorite comic book characters: Superman. Of course, being able to successfully pull off the Superman look requires, aside from the hair and the lantern jaw, massive bodybuilder-type muscles, something which Eddie seriously lacked.

As Eddie unpacked the costume, he noted that everything was there: the blue, red, and yellow leotard; the red boots that are supposed to go halfway up the shins; and the bright red cape. Since his raven-black hair was the right length, he had created the Superman-style hairdo ahead of time. One of the benefits of having a Hollywood hair stylist for a mother, he chuckled to himself, is learning the tricks of the trade. With a look of readiness, he began to don the spandex costume.

As Eddie unzipped the leotard, he felt a warm glow emanate from the costume. It almost seemed to respond to his touch, making him feel more confident. The young college student, standing in his boxers and a T-shirt, slipped his legs into the legs of the suit. Immediately, he felt the same warmth pulsate through each leg as it entered the suit, filling him with energy and strength. Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head, because he could have swore that his legs were packing on muscle before his very eyes. When he opened his eyes, he could see that his quads, hamstrings, and calves were, in fact burgeoning with thick cords of sinew. He could make out every single muscle in his legs through the suit, and even a couple of veins.

Amazed with the result of putting his legs in the costume, Eddie continued dressing himself. As he slipped his arms into the sleeves, the same warmth caused his pipe-like arms to swell and bulge into impressive guns worthy of Ronnie Coleman. The young man felt more alive and confident than he ever had in his entire life. He flexed his right arm and gasped at the sight of the cantaloupe-sized knot of brawn that sat proudly on his upper arm. His triceps, not to be outdone, provided balance and even more size with twin horseshoes that would fit on a Clydesdale. Like with his legs, every steel-like cable of muscle in Eddie's arms were visible, along with the cephalic vein which runs across the biceps.

With a few contortions, Eddie zipped up the leotard and braced himself for the inevitable feeling of power. It was like nothing he had ever felt before as raw energy filled his muscles to bursting with pure strength and bulging brawn. His once concave chest filled out to form a shelf worthy of the word "pecs." His stomach, once flat from being skinny, chiseled itself to become a rock-hard eight-pack. He could feel his back widening, forcing his arms out at an angle. He fought hard (pun intended) to restrain the growing feeling of pleasure this rapid growth was giving him as he attached his cape to the rest of his costume.

Eddie then turned to look in the mirror. Where once there was a skinny 21-year-old who could have passed himself off as a teenage Harry Potter, there now stood a tall, muscular man worthy of dressing as the Man of Steel. Eddie almost started to flex for himself in the mirror when something on his bed caught his eye. It was a small slip of paper that lay on his bed where the costume's bag lay. He picked it up and read it. "Warning: The effects of this suit are permanent and irreversible," it said. Eddie didn't mind one bit. In fact, he smiled as he opened the door to head to the party.

[TemptationIV]

nice installment.

[V.R.Goh]

This random act is inspired by a picture that hearmenowu2 posted recently. Look under "Muscle Artwork" on the last page. It's the first one on that page. Consider this the aftermath of that event.
-------------------------------------------

"So, Kyle, what do you think of our 'soda?'" Alan asked with a sly smile on his face. Kyle, meanwhile, was absorbed in the feeling he just experienced. In a few minutes, his formerly slim frame sprouted massive, quivering muscles that likes of which could not be found on mortal men.

"Oh, I think it's the best soda on the market, in my opinion," was his sincere response as he flexed an arm the size of a powerlifter's leg and twice as strong. The force of the display of raw power caused the rock-hard peak of superhuman sinew to tear two holes in the sleeve of his button-down shirt, one on top and one on bottom. On the other sleeve, the beginnings of two similar tears appeared. Wide holes were emerging all over his shirt as Kyle's new muscles burst free of their cotton confines. Even the buttons were fighting a losing battle between holding together and his powerful physique. One of them, located just beneath his armor-like pecs, rocketed away from its mates in utter defeat.

Kyle decided that it was time to punish the shirt that dared to contain his newfound mass. Raising his other arm, he completed the other half of a devastating front double biceps that could win him the Mr. Olympia hands down. As his other sleeve peeled back like a weird banana, a second diagonal tear formed from his wing-like lat to his monstrous right pec. The buttons caging his eight-pack abs were sent flying with a snap of the cotton that failed to contain his power. A larger ripping sound told Kyle that the back of his shirt was in tatters. Bringing his arms near his navel, he crunched a most-muscular that caused the remnants of his shirt to explode in fluttering blue rags. Alan smiled a pleased smile, glad that the mutagenic 'soda' that was the culmination of years of research had finally been successfully tested. Now that he knew of its success, he secretly planned to drink it himself.

[Mad Dog]

This was inspired by Aardvark's amazing stories as of late, especially The Car Lot: Copped. It's also continuing with the character I used last time.

To Transform and Protect

Steve cruised down the highway during a blazing hot summer afternoon. He was treating himself to a relaxing vacation, touring the Deep South to experience the culture and scenery. Currently, he was moseying down a half-forgotten backwater highway he found on his map, thinking it would give him the scenic route to his next destination. He didn't want his trip to just be some tourist trap conveyor belt from one city to the next; he wanted to explore! He looked at his fuel gauge and started to worry, however. The needle was starting to dip towards the empty side of things, and he didn't know if there would be a gas station close by in this neck of the woods. After a few minutes of fretting, he saw a sign indicating a gas station coming up. Relieved, Steve pulled off to the side road to get to the gas station, thankful that he wouldn't get stuck out in the boonies with his lousy cell reception, as beautiful and quaint as the boonies may be.

The gas station definitely reminded Steve of an era gone by. If the "CASH ONLY" sign didn't clue someone in to the fact that this place was a little removed from time, the older-looking pumps would definitely drive the point home. But the gas was a whole dollar cheaper than it was back home, so Steve just shrugged and withstood the blistering heat as he started filling up his car. He looked around to help pass the time. There were only two other cars at the station. One of them had a redneck-looking guy filling up his truck and on the other side of him were two African-American boys in a smaller car. The black boys were dressed sort of flamboyantly, one of them wearing a pink t-shirt that barely covered his navel. They were chit-chatting and one of them apparently said something so scandalous that the other whooped and laughed, play-slapping the other and said, "Gurl, you so crazy!" between fits of giggles.

So they were gay, clearly. If the choice of wardrobe and mannerisms couldn't clue you in, the two were holding hands most of the time and there was a rainbow sticker on their car's bumper. Two young black bucks out on a date, maybe, or just taking a leisurely afternoon cruise. Too bad about the weather, Steve thought, wiping the sweat off of his brow. What broke him out of his reverie wasn't pleasant, however. "Damn queers," he barely heard from the redneck, who shook his head disapprovingly. The man clearly wasn't brave enough to tell the two black boys what he thought of them (maybe because they both looked like they could beat the scarecrow-looking redneck up), but still felt the need to say it out loud. "Ain't bad enough they're niggers, they gotta be faggots, too," he said, spitting onto the ground and wiping his nose with his forearm.

This really got Steve's ire up. Homophobia was one thing, he was used to confronting it, as an openly gay man he had to be. But racism? That was a whole other can of worms. Everyone in the South he'd met up until now definitely wouldn't have fit the stereotype of a dumb, backwards redneck, but this guy was taking the cake. He didn't see how the man had room to criticize the two African-American youngsters. First of all, they were cute. The redneck was not. Looked like there was some acne scarring from when he was younger. And the man definitely needed dental work. And that wispy hair that was the color of mouse... sheesh. The guy's exterior definitely matched his interior: unattractive. As the two black boys drove off, blissfully unaware of the slurs that had been hurled against them, the gears in Steve's mind started turning. Okay, he could work with this.

First thing he did was what Steve always did when he was about to make major changes: he froze the world except for him. Steve had a talent... or talents, depending on how you looked at it. He could change anything he wanted about reality, at will. He could even make it so no one would recognize the changes. And he definitely didn't need any accidental witnesses to what he was about to do, so freezing the world in place seemed like a wise choice.

The part that came after was more difficult. What to do, what to do... there were so many things to change he hardly knew where to begin! First off was that awful dental situation... The redneck looked better now that his teeth weren't as scraggly as his hair, at least it was a start. And that hair... why have it at all when it was so mangy-looking? He shrunk it back into the redneck's head; good riddance. His skin needed to be cleared up, too. Well... that was where the fun stuff would really start happening, he thought to himself. He started working on the skin. It was getting clearer and more smooth, but also darker and darker. First he just seemed like he had an olive tone. Then a creamy mocha, then milk chocolate and finally dark chocolate, stopping just short of being truly one of the darkest-skinned men Steve had ever seen. His skin was black, all right.

But that didn't make the redneck black, no sir. His features were all still very Caucasian. Time to go to work, Steve thought, cracking the joints in his fingers. He broadened the nose, making it wider, the nostrils getting a bit bigger as well, The cheekbones needed to sharpen, chisel out the face some more, and the eyes needed to be subtly reshaped, more like almonds... Those blue eyes wouldn't do with his new face, so he darkened them to a luscious, rich brown. And those lips... better puff them out. They swelled into two big pillow-lips, prominent, strong, sexy, and very juicy-looking. Damn, this was shaping up to be a real manly, handsome face! Not too shabby, if Steve didn't think so himself. What could he add...? Oh, yes, a dimple to the strong chin. Perhaps a nice mustache to warm that chilly upper lip of his... Damn! Manly almost to a fault! Not the most beautiful creation of his, but it wasn't intended to be.

Next was the height. The former white bread redneck had been 5'7"... way too average for what Steve had in mind. He increased the man's height, stretching him to 5'9", then 5'11"... 6'1"... 6'3"... Finally he stopped at 6'6", towering over normal men, an intimidating presence... or would be, if he didn't resemble that damn scarecrow. He was still so thin! Steve licked his lips. One of his favorite parts was coming up. It was the part that he had to forbid himself from skipping to... doing it first sometimes screwed up what he was aiming for originally. But it was his passion... Muscle. He loved it. He couldn't get enough. He wasn't personally built for it, and he accepted that (although he didn't have to), he just loved it on other men. Almost to a fault. When he'd first discovered his powers, his hometown looked like the HGH-soaked anabolic steroid capital of the world in a matter of days. He had been a little repressed, to put it lightly.

So it was with his personal bias in mind that he started to grow muscle on the long, lean frame of the former redneck. He did it slowly, steadily, to make sure he had it under control. A few times when he'd gotten too enthusiastic and rushed, the men had turned out with some rather disproportionate muscles. They still looked, eminently fuckable, but who wanted pecs like beach balls on a gymnast's frame? Besides Steve, that is. The redneck's clothes had started to tear with the height growth and as more muscle packed on his skinny frame, it tore some more until Steve decided it was time it got an update, as well. The shirt and shorts started to reform into a short-sleeve navy blue button-up shirt, with matching navy blue pants. And they were looking very flattering on the dark-skinned man as he kept increasing in muscularity. Soon he had a swimmer's build. Yawn, Steve thought. Those were a dime a dozen. This guy was gonna get the deluxe treatment...

And so swimmers' muscles passed the former redneck by, as he graduated to a more muscular gymnast with nice, rounded pecs, strong deltoids, a hard six-pack and strong, bulging arms. Still not enough, Steve thought. The details on the man's clothes were coming in as they grew along with his muscles. Pleated pockets on his chest, epaulettes on his shoulders, pins and patches, tools that hooked themselves to his hips... The look was starting to come together as he entered into the lightweights of bodybuilders, then the middleweights, gaining more mass and definition within his shirt and pants. You could see even through them, now, that the former redneck was a muscular black man. The slacks held his rippling quads while his chest pushed out the front of his shirt, the short sleeves preoccupied with his deltoids while his beefy biceps and triceps were in mostly full view.

While this would've been enough for most people, Steve couldn't leave it there. This man could still be more, much more... The muscles kept inflating with sinew, packing on more striated mass while keeping the intense definition he knew was a hallmark of professional bodybuilders. Vascularity was obvious, too, as fat veins crept over his biceps, even his neck was thickening out, his traps tenting up the collar of the shirt, making space even more limited for that poor shirt. Pecs were reaching critical mass inside of the garment before the buttons holding them back began to snap off... first the top, then the second, then the third! It showed off the phenomenal thickness of these two pillows of muscle, emphasizing the incredible cleavage they had obtained.

His pants looked positively stretched across those quads, fat wedges of muscle hinted at beneath the dark fabric. His ass, no, now it was a booty, pushed out the seat of his pants a great deal, too, creating a shelf behind him to rival the one his pecs created in the front! His lats helped spread out his upper torso, making his ham hock arms splay out in a display of musclebound masculinity. Yet it also created an amazing taper, his waspish waist clearly needing to be powerful enough to keep the abundance of upper beef from toppling over. And still muscle kept pumping into this handsome black man's body until it looked almost cartoonish. The world's most muscle-obsessed comic book artist would've gone agog at the creature that was standing before Steve now. He had wanted a physique that would clearly be superior to the world's most accomplished bodybuilders and here it was. He'd made men as bit as this before, even bigger. But it still took his breath away and pumped blood into his nether regions when he saw the results.

The uniform (yes, it was clearly meant to be some sort of uniform now) was nearly complete. The metal insignia was pinned over the massive black man's beating heart. His gun and baton hung at his hips, ready at a moment's notice. He had a small pad of paper and a pen in one breast pocket for impromptu note-taking. The various accoutrements that accented his uniform made one thing clear: this man was a cop. And from the looks of it, a damn intimidating one, too. The only thing missing was his name.

Steve smiled. What a handsome, manly, rugged-looking cop! The physical portion was almost over, but there was one more major change that needed to be done. He'd sometimes forget the next part after the excitement of growing a man so huge. Then Steve would unfreeze everything and realize his mistake, blushing and having to do emergency retouching. He wouldn't forget this time, though: the genitals. This guy still had the same size genitals that the redneck had, and peering with his powers, Steve could tell that was definitely not anything to be proud of. Pretty damn wimpy, really, especially on the frame of such an otherwise powerful man. So he'd do him a favor and upgrade him a bit. He started elongating and thickening the organ, along with making the testicles swell in tandem. Four inches soft... it was progress. At least he was packing what most other men were, now. Five inches soft, now they were getting somewhere... six inches, yeah, real nice and meaty, it was definitely making a statement at his crotch. Seven inches and his balls were pushing out like jumbo eggs behind it. Eight inches and they were fresh fruit and a jumbo hot dog. Nine inches soft and... it looked perfect. Potent, obvious, yet still elegant and masculine at the same time. He would always be packing in his pants and shorts, but it wasn't comedic. This man was just blatantly hung. A huge, muscled, hung black man and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

There, that was the finishing touch on that body, Steve thought. He didn't need a single other change to that gorgeous physique. But he still wasn't done. There was still a spiteful, hate-filled bigot living inside that skull, and it was time to bring it all home. It was here that Steve's powers would be particularly useful in helping change someone. If he had to completely spell out every change he wanted to affect someone's life, he could literally spend a lifetime on one man, tweaking every single aspect of his existence. Instead, he could make broad strokes and the power would take care of the rest. It was very convenient, and Steve would often be pleasantly surprised by the outcome. The only specifics he had for this time was that the man would be a proud, gay African-American bodybuilder policeman. He didn't particularly care how the pieces fell after that. Considering his work done, he unfroze the world to see what his changes had wrought for the formerly skinny, bigoted redneck.

As the world unfroze around him, the black man gasp, a deep noise that promised a deeper voice to back it up. His eyes dilated slightly as the rush of the life changes enveloped him, obliterating his former identity in less than the blink of an eye. He was... what was his name? Oh, right, Tom Jenkins. Tom "The Tank" Jenkins. Officer Jenkins. It's what it said on the front of his uniform! How could he forget something as simple as that. Just another good ol' Southern boy that got kicked out of the house when he was 17 by a very religious mother who believed gays were sick and wanted no part of them, even if her only son turned out to be one. Luckily, he was a resourceful kid and found some jobs he could hold down to keep him fed, clothed and with a roof over his head. He had always been somewhat of a big kid, playing football at high school, and started to seriously get into bodybuilding around the same time he decided on law enforcement as a career. He was still idealistic and optimistic enough to want to keep the streets safe. He was a great cop and as his confidence in being a gay black man in the South grew, so did his physique.

It seemed he had natural genetics for it as he just kept blowing up year after year of lifting weights. It wasn't just handed to him, though. He fought through blood, sweat and tears for the mass he had today. And it was a lot of mass... the biggest pro bodybuilder there was. People doubted there would ever be someone as massive as he was at his height. Normally being so tall was a serious disadvantage in bodybuilding, but his frame just seemed to welcome the pounds as they added. Criminal justice was his first passion, but bodybuilding was a close, close second. Luckily his precinct supported his hobby and allowed him the time he needed to attend competitions and win titles. When he first popped onto the bodybuilding scene, the magazines were calling him "The Other Ronnie Coleman." He got more comments on his obvious poser bulge than his physique. Over the past few years, however, Coleman was starting to become "The Other Tom Jenkins." The Tank on the cover sold magazines, equipment and supplements nowadays, so it was a healthy secondary source of income for him. He was never in it for the fame, though. He just loved muscle; building it, flexing it, watching it... He loved muscle on other men almost as much as he loved it on himself!

Tom thought he was pretty well-adjusted, all things considered. In fact, after he started becoming a bit more well-known as a bodybuilder, his mother found out about him and attempted to reconnect with him. He would've worried about it being just a calculated move now that he was more successful, but after meeting with her, she admitted between sobs that she had regretted kicking him out and she was ready to love him unconditionally this time. He'd teared up, too, and they were closer than ever now. He would call her every day to gab about this and that; he was a mama's boy and he came by it honestly. With his careers as a bodybuilder and a cop both going better than he could've hoped for at the ripe old age of 30, and living with a boyfriend he fucked with his 13" cock and who could be The One, he was pretty content, all things considered.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" someone asked. It shook him out of his recollections as he looked down at the slim man in front of him. Kinda cute, but he already had a man.

"Possibly," Tom admitted, smiling sheepishly and blushing. His voice was like if Barry White and a foghorn had a baby and dipped it in molasses. Deep, resounding, and with a sweet drawl. Posing in a skimpy poser on stage was one thing, dealing with fans face-to-face was another. He could be a little shy, but he was working past it.

"No, really, I've seen your face somewhere... you gotta be some kind of bodybuilder with a physique like that..." the man insisted, pointing out Tom's huge guns. He subconsciously tensed them, making them get larger and more vascular with the simplest gesture.

"Yeah, I'm Tom Jenkins. You might know me, I suppose. 'The Tank?'" he offered humbly.

"Oh!! Right! The bodybuilder/cop who won Olympia!" the man exclaimed, suddenly seeming to place his face. "My name's Steve, it's an honor to meet you!"

Steve offered his hand and Tom gladly accepted it, shaking it firmly but not too hard. He knew he could easily hurt a smaller man if he didn't control his strength. "Please, the honor's all mine! It's cool to meet a fan," he said honestly. He tried to be approachable and he swore he'd never get a big head just for being good at doing what he loved. "Just passing through?"

"Yeah, taking the back roads on my vacation," Steve said, chuckling.

Tom chuckled with him, which was an action that could be compared to an earthquake's aftershock. "Doesn't get much more back of the road than around here! But they're mostly good people, they don't hesitate to help motorists who get lost in these parts," he assured him with a brilliant smile that contrasted his luscious dark skin.

"Good to know! Well, I won't keep you, especially in this scorcher," Steve said, wiping more sweat from his brow.

"Yeah, maybe July wasn't the best time for a leisurely stroll through the South," Tom joked, drops of sweat falling down his own bull neck and onto the rounded contours of his pecs, disappearing into his straining shirt. "Take it easy, Steve," he called out as he capped his tank and got back inside his fully decked out police cruiser and drove off.

"Who was the guy you were talkin' to?" a gruff voice beside Tom asked as they drove off. It was Tom's partner, 25-year-old Ezekiel. Zeke the Freak, the guys back at the station called him. Probably because he weighed close to 300 lbs. while still being 5'6" and was as strong as three big men put together! Tom was known as the bodybuilder in the precinct, but Zeke was the powerlifter, and a damn good one, too. He didn't compete, he just enjoyed knowing how strong and beefy he could get. His uniform looked like it was spray painted on, against its will. He was bulging powerfully underneath it and at times looked more outside of it than in. His blond fur sprouted through the collar as a sign that he was all man. And there was a bulge of similar dangerousness to Tom's pressing against the crotch of his slacks.

Tom just chuckled and put his hand tenderly on Zeke's bulging quad. "Don't get jealous, sugar bear. Just a Yankee passin' through on vacation. Recognized me from a magazine or somethin' and just wanted to say hi."

Zeke was mollified by that answer, settling back into his seat after wondering what the two of them had had to say to each other. He wasn't as much of a people person as Tom, but he liked authority and order and was a good cop, it was just that Tom was able to talk to people better than he could. It was part of how they complemented each other as partners, both on and off the force. "Not jealous, just curious, don't be a bitch," he teased. He leaned over and gave Tom a peck on the cheek.

Tom giggled and batted the blond bear away. "Not on the clock, sugar, that's the rule. You can do whatever you want to me when we get back home," he purred, his crotch swelling just thinking of it. Not that his crotch could afford to swell in these pants. He should really focus on the road.

"I know, I know, ya just make me wanna kiss ya, that's all," Zeke drawled, patting the black hunk's quad in kind. "And after I tear you up, I expect the same in return," he added with a wink.

Tom took a deep breath at that, almost busting another button on his shirt from his pecs swelling at the action. He'd be counting the seconds on the clock, that was for sure.

[muscl4life]

That was a very hot story, dude! I loved the way you've changed the nasty hater into a lovely massive ebony monster who was also a protector and a sportsman. That sure was avery hot upgrade!

Thanks for the chapter

[V.R.Goh]

The sounds of clanging iron and masculine grunts could be heard throughout the small gym, emanating from the free weights. This area, known to the locals as the Beast's Cage, was known mostly for the gymrat that mostly inhabited it. Every day for two hours a day, Max could be seen pumping his massive muscles to levels rarely reached by mere mortals. Most called him the Lone Beast for his massive physique and solitary attitudes. He was taller than the average denizen of that gym at six foot four, but his height, combined with his heavily-muscled and perpetually ripped physique, only made him seem even more like a monster. His 66" chest, which could bench press a quarter-ton for reps, tapered down to a waspish 28" waist that was more shredded than mozarella cheese in a pizzeria. This waist, with his adamantine six-pack as the centerpiece, flared out to 33" thighs that could nearly squat 1000 pounds, which descended into 28" calves as hard as any diamond sold in a jewelry store.

It was rare that Max would even acknowledge the existence of the other people at the gym, much less talk to them. He would only say one or two words to the person at the front desk and head towards the locker room without breaking stride. If someone greeted him, he would respond with a curt nod nine times out of ten. After a while, people began to anticipate his routine. Today was Wednesday, which meant Max would be blasting his superhuman arms.

Max was just about finished with his last set of biceps curls, and he was drawing a crowd to watch his body at work. He kept strict form, keeping his washboard abs tight as a drum while keeping his elbows close to his ultra-beefy torso. Only his 23" forearms moved, as his biceps seemed to move the heavy weight with hardly any effort. At last, he finished his final rep and dropped the weights to the floor, deepening the already-present dent in the floor. He never used any of the other weights; he always grabbed the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. The owner took many steps to accomodate his "prize client." He had special weights made to accomodate Max's god-like strength. The owner did not mind that Max dropped the weights after every set; the fact that he was paying big bucks for the membership meant the floor would be fixed on a regular basis.

As was his custom, he flexed a front double biceps after pumping his arms to insane heights. Twin peaks, measuring 37" around, erupted from the space between his cannonball shoulders and his elbows. One or two veins, like viridian rivers of blood, fed life-giving nutrients to his biceps, while his forearms danced with striations and size that would impress even Popeye. Being bigger, more muscular, and stronger than everyone around him always got Max off. Eventually, the bulge in his shorts, which was impossible to ignore, would no longer be contained by its fabric prison and, as usual, tore through his shorts. Some of the women referred to Max's cock, which measured 15" long and 13" around, as the Beast's Other Barbell, and was partially responsible for him never going to bed alone.

His super-massive muscles, porn star cock, natural charisma, and model's good looks combined to make him the ultimate man, superior to those around him in every way. Everyone wanted his body and his dick. Whether they wanted to worship him, get fucked by him, or build their body to that same high level, they all wanted him in some form or fashion. Max was just fine with that; he thrived off of the attention he got.

He turned around and gestured toward a buxom blonde to approach him. She would be his first conquest of the day. On an average day, he fucked three people between the time he walked in and the time he left. Today, he knew he would get close to ten. It was a good thing he bought condoms in bulk. They went into the men's locker room and entered the steam room, with the intent of making it even more steamy. The whole way, she could not keep her hands off of him. He stopped off at his locker to get rid of his shirt and torn shorts and grabbed a fistful of condoms from his bag. When they entered the steam room, which was surprisingly empty, he began to ravish her. Fondling one of her breasts, he started fingering her moist vagina. She, in turn, began caressing his freshly-pumped biceps and triceps. She offered her body to him with cries of "Take me, Max. Give me your god rod." Slipping the condom on with the speed and accuracy built by experience, he quickly insered his lust pistol into her waiting hole.

The sounds of animal pleasure echoed throughout the locker room as Max and his latest sex partner got it on. Most of the shouting was hers, as she was brought to orgasm multiple times in the course of their sex. Eventually, his gorilla-like grunts joined her moans and shouts of lust. She screamed his name alongside numerous praises for his ability to please any woman better than anyone alive. With a mutual shout, her tenth orgasmic shout coincided with his first. After a few minutes of bathing in the afterglow of their fucking, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to the ladies' locker room to shower off. He remained inside, knowing that there was a line outside of the steam room. He stuck his head out long enough to say, "Next."

[V.R.Goh]

John stood in the bathroom, naked as the day he was born, only a thousand times more muscular than any infant. He knew his roommates would not return for at least another hour, and he had the whole house to himself that day. So, he spent the day the way he would spend any day where he has the daylight hours to himself: by jerking off to his awesome body and thick cock. He was lucky to have the day off today, as he would have to jerk off a few times a day just to keep some blood flow going to his brain.

John never had a problem with picking up potential sex partners; in fact, he never went to bed by himself. Every night, a new man or woman was being swept to unreached heights of sexual bliss by the superior sexual prowess of the 6'1" musclegod. John flexed his massive biceps, drinking in the sight of his 27" guns that should be registered with the N.R.A. (National Rifle Association for those who don't know) The sight of his arms alone was enough to get him near fully erect. Glancing down from his twin peaks of power, an expansive 52" shelf of a chest narrowed to his tight-as-a-drum 27" waist. Powerful thigh, like tree trunks measuring 29" around, tapered to 25" calves that could match granite in their hardness, just like all of his other muscles.

With his left hand still flexing his monstrous biceps, he brought his right paw to his meaty dick. John was losing himself in the pleasure brought on by his cock. At 21" long and 13" around when fully erect, it was unlike any that his partners had seen. Whenever he was fucking someone, we would bring them close to the edge and then ease off, only to bring them back again. This ebb and flow of sexual energy would build up until, at last, neither one could take it any more. This was the kind of service that John gave to his throbbing member, now crimson with blood. Finally, after holding out for 20 minutes, he let loose a roar like a lion in heat as he came. For the sixth time that day, the awe-inspiring sight of his godlike body and manmeat missile got him off. He came for a good minute, coating the ceiling with his jizz. His libido momentarily sated, he decided that, for the next round, he would try making himself cum by just flexing his massive muscles. John is confident that he can do it, as he had done it before.

[V.R.Goh]

Two-thiry in the morning. That was the time when I left the party to head home. I was a bit tipsy, but lucid enough to be walk to the 1 train. I could make my way through Greenwich Village to my apartment drunk or sober, no matter the time of day or night. However, this proved to be a night like no other.

I walked along the edge of the park, the full moon lighting my way with its soft, silver glow. I was comforted by the sound of cars passing by on their way to their destinations. I did not take cabs often, mostly to save money. I mean, why pay $10 to $15 for a ride that you can do for $2.25? Besides, I always get nauseous when I take a cab. It must be the way the drivers hit those potholes that the city takes it sweet time in filling. Anyway, it was supposed to be a typical Friday night for me. Then, it became a very atypical. I heard a car slowing down alongside me. I looked to my left to see a window open.

"Need a lift, buddy?" I heard a man's voice say. Well, I thought, Mama told me never to take rides from strangers. But I may as well, since I ended up in the Bronx the last time I took the train while intoxicated.

"Sure," I said. "Where you headed?"

"Doesn't matter," came the response. "The night is still young, and I'm looking for a bit of fun." I could tell that this would be a strange night. Usually, people didn't talk to strangers in NYC, much less pick them up. My rational brain said to keep going, but my instincts told me that I would not regret the ride. I approached the back door of the car. As I did, it opened to reveal a ruggedly handsome man in a button-down shirt and slacks. I could not see very well into the car; once I entered the vehicle, however, I could see that he was thickly muscled. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in waves, making him look not unlike Conan, if the comic book barbarian were dressed in modern clothes. His dark eyes pierced through me, hypnotizing me. My companion closed the door behind me.

"Where to, buddy?" said the driver in a thick Brooklyn accent. He sounded like he rarely left Bensonhurst.

"Bedford and Barrow," I responded.

"Aah, right by Chumley's" said the thickly-muscled man in the back seat with me, "or rather, where it was." Chumley's closed down after the chimney collapsed. It's unknown if they will rebuild.

"Yeah," I said. "I lucked out on a rent-stabilized apartment there. Probably one of the last ones in the neighborhood."

"That's some stroke of luck," he said with a knee-weakening smile. "I'm Jake." He held out a large paw.

"Mike," I responded, taking his hand. I was in awe at how much his hand engulfed mine. My eyes drifted upwards from his mighty hand to his expansive chest. His shirt proudly displayed the cleavage created by his massive muscles, while his sleeves strained to contain his bulging biceps and thick triceps. His shirt appeared to be painted onto his titanic torso. I don't know how long I sat there, slack-jawed at his pulchritudinous power.

"So," he said with a voice that shook me to the core, "I take it that you like muscle?" I could say nothing, so great was his power over me. I weakly nodded.

"You wanna know how big I am?" the god said.

"Yes, sir," I blurted out. Where did sir come from? Did I secretly harbor a muscle fetish? It seemed to be the only explanation, as most of the guys I've hit on have been pretty average in build up to this point. Jake grabbed his shirt at the opening and, in a miniscule show of his strength, ripped the shirt apart as if it was made of tissue paper. Buttons flew everywhere as fabric was instantly shredded. With fists full of fabric, he raised his arms into a double biceps pose.

"Grrr, fucking 25" cannons that can curl your tiny body for reps," he boasted. "These guns are so strong, I gotta register them with the NRA. I could easily dwarf the waists of women I fuck with these; some of the men I fuck barely measure up to my arms. They're really looking puny when they see my 52" chest." At this he crunched a most-muscular that brought out every muscle into bold relief. His six-pack abs, which could grace a cobblestone street, look powerful enough to wash clothes on, while his chest could probably take a bullet unscathed.

"I'm close to benching half a fuckin' ton with these power-pecs," he continued, boasting of his nigh-superhuman strength. "All I have to do is take off my shirt and any one I want, guy or girl, is putty in my hands and begging me to fuck them. Girls go wet for me and guys nearly jizz in their shorts at the sight of me. I've never gone home alone thanks to this body. So, what do you think? You want this? You want to feel a real man's cock in your ass?" I could not resist him, so deep was I in his psychological grasp. I was his to toy with however he chose.

"God, yes," I said with a kind of lust I've never felt before. I was turning out to be quite a muscle whore. He hit a lat spread, showing off his wide-as-a-door back, linebacker traps, and his cannonball delts.

"Cum!" he ordered. That one word was all it took to make me explode in a spurt of cum. My pants were stained by my own seed in worship of this man, this god made flesh. I wanted to please him, to feel his cock in my ass and mouth.

[V.R.Goh]

You log on to a private webcam service centered on sthenolagnia. Scrolling through the various videos, you come across one titled "No need to masturbate." The video's creator promises to make the watcher cum without them masturbation. Twelve hours after posting it reached 200,000+ views. This is a transcript of the video.

(An audible series of clicks is heard as the screen vibrates. The camera is set up and a massively muscular young man, his skin golden brown from ample time in the sun, walks onto the screen. He is wearing black pants that look like tights and a red muscle shirt. The ends of the shirt's sleeves reach to the middle of his biceps. A six-pack is vaguely visible beneath the shirt, while a sizeable package can be seen in his crotch.)

Okay, here we go. Welcome to my parlor, worshippers. Heh, sorry. I've always wanted to say that. What's my name? Does it really matter what it is? (You notice his right pec bouncing as he smirks.) You wouldn't want my name unless you wanted to find me in real life. For now, just call me Zeus. Yeah, that's a good name. I would've gone with Herc, as in Hercules, but Zeus is much more powerful. ("Zeus" half-subconsciously bounces both pecs. He seems to move around a lot, deliberately flexing with every new pose.) But, you're not here for a Q&A session, are you little slave? No, you're here looking for a muscle god to worship. Well, I'm the only muscle god you will ever need, and I can make you cum all over yourself without you touching yourself. Now, I don't know if you're a man or a woman, but it doesn't matter. Eventually, they all submit to this.

(At the word "this," he brings his arms up and, with a grin, hits a front double biceps.) Boom, baby. Welcome to the gun show. Look at these fuckin' Howitzers! Fuckin' weapons of mass destruction, baby! (He flexes harder, viridian veins emerging from their resting places. Audible rips are heard as his sleeves start tearing away from the muscles on his arms. His eyes are fixated on the camera as, through flexing alone, he removes the sleeves from his muscular arms.)

Yeah, watch those sleeves get trashed. Startin' to fuckin' collect snow on these mountains. Fuckin' bones me up being this fuckin' huge. (The bulge in his pants proves his statement to be true. He turns to the side and straightens his arms, exaggerating his movements as he does so. The front arm hangs down at his side, a giant horseshoe of a triceps muscle jumping out in bold relief, while his other hand grabs the former arm's wrist. The muscle god pulls back into a side chest. His face forms something between a toothy smile and a grimace. A single tear form on the top of his shelf-like pecs.)

Rrrgh! Look at that shelf! Fuckin' chest hard as rock. Naah, harder than steel! I could crush cinderblocks, I'm so fuckin' strong. (He turns to face front and places his clenched fists on his hips. In one slow motion, "Zeus" spreads his wide back into a lat spread. A ripping sound is heard, signaling the continued destruction of his cage of fabric.) Grrr! Makes me hard every time I gotta go sideways through a door 'cause my back's so fuckin' wide. I could probably fly on these wings. Don't touch yourself just yet, worshippers. I still got the best part coming up.

(The nameless Adonis bring his arms out to the side. However, instead of a front double biceps, he brings his fists together, flexing every muscle at once.) RRAGH! (His shirt explodes from the pressure put on it by his thick muscles. You feel yourself steadily approaching climax. Most of the tattered fabric flutters to the ground like autumn leaves. A couple of pieces of shirt hang on around his cannonball-like shoulders and taurine neck. He tears them away with no effort, as if they were pieces of wet paper.) RRAGH! Aargh, fuckin' beast! You know you love it. Look at these muscles. Look at your god's body and worship. (He starts feeling on his turkey-sized pecs as he subconsciously flexes his abs into a eight-pack that could grate cheese.) You like this, worshippers? You love your god? Then get ready, 'cause this god demands a cum sacrifice. Better protect that computer. (You hastily put a towel over the keyboard to make sure that it does not get damaged from the inevitable cum-storm.)

Watch this. I'm gonna drop my pants with just my cock. (The ripped muscle god put his hands behind his head. After a few moments of flexing his biceps, he crunches his abs. It did not seem possible that his abs could be any more ripped and hard, but the proof was before your eyes in high definition.) Mmm, I can just imagine your tongue licking my abs clean of your cum, as well as mine. I always cum after flexing for you. Watch my crotch. (You dutifully obey your virtual muscle god. All seems quiet until, all of a sudden, a foot-long crimson cock, fully erect and as thick as a beer can, bursts through his pants. The force of his cock ripping free from its prison of fabric causes his pants to fall to the floor. You're almost cum then and there as he kicks the rags away.) Yeah, fuckin' muscle god makin' himself cum. Get ready, worshippers. I'm about to make both of us cum. (He takes a deep breath and, with all his considerable might, hits the most mind-blowing most muscular you have ever seen.) Aargh! Fuckin' muscle! Fuckin' cum for me! (He throws his head back and spreads his arms out to the sides, flexing as many of his godlike muscles as possible, as his rod erupts with alabaster jizz.)Uh! UUUHHH! OH, FUCK YEAH! FUCKIN' MUSCLE GOD! CUM FOR ME, WORSHIPPERS!(You can't take any more. You tremble and quake as you start cumming. You continue cumming for this unknown muscle god, this powerful paragon of pulchritudinous perfection, even after the video ends. When the orgasm subsides, you want to know who he is and where. Wherever he lives, you want to find him and worship him in person.)

[V.R.Goh]

This random act was inspired by the fourth part of Londonboy's "Unbridled Domination." I hope I am able to do it justice.
----------------------------------

It was about noon on my first day here at the state park, and I realized that I needed this vacation more than anything. Camping out here, where the nearest form of "civilized" life is miles away, is the best way to recharge my batteries. I was fortunate enough to be able to know how to live off of the land, hunting and gathering my own food to survive. The only kind of food I brought that was reminiscent of my life in the city was a week's worth of coffee and my stove-top coffeemaker. I may be able to live off of fish and local berries and such for a week, but breakfast has to either be or include a cup of coffee. I was so engrossed in the sounds of the birds in the nearby cypress and oak trees that I almost didn't notice a strange noise emanating from somewhere in the woods. I doused my campfire and, grabbing my flashlight and my walking stick, I ventured into the woods to investigate.

As I hiked through the woods, the chorus of nature was punctuated by what sounded like an animalistic grunting. It was too high-pitched to be a bear, not to mention too rhythmic. The closer I got to the source of the sound, the more I realized that this was coming from another human. So much for being the only human for miles, I thought as I came upon another clearing. This one, which stood roughly 150 yards from my campsite, was set up similar to my own. A fairly large tent was pitched near the fire pit, while a cooler sat near the tent. On the opposite side of the fire pit from the tent was someone who was possibly the biggest man I had ever seen.

If I hadn't seen this guy with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed that someone that big could exist outside of a work of fiction. He must have been about six-and-a-half feet tall and at least 300 pounds of muscle. What turned me on even more was the fact that, not only did he not seem to have a shred of fat on him, but he also didn't have a muscle-gut. I never was a fan of those muscle-guts, preferring guys with massive pecs and small but drum-tight waists. This guy had it all: arms that dwarf my legs, legs bigger than my waist, a chest that was probably as big around as I am tall, abs that could be used to grate Parmesan cheese, shoulders and lats that make him too wide for doors, and enough definition to function as an anatomy chart for some high school's biology class. My cock, which measured an average six inches when erect, stood at attention.

The beautifully buff beast was pumping away on push-ups, hardly a challenge for such a monster, when he paused. He stood up and, in one quick motion, hit a front double biceps pose that made my cock start throbbing even more. He smiled a proud grin, obviously pleased with his body of work. I leaned forward, as if to get a better look, when my presence was made known by a snapping twig that I stepped on.

"Who's there?" his rich, baritone voice said to no one in particular. "Come one out. I only look threatening." I slowly walked into the clearing, making my presence known.

"Uh, sorry for being nosy," I began, "but I heard you working out and, quite frankly, I got curious."

"Well, you know what they say about curiosity," he said, his voice vibrating through me. "I'm Sean." He held out a meaty paw, thoroughly callused by what I assumed to be long hours at the gym. Can I just call you 'god?' I thought.

"Malik," I said, introducing myself. I shook his hand, nearly floored by the amount of control he had over his strength. I was convinced that, if he wanted, he could have snapped the bones in my hand like carrots.

"Malik, huh?" he said, tasting my name. "If my Arabic is right, that means 'king.' That's a good name."

"It was my father's idea," I explained. "Before I was born, he had converted to Islam. I never did take to it, but we have learned to live and let live." I didn't tell him that the reason I didn't "take to it" was because of my father's virulent hatred of white people. It was the main reason he converted to Islam, which he saw as "the true religion for the Black man." We "have learned to live and let live" because I haven't spoken to him in ten years.

"So, Malik," Sean said, "I take it that you like what you see?"

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, embarrassed.

"It was when you were talking to my pecs," he quipped while bouncing his massively muscular pec-meat. I turned even redder than I was before. "You gay?"

"Bi," was my laconic response.

"Close enough," Sean said. "Go ahead, cop a feel. I won't bite unless you want me to." My hand tentatively reached for his massive arm. As I groped the thickly-muscled appendage, Sean flexed it until a sharp peak formed at the apex. While one hand explored his bulging biceps, the other was getting a hold on his right pectoral. It was like touching granite that has been wrapped in silk. I was awestruck by how huge he was.

"Oh my God," I said softly, blown away by Sean's beefy arms. "I've never seen a guy as big as you up close before. How strong are you?"

"Those arms you're groping," he began, "can curl a Jeep for reps." My jaw nearly hit the ground.

"What!?" I said, incredulously. "That's impossible! You'd have to be super-strong for that."

"Good thing that I am super-strong," Sean said with much bravado. "Watch this." He went to his tent and pulled out three metal bars. They looked like the kind used in construction to reinforce walls. With one end of one of the bars in each hand, he bent it into a horseshoe shape with minimal effort. I started leaking pre-cum all over myself.

"That turn you on?" Sean asked, knowing the answer.

"God, yes!" I responded. I quickly dropped my pants in a desperate urge to cum for this monster, this god of muscle and superhuman strength I came across in the woods. Once my pants and boxers were around my ankles, Sean came up to me quickly.

"Allow me, little man," he said and, in one motion, he tore my shirt right off of me without any visible effort. I almost came right then and there. I willed myself not to cum, for I knew that more was to come. Sean leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"Does it make you hot that I can bend steel with my bare hands?" he asked. I didn't need to answer, since my dumbstruck look and my crimson dick gave him my response in the affirmative. "I can do more than that. Not only can I curl a Jeep, but I can bench press a semi with the trailer attached. I don't go to gyms anymore because I'm a hundred times stronger than anyone there. I go to junkyards to get a decent workout, and I do that by ripping cars to pieces bare-handed. I do it in the nude because my own strength gets me so fuckin' boned. I always end up cummin' by the end of every workout." While he was talking, he picked up the metal bars and, with hardly any visible effort, crumbled them into a wad like one would do to a sheet of paper. I was surprised that my cock didn't explode with cum then and there, because his words were turning me on as much as his strength was.

"It's so fuckin' hot being this fuckin' strong," the massive muscle god continued. He flexed his right arm, causing a mountainous biceps to peak up toward the stratosphere. "The only thing that makes me bone up more than bein' this fuckin' super-strong is knowin' that my own power is makin' someone else cum. You see," he continued as he flexed the other cannon of masculine power, "whenever I meet someone that gets as boned up on my strength as I do, it makes me bone up even more. Whenever I show off for them, they get off on it enough to cum right there for me, which makes me wanna cum. It's a vicious cycle, even though I can't get enough of it. So, how about it, little man? You wanna cum for me, little Malik?" He brought his hands behind his head and flexed his abs. An adamantine eight-pack that could stop a bullet without so much as a smudge and massive Howitzer arms that should be registered with the NRA stroked my brains pleasure center as I teetered towards orgasm.

"Dear God, yes!" was my emphatic answer. Sean then stepped back and swiftly blasted my senses with a most-muscular for the ages. Every muscle stood out in bold relief as if each striation was carved from granite by a master sculptor. Accompanied by this massive display of mega-masculine superiority was a roar from Sean that shook me to the core. I felt as if I were staring at a god made flesh, as if I witnessed Sean's apotheosis into a thickly muscular, superhumanly strong deity of pure strength. To me, he was the quintessence of masculine power, strength made flesh. I stood at the treshold, waiting anxiously for my god to allow me to release.

"Cum!" he growled, his voice soaked in the power of an alpha male. My body could not help but obey. I felt my balls tremble as my cum started to spew man-juice all over myself. I moaned in sexual delight as the feeling of bliss covered me like a blanket. As my cock ejected its alabaster payload, I screamed his name in worshipful adoration. I wanted to feel this way again, to experience the sensation of being in the presence of this literal superpower. After a moment of nirvana, I came down from my muscle high.

"God, that was hot," I said, panting. "Whenever you want someone to worship you, I'm yours." We exchanged contact info once I was lucid enough to write my own name. Fortunately, he lived near me. He had promised to let me see his workout. I knew that, like him, I would cum at least once before he finished.

[Londonboy]

Very,very, nice. Thank you.

[V.R.Goh]

Disclaimer: The characters in this Random Act are fictional characters. As such, the following rules apply:
1) Any similarities between them and real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental;
2) They are immune to HIV and STD's, whereas you are not. Always use protection.
-----------------------------------

Jon had brought together all of his lovers to an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. The place had not been used since the company that owned it previously went under ten years ago. Jon had found it last year and had turned it into his sex den away from home. Whenever he had the desire to fuck, he would bring one or more of his lovers here to fuck them delirious. None of his lovers minded being part of his harem, male or female. In fact, some of his lovers had actually fuck each other from time to time. Usually, this was during one of his big orgies, which happened on a weekly basis.

Aidan had met Jon through his twin sister Nadia. She would always go on and on about this "god of a man with a cock to drool over." Being bisexual, Aidan had been with his share of men and women. However, none had produced the kind of reaction in him that Jon stirred in Nadia. With a little prodding, he convinced Nadia to bring him along to one of his monthly parties that she always attended. What he saw was a man who made him hard almost instantly. It took all of his willpower to keep from dropping his pants and jerking off then and there. Both twins were overcome with desire, something that seemed to be common among his harem when he was in a room. The arousal that hung in the air like incense smoke always got the 6'6" musclegod excited enough to fuck.

He reached toward the bottom of his shirt, the muscles in his 55" chest leaping like two ferrets were trapped beneath his white muscle shirt. His 28" arms bulged with superhuman brawn as his crotch began to stir. His own beast was waking, tearing through his shirts like they were made of tissue paper. The sight of his muscles alone would be enough to send everyone into a sex-charged frenzy; his erect tool would make them lose control.

Jon pulled the bottom hem of his shirt upward, revealing an eight-pack of washboard abs on a wasp-like 27" waist. Each individual brick on his stomach looked like they were carved by a master. His cock continued to harden, shredding his shorts. Already, his orange-sized balls were becoming visible. Nadia's last boyfriend was only able to tear off his pants at full erection. However, Jon was so massively huge and so insanely powerful that any clothing he wore surrendered while he was still semi-tumescent. The harem's collective lover gave a quick flex of his adamantine abs as he pulled his shirts above his pecs.

With one quick pull, Jon suddenly ripped his shirt to shreds in a full display of his own power. At the same time, his monstrous cock tore through his pants like wet paper. Such displays never failed to get some of his lovers cumming at the sight of him. Indeed, Nadia was already in the throes of orgasm, a dark stain in her crotch signaling her own womanly juices had begun flowing. Aidan could barely take his eyes off of Jon as he tore the last fragments of cloth from his body.

He let the fabric flutter to the floor like autumn leaves as he stood there in all his glory. A simple flex of his massive biceps brought Aidan nearly to the point of no return. He barely heard everyone else screaming in orgasm in the background. However, when Jon hit a most muscular, their lust-filled cries were masked by his own. All around him, people were masturbating or copulating. Jon stood there, reveling in the dominance he had over the entire room. He would eventually fuck everyone into heights of orgasmic bliss to which only he could bring him. Jon walked right over to Aidan and, grabbing him, gave him a soul-searing kiss that signaled that he would be the first that Jon would fuck.

[V.R.Goh]

Phoebe and her twin sister, Diana, were walking along the beach at sunrise as suggested by their mutual friend, Amy. Amy had told them of a "massive, sex god among men" who is always on the beach every morning while the sun is still rising. According to Amy's tale, she got what she described as "the best fuck a woman can ever get" from this mystery god.

"I swear to you," she said, "just thinking about him makes me wet." Amy was as much of a fool for muscular guys as the twins were. If she did not have to go to work that day, she would go to the beach and meet up with him. Fortunately, Phoebe and Diana both work nights, so they decided to head to that particular beach at sunrise and see if the stories were true.

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when the girls arrived, setting the sky ablaze with oranges and pinks. The only sounds from the shore were the gulls screeching and the waves rushing in and out with their usual interminable rhythm. Phoebe and Diana, clad in their bathing suits, walked down to the beach and started looking for this mysterious muscle god.

It did not take long until Phoebe spied a figure walking down the beach towards them. The clear V shape to his torso showed that he was in very good shape. As he got closer, the girls could make out more of his features. His chestnut hair was cut short, highlighting his square jaw and high cheekbones. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled, hypnotizing them with their intensity.

As beautiful as his face was, the mystery muscle god's body was even more so. Every muscle was, not only huge without being grotesque, but ripped to shreds. His thick neck would rival that of a bull, while his massive arms were held pushed out to the sides by his thick lats. Looking at the valley between his pecs, which was framed by his white tank top which seemed to be losing the battle to stay in one piece, was enough to make Phoebe wet for him. Diana, meanwhile, was entranced by the sizable bulge in his red shorts. Both wanted to ride his cock from the moment they saw him.

Soon, the mystery superman approached the twins, a look of lust-fueled hunger smoldering in his eyes. He knew he had them under his proverbial spell, something which was not hard for him. Women and gay men everywhere wanted him, no matter how hard they resisted. His cock began to swell with blood as he looked over the twins.

"Name's Jake," he introduced himself. "Wanna fuck?" They quivered with delight and passion as he spoke. Even his voice made them hot for him. They answered with an emphatic "God, yes!" There was never any doubt in his mind that they wanted him badly. Jake wrapped one muscular arm around Diana and began ravishing her. A long, slow kiss made her weak in the knees faster than she could think about it. Before she was able to register what was happening, Jake pulled off her top. He started kissing her neck as she rubbed and caressed his massive pecs.

"God, Jake," she moaned. "These pecs are so amazing. It feels like steel. We've always loved guys with huge muscles." The girls heard a loud, but brief, ripping sound as his cock tore through his pants. Diana stroked his adamantine abs as Phoebe started worshiping his arms and shoulders.

The twins continued giving Jake the expert worshiping treatment. Both girls were standing in front of him, sucking on his nipples. They knew just which buttons to push to get him to cum, and it was working. Jake was surrounded by a haze of lust as he neared the point of no return. He could no longer think straight; all he knew at the moment was how bad he wanted fuck these girls' brains out. Suddenly, he let out a loud roar as his 17.5" cock erupted with cum. He continued cumming for five minutes as the girls became soaked in his seed. When he finished, they were shocked to see that he was still hard.

"That felt good," he said, his voice soaking in lust. "Now it's my turn. Get ready to get fucked by a god." He immediately took them onto the sand, where he began plowing them, starting with Phoebe. He fucked them with such skill and passion that each girl had screamed his name every time one of them came. Jake took advantage of both his insatiable sexual appetite and his multi-orgasmic nature (rare among men) and continued fucking them for an hour, switching periodically between each girl. All three had came numerous times over the hour that they fucked. After his lust was slaked, the girls were covered in cum and unconscious. Smiles were affixed to their faces as they dreamed of his expert ministrations, their pussies oozing cum even moments after he left. Every night after that day, they would dream of their massively muscular sex god and cum multiple times in their sleep as they did.

[inm]

Thanks for these recent stories, love female muscle admiration stories!

[iceman75]

Hey V.R. Goh, I like these stories alot, you know, I may be off base, but these stories look to be taken right out of drawings by KAZ. Which I like, those pics are always hot.

[inm]

Originally Posted by iceman75

Hey V.R. Goh, I like these stories alot, you know, I may be off base, but these stories look to be taken right out of drawings by KAZ. Which I like, those pics are always hot.

lolz, he says so right here on the wrapping!

[iceman75]

Ah, lol, well you can tell how attentive I am. Anyway, they're really hot, hope other pics like that inspire you to write stories.

[Clayton22]

Although Bob definitely loved breasts, he went to work on the lower system. David's hip and legs grew a bit, giving them muscle shape, the calf muscle tissue inflammation as well. Lastly, Steven kept in mind the back muscle tissue and David's chest started to gain a bit of a V-shaped blend to it. Steven checked out his development. Mark seemed like a slightly fitness young man now. Who just occurred to be really, really high.

[FreakyGrowth]

MadDog -- Love Steve's transformation of the teens... For me, this fantasy of massive muscle capped by increasing beauty... to become totally irresistible to others - is what excites me. To become flawless and everyone's ideal of male beauty. For the mere site of their body to arouse and cloud the minds of others. For everyone to be powerless to say no to them. For them to post photos and vids online and they spread, creating obsessed admirers that will pay anything to see more.

[V.R.Goh]

After a long flight to the beginning of your summer in Europe, you checked in to the hostel in Paris. Hotels were expensive and, according to a reliable source, this was the best place to stay in the whole city. You made your way to your room, hoping that your roommate(s), whoever he/she/they may be will let you rest and recover from the jet lag. You walk in and, seeing an empty bed, put your bag next to it and collapse onto it for what seemed like forever.

When you wake up, it's already nightfall. The sounds of multiple conversations buzz through the thin walls. A key in the door signals the arrival of the person or people with whom you are sharing a room. The door opens, only to reveal a human-shaped mountain of muscle. The massive beast lumbers in, his legs maneuvering around each other in that classic bodybuilder's strut. His arms are forced out to his sides by the size and thickness of his wing-like lats, while his shoulders and taurine neck make him look as wide as the door. His mountainous pecs and Howitzer-like arms test the limits of his black, V-neck muscle shirt while his sequoia-thick legs look poured into his jeans. Every muscle on his massive body is ripped to shreds and pumped as if from a workout.

"You are roommate, yes?" he says in accented English. By his accent, he's from Eastern Europe, likely Russia.

"Y-yeah," you respond, shaking yourself back to lucidity. "I'm Jason."

"I am Maksim," the beast responds. "You are American, yes?"

"Yeah, I'm American," you respond.

"Good," he says with a smile. Teeth the color of polished ivory gleam in the soft light. His smile makes you weak in the knees while his muscles enhances the sensation. "I am trying to improve my English."

For the next hour, you get to know each other. You find out that your both recent college graduates and getting a year of travel in before settling down to your careers. While his degree is in accounting, he worked his way through college as a certified personal trainer. The whole time, you have been trying not to talk to his pecs, even though they've been subconsciously bouncing.

"You like muscles, my friend?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah," you respond. Is the Pope a Catholic? you think. You've been a muscle worshiper since you came out as gay in high school. This man, this Russian muscle beast, is the embodiment of your every kratolagniac fantasy. You want to tell him that, but the words won't come before you do.

"Good," he says as he stands. He pulls himself to his full height, which, you guess, is around 6'2" or so. You barely notice that his shirt was cut to be made into a V-neck before he grabs the collar. With one mighty pull, Maksim tears his shirt off of him, exposing the massive muscles of his titanic torso. The Russian-born muscle god quickly unzips his jeans and drops them to the floor, revealing the steel-like cords of muscles in his legs. Kicking his jeans to the side, he stands there in all his hyper-muscular glory, naked except for a pair of gold-colored briefs that bulge outwards due to what looks like a large sausage. A light sheen of sweat makes his body glisten in the fluorescent light.

"You worship," he says, almost ordered, "and I show you how we do it back home." you can barely move, so transfixed you are by his godlike body. His presence alone, coupled with his shredded physique, has you on the edge of cumming.

"Where do I start," you begin, "when you're so perfect? Your arms are so huge, they dwarf my legs. God, you must be amazingly strong." Maksim flexes a front-double biceps.

"Barbell curls with 60 kilograms," he boasts. Your jaw drops as you do the quick conversion in your head. At 2.2 pounds per kilogram, you think, that's 132 pounds! He quickly shifts into a most muscular. As he flexes every muscle in his body, he growls with a smile that knows of the power he has over his new American friend.

"Bench press for 200 kilograms for reps," he brags as your dick starts throbbing for release. 440 pounds? He's a god among men! You whip your dick out and start stroking. Maksim crunches his abs while flexing his tree-trunk thighs.

"Come, my muscle-loving friend," he says invitingly. "I know you want to cum for me. You may do so, then we have a little fun." You pound away on your dick, desperate to cum for this beast of a man as he flexes his gigantic muscles. He's obviously loving this as much as you are. He continues to hit pose after mind-numbing pose. Finally, he pounds out a most muscular that forces a roar out of his mouth. He repeats the pose, roaring as he does so. He growls something in Russian and it's more than you can take. Your cock starts spurting its alabaster payload as you become lost in pleasure. The feeling of sexual bliss induced by the spontaneous flexing of a giant Russian muscle god is your ultimate muscle fantasy. After you come down from your high, he smiles mischievously.

"Now I show you how Russian muscle gods treat their worshipers."

[V.R.Goh]

"So, you wanna see muscle, eh little man?" The mountain of muscle asked the moment he closed the door to his apartment. It sounded more like a challenge than a question. The small, studio apartment seemed to become saturated with his presence, almost as if he were right next to me. My instincts told me that I would be safe, but something inside of me expected the worst. We met while I was taking a walk in the park. After some casual conversation, I had commented on his impressive physique. In hindsight, it might not have been a good idea to tell him that, in order to get myself motivated to work out, I look at pictures of bodybuilders that have the kind of muscles I want. He had invited me to his place so I could "get some proper motivation." Now that I was alone with him, I was afraid that I would never leave alive.

"Have a seat, little man," he half-ordered, half-suggested, "and get ready. You're about to see all the motivation you ever need." I took a seat on the futon as he stood in front of the opposite wall. Sunlight indirectly illuminated the sparsely furnished room. A desk with a desktop computer sat to my right between two doors. One was slightly ajar and showed a moderately-sized bathroom, while the other, likely a closet, was closed. To my left was the kitchen, set up for a bachelor's solitary life. The place smelled of aftershave and lemon cleaner with a hint of cum, likely his.

"By the time I'm done," he said, a mischievous grin on his face, "all of those puny bodybuilders will never get you going the way I can." He brought his arms up until they were parallel to the ground. As he did this, a vertical tear formed in the fabric of his white T-shirt. The shirt, which had looked painted on to his massive torso, began to rip in two. I was surprised that he hadn't torn it to shreds while we were outside. Bending his arms at the elbow, he tensed two mountainous biceps. The steel-hard muscles created more tears, this time in the sleeves, which began to lengthen along his leg-sized upper arms. My cock pulsed to life at this display of power, but I knew that this was only the tip of the iceberg. He held the pose as he bathed in the reaction I was giving him, as if it was fueling him, making him even stronger.

"If you think the gun show was hot," he said, "wait until you see the rest of these huge muscles." Clasping his hands at his navel, he bounced his pecs in a random pattern. Left, right, left, right, together, together, left, right, together, together. Back and forth he went until it looked he had two ferrets fighting beneath his shirt. The whole time, it looked like his shirt was getting tighter and tighter. Was he actually growing through his clothes? I didn't know, nor did I care as it was still the hottest thing I had ever seen. With a sudden snap, the collar of his shirt had broken. His shirt, now torn from neck to belt, fluttered open slightly, revealing a deep cleft between his pecs. It looked like I could hide my entire hand in between his chest.

His hands then went to his waist, and I knew what was coming. With what looked like a single motion, he spread a set of lats that would look at home on a manta ray. As he flared his massive lats, another loud and sudden snap signaled that the collar had broken in the back. It was all I could do to keep from whipping out my cock and jerking off then and there. The brawny beast saw the bulge in my pants and smirked.

"Got ya motivated, do I, little man?" he asked, as if he didn't already know the answer. "Good, 'cause I'm not done. Get ready to cum like you're gettin' fucked, little man." He flexed his monstrous biceps one more time and then, in an explosion of striations and bulges, slammed into a most muscular that caused the remains of his shirt to disintegrate.

"Rrrgh, fuckin' muscle beast!" he growled as the cotton tatters fell to the ground like so many autumn leaves. "That's four hundred and fifty pounds of muscle you're gawkin' at, little man." My cock was throbbing so much, it practically ached for release.

"Too fuckin' strong for the gym," he said as he flexed his monstrous arms, "so I use my fuckin' truck as a weight. You ever seen a man bench a two-ton truck, little man? That's how fuckin' powerful I am. That's what these muscles can do." Then, he smiled mischievously again.

"Watch this, little man," he said. I was beginning to love it when he called me that. He placed his hands behind his head and crunched his six-pack abs. One leg was further forward then the other as he held the pose. With a few growls, he hit the pose even harder. His crotch started stirring, as if a tiger was breaking free of its cage. Then, it happened.

The front of his shorts snapped cleanly in two, revealing a tubesteak the size of Florida. His man-missile, fully erect and easily a foot long, almost glowed an angry red. He was definitely getting off on this. I quickly dropped my pants to my ankles and started pounding away on my own cock, not wanting to waste this moment.

"Only one thing gets me hotter than havin' biceps the size of people's head," he said, flexing his arms for emphasis. "Only one thing is better than havin' a chest so big, I can't see my fuckin' feet. One thing gets me cummin' more than being stronger than ten bodybuilders together, and that's showin' off my fuckin' superhuman muscles to some runt who wants to get big. So, how about it, little man. You wanna get this big?" He roared as he slammed into a most muscular, his thickly-muscled body now a collection of veins and striations.

"Ooohhhh, fuck yeah muscle god!" I cried out in answer, my balls churning with cum. He could have told me to suck his dick or bend over and let him fuck me, and I would have done it without question. He spread his massive arms and flexed every muscle even higher as he growled, "Cum!"

It was practically synchronized. He came at the same time, our senses lost in a sea of lust and orgasms. My cock spurted its seed as his sprayed its own. It felt like a baptism of cum and muscle and hot orgasmic bliss. After a few minutes of that, he dropped to his knees in blissful exhaustion.

"Fuck, that was good," he said between breaths. "I think I'm gonna like trainin' ya, little man." If his training sessions include more of that, so was I.

[V.R.Goh]

Here's a link to the inspiration:
http://kazart1.blogspot.com/2010/06/aerobics.html
-----------------------

Derek had finished a grueling hour-long workout, increasing both his personal best and the gym record on lifts for the fifth consecutive month. While only being a member of the gym for five months, he had already proven himself to be twice as strong as the strongest guy there. Every one that saw him lift was flabbergasted by his awe-inspiring strength. The rumors flew about him being some kind of superhuman, whether mystical, scientific, or extraterrestrial. Derek let the gossip-mongers think what they want. He headed to what he thought was the men's locker room. He did not see the "Employees Only" sign on the door.

When the thickly-muscled gym rat walked into the wrong room, he heard the tail end of a meeting between the aerobics instructors. At first, they were shocked that a client had entered the room. However, all four found him too attractive to turn away. Derek quickly stripped off his shirt, wanting to pound their pussies right then and there. The only thing that was greater than his physical strength was his libido, and both were on display. Derek hit a few poses, using his massive muscles to get them in the mood. Monique and Karen got eyefuls each of his armor-plated pecs, while Sof?a and Liz were drinking his bulging biceps. A quick most-muscular had the girls more wet than either of them could recall. As his hardening cock began to disrobe itself, it became apparent to the foursome that Derek was as turned on by his own muscles as they were. He could feel his ramrod thickening as blood pumped it to a throbbing crimson.

Monique approached the muscle man, mesmerized by the massive organ that had just reduced both his shorts and briefs to shreds of cloth. It was a bigger dick than any she had ever seen, even on her ex-boyfriend who sported a nine-inch tool. It had to be a foot long or more, and it was not finished swelling with sexual power. She fell to her knees and began to worship it, humbled by its apparent power yet increasingly horny as her ministrations caused it to burgeon even more. Her worship of this god's man-meat missile continued for twenty minutes, during which the other girls constantly hovered on the verge of cumming without being touched by him. Suddenly, the dam burst and Derek's cock spewed more cum than all of their boyfriends combined. They knew right there that they had to have him. Sof?a tore off her blouse in lust as Liz and Karen let their juices flow to the floor. Derek pulled Monique and kissed her more passionately than her boyfriend ever could, his well-calloused hand tearing the rest of her clothes off. Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt his dick get harder and longer in anticipation of what she knew would be the greatest fuck in the universe.

Derek laid Monique on the table as he began to ravish her, titillating every possible erogenous zone on her body. She was already squirting from these ministrations as she and her friends were enveloped in his undying lust. Then, almost without warning, his cock entered her quivering clitoris. This is the moment to which they had built up. She could feel his pulse deep inside her, deeper than any man had ever been. No one would ever be able to please her like Derek would. He started fucking her slowly at first, then gradually increasing speed and force until it was a mad piston-fuck. He kept it up for thirty-five minutes, making her cum fifty times and breaking the table beneath them. Each of her orgasms was just as loud and earth-shattering as the last.

Then, the sex god came. And came. And came. And came. Monique continued orgasming as he pulled his dick out of her flooded vagina. She would feel the sensation of his cock inside of her for another hour.

Much to the delight of the remaining girls, he was even bigger and harder than when he had started with Monique. He grabbed Liz, since she was the closer of the three, and quickly disrobed her while ravishing her shaking body. Her nipples were rock-hard in anticipation of the same super-fuck that left her friend nearly insane with sexual bliss. Liz was not disappointed, though it took some time to work his cock inside her. This was due to how hard and thick his mega-masculine meat-missile was, a feat that was common for him. Eventually, she took all of him. As they fucked for another half-hour, her fifty orgasms left her hoarse and delirious with sexual pleasure. She had lost her voice, but they continued to fuck like there would be no more sex ever. After a full hour of the most intense pleasure she had ever felt, Derek unleashed another gallon of his cum. She would experience the same phantom-cock effect as Monique for roughly an hour or so.

As he came, he started on Sof?a. Derek's sex-cannon was now awesomely hard, impossibly huge, and practically aching for more sex. Derek plowed the Latina's pussy even more energetically than the previous two, since she looked more athletic. They fucked for an hour, her orgasms increasing in intensity and pleasure until he violently came with a shout. His cum exploded out of his dick with such force as to forcefully eject her off of his cock. It was the hardest he had ever cum, but he knew she could take his full power.

Karen rushed toward the god, practically begging to feel his power inside of her. His cock was bigger and harder than ever, and he knew that he could go for hours. The massive god hoisted the woman into the air and impaled her pussy with his god-like ramrod. For ninety whole minutes, they fucked and fucked. Karen lost consciousness after eighty minutes, but that did not stop Derek from finishing her off. For ten minutes, he used the unconscious woman as a reverse dildo, squeezing another fifteen orgasms out of her until he came. Quickly pulling out of her, Derek's alabaster spray coated the walls, the ceiling, and all four girls in his cum. They would remember him for weeks to come.

[iceman75]

Loved it! I'm a big fan of these kinds of stories, and of Kaz' pictures.

[V.R.Goh]

Eddie felt the goo (for lack of a better descriptor) expand across his slim body, covering him from head to foot. Instead of a fixed amount of the substance moving across him, it was as if it was suddenly multiplying to an unlimited extent. The best comparison he could give was along the lines of a faucet turned on and a limitless amount of water pouring forth. Only this slime-like substance was navy blue and moved with a life of its own.

At last, came a mysterious voice from inside of Eddie's mind, we may thrive. For too long, we have been drifting through the endless void you call outer space, searching for a host. Now, that host has been found in you. Eddie was on the verge of panic, frightened as to what this thing would do to him. He had seen enough horror movies to know what the blob-like creature does to humans.

Do not worry, young human, the voice transmitted in a reassuring tone. We do not consume our host, for such would doom us. Instead, we bond with our host and strengthen it. Such is our nature. Are you not aware with what you humans call mutualistic symbiosis?

Eddie calmed himself down as he remembered what he learned in high school biology. Some plants and animals have a symbiotic relationship with other organisms. Immediately, he thought of sharks and remoras. The remora eats parasites stuck to the shark, while the shark gets a free cleaning.

Precisely, the voice said, responding to the mental images Eddie's mind produced. Our lives are now linked. The symbiotic metamorphosis will make you larger and stronger than most of your species. Do not worry, young one. The change that we will impart on your diminutive physique will be most pleasurable. Eddie could feel his heart rate skyrocket as the symbiote, which now completely enveloped his body, continued the process of what it called "symbiotic metamorphosis." He immediately pictured himself as a massively muscled super-hunk. The image quickly faded as the symbiote began changing his body.

To Eddie, it felt as if someone were inflating each individual muscle all at once, only with more steel-like sinews instead of with air. His heart thundered in his chest as every muscle on his body swelled with brawn. His widening and thickening back and deltoids forced his swelling arms apart, while his pipe-thin arms grew to resemble the cannons he had admired on his favorite bodybuilders. He looked down to see his flat stomach becoming a six-pack worthy of a cobblestone street; he finally had washboard abs. However, his view of said washboard was quickly obstructed by his expanding chest. No longer would he have to hide his bird-like chest, for now his massive pecs protruded proudly from his torso.

The whole time the symbiote was growing Eddie's body, he was wrapped up in a euphoric experience unlike any he had ever felt. Even jacking off couldn't compare to the sensation of having an alien symbiote turning you into a massive muscle monster. Fortunately, the symbiote (he? they? it?) had not forgotten his manhood. His 6" cock, erect from the pleasure of growing, continued to swell as if it was still soft. Soon, it passed 8" and continued to 9". At the same time, it became thicker and thicker until it was as thick as a soda can. Eddie wanted to cum to his massive body so desperately that it could not be ignored. Luckily for him, the symbiote sensed that need.

We see that you require sexual release, the symbiote noted as it grew away from Eddie's newly massive cock. It is always a new experience for us when we acquire a new host. As soon as you experience release, we must feed. We use up a lot of energy during the metamorphosis. Eddie furiously pumped his cock as his muscles continued to expand. Within moments, Eddie shouted as he came, his voice having changed from its usual high reedy tenor to a rich, almost musical baritone. What felt like a gallon of cum sprayed from his man-missile as his metamorphosis completed itself.

Afterwards, the symbiote quickly expanded over his cock, adjusting itself so that it looked like a bodysuit. The symbiote, then retracted into itself, taking the shape of what looked like a short-sleeved muscle shirt attached to a pair of boxer briefs. Eddie quickly brought his hands to his face, taking inventory of what was formerly beneath an alien skin. Everything seemed in order, though his jaw was now stronger and square-shaped and his cheekbones were more chiseled. Looking in the mirror, he saw a jaw-dropping, nipple-hardening, cock-erecting, orgasm-worthy, massively muscular mega-hunk. A quick flex of his mountainous biceps confirmed that the mega-hunk in the mirror was indeed him. He hit pose after mind-blowing pose, watching as the model-shaming beauty reflected before him displayed his physical superiority over most men. He nearly laughed with excitement, wanting to express his undying gratitude to the alien who made him into such a gorgeous specimen of masculinity.

You are quite welcome, my young friend, the alien responded telepathically. Now we require nutrients. You need not worry, as we can draw nutrition from your food. Your appetite is likely to increase exponentially as you are now, I believe the phrase you humans would use is 'eating for two.' Now, let us procure sustenance. I am curious as to the taste of this 'pizza' of which you are fond.

[Ogun]

^love to see this one continued

[nnnrg]

For a moment there, with the navy blue alien-mass, I was wondering if we were seeing the genesis of the Tick.

[howardbeatman]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

For a moment there, with the navy blue alien-mass, I was wondering if we were seeing the genesis of the Tick.

Felt more like Venom in Spider-Man - with a color change.

[V.R.Goh]

Howardbeatman was close. I was kind of channeling the symbiote that would be Venom, but without the whole "eat your brains" part. Very likely, it will continue, but the creative juices have yet to flow in this particular direction.

[V.R.Goh]

He stood before me, dressed for all the world like a superhero who was on his way to the gym. His navy blue basketball shorts looked like compression shorts that were at the breaking point, they were so tight across his massive quads, and his white T-shirt may as well have been painted onto his titanic torso. I couldn't help but drool at his size, his strength, his sheer dominance. All I wanted to do in that moment was to worship him.

"You like what you see, little man?" I knew the answer before I heard him say it. The whole time we were at the bar, he talked to my thick pecs or my ultra-powerful biceps. He wanted me bad, so bad that he was almost in pain for my superhuman muscles. I decided to grant him his request for worship, since it gets me off like nothing else.

"Oh, hell yeah, big man. I swear you look like a Super-Saiyan Goku from Dragon Ball Z." Fuck, he's hot. So huge he had to turn sideways to enter the door. I know we're the same height, but his massiveness (Is that a word? Massiveness?) made him seem ten feet tall. Shit, his breathing was getting me off. The act of his ribcage expanding was pushing the limits of his shirt. Oh, fuck, I hopes he hulks out of his clothes. That would be beyond hot.

I smirked at the Goku reference. Considering my spiky blond hair, my blue eyes, and my mega-massive, ridiculously ripped muscles, I was wondering when that reference would be made. I am definitely gonna have fun with him. I think I'll start with the arms first.

"I can tell you're into muscle. You into arms that can bend steel bars like pipe cleaners?" I flex my twin peaked biceps at this point. I can feel the sleeves tearing away from my cannons. There's only one thing that gets me off better than flexing out of my old clothes.

"Oh, fuck! God, those fuckin' biceps!" I rushed over and licked his enormous arms. Biceps the size of my head, as hard as marble, and with a sharp peak worthy of the Himalayas dominated my view. "Yes, big man. I love huge arms!"

"What about a back so wide, I gotta turn sideways to use a door?" I hit a lat spread that tore a slit down the back of my shirt. Hulking out never failed to get me off, especially when I hit the grand finale.

"God, so wide! So huge! So massive!" This was unreal! I had my very own muscle god to worship and please and he was fulfilling my sexual fantasy. I circle around back of him and try to wrap my arms around him. I barely get to his mega-massive pecs. "I fuckin' love your muscles, big man!

Wow, this guy's a real muscle-pig. He can't get enough of me. "How about abs so tight, they can stop a bullet without so much as a scratch?" I tense my adamantine abs tight. His hands drift onto them, feeling every single muscle-brick. He sighs, and my diamond-hard cock twiches. Getting close. I grab the chest of my shirt and tear it away.

"What about a chest so massive and strong, not even a semi can give me a decent workout?" He circles around front, his eyes locked onto my nickel-sized nipples. He's hypnotized, under the spell of my super-strong muscles. This guy was definitely a keeper.

"Fuckin' love you!" God, he's so fuckin' hot, I can't stand it. I pull out my cock and start pounding away. I want to cum to him as tribute, but he tells me to wait.

"You wanna cum so bad?" He nods furiously. I tear my shorts off, revealing my jockstrap. "You wanna cum to this superman's body, little man?"

"Fuck yeah, big man!"

I hit a most muscular, assaulting his senses with my display of massive, ripped, godlike muscle. My cock bursts free from my strap, standing at attention like a soldier at bootcamp. Its crimson head throbbed with blood, on the brink of spraying him.

I'm lost in a sea of orgasmic bliss. I'm swimming in sexual satisfaction. My cock explodes, spewing its alabaster offering to my muscle god. I'm his forever as his muscle-worshiping slave. He continues to pump his most muscular pose, his balls churning out their own offering to his muscles. He cums, and I'm covered with it. Fuck, I love him.

Fuck, I love being this huge. The only thing that gets me off more than using only my flexing muscles to destroy my clothes is doing it while I'm with someone who appreciates it as much as, if not more than, I do. I'm definitely keeping him around. After we finish cumming, I pull him close against my body.

"I'm gonna like having you as a worshiper, little man."

"You can have me as a worshiper whenever you want, big man." I feel secure wrapped in his powerful embrace. Like a security blanket, if there was one that came with muscles as hard as marble.

"What if I told you that all of those super-strength comments I made were real?" I hear him gasp as his cock twitches. Looks like I found someone who likes my super-strength as much as my super-muscles.

My cock twitches with delight. A guy who is, not only built like Goku and kinda resembles him, but is just as strong? I think I died and went to kratolagniac heaven.