NEW STORY: David's End of Days Pt 1

[JP71]

[COLOR=dimgray]Huzzah! JP71 is BACK!!! Had a nice break from writing and now I'm rearing to go. Expect lots more HUGEMAN in 2010, but for now, I present to you a sequel to last year's [COLOR=yellow]David's Day[/COLOR]. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]DAVID’S END OF DAYS[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray](Sequel to “David’s Day”)[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]By JP71[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]In the first story the world’s most gigantic and muscular 18-year-old, David Driscoll, heir to hundreds of millions of dollars, learned that his bloodline was touched by the Dark Prince, who would afford the Driscolls immense success and fortune in exchange for their souls. In David’s case, because his family wanted for nothing, his father chose to have his son grow huge and super-strong, culminating in the most massive growth-surge on his 18th birthday, the day David brought about the biggest mass-gay orgy of all time. With the Devil watching over the antics posing as David’s butler, eventually human vices got the better of him and he gave in to David’s demands to be even more muscular. Finally Old Nick left him, but not before augmenting David’s love interest, his Hispanic gardener (and part-time bartender) Manuel, turning the Mexican hunk into a bodybuilder as huge and as strong as David. The story ended with the two hyper-hunks locked together in sexual, massively-muscular bliss. But could this bliss endure indefinitely, or was David’s paradise destined to become lost?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Chapter 1: Three Days to Samael’s Tower[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]The Wasteland had long since lost its appeal. David had only been here a few days (assuming days flowing into nights could still be perceived as a passage of time), but already it felt like a small eternity. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Remember: You’re here for ETERNITY!” the poster had warned, the one he first laid eyes on as he watched the hole in the chain-link fence miraculously repair itself before his astonished eyes. The metal of the fence burned and hissed steamily as it turned a glowing red in colour, but the poster that waxed upon it did not burn along with the fence as it sealed itself across the now repaired gape through which David had thrust himself to escape the demon wrath-beast. An ordinary doomed mortal would not have had the strength to rend the links apart and exact his escape from the Arena, but David Driscoll was no ordinary man. Carmichael, on the other hand...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Here, it’s not great, barely a taste out of it... but it will sustain you,” said the ex-butler to David Driscoll, proffering him the carrion he’d rescued from a solitary lappet-faced vulture as it scavenged along a desolate but ravaged roadside. The handsome forty-three year old winced noticeably against the pain in his dislocated shoulder. He was battered and bruised, on the verge of giving up. But no man deserved to die in a place such as this.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]David accepted the meat reluctantly, curling his nose up at its fetid stench, but at least grateful that his “nuclear-reactor” stomach would destroy any disease the meat carried as it hastily turned it into the barest of fuels for his incredible muscles. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“I miss pizza,” he lamented, and thought about a sixteen-inch deep-pan filled with pineapple, cheese, bacon and tomato, accompanied by a wheelbarrow filled with french-fries. He forced down the filthy road kill, opting to swallow it whole rather than suffer the gut-wrenching act of chewing.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“If memory serves, there’s a diner just over that hill, and about fifteen kilometres due south. But it’s owned by a demon called Splatter, and food hygiene was never his strong point,” said Carmichael, wishing all of the memories left as a mental residue in his brain upon the departure of Old Nick from his soul would go away, for their weight in his mind caused him frequent headaches. Still, it was knowledge that had so far served them well in this place, the Wasteland surrounding the Ninth Layer of Non-Eden.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]The two men were each sat on a sturdy boulder, in David’s case a boulder the size of a dinner-table, given that he weighed close to four and a half thousand pounds and stood top to toe at almost ten feet in height. He had continued to grow in the days and weeks following on from his 18th birthday, back when times with Manuel had been the most incredible of his life, before Manuel turned bad and bared his terrible secret. Above their heads, a red, sulphurous sky, host to occasional flurries of black lightning, turned callously, an impenetrable cap that roofed the Layer, cutting it off from its Eight successors.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“So it this diner the first inhabited zone beyond the Arena, or are there other places worth a visit? I refuse to accept that we’re here for eternity, Carmichael.” David picked up a boulder the size of a foot-stool and used it to pump out thirty bicep-curling reps. It was way too light. His ball-bicep flexed hugely, snapping its vein-network into view, prominent enough to almost split his grimy skin. But he felt nothing in the way of a gratifying pump. Outside of the Arena, he worried about where his next workout was coming from. Carmichael, somewhat crudely, read his mind (probably another leftover effect of the Devil using his mind and body for a time), causing him to point a finger high over the Mountains of Mourning in the East, over which a sun, in the shape of a great-burning skull, slowly descended, causing dark, oily and oozing shadows to stretch across the unhallowed land. Was there a gym there?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“My knowledge is sketchy on a lot of things. I get flashes of information, based on the experiences of others... things the Devil collected over time, I guess. Because they’re not my own memories... I guess a lot of it just doesn’t make sense to me. I can say one thing with absolute certainty: the Devil has never visited the Ninth Layer of Non-Eden, “Carmichael shrugged, forgetting his shoulder was dislocated. He let out a yelp of pain.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Come here, let me fix that,” the giant David requested, showing more tenderness than Carmichael could ever give him prior credit for. The ex-manservant trusted him and depended on him for protection... paramount to their combined survival. “Puh-please.... don’t be too strenuous on me,” Carmichael said worriedly, closing his eyes against the worst of what was to come. David offered him a finger to bite down on. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“It won’t hurt me in the slightest. Trust me... this’ll only take a second.” David hugged the man to him, Carmichael finding solace from the proximity of David’s heaving pecs, so that he could firmly press his hand against the back of Carmichael’s sore shoulder. His hand formed a sturdy platform against which Carmichael would be supported. David then nudged his own humongous shoulder against Carmichael’s causing a most audible “snap” noise as the bones were forced back into place.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Fuuunnnnngghh!” Carmichael bit down on the finger for all he was worth. David didn’t feel a thing. Then he kissed Carmichael on the top of his silvered head and placed him down on the ground, as a child would dismiss a cute puppy. Carmichael felt no more pain, but the dirty, dishevelled gent looked upwards at the hulk who’d just treated him, a “Why’d you just kiss me?” quizzical look in his eye.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“I... uh... don’t... know why I did that. You can be mad if you want,” said David, lowering his head in shame as both of them were engulfed in darkling shade of encroaching Hell-night.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“It’s alright. It was kind of... nice. But next to you I’m child-sized, David. Even if I were gay, from a physical standpoint this could never work.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Both men now lowered their heads, as if to minimise the awkwardness of the moment. Carmichael’s foot played around with a clump of dislodged blood-red soil for no reason, whilst David crabbed out a most-muscular, focusing on the enormity of his muscles, quickly becoming lost to the ritual.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Carmichael had been vaguely aware of things happening whilst possessed by the Devil. He remembered the night of David’s 18th birthday orgy at the gay club they ended up in (and David ended up purchasing). Although Carmichael, barely present as a consciousness – pushed to one side by the more omnipresent effects of the Prince of Darkness – had shared the Devil’ sherry-induced intoxication, enough of his mental faculties still existed in order to process the sensation of being impaled by such a humongous, throbbing penis...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“You’re my bitch, now, Carmichael,” David growled, and bent forwards, to rip the clothing from the Devil’s body, exposing a deliciously buff body that he’d hid well in the penguin suits he wore whenever he attended to his rich master. [/COLOR]
[COLOR=dimgray]“I look forward to it, Davy-boy,” he slurred, now obviously tired of the whole manservant act. He was Satan and he could be anyone he wanted to be, even Patrick Hernandez. He flexed his abs in order to push his lower half upwards, holding his legs upwards and as close to his chest as his supple self could manage. In this way he exposed his butt-hole for David to see... his impossibly large butt-hole.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=dimgray]“There never was a Missus Carmichael,” the Devil confessed, now totally desiring to be fucked by David and no other.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=dimgray]“Prince of fucking Lies,” growled David and got into position, holding Carmichael firmly by each ankle. He pushed five and a half feet of monster-dick into the Devil, who was, not surprisingly, able to take it to the last inch. David fucked him hard and fast, for he was only coming of age and nowhere near experienced at the art of anal intercourse. Still, not bad to fuck a supreme being in human form, his first time out.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=dimgray]“Maybe the Devil really DOES wear a blue dress,” Carmichael said, commenting aloud on his sudden unprovoked recollection… the memories of another, a supreme other.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Huh?” David had no idea what he was on about.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Never mind,” said Carmichael, suddenly shivering against the drop in temperature. Night was almost upon them. It would be their first night outside of the populated Arena, the place to where Manuel had cast them down upon their last meeting. It was a dangerous place, where you had to fight night after night so as not to lose your soul, but at least it had been warm… sometimes too warm. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“We should make for Splatter’s Diner. It’s better than freezing to death out here.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“You can ride on me, if you like. Sit on my shoulders. My body’s heat will easily keep you warm,” David suggested as he picked up the Aggressor Blade he’d won from his last match against Dementulak, a fifty-foot-tall half-demon half-tarantula… a particularly nasty and deranged construct of nightmare. The sword fit snugly into the scabbard strung across his vast back. He hated being dressed like an other-worldly excuse for a gladiator/S&M leather-man, although many spectators at the Arena, demon, low-devil or otherwise, had found his apparel to be most befitting of his boner-inducing musculature.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“What, ride on your shoulders like a little kid out for a Sunday stroll with his daddy? Forget it, David. You already diminish me in ways you can’t imagine,” said Carmichael, his mood suddenly taking a turn for the worst.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“I didn’t mean anything by it, Carmichael. It just makes sense to keep you warm, that’s all. I’m superhuman. I don’t feel the cold like you do.” David sounded apologetic. He really needed Carmichael to meet him half-way.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Superhuman, maybe, but all because of the power of the Dark Prince. How does it feel to be a by-product of the Devil’s meddling?” An argumentative nature wasn’t becoming of Carmichael, but the last few days had really taken a toll on him. He was fed up being cast down, trapped in a private little corner of Armageddon. He missed being at home in his apartment, preparing his roster of activities for his next day of work at the Driscoll Mansion, laying out his suit and buffing his shoes up to a blistering shine. He missed dinners for one, and jacking off to porn on the internet. He didn’t miss being possessed by the Devil, however, a being too vast to even acknowledge the existence of the Ninth Layer of Non-Eden.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]David tried to keep his cool, but if Carmichael wasn’t careful he was going to be responsible for David losing his temper. “The Devil is okay, as far as I’m concerned. He knows my father, and from what we both know, Hell is a very misunderstood place. It’s a damn sight better than this hole, that’s for sure.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Then why doesn’t he pop right back into my head and get us the fuck out of this place?” Carmichael angrily kicked a clump of soil into the air. It glanced harmlessly off the rippling quadricep of David’s right thigh.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“I don’t know. How could I? You were the one possessed by him, not me. But he’s never been to this place. So why should he come now?” David shrugged and bounced his pecs a few times, loving the heaviness of their weight. He snapped them into a hard flex and delighted when deep striations split them into half a dozen segments. He really wished they were bigger…. a LOT bigger. He just wasn’t massive enough. As far as he was concerned there simply was no upper limit to how big he could get. He felt it was his destiny to get to the Tower of Samael, where Manuel was purported to be “hanging out”. Carmichael didn’t respond with an answer. If David was to one day face Manuel again, how much bigger would the ex-gardener and bartender be, now that his body was the receptacle for a misanthropic plaything of a fallen archangel? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Manuel’s “darkening” had begun as a pestilence within him, gradually turning him into something that shied away from all things human, despite that his beauty and masculinity only improved and intensified. Samael’s touch was merely supposition on Carmichael’s part, but people/demons they’d crossed paths with at the Arena each and every one agreed that the corruption of a “muscled one” such as Manuel, bore the hallmarks of Samael, or, in the least, one of his misshapen consorts. Since the Tower presided over everything in this lowest of Non-Eden Layers, as well as the Layers above, it didn’t take an Einstein to postulate that this was where David and Carmichael needed to be, if a showdown with Manuel was once again unavoidable.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“I guess arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere. Come on, let’s head for the diner. Stay close to me so my heat will keep you warm,” said David and began the trek towards the hill beyond which a diner was said to exist. Carmichael hastily followed, finding he had to quicken his pace in order to keep up with David’s larger, more powerful strides. Above them, high in an ever-darkening sky which quickly had taken on the tinge of thickly congealing blood, that same vulture from earlier grew in size, its eyes glazing over with hellfire as its razor bill grew rows of scythe-like teeth and its wingspan spread ever wider. In its crude mind it formed a message, which it hastily dispatched to its Lord and Master, for it was a minion no less of Lord Samael himself: [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“The pair are on the move, heading towards Splatter’s place, in the region where Marcus the Vain resides. Should I call my brothers to make difficult his passage?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]A quick reply soon boomed inside the vulture’s head, causing the creature to stumble in flight, losing touch with a vital warm air current keeping it aloft. It quickly began to plummet, but expertly regained its aerial worthiness before it could crash to the unforgiving Wasteland: [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“THE VAIN EXISTS BETWEEN LAYERS, THEREFORE I CANNOT EXACT CONTROL OVER HIM. BUT DRISCOLL AND HIS LAPDOG CANNOT RESIDE THERE FOR LONG, FOR THEIR FLESH WILL BURN AND MELT FROM THEIR BONES. HA HA HA, FOR NOW, VULTURE, BE MY EYES FROM A DISTANCE, NOTHING MORE. I WISH TO BE ENTERTAINED BY WHAT IS CERTAIN TO COME!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]~*~*~*~[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Aw fuck… yeah!!! I’m too fuckin’ big for this place,” Marcus the Vain roared triumphantly as he flexed in front of the big, ornate mirror that dominated his living room. He was naked before the glass polished to a lackluster sheen, hulking out to impossible proportions as he picked up a barbell weighed down with seven seventy-pound plates on each end. 980 pounds of weight on the bar, merely a warm-up as he prepared for an evening of non-stop bodybuilding. It was an evening that would pass like every other as he endured a Purgatorial-state between the Eighth and Ninth Layer of Non-Eden. For his pains, his less-than-faithful companion sat almost glassy-eyed at a neat-looking table and idly thumbed through the same “Boy Band” picture-book for the umpteenth time. Life here was Dullsville for Rudy Epstein, who dreamed of being back on the Earth, amongst the living, and clubbing the night away fuelled on red wine and hits of Ecstasy.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“If I wasn’t already dead, I’d fuckin’ kill myself,” Rudy moaned as he tenderly prized apart two pages from the book that had become gummed together from his recently sprayed sauce. He managed to get Nick Lachey unstuck from Justin Timberlake and continued to thumb through the book that had absolutely no text beyond the names of the people it featured.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“We’re not fuckin’ dead, Rudy. I keep tellin’ ya. Nor are we entirely alive,” Marcus insisted when two demonic arms burst through a somewhat flimsy wall, both of which sported a balled fist. Marcus outstretched both of his arms: palms flattened out and turned down beneath the demon’s fists which immediately began to apply enormous downward pressure on the back of Marcus’ hands. He gritted his teeth, tensed every huge muscle in his body and used the strength of his arms alone to fight back against the demon fists. In this way his arms got an intense workout. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]It was a strange dimension he’d found himself in, and things worked way-too-strangely at times, but often, as in this case, awesomely. Stuck between Layers, in a cosy house with all the mod-cons, demon-kind, forever hungry for human souls, couldn’t hurt Marcus or Rudy in any way. Henceforth Marcus worked this to his advantage, actually using the demons as equipment to further his insatiable hunger for all things bodybuilding. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“C’mon you horn-headed pussy… more pressure. Put your fuckin’ back into it. Gotta get these arms up huger,” Marcus snarled at the arms sticking out of the wall. Beyond the bricks and mortar a creature wailed angrily, willing itself stronger. Sulphurous fumes emanated from the holes left in the wake of the demon withdrawing its arms. Five seconds later, two much larger, insanely muscular arms bashed larger holes in the wall, as the creature beyond rose to meet Marcus’ ever-increasing demands. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Ha-haaa, that's more like it, you girly-fuckwad,” Marcus exclaimed and resisted almost two tonnes of downward pressure exerted by the muscle-demon beyond the wall. He kept this up for ten minutes, his arms becoming enormously pumped, power from which was also transmitted to the rest of his muscles as he pushed back against the demon limbs. Of course, this only further enraged the monster and it soon retracted its arms again in favour of bashing a heavily-horned head through the drywall. The head resembled that of a ram, a typical depiction of a demonic entity, although it was covered in weeping boils and festering sores. It snorted and whinnied in its attempt to break through the wall and bite Marcus’ head off[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Oh no you don’t, Sheepy,” Marcus blurted out, before grabbing the monster by its horns and exerting immense force enough to twist its head violently to the right. There was a loud “SNAP!” and the creature instantly fell limp. Marcus pushed the head and neck out through the hole, allowing the wall to miraculously repair itself, right down to the restoration of the wallpaper covering it, but not before his reward for winning yet again floated through one of the holes in the form of a plate of somewhat moderately appetizing cookies.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Ha-haaa, I’m fuckin’ HUGER than before,” Marcus triumphantly cried, flexing a double biceps that shot his arms up past the one hundred inch mark. He’d gained more than twenty inches on his arms in just one pump, plus so many, many inches to the rest of him, all of which deserved individual assessment.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“One of these days those demons will give you what for,” said Rudy, now done with the book and moving on to the cookies as the plate set itself down before him. Food was seldom fresh or enticing in this place, although it was constantly on tap. Not many people made it to the mini-Edens that sometimes existed between layers. But if you got to “live” there, you could just about manage a semi-decent existence. The rules of all Nine Layers didn’t exist here, sort of the Afterlife equivalent to International Waters of Earth.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Let them come… then I’ll rape every fucking last one of them and make them choke on my cum!!!! Ha-haaa. I’m the biggest, strongest hulking muscle-dude in all of Creation.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“You’re a fucking douche, Marcus. Why I let you buy me all that alcohol and get off with me before we were hit by that truck, I’ll never know. But here we are, stuck with each other for all Eternity.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“But is that such a bad thing, Rudy? You get to spend it with hot n’ hunky me.” And as punctuation to his statement of the facts, Marcus the Vain began a muscle show he hoped Rudy Epstein would not soon forget.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Sigh! Here we go again,” Rudy inattentively sighed.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Even as Marcus began to fan out into a generous lat-spread, his six-footer of a dick throbbed and thrashed almost spastically as blood and nutrients were diverted from his main-body and into the massive member in order to fuel its growth. It thickened exponentially, a veritable anaconda of length and girth, embossed with veins thicker than the wrists Rudy wished he had slashed years ago. As it bobbed ever upward, it splashed precum in all directions, drenching the plate of stale cookies, soon to make them an inedible sludge. Anchoring himself with legs akimbo, Marcus’ upper body exploded with muscular size and density as hundreds upon hundreds of fresh new pounds of muscle exploded on him all over. He was thousands of pounds in weight now, his true weight difficult to gauge. As he grew, so his skeleton reshaped itself to support the new muscle-growth. Bones snapped and were instantly repaired, a sound not unlike sap-sodden logs exploding in a fiery hearth. It was enough to make Rudy wince.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Worship my fuckin’ muscles, Epstein. I fuckin’ demand it of you,” Marcus snarled as he hulked into a huge most muscular, followed by a lat-spread where pecs heaved upwards and outwards, seeming to swallow his head whole. He held the pose, willing further massive, humongous growth into his ever-swelling lats. They flared larger and larger, pushing impossibly against his biceps and arms, which fought back with a growth-assault of their own. In this way the sheer kinetic force of muscles colliding with muscles furthered their growth. His chest exceeded three-hundred inches, although his waist was only one seventh of that width. At a height of twelve feet it seemed that he would outgrow the house, but the house grew with him, making Rudy feel so very, very small. As Marcus grew to ever-increasing titanic proportions, his muscles bulged out further in all directions, becoming fuller, deeper-cut and more defined because of it. But this wasn’t enough, even as his size expanded to fill the entire scope of the mirror, which, unlike the house wasn’t growing at all. His dick swelled to ten feet in length, fully erect, now and its bulb-head shot up way taller than the crown of his head as the massive shaft slammed against his chest with force enough to stagger him on his feet. In contrast, his sack-sized gonads became heavier and fuller, stretching his scrotum skin to bursting point. The balls alone weighed hundreds of pounds each and spread out across the floor like a rampaging B-Movie blob.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“You’re too big for me to have any effect on you whatsoever, you doofus. Don’t you get it? You’ve outgrown humanity a hundred times over. I’d rather get off to these lame cookies. Now fuck off and go play with yourself,” Rudy barked, absolutely fed up with the existence this place afforded him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Spoilsport cunt,” Marcus wailed and hulked out a most muscular that sent seismic ripples of muscularity coursing throughout his physique. He balled his biceps out before him and the massive mounds swelled to two hundred inches around. He began to stagger around the room, destroying furniture and appliances, for his mighty erect dick completely clouded his vision. He bashed right through the front-facing of the house and into the Hellish night where dark lightning crackled across the coagulating sky and howling, inhuman things with many legs scuttled in all corners of the shadows. But Marcus was too boned, way too muscular and enormous to care about coming to harm by anything from the Wastelands on either side of his little Eden. Behind him the house repaired itself whilst inside, Rudy continued to snack on the stale cookies.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Marcus found he had to walk sideways so that he could see where he was going, all the while tensing and stroking his massive dick in order to stimulate himself to his fullest. All the new muscle he’d grown made walking difficult and now he found himself questioning his desire to get even bigger. Then he flexed his biceps and kissed and licked each one profusely, deciding he loved growing and wanted to outgrow the Nine Layers each and every one. Samael presided over all layers, although his base of operations was in the Lowest Layer of all. Whatever symbolism this might present was totally wasted on Marcus. He simply did not possess the trains of thought necessary to shoot off at any tangent that might steer him away from his only reason for living: BODYBUILDING![/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“A built body is a happy body,” he chanted, his masturbatory movements rising to the beating of his heart and the racing of his blood and metamorphic fluids that rocketed around his system, carrying hormones and other growth-enhancing chemicals to every corner of his being. He wanted to be bigger and bigger…. fucking HUUUGE!!!! He just wasn’t huge enough, although he was currently struggling against the weight of his enormous ball-sack, which dragged behind him for several metres. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“They need fuckin’ milking… getting too heavy for this mighty feller.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]And so he thought about his body and about bodybuilding, and about his favourite earth-hewn bodybuilders who’d been his idols when first he came into the sport. His stroking intensified, his dick about to become a towering inferno in its own right.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Unnngh, Jorge… you fuckin’ stud-muffin teen-sensation…. Flex for me…. Grrrrrr… bounce those pecs as you charge along South Beach…. Unnnnngh yeah, Betancourt, you fucking Puerto Rican hunk. Only 18? Unnngh, so much time to grow and grow. Want you sooooo much.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Precum now geysered out of the top of Marcus’s massive mushroom head as tremendous fantasy-driven tremors caused pressure to build up in his dick.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Aw fuck…. Mike Dragna…. man, those posers on you are soooooo hot, thong-back pinched between such hot, hard, firm butt-bellies, awwww yeah…. Wanna see you bounce your mammoth pecs and pound each one with your fists. Unnnngh get huge for Marcus…. Fuck HUUUUGE!!!!!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]He was now sodden with his own precum and he swallowed as much as he could as it rained down on him, gallons of the stuff. His lust intensified, his jacking-off still rising in intensity. In the meantime he waddled close to the energy barrier that separated the place he’d made home from the Ninth Layer of Non-Eden.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Jeff Long…. Mark Alvisi…. Getting’ huger and huger…. Fuck yeah….. Trey Brewer…. Fuckin’ monster…. Get huge, man. Then Marcus Vain, the hugest of them all…. All you guys… fuckin’ gnats compared to my monstrous size and development. Aw…. Too much, gonna blow…. Gonna fucking burst my dick with cum!!!!!!” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]What came out of him at this point was like a dam breaking. It certainly made this little corner of lackluster paradise quake under the weight of the tumult that assaulted it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]~*~*~*~[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“What the hell was that?” Carmichael searched the dark sky above for the source of the tacky wetness that splashed onto his shoulder. He touched his soiled, torn shirt at the point of collision and his fingers came back slimy. More of the stuff rained down, and towering above him, David felt it splash onto his cheek. He touched the stuff and brought his finger to his tongue.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“It’s human cum,” he decided, knowing that taste immediately.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“As opposed to the non-human variety?” said Carmichael testily. Really, this place was completely and utterly testing his sexual tolerance to its limit. Oh, if only there’d been a Missus Carmichael in his life, would he even be here now, somewhere between Hell and the ass-end of the hereafter?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Someone nearby must be having a whale of a time. C’mon,” said David, the taste and smell of man-juice now dominating his senses as torrents of the stuff began to shoot down from above. Soon the ground had become slippery and mushy and Carmichael stumbled a few times, finally allowing himself to ride on David’s massive shoulders (who could easily get three or four consenting adult males up there at the same time). As they made it over the southern hills, now their eyes played host to a shimmering blue haze that seemed to hang from the ochre sky, completely blocking whatever it was lay beyond.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“That’s the energy barrier. We shouldn’t go any further. The diner isn’t in that direction anyway,” Carmichael cautioned as he clung tightly to his mighty protector, feeling like a six year-old getting carried around a carnival house of horrors by his daddy.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Fuck the diner…. Now this is nourishment,” said David, his over-long tongue extended outwards so that it could catch as much of the ambrosia from above as the sky was capable of spewing. He gulped on the tasty jism and instantly became boned. Suddenly his body’s musk-making power went into overdrive and all six-feet of his boner stood to attention. Four and a half thousand pounds of ultra-muscle now tensed across his body and his gonads throbbed and swelled in anticipation of what was to come.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“The cum… its source is beyond the barrier. I’m in charge of this operation, Carmichael. Therefore we are going, got it?” David’s lust made him vehement, and being many, many times the size and weight of Carmichael, was the ex-manservant really in a position to argue?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Fine,” said Carmichael, pulling a sulky face and crossing his arms across his modest chest whilst spunk from the sky continued to cover him. It slid down his face in lazy rivulets and collected in copious globs all over David’s hair. “We either get killed at the energy barrier, or else I turn gay in order to live on the cum, my only food source for ever after.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“It’s an acquired taste, old man,” the eighteen-year-old mega-hulk of muscle remarked between guzzles of jism, the source of which he was determined to find out. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]Having left the hills for solid ground once again, the trek to the energy barrier took about a half hour to complete. In that time the spunk rain had petered out, its maker utterly spent of his glorious fluid. David found him lying face down on the other side of the barrier, barely discernible behind the shimmering blue curtain of fizzing, sizzling energy.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Wow, he’s fucking huge… but unconscious from all that wanking. I’m not surprised. The same once happened to me. We should help him,” David resolved, but the barrier held him back. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Hmmm, there’s nothing in this bemused head of mine that can help us get past the barrier. It’s meant to keep people like us from slipping between the Layers,” Carmichael mused aloud, appearing to go into himself somewhat in search of answers.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“David, I really think this is a bad idea,” he said a moment later. He pointed off to the right. “Splatter’s Diner is not far now. Think of all that glorious pizza, as much as you can eat.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“My belly is full from this dude’s spunk. I want to thank him personally for his generous bounty,” David returned. That said, caring little for the convoluted physics that bound everything together in this dimension beyond the Mortal Veil, David Driscoll approached the energy barrier, and before raising his ultra-strong fists above his head in typical Hulk fashion, gently placed Carmichael on the ground. The manservant wasted no time in running for the hills, in case all existence as they knew it was wiped out in one mighty thump![/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]“Here goes nothing,” David growled and forced all of his strength into this one unmerciful blow.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]BOOOOOM!!!!!!!!![/COLOR]

[COLOR=dimgray]To be continued….[/COLOR]

[Mad Dog]

HOT!!! Thanks for revisiting this character. :3