What Goes Around...

[Xyggurat]

Thanks again to jman250, Cylon_U-87, and the incomparable Helliot for inspiration.

-X-

Edit 8/3: The final part, "Comes Around," is up.
Edit 7/29: Posted the next part. I'll update with the final third soon.

[Xyggurat]

I'd gotten a bit cocky over the years; that should come as no surprise. When a guy can do the sort of things I do, it's hard not to feel a little superior. I don't mean to brag, but I've come around to the fact that I'm special. No, not in the whole drooling and running headfirst into walls sense. Special, as in better.

There was a time when I was only special on the inside. A little quicker on the uptake, you might say. It's not that I'm smarter than most people are, but systems come easily to me. When I learn part of a thing, I can extract the other information. It makes the rest of you seem slow by comparison. God help me if I ever have to explain to you exactly what it is that I do, when I--

I know, I know--it sounds arrogant, doesn't it? But look at things from my perspective. When you talk to your dog, do you expect it to grasp all of the concepts you put before it? Of course not, it'll bark, maybe it'll even cock its head as if it's listening, but it's not your equal. So in a way you should be thankful. You have droves and droves of equals. I've only ever encountered one.

But my story begins a while before that, back in the days when I thought I was just like you. Not even one of the better ones. Small, weak, unimpressive. All of the work I've done to erase those days feels like such a waste sometimes: I doubt anyone from back then would even remember I existed.

Well, maybe one or two.

My first was Travis White. I can remember how I saw him then: tall, golden, and powerful, like a statue made flesh. God of the football field, king of quarterbacks, unchallenged leader of the high school jocks even though he was just a junior. He looked like summer made flesh, with eyes as blue as the sky and teeth so straight and white they almost shone with their own light when he smiled. In a time when the features of his peers were still fighting through baby fat and acne, he already had a model's chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. All of this was outdone by the perfection of his body.

To call his build muscular would be a disservice. It's an imprecise word, making no distinction between athletic or musclebound, and Travis was neither. His body was, as I said, perfect--just the right amount of muscle to make his heavy pecs push up beneath the fabric of even the thickest shirt, to make his biceps turn into steely baseballs clad in blue veins when he bent his arms, to make his quads strain against the fabric of his denim jeans. His legs were spectacular, powerful and just slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body. They gave him a swagger when he walked.

I was never interested much in girls or boys before Travis. At the time, I wondered if my hormones had not yet awakened, and feared they never would. Certainly I was smaller than the other boys, a scant inch or two over five feet. I was skinny as a sparrow and pale, with dark hair and unimpressive features. For these reasons, I never had to deal with awkwardly rejecting potential lovers. People were as disinterested in me as I was in them.

All of that changed around Travis. When he walked down the halls to his locker, my eyes would follow the powerful, primal way his body moved, and how his thick chest would leap or solid biceps would jump when he'd heft his backpack. During the fall, when football season was at its height, he and other members of the football team would troop past the windows of my Algebra classroom. He never wore a shirt. Sweat would make his sun-bronzed pectorals glisten, or show off his precocious eight-pack of abdominals. Also obvious was the long, thick shape snaking down the leg of his athletic shorts. During these processions, my own, lesser, endowment grew so hard it felt like it could've burst through my jeans, and I was almost thankful that it was so small that no one would notice. Almost.

You can imagine the feelings that rushed through my head when he intercepted me in the hall one day. It was nearing the end of football season, and I knew the rest of my life would soon dissolve into a grey haze waiting for the hot days of the early school year to begin again. Towering over me, broad enough that I could not see the world beyond to either side of him, he cornered me by my locker. In an instant, heat shot to my face and groin, and I became uncomfortably aware of my heart pounding in my ears.

"Y-yes?" I stuttered.

"You're Sharp, right?" He cocked his head.

"What?"

"Kellen Sharp. The math kid," Travis said.

His assertion made no sense to me. I never did anything to distinguish myself in classes, although I usually managed A's to keep my foster parents satisfied. Maybe my wits were addled by the closeness of him, the sweetly masculine scent of the Abercrombie cologne he wore or the spicy musk of his body underneath, but I nodded, wordless.

"Cool," he said. "You want to help me with math? I need to pass this test, or I can't play next game."

I nodded again.

"You don't talk much," he said, displaying a white smirk. "You sure you can teach me this stuff?"

"I can," I said. It came out as a squeak.

"Right, then meet at my place tonight. After my practice. It's off Old Mill Road, the big white house with the slate roof."

And then he was gone. He did not wait around to offer more information or see if I understood, he just expected me to know when his practice would be over, and to do as I was told. To his credit, there was no hesitation on my part. I never once considered disobeying him.

The rest of the day made no sense. I was almost constantly hard, and every time my cock threatened to soften, I'd remember his scent, or the sight of him towering over me. Unable to ignore my dick, which was a sad four inches even in its rock-hard state, I came three times before I was ready to get out and get changed. I rushed home after school and showered. Both of my foster parents were out for the evening, so they did not hear my shouts of pleasure.

I'd never given thought to what clothes I should wear, but abruptly, that sort of thing had begun to matter. It took me twenty minutes of frantic deliberation to settle on a t-shirt and shiny basketball shorts. The t-shirt, a small, hung loose on my bony shoulders. The basketball shorts were too long, but I dared to hope that they might make me look somewhat athletic.

I ran most of the way to Travis's house, and when my legs were pained and breaths almost painful to draw, I stumbled the rest of the way. I did not feel like an athlete; the shorts had failed me, and now I was drenched in sweat on a hot day in late September. Only the thought of seeing Travis buoyed my sinking spirits.

He lived in a big house with an expansive yard. A high fence went all the way around the back of the property, cutting it off from the woods beyond. I didn't know cars, but the ones in the driveway looked nice and new and expensive. Big wrought iron gates guarded the entrance to the courtyard in front of the house. The Whites had money, I realized, and lots of it. It seemed monstrously unfair that Travis should have his looks, his confidence, his athletic skill, his body--and also be rich, but that was a fleeting thought, banished in a second by the sound of Travis's bright red convertible screaming down the street.

He came to a sudden stop in front of the gate, hopped out, and waved, his smile charming. That smile turned into an ugly glower--at least, as ugly as one on his face could be--the moment that he reached the gate. He fumbled around in the pockets of his football shorts, then swore. He grabbed his cell phone from inside the convertible and made a couple of calls, but no one appeared to answer. Face red, he turned to look at me.

"No key," he said. "Guess we can do this tomorrow."

I nodded. The way my spirits came crashing down with that pronouncement made me want to curl up and die. Instead, I mumbled something noncommittal and started off toward my house, shuffling my feet as I walked. They'd probably yell at me at home for getting dust all over my shoes, but that was the furthest thing from my mind.

"Wait," Travis said, halting me.

I turned. "What?"

"I have to go to the movies tomorrow, and the test is on Thursday. There's a spot about a mile from here in the woods where we can sit, and you can teach me this shit," he said. He did not wait for my confirmation, only plucked his backpack out of the convertible's back seat and struck off toward the woods.

I followed as if we were tethered together. Despite the darkening sky, the air was still very warm, and my legs were already sore. I stumbled behind Travis as he marched confidently down a worn path, marveling at the view from behind. He had a wide back, his thick lats lending his body a dramatic taper that was visible even underneath his letterman's jacket. I barely took note of the trees or the birds singing, so intent was my focus on his muscled ass. It was not a work of art; it was a drug, and I was thoroughly addicted.

He came to a stop in a small open clearing around a granite boulder. The top of the boulder was flat, almost like a table. He dropped off his backpack before stripping off his letterman's jacket and laying it down reverently. He sat, paying little attention to me, and pulled a thick Algebra book from the backpack. Only then did he look up at me, his eyebrows rising in expectation. I sat.

The lesson did not go as well as I had hoped. All of the blood that should have been powering my brain was otherwise engaged, and I caught myself several times stumbling over explanations to concepts I knew handily. Travis offered no complaint, he nodded and sat there with an intent look on his face, as if it was taking all of his mind's power to drink this information in. I'd finished explaining exactly who Fermat was and why his Theorem was important when Travis cut me off with a slice of his hand.

"Enough, enough, jeez," he said, leaning back in the grass. From where he was sitting, I could almost see up the leg of his shorts. "How do you not get tired of this stuff?"

"I do," I said. "It's just--"

My tone must have sounded defensive, as he waved the rest of my response away. "I'm sorry, bro. I think I get some of it, but I have a headache and it's hot." He stood, graceful as a tiger's leap, and tugged his shirt off over his head. It snagged on his pecs for a seductive moment, and then his body was free.

"Wow," I said, my heart thundering in my chest.

He laughed, the sound rich and cool like chilled cream. "It's not that great. There are lots of guys on the team bigger than I am." Nonetheless, he flexed his arms, and two huge mounds of muscle wrapped in veins pushed up beneath his skin. Miraculously, I did not faint. I tried not to let my gaze linger too long on his body as he sat back down across from me. "All it takes is lifting weights."

"I'd never get as big as you," I said. "Plus I don't know how to lift weights."

"You're a bit scrawny, I'll give you that," he said. "But don't say never. Maybe you've got the genes for it. You wanna see something cool?"

I nodded.

He grinned. Sitting before me, he let his arms fall loose at his sides. He started to bounce his pectorals, one first, then the other, then both at the same time. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch them, to run my hands over the rock-hard abs below, to reach into his shorts and awaken the slumbering monster there. Another part of me wanted the moment to last forever. I would have been content frozen in time on a hot autumn evening, in awe of Travis White. But the moment ended.

His pecs stopped dancing, and I looked up. His eyes were on me. More specifically, they were on a particular part of my anatomy. I followed his gaze down to my athletic shorts, the ones I'd worn to be more like him, and I saw what he did. My cock, my tiny cock was outlined in bold relief, hard as a rock. Precum seeping from the head had left a dark mark in the fabric. I tried to shift my position, knowing it was already too late. My muscles turned to water, and I trembled like a frightened jackrabbit.

Travis looked at me, his face inscrutable. "Are you a fag?"

"No," I said, hurriedly. "I'm not."

"Why do you have a boner, then?"

"I don't--sometimes it just happens."

"If it happens around dudes, then you're a fag," he said, matter-of-factly. Then he did the last thing I expected. His arm snaked out, and he grabbed my cock through the fabric. I yelped at the sudden sensation of his strong, hot hand on my dick. He flexed his other arm. "I bet this is what's turning you on, isn't it? Everyone on the team envies my arms. They're fucking huge, seventeen inches already and they'll be bigger next year." My cock leapt. "Yep," he concluded. "You're in to them."

A stir of movement in the periphery of my vision drew my attention to his crotch. There, to my shock, a terrible transformation was occurring. I had thought his package looked big in those shorts, but now it was enlarging, lengthening, like a firehose reeling outward. He glanced down at it with an evil look in his eyes.

"Mine's bigger," he said.

My cock leapt again. "Are you--"

"No," he said. "I've been fucking girls since I was thirteen. Wouldn't fuck a dude, but sometimes there aren't any girls around."

The beast in his pants continued to expand. He pulled his hand from my cock and ran it over one striated pectoral, down over his sweat-sheened abs, and down beneath the waistband of his shorts. He started to tug on the staggering length of dick concealed by the fabric, and shut his eyes. His lips parted with a soft moan.

"You wanna suck it?" Travis asked.

"Yes," I said, not even a heartbeat later.

He stood up and shucked his shorts off, an unceremonious maneuver. I looked up. His dick was easily double the length of mine, and three times the width. Even his big hands could not fit around it, but there was room for both on the shaft with space to spare. He stared down at it, as if he was surprised by its size, too. His glassy eyes made him look like he was drunk on the need for release.

"Put it in your mouth, fag," he said, but the nickname was oddly gentle, playful almost. "Watch the teeth."

I'd never sucked a dick before. I crawled toward him on my knees and braced myself using his tree-trunk legs. They were hot and sweaty and covered in a light dusting of hair that looked like spun sunlight. The sky above was turning pink and bruised blue, and wind whispered through the trees.

I bent forward and took the head into my mouth. I could not manage much more than that, it was so thick. A taste at once salty, sweet, and bitter graced my tongue, and the scent of musk from his huge, egg-sized balls assaulted my nose, at once pleasant and overpowering. I felt a hand on the back of my head, and then his legs were flexing as he thrust his dick forward into my mouth, so deep that I almost gagged. Through it all, I was aware of a sudden burst of pleasure and a feeling of wet warmth in my pants as I came without touching myself.

My skin tingled. The heat from his body found an answering warmth deep in the heart of me. It felt like someone was building a fire in my chest. I would have panicked if it did not feel so good. There was a sudden solidity to me that I'd never experienced before, yet the sensation was somehow right, as if this was something I had always been missing, a piece to a heretofore incomplete puzzle.

The hand left the back of my head, and his dick pulled out, leaving me reeling. Instantly, the heat vanished. I heard him laugh, a cruel laugh, and something thick, heavy and wet smacked hard against my face. I recovered just in time for him to slap me across the face with his cock again.

"You want it, don't you, bitch," he said.

I nodded, and he gave me a shove, sending me sprawling into the grass. When I righted myself, he was seated on the boulder, his shorts discarded entirely. He beckoned toward his cock, and I devoured it hungrily. The warmth returned. He thrust in and out of my mouth with brutal abandon, not caring that I choked in the hugeness of his nine massive inches. The dick became easier to take as he went on, and we settled into a rhythm before I noticed another strange sensation, a feeling of tightness all over my body.

I tried to pull off, but the hand on the back of my neck was like steel. Even when the first tearing sound from my right shoulder reached my ears, he did not let go, but at that point, I shook off his hand and fell back into the grass. He sat up on the boulder, eyes still lazy with pleasure, but they widened. A look akin to fear crossed his face.

"Holy shit," he rasped. "What happened to you?"

I looked down at my body. For an absurd second, I thought that my shirt must have shrunk. It had gotten so small that they'd torn in places, over my chest and around my shoulders. My shorts, while still loose about my waist, felt tighter around my upper legs and in my crotch. I realized in a heartbeat that something infinitely less probable had happened. I had grown.

"What happened to you?" Travis repeated, unable to keep his eyes off of the skin peeking through my shirt. His cock stood tall and slick between us. It was enjoying my transformation.

"I don't know," I said. My voice surprised me with how deep and rich it sounded. "But I like it."

"Me too," he said, giving his cock a tug. "Am I dreaming? This is like a fucking fantasy." He gave me a dazed smile.

He was so busy examining my body that he did not notice the changes in his. For someone like me, who had spent hours over the last few months memorizing every muscled curve of his physique, it was obvious: Travis was smaller. His dick was thinner, shorter. His shoulders possessed less breadth, his chest and arms less heft. There was still a dangerous athleticism to his physique, but it was diminished, somehow. Combined with my new growth, his shrinking had ensured that the balance between us had changed. He just hadn't realized it yet.

Lest you think me a monster, you should know that I considered telling him. I didn't want to destroy the work of art he'd built of his own flesh. I'd never intentionally hurt any creature, human or otherwise, before. I even took exceptional lengths to avoid stepping on ants or snails. This was different, infinitely more terrible: this was a man I loved.

But he would never love me.

I knew that with certainty. He was using me to get off. He'd probably brought me out here with that intent. If I told him what was happening--even the little of it that I knew for sure--he would flee. He would tell the world that I was some sort of freak. Worse, I might be stuck like this, little better off than I'd been before.

I dove forward and put my lips around his cock. This time, the warmth came instantly, filling my chest with its power. He did not protest. His smaller cock filled my mouth, and his moans filled the hot sweet air.

Now that I knew what to look for, the transference was obvious. Second by second, Travis's mighty pole grew less so, until I was taking it easily. The astounding eight-pack faded to a six-pack, then four, then the barest hints of definition on a slender stomach. His biceps thinned, turning from softballs to goose eggs, and then his arms could barely be considered defined. I watched as his neck thinned, heard as his moans softened and grew higher in pitch, watched as his impressive jawline became woefully average.

The transformation in him was reversed in me. My expanding shoulders strained my t-shirt to its breaking point, and the fabric screamed as flesh and muscle broke free to shine in the dying daylight. My pectorals thrust forward, hardening and squaring. I felt rather than saw as my soft midsection reformed into six solid squares of muscle. The greatest transformation I felt in my shorts, as my cock and balls grew heavier and heavier.

Pleasure burned along my veins as the tip of my cock strained up beneath the waistband of my shorts. I could feel it widening, and thickening as it did. Before long, an inch of cock pressed up against my hardening belly. Then there were two.

I sucked harder on Travis's small, slender cock as the flow of warmth ebbed away. His thin hips bucked, and his cock thickened precipitously before shooting a pathetic load into my mouth. I spat it in the dust and stood.

The sound awakened Travis from his haze of lust. I stared down at his wasted body, and he gazed up at mine, eyes full of awe. I surveyed myself, comparing my new physique to memories of his.

I was shorter than Travis had been, perhaps 5'9 to his six feet. Suddenly six feet did not seem so gigantic; after all, it was three inches away and I'd already grown seven. I was still far larger than I'd ever dreamed possible. My chest was dusted in a sparse covering of downy brown hair, and only the tops of my nipples were visible due to how my pectoral muscles pushed outward. They were not so large as to block my view of the rippling abdomen below, or the wide, cut cock that thrust a couple of inches up over the waistband of my shorts.

I felt like a stud for the first time, and looking down at Travis, I felt superior. He'd finally noticed his own changes, and as I watched he stared down in horror at the damages I'd wrought upon his body. My lips twisted with disgust. He should have been thankful. After all, I'd left him with more size than I'd possessed initially. He was about 5'5 and sparsely muscled. His shriveled cock hung over a pair of small testicles.

"How?" Travis whispered.

"I'm sorry," I lied, my voice distant. "I don't know."

"You son of a bitch!" With a shout, he launched himself at me.

I'd heard that on the football field, he could launch himself at opposing players with the force of a ton of bricks. With his new physique, Travis felt like a pound of feathers instead. I turned the blow effortlessly, caught him in a restraining embrace.

He flailed at my muscled abdomen, the blows bouncing off ineffectually. I wanted to leave him there, but my body had other ideas. Feeling him flail against me made my cock grow almost painfully hard. I thrust him down to his before me knees with one hand, and shucked my shorts off with the other.

The cock that bounced into the open exceeded my wildest hopes. It was thick like a sausage, covered in blue veins, and easily eight inches if it was an inch. I did the first thing that came to mind, twisting my hips to the left and swiveling back toward center in a sudden motion. It connected with Travis's face with a loud smack.

I'm not proud of how I used his mouth, how I came what seemed like a gallon all over his face, how I left him lying in the woods, crying over the loss of his body. I took his wallet, too. You'll undoubtedly think I'm a terrible person, but you haven't experienced the sudden torrent of testosterone running through your veins, changing your mind the way the power has just changed your body. More than that, you don't have the right to judge me. We're not equals, you and I.

As I said, I stole his wallet. I knew the moment I saw my new body that I couldn't go back to my old life. What would they even do to someone--something--like me? Steal someone's wallet and you have to give it back, and maybe do time in jail. I had no idea if I could give Travis his masculinity back, assuming I even wanted to. They wouldn't put me in jail if they found out what I had done to Travis; they would take me to a lab and dissect me to discover the root of my abilities.

So I went home. I took everything of value that I could find and bundled it into my foster father's car. On the way out, I stopped by the cracked glass mirror in my dingy old bathroom. I sucked in a breath at the image that stared back.

My eyes, previously a muddy hazel, had turned the winking green of cut emeralds. The other features were recognizably mine, but they now looked like they had been chiseled by a sculptor. My hair looked thicker, more lustrous, black where previously it had been dark. Those bright green eyes were highlighted by thick, shapely brows. A dusting of stubble enhanced my lantern jaw and the hollows underneath my perfect cheekbones.

I was beautiful.

So I took my beautiful new self on the run. The valuables, I sold off on my way westward, along with the car. I paid in cash for a used truck in Utah, and finally set myself up in Nevada.

I kept a watch on the papers as I went, but I saw no references to Travis other than some reports of a boy affected by a sudden wasting illness back in Nebraska. He was healthy, but his memories of the day he'd gotten sick were hazy. He'd been with another boy, who had disappeared. Authorities had declared him missing, and likely dead.

With my old life so casually dismissed by police, I was free to start a new one in Las Vegas. Fitting, that I would begin in a city of sin. It was easier than I would have expected to make money there; there was a constant stream of visitors to the city, and it shocked me how many of them were looking for the companionship of a gorgeous young man, or how much they would pay.

I would show up to their hotel rooms or homes, strip off my clothes, and flex while they admired me. At 5'9 and 165 pounds of lean, rock-hard muscle, I was nothing to scoff at. A little too small for some clientele, and too big for the ones seeking twinks, but I did well enough to get my own place and support myself. I even got a gym membership, but I never had the motivation to do much more than maintain what I had gained.

My next victim was a boxer from Los Angeles. He was only an inch or so taller than I was, and weighed about the same, but he was immensely strong and ripped, and made my body look almost flabby by comparison. He finished quickly, and the transfer of strength was disappointing at best. Still, when he left, we were standing the same height and my dick felt a little longer. My muscles were certainly more ripped.

I burned through victims like this for a while, learning to control my abilities until I could sip strength from them like wine from a cup. Certain commonalities began presenting themselves in the experiences: they all became so consumed by lust that they did not notice what I was doing to them, and soon the memories of the event evaporated. I passed one of my victims on the street just days after I took fifteen pounds of muscle from him in a two hour orgy of sex, and his eyes slid right past me as if we'd never met.

They all blended together until the guy that took me over six feet. By that point in my transformation, it was getting harder and harder to find guys that were legitimately bigger than I was, and for some reason, it was harder to drain from guys that were smaller than I was. When I was with a big, muscular man, the power was like a flow I was helpless to hold back. With smaller guys, it was a trickle I had to strain after, and I was exhausted for days after a transfer.

This man, a huge bodybuilder named Glenn, was like a second sun full of power. He was 6'6, and every inch shouted strength. Biceps bigger than my legs exploded outward whenever he bent his arms. He was lean and ripped, but there was a coarseness to his features and body that was improbably more masculine than anything else I'd experienced. Unwilling to ruin such a work of art, I left him only slightly less impressive, at 6'4 or 6'5, thinking that I'd be happy finally being over six feet. I didn't know at the time that Glenn's massive musculature had set in place a new paradigm in my mind.

So my growth continued over the course of the next three years. I took from a wrestler who hooked up with me on Craigslist, a self-described jock from Adam4Adam. I even ruined the career of a gay porn star, whose dick suddenly shrank from nine inches to a less-impressive seven.

On my 21st birthday, I stood at 6'4 and 260 pounds. I felt immense. I would walk down the street and the crowd would part around me as I walked. I towered half a head or more over most of the men, and I was twice as wide as some. None of those two hundred and sixty pounds were excess fat. There was also no hiding my bulge now. It was bigger soft than Travis's had been fully hard, and it unfurled to a massive foot long when I grew excited.

But there were fewer and fewer men who excited me. My clientele, already limited by the number of men who are interested in seriously big muscle, began to diminish as the spark of my enjoyment sputtered in the winds of my change. It took me a while to realize what the problem was, and the truth infuriated me so much that I did not accept it for months longer.

I was attracted to bigger men. The smaller ones held no savor for me any more. It did not matter how attractive their features were, how aesthetically pleasing. For most of my life, I'd been small. That curse had left its brand on me in a need to be with guys bigger than I was, a swiftly-evaporating minority.

But all that was about to change.

[rocketdog]

I am liking this.

[no name]

Originally Posted by rocketdog

I am liking this.

I can only say: Me too...

[jman250]

An excellent start! I'm thrilled to see your writing return, X!

[WorshipMuscle]

Awesome story Xyggurat. I'm liking where this is is going and can't wait to read more.

[arpeejay]

Good golly! More, please, and soon!

xoxo

Richard

[skumbum]

!!!!!!!!!!

[jsmith2300]

Fantastic.... and now I want more. We've been spoiled this week - three excellent theft stories. I'm going to be checking back daily, hoping for updates. X - don't leave us hanging, ok? I love you - cannot wait to see the next chapter!!

[vlad]

I like where this is going. Hooking up with a football player, the "ubermensch" who is superior mentally and physically, growing while sucking dick...yes yes yes to all three.

[Xyggurat]

I'm really happy that everyone's liking it. I kind of went with a more free-form style of writing this time that I normally reserve for more serious stuff, but it seemed to fit with the main character, who's more than a little bit pretentious.

It's probably no secret that this was inspired by the recent works of Cylon_U-87 and jman250. If it's going to be muscle theft week on the forum, we'd better make a solid go of it!

-X-

[Ender]

Cool story... What Kellen wanted was to be built like Travis, and he had a boner at the idea of being like Travis not because he wanted to have sex with Travis. Kellen is in such awe of Travis he doesn't resist when Travis sticks his dick in Kellen's mouth... Travis "forces" himself on Kellen to humilliate and torment him... Kellen is a nice kid and Travis is a shit...

And now it looks like Kellen will be rewarded for being a nice guy... by getting a body like Travis... It remains to be seen if Travis is allowed to keep his studly body or is reduced to having Kellen's wimpy body...

It's all too rare in the real world that the good guy comes out the winner... At least in fiction it happen on a regular basis...

Ender

HOT!! keep it coming man. great start.

[Muscle_Knight]

Wow! Loving the sound of this..

[Xyggurat]

A little surprise. I updated with 2200 more words of story this afternoon. I thought there was only room for one more part, but here we are, and I'm still not done!

-X-

[skumbum]

!!!!!!!!!!!

[phoenix]

This is epic, quite dark.
I never get through a whole Xygurrat story on the first read. NEVER.
Clearly a master of the genre, always bringing something slightly new to it.
Thanks mate!

[philat99]

Your great style actually makes muscle theft appealing!!!

[Kymuscleboy]

WOW!!! I just read the first two parts, and I SO very glad to see a new story by X! I'm anxiously awaiting the continuation.

[Ender]

Kellen dropping Travis a few notches on the food chain was cool, and when he goes back for seconds on Travis and leaving him a wimp was while understandable moves Kellen from being an nice guy to evil shit worse than the original Travis. I wonder if Travis the wimp becomes a nice guy... since it appears Kellen absorbed Travis's evil nature with his muscle.

That Kellen then actively hunts for muscle studs to drain but generally doesn't drain them dry like he did Travis in some ways worse because it allows him to feed more greedily with less risk of being detected say he has gone fully to the darkside.

[nnnrg]

Muscle theft squicks me a bit, though I've written variations on the theme. I would love it if, in some story, being drained actually potentiated greater growth as a sort of exaggerated "muscle memory" effect.

[Xyggurat]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

Muscle theft squicks me a bit, though I've written variations on the theme. I would love it if, in some story, being drained actually potentiated greater growth as a sort of exaggerated "muscle memory" effect.

It sounds like you have a story to write!

In general, that's not where my interest lies. I've somewhat grown accustomed to the fact that it's only a minority of the board that likes muscle theft, but this is just about the only place that's dedicated to anything close, so we're stuck together for the time being.

-X-

[Xyggurat]

One of my few remaining clients bought me a pre-paid gym membership for my 24th birthday. He was a rarity, in to truly huge muscle and desperate to prove himself worthy of my freakish physique. The gift was worthless, of course, because who needs to lift weights when you can just feed on those who do? At the time, I'd scoffed and thrown the pass into the drawer of my nightstand.

But Las Vegas is a lonely town. The same factors that made it a perfect playground for my hunger also made the city inhospitable to an outsider. There were only so many times I could step out and see a show, or be fondled and relentlessly groped by lesser beings at some dimly-lit club that smelled fo sweat and lust. In short, I was growing bored. Desperate for something--a challenge, a mission, attention that did not make me feel unclean--I retrieved the pass from where it had lain for four mind-numbing months, and I went to the gym for the first time since I'd become truly big.

I made the mistake of going the first time in the middle of the day. The teen at the front desk was a pumped specimen, not too large but solid despite his middling height. He babbled a bit while redeeming my pass, and the solid lump of hose in his shorts told me everything I needed to know about him. I almost let him go.

My workout did not go well. Lifting the weights was effortless, but I knew nothing of form. I caught glimpses in the mirrors of smaller but seasoned weightlifters shaking their heads in disgust. They thought I'd done nothing to earn my body, that it was all genetic. They had no idea, but it shamed me.

I started going later and later at night, when no one was around. Still, I caught my fawning worshipper from the desk laughing when I dropped a weight on my foot. My face flushed with rage, and he shut his mouth when he saw me glaring back at him. It was not enough to soothe my humiliation.

I waited around until closing. He was the last staff member there, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he mustered the courage to tell me to leave. Eventually, he squared his shoulders and sucked in a breath before tiptoeing toward me. I continued to sit on my bench, doing biceps curls with weights that would have crushed him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. His voice quavered. "I need to close up."

Without looking at him, I finished my set and dropped the weights. The floor shook as each one impacted the ground. I stood up. And up. I towered over him by a good seven inches, and was twice as wide when I let my lats flare out.

"What do you want?" I asked, the basso sound of my voice rumbling in my chest. A warning growl.

"F-f-fuck me," he swore.

With a smirk, I said, "Sure. Not here, though. You have a car?" I glanced at his name tag and added a belated, "Mike."

"Tr-tr-truck. I have a truck," he said.

"Even better, Mike," I said, savoring his name. "Go close up, I'll wait for you outside."

Without waiting to see if he followed my orders, I strode to the doors, leaving the weights where I had dropped them. Let him pick them up and see how heavy they were, if he could even budge them. I knew his type; despite his height, everything had come easy to him. He would see.

He did not make me wait long. There was an alley by the side of the gym. I waited by the side of the building, painfully hard in my too-tight gym shorts as my body anticipated what was to come. When I heard the doors of the gym shut and lock, I stepped around and beckoned him over. He nearly ran.

"I thought you said you wanted to do it in the--" In mid-sentence, his eyes dropped down to my bulge. The shorts did nothing to hide the fact that was almost as long as his arm and nearly as thick as his wrist. I flexed my cock, and it jumped obscenely beneath the fabric. "Holy shit, that can't be real," he finished.

"It's real," I said, and then I was on him, shoving him against the wall of the building so hard that I half-expected to knock the wind out of him.

He let out a grunt of pain, but it dissolved into a groan of pleasure as I gripped his considerable cock through his own shorts. He may not have been tall, but he had a hard, tight body. I felt well-developed pectorals press against my upper abs as I ground myself against him.

I spun him around and shoved him back up against the wall, tearing his shorts and boxer briefs down with a single vicious motion, then hurriedly pulling my own shorts over my immense quads and mammoth cock. With little concern for his comfort, I thrust into him.

Mike sobbed at first, but it was not entirely a sound of agony at being split open by such a huge dick. He wanted the pleasure to continue as badly as he wanted the pain to stop. Slowly, we worked into a rhythm, and he began to moan.

"Yes, yes," he cried, mindless with pleasure, over and over until his voice was hoarse.

As I fucked him, he shrank. I tore into his muscles greedily, barely noticing how my concrete pecs turned to steel and the valleys between my cobbled abdominals deepened. No, his muscles were barely enough to show on me as I devoured them, although I coaxed perhaps another inch of height out of his dwindling body. I was too consumed by the feeling of his ass tightening around my dick as he shrank and I grew.

All at once, I was ready to cum. Hot pleasure built up in my balls, as if my cock was an awakening volcano. Sparks of pleasure shot down my spine as the white-hot liquid traveled up the enlarged shaft inch by agonizingly slow inch. I looked down, and through the blurring haze of pleasure, I could see that my dick had grown beyond huge, even if half was still inside of Mike.

I continued pumping as I shot the first load. Hot seed spurted out around my dick, and Mike let out a sound like he had been scalded by my seed. I pulled out of him with an audible pop. As if my dick had been the only thing holding him standing straight, Mike fell to the ground, his tiny dick shooting little jets of jism. I shot all over him, drowning out his lesser load with a torrent of jism.

When I finsihed, I left him there, as small as I had been before Travis. Perhaps smaller.

"Let's see him laugh at his superiors now," I muttered to myself as I walked away.

For a time, things were good again. I continued going to the gym. Mike did not. He vanished like a half-forgotten dream, although I did hear the manager talking to one of his friends about a "wasting sickness."

Months passed, and as my 25th birthday neared, my ennui returned. I worked out the gym almost every night now, pushing myself toward some nameless, unfathomable goal. After Mike, I was a towering 6'5 and weighed over 280. My biceps strained the sleeves of even the largest shirts I could find. I thought often about reaching 6'6, but something about the experience with Mike had left a bitter taste in my mouth. Reluctance kept me from draining someone smaller than I was, but there was no one bigger outside of bodybuilding competitions and my fantasies.

It was late one night in the gym when someone caught my eye. He was not bigger than I was, not even large. Perhaps 5'9, but with arms that, while corded with muscle, were lithe like a dancer's rather than bulky. His hair was soft, lank, and blond, but his eyes were sparkling and hard, blue as sapphires. As Travis's eyes had been.

There was nonetheless something that drew my gaze to him whenever he was around. He looked familiar, somehow, but not familiar enough that I could put a finger on it. Like a splinter stuck in my skin, I worried at the thought of him day in and day out to no avail.

Worried, and watched. I let nothing keep me from being at the gym when he was there. I watched him as he pumped his lithe little biceps on the preacher curl bench. I watched the sheen of sweat develop on his pale skin, which was made the color of wax by the fluorescent lights above. I watched him strive and struggle and gain, however slowly.

It was easy to figure out his schedule. He would come in two hours before the gym was to close and do half an hour of running on the treadmill. Then he would proceed to the weights. Mondays were biceps and chest. Tuesdays he did not come to the gym. Wednesays, he worked his back and shoulders. Thursdays, he did core. Fridays were for legs, and then he was gone until Monday came. After every workout, he showered, but not until waiting for the showers to be empty.

Four days a week were bright and colorful and full of life for me as I counted down the hours until I might see him again. I did not exist for the other three.

My fascination turned to irritation, then rage. For him to have such power over me was unspeakable. He was so far below me that I should not even have noticed him. But I did, and it consumed me.

It needed to end. I decided that I would put an end to him in the only way I knew how, by ensuring that he could never be of interest to me again. Besides, I'd longed for 6'6 for so long. He could easily get me there.

I made my move on a late night, when all but one staff member had gone home. The gym was open late, not by any virtue of policy, but because she had fallen asleep at the desk. I had no plans to wake her.

My target had already gone into the bathroom. I stood by the entrance and waited until the shower turned on before lumbering in and removing my clothes by my locker. My dick hung heavy and flaccid between my legs. A full eight inches, impossible not to notice, it smacked fleshily against the walls of muscle to either side of it as I stalked toward the showers.

He was there. His skin was ruddy from the heat of the water that steamed off of his toned physique. I followed the currents of water as they cascaded over slim shoulders and cut in the hollows behind his collarbone. Droplets sheened each flat pectoral before channeling down between the lumps of a surprisingly well-formed six-pack. His soft cock waited below, framed in golden down. It was slightly bigger than average, but perfectly formed.

As I watched, it began to lengthen and thicken, the veins running down either side plumping as they carried blood down to the hardening organ. His bright blue eyes were on me from the moment I stepped through the door. He was braver than any inferior I'd seen in so long. There was nothing deferent about the gaze he leveled at me.

"I wondered if you'd come," he said.

I was hard in a second. My cock smacked against my abs, huge and heavy. Not knowing why, I stepped toward him, step by uncertain step, and stopped within arm's reach.

"I know you," I said.

He nodded. "John Smith. We went to high school together. Do you remember?"

I shook my head. It was hard to think, I was so painfully hard. I wanted him so bad, wanted even the meager reservoir of power he represented. If he had told me he was George Washington, I would have believed him and asked how Martha was doing.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "You've changed a lot since then, haven't you." It was not a question.

"I want you," I said.

A primal growl roared out of my chest as I seized him by the shoulders and brought his body crashing into mine. Our lips pressed together, although I had to hunch over to reach his. I felt his hard cock poking into my leg, and the steel bar of mine wedged between us.

My power swirled up beneath my skin, an inferno of fury and hunger that longed to consume everything he was. I let just a burning trickle of it free, and felt the muscles of his shoulders dwindle slightly, his cock retreat and mine expand. The sensation renewed my confidence. I had him where I wanted him. Why had I waited so long to take him and be done with this?

He thrust against me. His hands were everywhere, on my cannonball-sized deltoids, running down the leaping mass of my triceps, desperately trying to grasp the adamantine mass of my cock between us. His moans echoed off of the tiles, as constant as the patter of droplets falling about us.

Unable to take it any longer, I released my power. The process was quicker, more intense, than it ever had been before. Muscle melted away from his long bones, and those bones shortened and thinned. Masculinity fled his face as his features softened and the gilded stubble on his cheeks vanished. I roared with triumph, thrust him against the wall, and laughed as I grew outward and upward, shooting past 6'6 and streaking toward sizes of which I'd never dreamed.

And then I heard him laughing, too. I pulled away from him, my cock between us dripping with precum, my chest heaving from exhilaration, and I looked him in the eyes. They alone had not changed. They were bright, and they were blue, and they were hungry.

Panic flared in my chest as I realized what I'd recognized in him, why he'd seemed so familiar. The lie of John Smith evaporated as the cloud of lust consuming me fell away. In his eyes, there was a hunger, a hunger I recognized all too well from the eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.

"You're like me," I whispered.

The laughter stopped. His smile vanished. "I'm nothing like you," he said.

Then he was on me. He launched himself at me with all the strength that remained to him. My pulse pounded in my head as my lust returned, like he'd flipped a switch and turned off my brain. He dragged me down to the ground, and we became a mass of writhing flesh, my huge form against his tiny one. Except his form was no longer quite so tiny.

The beginnings of new muscles stood out against his pale skin, and I felt his cock in my hand lengthening precipitously. At the same time, I felt a strange new sensation. A lassitude crept into my immense muscles, and the world swayed dizzily around me.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking everything back," he said, breathless. "For all of them."

I wanted to scream, wanted to flee, but all I could do was grasp at his body as pectorals exploded out of his flat chest, as his six-pack returned and deepened into eight defined bricks of muscle, as his cock reached and surpassed its old size.

By now he was truly beautiful, ascended beyond the mere attractiveness that had drawn my eyes so many times in the gym. His cheeks were dark with stubble that gleamed like gold, and as I watched, his jaw hardened and firmed over a wrestler's neck thick with muscle.

All the while, I felt him tear away all that I had worked for. The tiles clawed at my back as my spine shortened, and they dug deeper and deeper into the softening musculature there. I felt our cocks pressing against each other, and realized with sudden shock that his was near as big as mine and growing.

The heat of the shower vanished, went abruptly cold, and the shock was enough for me to break free from his thrall. I kicked at him and scrambled to my feet, but fell again as I tried to run. The tiles were slick, and I was unused to being so small. I couldn't have been more than six feet tall, now, and my muscles were those of a mere athlete.

I hit the ground, and blinding pain shot through my side. Behind me, I heard the man who had called himself John get uncertainly to his feet. He padded through the puddling, chilling water toward me. I scrabbled and scraped toward the exit of the showers, but deprived of the cold water's shock, the dull feeling of acceptance was cresting back over me like a black wave.

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you," John said.

"Yes," I wailed, the sound dull and echoing in my ears.

"Thought you were the only one. Oh, we're rare, all right. Dozens, perhaps. Maybe hundreds. But the best part of it was that you thought you were so damned special."

"I. Am. Special." Rage flickered in my chest, and died.

John knelt beside me. His hand rested on one of my shoulders, and the draining, weakening sensation returned. "You're not. Just a victim of circumstance. A beneficiary, I should say. At least until now."

"Let me... go," I said. Blackness pressed in on my field of vision.

"I don't think so," John said. "You're still dangerous. You were dangerous from the moment it got inside of you."

I collapsed back onto the ground. It hurt to breathe. Tears streamed down my face. "It?"

"You don't know?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "It's a symbiote. You probably wouldn't have noticed. They're not always apparent. Like people, some of them are dumber than others. Yours probably never even tried to communicate with you. Oh, but they are a nasty little tool. The ultimate form of wish fulfillment for stunted little monsters like you."

"But I was... I was small. I was... insignificant. I'm so much... so much more... now," I protested. I was unable to ignore the feel of my body sliding against the floor as it shrank. John seemed to be everywhere, impossibly large by comparison. His voice had attained an echoing rumble. It was erotic and deep as he spoke.

"Kellan. Poor Kellan. You could have been happy with who you were. You never had to be like this, but you chose this path. Haven't you heard? Size isn't everything."

Prickles of pain built in the core of every one of my muscles at once. My back arched involuntarily, and I grunted. The sound came back to me, high-pitched and weaker than I recalled. I was as small as I had been before Travis. No, smaller.

"What... are you... doing?" I asked, hissing around the jolts of pain.

"Taking it all. The symbiote. Any excess strength. And your potential to build muscle, such as it is. I can't let you harm anyone else. I'm sorry for this. I'm so, so sorry."

The pain winked out. John stood, and my eyes traveled up the length of his body. His feet were huge, and tanned legs like redwoods covered in veins and striations rose for what seemed like forever, framing a cock that stretched almost to his knees. Its base was framed in a thick tangle of dark golden hair. Above that, a wall of abs stretched into the distance, ending beneath two boulder-like pectorals. Above, I could only see the barest glimmers of a face, a beautiful, angelic face with a devil's white grin.

That face turned away. The ground shook with his steps as he walked to the exit of the shower.

"Don't," I begged. "Don't leave me like this. You can't. How can you--"

He snorted. "Call it karma. What goes around comes around."

I shrieked. The shards of the sound fell around us like broken glass. "Thief," I said.

"Look at it this way," he said, and the terrible anger in his voice silenced me. "I have to go piece back together the lives you've ruined. All you have to do is live."

He left.

I'll spare you the details of how I lay there for hours before getting back to my feet. He'd left me with the muscles of a child, weak and trembling, and barely enough height for me to be considered a man. But he also left me with clothing to fit my new size. I slipped out past the sleeping girl at the front desk, shivering and shaking, certain that I would never be great--or even normal--again.

And it's taken a while, but I'm working on something new. After all, there was a time before when I was only special on the inside. A little quicker on the uptake. Superior, but not where people could see.

It may take a bit, but once I get back on my feet, I'm going to go after 'John' and make him pay. Maybe he won't be the first, but I'll get there. You'll see. So I apologize in advance if you get in my way. He's taken something from me, and you know how it goes, that old saying...

What goes around comes around.

[GTlifter]

*stands up and claps* truly one of the best stories I have ever read. Truly thank you

[jman250]

Truly excellent! As always!

[Ender]

I really like ths story and would love to explain exactly what I like and don't like and why... But I don't have the time right now to do justice to the story... I know a lot of people want to burn me at the stake every time I do that sort of analysis... but there is a lot of stuff most people don't think about enough that I want point out...

Later

Ender

[Xyggurat]

Originally Posted by Ender

I really like ths story and would love to explain exactly what I like and don't like and why... But I don't have the time right now to do justice to the story... I know a lot of people want to burn me at the stake every time I do that sort of analysis... but there is a lot of stuff most people don't think about enough that I want point out...

Later

Ender

I have no problem with commentary or analysis at all.

-X-

[helliot]

Awww, you punished the bad guy. Oh well. I'll allow it.

Great story, as always! It's very interesting to watch a man who simultaneously wants to grow but desires bigger men, a duality I've seen in many real people.

Big thanks for writing and sharing. And now...next please!

[wildheart]

I love muscle theft....and I love every story that i have read by Xyggurat! I'm glad I'm not the only muscle theft lover out there!

[muscle16a]

Originally Posted by helliot

Awww, you punished the bad guy.

yay! I love stories in which the bad guys get brought low.

[Rarity]

Wow wow wow wow woooow!

I LOATHE muscle stealing for the most part, but this was a story I liked a lot. I hope to see more. Well, I hate it when the bad guy gets away. I like win-win situations or when the bad guy gets what he deserves. You did it P-E-R-F-E-C-T-L-Y.

[rocketdog]

Incredible story! Love it!

[skumbum]

Nice work, Xyggurat, that was super hot.

[Kymuscleboy]

That was an incredible story! I love how you wrapped it up and yet left the possibilty for a sequel open. I'd definitely love to read more of these characters. I never thought I was a fan of the muscle theft genre until I read your stuff!

[The Pecman]

Wow, terrific story. At least this had a real dramatic ending. I'd like to hear more about the symbiots -- I bet there's a whole 'nother story there.