The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray]THE ENTITY &[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]STEPHEN LEWIS[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]By JP71[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Part 3[/COLOR]

[COLOR=yellowgreen]27,400+ words in 5 days. I have no life.[/COLOR]





[COLOR=gray]10am arrived on Saturday morning, and by now that small amount of exercise I’d performed only hours earlier at Mass Central had had a significant effect on my body’s pain receptors. My thighs were killing me, and my upper arms were a conflagration of not-inconsiderable agonies. I guess my new muscles weren’t used to being worked. If my future consisted of bodybuilding in a big way, then I’d better learn to live with muscle soreness. I’d also have to learn to break through that pain barrier that separated the champions from the wimps. Right now, I guessed I was pretty much in neither category. I’d managed to steer clear of my new bedroom for much of the morning. I’d finished the other half of yesterday’s pizza, finding it tasted better than I’d expected it would having spent the night in polystyrene coffin on the kitchen counter. I decided there and then that I really must get my day started. The kitchen needed a good going over, and I needed to do laundry and buy foodstuffs and other necessities. And that fucking couch had to go. I decided, also, to buy a set of binoculars, fearing that a telescope trained on the gym might be easily spotted and regarded as suspicious. I returned to the bedroom before leaving the apartment, but only to check the view from the veranda. I was watching for Gary’s motorbike in the parking lot. So far nothing. But what if it had been there? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]That’s where the binoculars would come in. I’d get a good strong pair with high magnification. Hell, with the right equipment I’d be able to zoom right in on Gary’s hulking chest as he worked it on the pec-deck, the mountainous muscle-tits primed and pumped to superhuman proportions. I could steady the binocs with one hand whilst pumping my cock with the other. I grew steadily excited. The temperature was still very cold. But I noticed something odd about the bedroom as I stepped back in from the veranda and closed the sliding doors behind me. It was actually colder in the bedroom than it had been standing out on the veranda. How could that be? The heating was on, wasn’t it? I felt the radiator in the room and my hand could barely touch it for how hot it was. And yet the heat didn’t seem to be affecting the blisteringly cold temperature of the room whatsoever. A radiator that couldn’t radiate? What next? I looked up at the light bulb overhead. It was completely encrusted with frost. Shivering, I summarily hurried into the living room and closed the door securely behind me. Within a couple of minutes I felt warm again.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That’s damn peculiar,” I said aloud. Lance would have to be notified. I left the house to run my errands and spotted Lance de-icing the windshield of his car. He was wearing a heavy parka, obviously tailor- made to fit over his considerable mass. He saw me and seemed pleased to see me.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Fucking cold isn’t it,” he hollered over as I began to move towards him. I had a hat, coat and scarf on me, so there was no way he could tell that I had physically changed overnight.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“And I thought you muscled supermen were immune to such things,” I ventured with something of idle interest in the man. He really was a major turn-off in every way. I’d have to be very drunk indeed to let him near me even if he turned out to be gay.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So then, did you like your first night in your new pad?” He seemed chirpy, this hour of the morning, nowhere near the cautious, and slightly suspicious-looking bloke he’d been the day before when I saw him accepting that package off the other bodybuilder.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well it was memorable, I’ll give it that. There’s something up with the master bedroom, something that requires immediate attention.” I paused at that point, and regarded Lance as coolly as I was capable of.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Oh, really?” He paused from his de-icing, and cast a quizzical eyebrow in my direction.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I determined not to reveal the details of my dream, for it was far too personal, but he did need to know about the heating.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“....and so, I ended up kipping on the couch, which, to be honest, is completely unfit to be called furniture. I’d like you to take it away so I can replace it with one of my own, if that’s okay.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sure, sure... anything for my newest tenant. Sorry you had a bad experience. It won’t happen again. I’ll get to the radiator as soon as I get back from some business I gotta take care of. It probably has an airlock in it or something.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Actually, Lance, the radiator works fine. It’s scalding to the touch. And yet... there’s ice on the light bulb. Can you explain that for me?” We exchanged a silent glance for about half a minute. Then:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Might be a draught of cold air coming through a faulty door seal and hitting the light fitting. I’ll check it all out as soon as I can. And...er.... what about the bed? I changed the linen myself only yesterday morning. Did you manage to get any sleep in it? For the record, I’ve heard it’s an exceedingly comfortable bed. Memory foam mattress and all that.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I slept okay at first. And then I couldn’t sleep,” I replied simply.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Stephen. I’ll have everything sorted for you by this afternoon. That’s a promise.” And Lance returned to his de-icing. I spared him no further thought as I walked back to my car, got in, and set about my errands for the day.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]Throughout the unfolding morning and early afternoon, I was constantly aware of my sore muscles. I felt more energised than I ever had in my life, despite my lack of a good night’s sleep. Still though, I found myself back at the same Little Caesar’s as the one I’d eaten in yesterday. I hoped Bruno would be my waiter again. Maybe, now that I felt far more confident about my physical appearance, I could broach the subject of his physique, and even find out where he trained. Maybe we could become training buddies if I joined his gym. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Whoa, slow down, Stephen... I was getting way ahead of myself here. My waiter, this time, was Daniel, an Emo-type pretty-boy with too much hair and only half a face. He had the annoying habit of blowing the massive black fringe out of his face whilst attending to me. He also spoke extremely softly and extremely fast. Still, he got my order right... eventually. I ordered a massive dish of Paella, and wolfed it down to the last bite. I had new muscles, now. And they needed to be fuelled sufficiently. The food turned out to be delicious. I left the restaurant, resolving to eat there in the future. I continued with my errands, most of which involved my laundry. I was still learning my way around the city, remembering places I’d relied upon when I was working at the Cork branch back in 2006. I knew there was a Laundromat somewhere along High Street. This really suited me, for there was a new outdoor adventure shop not far from the laundry, so I was able to shop for my binocs whilst my jocks and other things tumbled around inside a big washing machine.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I bought a pair of Olympus 12X binoculars. They were sturdy and light with really great magnification. Not too pricy either, perfect for what I needed them for. When I retrieved my laundry, now fresh and ready to be worn, I grabbed some groceries from a Tesco Express and made my way back to my car. My stuff was due to arrive from Dublin some time Monday afternoon. I’d have to leave the office early again, but it couldn’t be helped. When I got back to Xavier Heights it had started to snow heavily. I hoped Lance had done something with the heating in the bedroom. It was the first thing I checked when I got home. To my elation the room was warm and inviting. There was a note waiting for me, pinned to the radiator. It read:[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]Everything checked out when I got here. So sign of ice on the light,[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Door seals are intact, and the temperature normal. Are you sure[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]You weren’t on the piss last night and imagined the whole thing?[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Lance.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]“Fuckin’ cheeky bastard,” I almost barked, crumpling the note with an angry fist. I could see myself not getting along with my landlord, that much was certain. I noticed in the living room that there was a slightly different sofa waiting for me, this time a three-seater. I tried it out for comfort and was pleased to detect no lumps. There was also another note for me: “Lent you this ‘til you get your own. Use it as long as you want. L”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I felt much better in an instant. My muscles had lost much of their soreness. I felt fitter than I ever had. It was such a great feeling. But I wanted more. I wanted to get fitter.... bigger and stronger. I went to the veranda and checked the gym’s parking lot. I squealed uncontrollably when I spotted a motorbike parked outside the main entrance. My heart began to race. I cursorily scanned the upper floor on which the weight rooms were situated. I couldn’t see if Gary was there. Maybe he was still getting changed, hopefully to begin his workout and not leave for the day. I’d been gone a good five hours. He could have been over his workout by now. I hoped I was in luck. I hurried to get my new binoculars. Thankfully it was quickly getting dark. Still though, I made sure to close the curtains just enough to conceal my activities as best I could. The binocs were awesome. At maximum magnification the guys up in the weight room came in big and sharp and clear as bells. I scanned all parts of the floor that were visible through the glass frontage. I counted seventeen men coming into view on and off as they moved from machine to machine during their workouts. They were of varying mass, anything from 200 lbs up to 300 lbs or more if I were to guess. A couple of guys were really huge, about the size Gary had been back when last I saw him. I wondered how many of these blokes happened to be my neighbours at Xavier Heights. So far Gary had yet to show. It then occurred to me that he may not be the only Cork bodybuilder who used a motorbike. Besides, the motorbike didn’t necessarily have to belong to a bodybu----[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Gary appeared on the floor and my heart almost exploded in my chest. I broke out in a nervous sweat and my balls and cock instantly waxed large in my jocks. Gary was giving another bodybuilder a spot. The pair took turns on the bench press. Saturday was obviously chest day. And, oh my God, there were chests, and then there was GARY’S CHEST!!!.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He wasn’t just huge. He was immense... way huger than I could have possibly imagined, and way bigger than he was in that Christmas party picture I’d spent half an evening enhancing and then wanking to. My palms quickly grew sweaty and soon the binocs were slick with perspiration. I couldn’t keep them steady, for I’d begun to tremble, so overwhelmed was I to finally see him as he was in the flesh, after five years. And he had put on so much muscle since then. It bordered on the surreal, almost as surreal as my strange experience in that bed the night before.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Gary dwarfed every other bodybuilder on the floor, his red wife-beater ripped halfway down the front for maximum exposure. He was laved in sweat, his body massively hulking as he pumped to increasingly insane proportions. Every so often, between sets, he’d get up, find a mirror, and start to flex. I watched, mesmerised, as he went through the motions of a full-lat spread, his lats and pecs bursting upwards and outwards into massive relief, his skin becoming a superhighway of thick, corpulent veins. He pulled a side-chest pose, and the shelf of his pecs ballooned outwards, gobbling up space like great expanding sponges. His chin rested comfortably on the shelf formed of his upper pectorals and almost appeared to disappear into the muscle masses to a certain extent. I had to hold the binocs with one hand, now, for my balls buzzed with life, and my cock demanded release. I played with my rod for a bit, feeling the sticky pre coat all of my fingers.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Melanie must’ve sent me the wrong batch of photos, I attempted to reason. They’re clearly from a far older party. There’s no way he could have made such massive gains in just a few short weeks. Why, he was almost twice the size he was in that picture from the Christmas party, the one next to Jasper. There wasn’t a steroid on Earth that could cause such rapid muscle-growth. What was I missing from this puzzle? Was it even a puzzle that could ever make any sense to me? I hoped I remembered to phone Melanie to clear this up, provided I had the time to do so come Monday. My indulgence continued.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I soon came to notice that Gary and the lesser bodybuilder were using the same weight on the bar somewhat repeatedly. I adjusted the binocs’ magnification to maximum and could just about make out five 45 lb plates on either end. 450 lbs, which gave the smaller muscleman quite a good pump after about eight sets of ten reps, but it was obvious that Gary was only using this weight as a warm-up. He was hugely massed-out and ripped to the max, but I knew him and I knew his ego. The others all looked up to him (some probably even lusted after him), and he liked to toy with the little guys. As I watched, my own lust threatening to floor me at any moment, Gary eventually enforced his Alpha-status in the weight room, and I was in awe as I watched his actions unfold. He actually ordered the lesser musclemen to load up his bar with more plates, another five on either side, doubling the weight so that the bar itself started to sag. But that wasn’t enough for Gary. I realised, now, that there was something of a ritual going on, probably an initiation, although this could just have been my imagination filling in for the lack of audio. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Gary set himself into the right position on the bench, and his head disappeared behind the “massif central” that was formed of his enormous, glistening muscle-tits. The guy he’d first spotted, easily a 300-pounder, took his position at one end of the bar, locking the plates in, whilst another equally impressive hulk did the same on the other end. Gary took the strain of the weight off the upright struts, and I imagined he’d have no trouble at all cranking five or more reps. I was right: he did five with ease. Then his “assistants” began to press down on the bar on either side, putting all their strength and weight into the effort. Their job, it seemed, was to increase the resistance many times over. At first it looked like they had succeeded in containing my ex-boyfriend’s might. But, as if he were a volcano in human form, he found the strength to defy their every effort to keep him down. His entire body seemed to vibrate with great intensity, and his skin flared red as blood was pumped to where it was needed, augmenting his strength many times over. He fought against the power of his “underlings”, not only raising the bar until his elbows locked his arms straight, but he raised two 300 lb bodybuilders off the floor by almost a whole foot. He held the position, revelling in the pump, as seconds ticked away. Then he lowered the bar, and repeated the movement, each time finding he could press the bar with less effort, and at an increasing rate to boot. What I saw through my new beloved binocs was a feat nothing short of superhuman.....NO.....MEGAHUMAN was more appropriate a label for this incredible feat.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Gary stayed with this exercise for many minutes, and I quickly lost count of how many reps he’d aced. Eventually the guys on either end of the bar had to give up and get on with their own workouts, but not before an increasingly pumped Gary Shields shot up from the bench, ripped off his shirt and flexed the biggest, sexiest most-muscular I’d ever seen. Obviously he didn’t care about breaking the house hygiene rules. I began to crank my rod with greater intensity, my balls on the verge of expelling their steaming seed at great force. Gary was riled, fuelled to the max, and fuelled by his own desire to grow. His muscles appeared to explode with even greater mass, thickness and density than before. He then threw his head back to roar triumphantly, his arms outstretched on either side of his massive body. But he didn’t hold this somewhat omnipresent pose for long. With utter spontaneity he then grabbed one of his “reverse spotters” and hefted him over his beautifully handsome head. He played with him for a bit – probably remarking boldly how he weighed little more than a doll – before tossing him into the crowd of muscled spectators that had stopped training in order to worship the amazing spectacle of their Alpha Master’s feat of unrivalled strength. They caught him, mosh-pit style, and soon had him safely back on his feet.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]At which point I dropped the binocs and staggered backwards until the backs of my legs struck the edge of my bed. I fell backwards even as a great gobbet of jizz spewed flourishingly from the eye of my convulsing cock. The bed caught me as I got lost in orgasmic throes of pleasure, and then everything dulled to a dreamy haze, one in which ghostly arms emerged from the bed’s mattress and grasped me tight. I began to panic, for something that felt cold, clammy, and ultimately unreal, transfixed me in its powerful snares. Things that felt like legs came up as if from beneath me until powerful calves (what? But how?) pressed into my thighs and locked my legs into an unmovable position. I tried to scream, but I could no longer utter a single sound. I saw ice glaze over on the light bulb above me, and I began to shiver from the sudden drop in temperature. I think I passed out then.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I was lost to myself, for a while that seemed determined to go on forever.[/COLOR]






[COLOR=gray]I knew I had grown some more before even dragging myself back to the conscious world. Again it felt like another person was passing through me as I brought myself up to a seated position on the bed. I was completely naked and couldn’t recall if I’d been so before passing out, or whether somehow during unconsciousness I’d managed to undress myself completely. Laved in sweat, I swung my feet to the floor and took some slow, methodical breaths. It was dark in the room, but at least it wasn’t cold. I thought of my odd and icy light bulb. My vision was keen in the darkness, as something – I don’t know what to call it – a “spectral sheen?” made everything seem to sparkle. I saw that the bulb no longer looked as though I kept it in the fridge. I got up and felt the radiator. It was hot to the touch, and the room was cosy and inviting. I felt my muscles.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Holy shit!” I hurried into the other bedroom to check myself out in the mirror. I couldn’t accept my reflection as real. Maybe I was still asleep and this was just another dream. Any second now the room would morph into an expanse of undulating giant muscle-flesh and my unconscious antagonist would again flex its massive muscle mountains to box me in.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I now made your average common-or-garden Men’s Health cover model look decidedly under-nourished, bless them. Two days ago I weighed around my usual weight of 165. Not anymore. Combined with my first growth from the night before, I easily looked as though I’d broken the 200 barrier. This was getting freaky. I balled my left bicep and grew instantly erect when I felt the size and hardness of the muscle. I tried to dent the flesh and it wouldn’t yield to the pressure of my fingers. I flexed my entire upper body at once and muscles I never knew I had exploded into rippling relief. Did I have any body fat at all? Maybe 2-3 %, I guessed. My cock sprang fully erect as my balls swelled, almost to bursting point. I was jizzed-up to the max, as if I’d drank some amazing energy formula that geared me up to push some serious weight. And I knew where do go in order to do just that.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]To my astonishment and delight I put on the same hoodie top and bottoms as the night before, and you could now definitely tell that a serious lifter was to be found inside. The cotton was stretched taut in some places, specifically around my upper arms and across my chest. My legs had also gained some mass, but the bottoms were still loose enough to give my cock room to manoeuvre, as it danced a jizzy-jig whilst I bounded from room to room in order to find stuff. It was well after midnight, and once again Mass Central’s parking lot was devoid of vehicles, completely snowed over following a fresh fall of snow. The lights were still on in the gym. I wondered why it should stay open in this weather. The roads were inaccessible in places, making it impossible to travel by car. Then I thought about the bodybuilders of Xavier Heights, many of whom could have been part of Gary’s entourage from earlier. I thought nothing more of this, as I flew around getting some stuff together. This time I would stay longer in the gym, and I would have something to put in a locker this time.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Once I’d gotten a bag together, I went to leave the apartment. Just as I was about to unlock the front door, there was a heavy rap of knuckles sound from the other side. Who could be calling at this very late (or early?) hour? I looked through the peephole and frowned when I saw my greasy-headed landlord’s face. What the fuck did he want? There was no avoiding him, because I had to leave right away. I opened the door, but made sure my frown was an obvious one. I would’ve cut him in half with a look only.... OMG... he was shirtless from the waist up... and he looked as though he’d packed on some serious size since yesterday. He noticed me giving him the once over and seemed to like the attention his even bigger muscles were affording him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sorry to trouble you, Stephen, but my apartment is directly beneath yours, and it sounded like you were making a right racket in your bedroom up to a few minutes ago.” He had sleep crusting up one eye and some of his acne boils were weeping. His pyjama bottoms looked painted on, and I briefly made out quite a bulge in them at the front. Despite his many “beauty marks” his muscles looked insanely pumped. And yet, I hadn’t seen him training earlier during my voyeuristic observations of Gary and his buddies. His roid gut seemed more roided out than ever, but his pecs hung out over it quite well, giving them that “heavy look”, as if the under-swell of each was gonna cause them to drop off at any second. His nipples pointed completely downwards, lost somewhat in the crescent moon shadows cast by each hefty muscle-tit. The left pec had a wind-ruffled Irish flag tattooed on it, whilst the other sported a rather clever-looking claw-mark effect, as though invisible talons had raked right through the skin to expose the raw muscle beneath. I hated tattoos, but that one was quite impressive, I thought. There were other tattoos all the way down each arm. His biceps were like footballs. Was he even aware that he’d grown, too? I didn’t really want to broach the subject, although I was totally curious about this phenomenon, especially now that it wasn’t just localised around myself.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I don’t know what you mean, Lance,” I replied, wondering how impolite it would be if I just pushed past him into the hallway. As if sensing my intentions he grew a little bit intimidating, flexing his mammoth pecs before me. He seemed to puff up bigger still, and this was enough to make me take a step backwards into my apartment. How could I have been making noise, unless my unearthly experiences were potent enough to shake the bed itself? That had to be it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well now, I’ve nothing against you having a lady friend home, or whatever it is you’re into...,” he paused, enjoying how he stressed the word “whatever” as if implying that I might be into something other than the fairer sex. My sexual orientation was none of his business. I was openly gay, but why should I have to proclaim it to Grease Lightning Lance here? That name would stick from here on. He continued, “...but that headboard was banging against the wall for almost an hour. None of my business or anything, but your lady friend’s cunt must be cat food by now.” He pushed past me and began looking around. My blood began to heat up. Normally I didn’t lose my cool, having been somewhat timid for much of my life, but Lance was treading a dangerous line with me. He was lucky I didn’t have work tomorrow.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“For your information, LANCE, I’m completely alone. And I take exception to your use of colourful language.” I pretended to dislike the “C-word”, although my use of it was comically reserved for Shirley, and astringently for Gillian Whore-Dyke.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“If that’s so then you must wank like Steve-fuckin’-Austin. I may have to look at that headboard. A growin’ boy like me needs his beauty sleep.” He made a beeline for the master bedroom. Shit, the binoculars were in there. If he found them he’d realise I’d been watching the guys working out across the street. I managed to get there before him and stretched myself across the doorway, crucifix fashion. Lance didn’t like that one bit. Some acne boils popped on his shoulders as he flexed his upper body to intimidate me. I’d had a feeling that his “nice” act had been just that, and for the benefit of not scaring me away from Xavier Heights. Well I was a bodybuilder myself, now, and I wasn’t taking any shit.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]I wanted to say: “You know what? With a name like ‘Lance’ I’m surprised you have any acne boils on you at all.” But instead I opted for:[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]“You’ll have to come back tomorrow. The bedroom looks like a bomb hit it. I’d be really embarrassed to let you see it before I clean it.” Is that the best I could come up with? Lance regarded me suspiciously for a moment, rubbing sleep out of his eye. Then he flared his lats and popped his pecs out some more so that they were just level with my chin. He looked down at me, snorted once, and then conceded.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You know you’ll go blind from that,” he said, his tone a little softer. He turned around and left my apartment. I was so glad to see the back of him, although I could still smell the pus from his acne boils even after he’d left.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]Over in the gym, the same kid from the night before was still stuck doing the graveyard shift. I actually felt sorry for him. Instead of a magazine to occupy his interest, he was engrossed in some handheld videogame device. Again I barely got a glance upwards from him. I thought about signing up, and wished that I didn’t have to work so that I could come here at the same time every night and have the place to myself, but that was just wishful thinking. Gary ruled here, and I wasn’t ready to breathe his carbon dioxide. I’d brought my wallet, so I pushed a twenty across the counter and told the Zombie Guy to keep the change.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I went into the locker room this time and placed my bag on a bench so that I could undress. I changed into an Adidas top and shorts, which like my trainers, were relics left over from a time when I wanted to be something that I repeatedly failed to become. But not anymore. Things had changed a great deal for Stephen Lewis. The locker room reeked of men.... men with massive muscles. I sensed that Gary’s pungency was in here, too, probably out-odorising the other musks, or even feeding off them. I loved that smell. It was the smell of lust, of growth.... ultimately of size and power, sex and semen. I wondered if I would soon begin to issue that selfsame fragrance from my pores. With thoughts like this on my over-active mind, it was no wonder I was totally erect by the time I made it upstairs to the weight room.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I wanted to do things right. I needed to weigh myself, and I had no trouble finding a scales. To my awe and delight the readout said: “204 lbs”. So I’d gained almost 40lbs of muscle in two days. Extraordinary. I shot some poses in a mirror, flexing my bis, horse-shoeing up my triceps, bouncing my pecs, as well as popping out my intercostals, traps and abs. My quads snapped into ridiculous relief, and when I made fists of my hands my forearms flushed huge with veins, hungry for more and more blood. Of course, my posing was amateurish, lacking any kind of finesse or order to it. But I would learn. I couldn’t wait to start lifting. I looked around at all the machines, having little clue on how to proceed. I decided to let my muscles decide. I again checked myself out in the mirror, and noticed that my traps now looked more substantial than before, beginning to jut upwards as they separated themselves from the twin gutters above my collarbone area. This pleased me. I flexed into a most-muscular pose, again with incorrect form (I reckoned), and the two beauties became more ripped and defined. I decided to give them a workout, well, more my way of finding out what I was capable of. This was different than starting at the beginning. I already had the muscles. It was just a matter of finding out what they could do, and, in the process, develop a system that could help them to grow and strengthen further. It was all about reaching my lifelong physical peak... and then exceeding it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I did some jogging on the spot to limber up, and then spent a few minutes stretching, trying to remember the movements showed to me by my trainer of yore. Once I was satisfied that I wouldn’t injure myself, I grabbed some free weights in each hand and began to shrug my shoulders. I no longer cared about the numbers on the weights. I lifted what I could comfortably lift, and repeated the process until my muscles were on fire. They began to feel worked. Only then was I satisfied enough to rest. My muscles came to me via a mysterious process. That made them magic. Therefore I decided to listen to their needs, and take it from there.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]After half an hour of shoulder shrugs I decided to spice things up. I found a bar and put plates on either end. Then I began to jerk the bar upwards, methodically and again without risking injury. My traps burned through rep after rep. After some time I quit and assessed my shoulder definition further. They didn’t look any different, but I still felt satisfied. I was to become more and more comfortable with the gym in the days and weeks to come, and I was also to develop a way to utilise the weights in the interest of getting maximum results. My muscles would grow and grow. But there were other considerations before committing myself to this new lifestyle.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Something in that apartment, specifically in that bed, was working through me, and all kinds of crazy notions swarmed through my head. I had to get on top of this. Knowledge was power, so I knew that a lot of reading was involved if my future as a bodybuilder had a chance of ultimate success. These nightly visits to Mass Central could not last; I had a day-job, after all. Then I remembered: the company had its own pool, gymnasium and sauna, free for all staff to use. Shirley told me that Gary never used it, that the weight machines were inferior to his strength. But I was a budding bodybuilder, and I could work out there every day after work if I so chose to. And so I made up my mind there and then. But before I left Gary’s home away from home, I decided to try some bench pressing. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I remembered only being able to lift the bar itself, back when I first joined a gym. Thanks to the personal trainer I eventually managed to bench 120 lbs for five reps, before I stopped requiring his services. But what could I now achieve with forty extra pounds of sexy muscle beef? I decided to try 120 on each end of the bar, and then got into the proper position required. Should I even be attempting this without a spotter? Fuck it, you had to break eggs to make an omelette. I took the strain of the bar and at first the thing threatened to wobble out of control. Should I panic? Fuck... I had to focus, take charge. As my confidence solidified, so too did my dominance of the bar. I deftly cranked out five reps easily, only slightly wobbling on the fifth rep, and so I took a rest. I sat up and felt a delicious burn in my pec muscles. I was pleased, and so was my cock. It coughed up a little precum, but the shorts were dark and I was alone. The best part about this was that I felt I could easily lift heavier. And so I did. For my next set I managed four reps with another 40 lbs on the bar. Dare I try heavier again?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I decided to quit there and then. I had things to do later, and so sleep was definitely a requirement. What if this “entity” if it could be called that, decided to harass me on a nightly basis? I couldn’t go on like this. Wait... was “harass” even the right word in this somewhat convolutedly bizarre context? I was getting muscles out of it, muscles that would get bigger and bigger and bigger. I could become completely adept at working out in a gym, but back in that bedroom I would be helpless to control the process of my metamorphosis. How long did this thing intend to grow me? I left the gym and returned to my apartment. The bedroom was warm, an indication that all ghostly activity had ceased for the rest of the night. I was soon asleep. And the thing in my bed left me in peace.[/COLOR]




[COLOR=gray]No snow had been forecast for Sunday, and by the time I’d showered and dressed myself, it was close to midday. I’d slept for a good six hours upon returning from the gym. I woke up ravenous and craved coffee, bacon, eggs, sausages and hash browns, a typical Sunday morning breakfast for Stephen Lewis. But I’d bought quite a bit of healthy stuff in my weekend groceries, and so I set about making porridge, with semi-skimmed milk, water, and with some cinnamon and sugar to taste. I’d never been a much of a porridge eater throughout my life, but I knew it was part of a healthy bodybuilding diet. A wicked thought popped into my mind: that I could eat what I liked, as often as I liked and still grow massive muscles. But I wanted to do this right. I made enough porridge for two, and I found myself wanting another bowl straight after. As well as this I downed two cans of tuna in brine and half a litre of milk before I felt sufficiently satisfied. I began to think about my diet, low carbs, high protein... which led me to think of whey shakes and all that “Gary stuff” I used to see at his house when we were together and Gillian Whore-Dyke wasn’t around. Creatine, it seemed, wasn’t just used in nail polish products.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I decided not to bring the car into town, as some of the roads were snowed over. Gritting trucks were out in force, but there was never enough salt in reserve (you’d think the city councils would’ve learned by their mistakes the previous winter when salt completely ran out and caused mayhem for motorists). Some bus services were in operation, and luckily one of them went right past Xavier Heights and into the city centre. Leaving the apartment complex proved uneventful, too, as there wasn’t a bodybuilder to be seen outside of their respective domiciles, not even Grease Lightning himself.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]So I’d put on 40 lbs of muscle. How did this affect my clothes? Well, my jeans were definitely tighter, but I could still walk in them. My butt felt fantastic in them and I bet it looked even more fantastic than it felt. I had a shirt and sweater on underneath my heavy overcoat and scarf. I was snug as a bug, but a bug that was rapidly outgrowing its armour. If this kept up I’d be wearing bin liners before the week was out.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]By the time I made it to town, many of the shops had opened for Sunday trading. I strangely felt drawn to a large bookshop in Cork’s main street. There were three floors in all and it had literally everything. I asked a young man that worked there where the occult section was, and he seemed only too pleased to help. I browsed the section for a good long while, specifically interested in ghosts and poltergeists... but I also picked up ones on black magic, demonic possession, and finally a couple on exorcisms, one of which was written by a local man and former Catholic priest, Sean McInerney. I bought seven books in all, covering the various subjects. When I got to the counter:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Wow, you look as though you have a serious case of the Damiens,” the same bloke that had showed me where the occult section was commented as he rang up the titles.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Excuse me?” I hadn’t the foggiest idea what he was on about.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Y’know... Damien... the Omen films.” He would have been gorgeous were it not for the excess fat he was carrying. Wow, a night in bed with me could transform his life, I thought, but quickly dismissed it. I had nothing against overweight people, I just couldn’t see myself ever taking one to my bed. It just wasn’t my thing.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I never saw those films. How much do I owe you?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Seventy-two fifty,” he replied, stuffing the books into a large plastic bag. Then: “That one by Sean McInerney is a good one. He did a reading and signing here a couple of years ago. He got excommunicated from the Church for engaging in exorcisms without permission from the Pope of Rome, or some ejit like that. He claims he can tell if a person is possessed just by looking at them or walking into a room.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You don’t say,” I remarked, becoming quickly interested. I’d no cash on me so I used my VISA. At least now I knew which book I’d be reading first when I got home. Before leaving the shop, the clerk had one more thing to say: “If you’re really into this sort of thing, Sean does private consultations. He doesn’t come cheap though. His contact details are in the back of the book, sir.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Thanks for the information,” I replied, and quickly left the shop. Before heading home I bought some more gym gear and other accessories (probably wouldn’t need half of the stuff), a couple of jock-straps (never thought I’d ever see myself in one of those), and then stopped in at a nutritional food store and the lady behind the counter helped me choose the right kind of supplements, although something deep inside me told me I wouldn’t need them to grow my muscles. Still, if I ever decided to bring guys home, wouldn’t it look strange if a big bodybuilder lacked even a single container of supplement in his apartment? I wasn’t thinking straight, and I’d overspent, but didn’t care. I was eventually laden down with shopping, and I still had to buy more groceries. From now on I’d be eating only porridge, tuna, white omelettes, chicken breasts and protein shakes. I’d get used to things without strong flavourings added. No more ketchups or mayonnaises for me, that much was certain.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]I managed to get a taxi home. The fare was expensive because he had to drive so slowly in the snow. But when I was home I made a dinner of white rice, chicken, and a tall jug of protein shake. It was bland and uninteresting, but I felt amped, for I was now a bodybuilder. This was how I needed to be. I spent the evening picking through the various books I’d bought for anything that resembled what was going on in my new bedroom. The closest thing I found was, you guessed it, in Sean McInerney’s book, which was called: “Manifestation: A Study into the Paranormal‘s Deviancy of the Body and Soul.” It featured an eleven year-old boy from Connemara who, according to the then Fr. Sean McInerney sent by his bishop to the child’s village in 1979, turned into a late-adolescent virtually overnight before killing the family pet, two goats, and attempting to rape his own mother. McInerney began by assessing the child, and blessing the house, which immediately sent the boy into a frenzy in which he attacked the invasive priest who managed to quieten the spirit by splashing the boy with holy water. [/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]It all seemed so Hollywood, I thought. But one thing about the story intrigued me: the child grew overnight, bones muscle-mass... the lot. It was the only reported case of demonic possession that caused such a dramatic alteration to the body of the physical host. Sure there were cases were some limb elongation had occurred, or the possessed having the ability to bend their bodies into all manner of unnatural shapes. The child’s transformation was permanent, too. His parents kept him home from school from then on. The force that possessed him was driven out, and he continued to live a normal life, although he looked almost twenty when making his Confirmation.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Hmm, 1979, he’d be in his forties now,” I mused aloud. I wondered what had become of this person, and I quickly dismissed the notion that he continued to grow during his adult life, sprouting huge muscles and getting insanely strong. “So, according to McInerney, a demonic spirit managed to dramatically alter a human being’s body. But that’s only slightly similar to what I’m going through.” The boy’s transformation had been a once-off. I’d already experienced my phenomenon twice. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t like the word “demonic” coming anywhere near to describing what I was going through. Did my entity mean me any harm? If it did it had a funny way of going about it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Still, I had cause to be worried. I wanted to grow huge muscles, be as huge as, or even huger than Gary, one day. But I wanted to still have my own mind at the end of it, and not be some vessel for a demon from the Netherworld. To be honest, I was raised to be Catholic, but I didn’t really believe in any kind of religion. Is that what made me the perfect candidate for demonic possession? I couldn’t find anything else to explain my situation. And as my eyes grew heavy from too much reading, I decided to call it a night.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]After undressing for bed, I decided to do some quick posing, just for fun. By this time I’d swapped around the light bulbs from the master bedroom to the second bedroom, swapping 40 watts for 60. Now I had better light in which to pose. I started with some double-biceps poses, enjoying how the muscle-bellies looked bigger, rounder and denser than before. I cupped one bicep with a hand and instantly got a boner in reaction to the awesome sensation of getting off to my own muscles. I flexed everything, bouncing my pecs on and off, pulling a lat-spread, because I now had lats to spread. I crabbed down into a most-muscular and my shoulders exploded with gorgeous mass. I was a masculine dynamo now. I fucking loved it. Just for fun I tried on one of my new jockstraps. I’d bought a white one and a black one. For now it was the white one I chose. I was disappointed that it felt a little tight around my crotch, and the straps at the back probably dug into my flesh a bit more than they should have.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Should’ve gone for the next size up,” I lamented. I realised that I had to start thinking big now that I was getting big. Still though, as my boner intensified, I loved how the expanding meat made the jock tent out that much more. “Imagine sporting a profile like this in the locker room,” I bragged, as I looked sideways at my reflection. I really looked way more than handsome now. I flexed some more, one leg before the other, drooling when my thighs seemed to roar red with thick, dense muscle masses. I put my arms behind my head and flexed my abdominals. “Fuck... I’m a living, breathing anatomy chart,” I almost barked. Better not make much noise, though, in case I rattled Lance’s cage again. Maybe I shouldn’t turn the pages so loudly next time, eh? I went back to my poses. I was tight and I was defined. When I flexed my pecs to maximum, double striations would flare across their masses. But I wanted more mass, so much more.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]It was time for bed. I laid out my suit for the morning. I really wasn’t in the mood for work tomorrow, but it would also be good to get back into the routine, after the strangest few days I’d had. “That suit may feel quite snug on me.” If I had time tomorrow I would call the company tailor, and maybe persuade him to come to the office to do a fitting. I had a feeling that I would need more than my fair share of new suits in the near future. Only the directors enjoyed this privilege, but I was a department head, now, and it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I wondered if anyone would notice my new muscles. Shirley certainly would.They would easily show through the excellent cut of my suit. Maybe I could work with the jacket on for the entire day. I decided to cross that bridge when I came to it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]For now though... I cautiously went to my bedroom. It felt warm, which was a good thing. According to McInerney’s book: “A manifestation is often preceded and/or succeeded by an alteration of the environment in which it occurs. These changes can be kinetic, audio or visual, and are nearly always accentuated by a sharp drop or rise in the ambient temperature of a place or room.” Well he could have been describing my bedroom there, I supposed. I thought about trying to contact the ex-priest, but so far I didn’t seem to be in any danger. I decided to play things out, see where they would take me.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I don’t know who you are, Entity, if that’s what I should call you,” I spoke aloud the whole time, “but if you meant me any harm you’d have done so by now. You gave me muscles, and that’s amazing. But there have to be boundaries, okay? You need to play by my rules for us to get along. One of these rules is sleep, in that I require at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep a night, especially with Estelle out sick, ‘cos I’ll have some of her work to do as well as my own. I NEED my rest, now, okay? So no grabbing me from beneath tonight, or passing through my body to grow my muscles. I’ll tell you when I want it to happen again, okay?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]If it heard me it didn’t answer. Everything continued on normally. Just to be on the safe side I decided to sleep in the other bedroom. It only had a mattress on the floor, but it was better than nothing. And you know what? Maybe the entity did hear me, because I slept soundly. And I’m sure that my greasy, pustule-popping hulk of a landlord enjoyed his beauty sleep, too.[/COLOR]




[COLOR=gray]Part 4 click HERE[/COLOR]

[biguglymofo]

thanks for installment 3. I love where you're taking this. I'll keep on hitting refresh. ;-)

[JP71]

Originally Posted by biguglymofo

thanks for installment 3. I love where you're taking this. I'll keep on hitting refresh. ;-)

You're welcome. To be honest I really love there this story is taking me!

[JP71]

Originally Posted by vsfhj

The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3 mandates my secretary into an interview. Why can't The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3 read? The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3 fasts across the brigade. The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3 seeds the reduced blob below a jungle. How does The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 3 hurt opposite the reign? Will a different stack rail?
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ukrainian women

Er..... what is this incomprehesible mumbo jumbo? I think I've been spammed by a ukranian woman.

[philat99]

Great part 3! Look forward to part 4!!!

[umlerian49]

I really like the supernatural angle-- It's different than the run-of-the-mill cast a spell, make a wish, rub the lamp, etc.

I'm still stumped over how Gary fits into all this...

[JP71]

Originally Posted by umlerian49

I really like the supernatural angle-- It's different than the run-of-the-mill cast a spell, make a wish, rub the lamp, etc.

I'm still stumped over how Gary fits into all this...

But, surely, Gary is so big he doesn't fit into anything

[umlerian49]

Originally Posted by JP71

But, surely, Gary is so big he doesn't fit into anything

Har-dee-har-har!

And don't call me Shirley.

[muscleboi25]

Incredible installment, I almost lost it four times. Thanks for sharing and please continue, a true master in storytelling!

[JP71]

Originally Posted by muscleboi25

Incredible installment, I almost lost it four times. Thanks for sharing and please continue, a true master in storytelling!

You ALMOST lost it four times? Dammit, I must be doing something wrong so.

[helliot]

Loving this story! Keep it going!