The Entity and Stephen Lewis Part 4

[JP71]

[COLOR=#808080]THE ENTITY &[/COLOR]
[COLOR=#808080]STEPHEN LEWIS[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]By JP71[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Part 4[/COLOR]

[COLOR=yellow]Part 1[/COLOR]
[COLOR=yellow]Part 2[/COLOR]
[COLOR=yellow]Part 3[/COLOR]

There was nothing to report about the week following my first weekend in the apartment at Xavier Heights, maybe except to say that I looked okay in my suit when I turned up at the office the next morning. Pauline in reception barely gave me a second glance, which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to my instantly muscled bod, and even Shirley didn’t say anything. It was heads down with work, anyway. By the end of the week I wanted to toss my computer out the window and punch holes in the wall. But we got through it.

Besides, I could turn all of my frustrations into motivation to train. I started using the company gym nightly, all the time improving my lifting techniques and working each muscle group correctly for maximum benefit. But it wasn’t just about the lifting. Part of my evenings was given over to academics: learning all I could about the mechanics of bodybuilding, and I even signed up for an online course in sports nutrition. I wanted to know it all, although at times it seemed as though there just weren’t enough hours in the day to achieve all I needed to on a daily basis. I wanted the wisdom to grow my body, and I would stop at nothing to learn all there is to know. As time and my physique progressed, I would learn to consolidate everything I’d learned into a schedule of training that would see me making impressive – nay... astonishing – gains in the months that followed. I won’t bore you with my training itinerary, but I picked the best routines from the best bodybuilders on the planet, played around with them.... and ultimately made them my own.

You might be wondering to yourself why I was going to such lengths to dot my Is and cross my Ts when I had a magical ghost-infused bed that could take all the hard work and thinking out of the building of a body. The thing is... or rather was... the entity itself. After that first weekend in the apartment, all ghostly activity ceased. I was sleeping soundly, night after night, so that my body could repair itself and grow new bigger, harder muscles. By the end of January I was pissed off and crestfallen, but also grateful that this being, whatever it was, had given me the kick in the pants I so needed to finally start to live my dream. I soon began to forget about the entity, and just got on with things.

Winter became Spring, and in March I had my thirty-sixth birthday, which I spent by myself, alone in my apartment, having decided to take a day off from training.

By now I was almost three months into my bodybuilding, and I’d learned so much in such a relatively short space of time. I found myself able to absorb information like a sponge, but I’d always been able to do that. The difference between then and now was that I was fitter and stronger, with a healthier body than ever before. And a healthy body means a healthy mind, yeah? Certainly in my case that was definite.

I’d become a better cook, too. Now I was able to prepare meals for myself that didn’t skimp on flavour, but were still extremely low in fat and high in protein. I needed lots of protein to grow my muscles, but no longer at the expense of my taste buds. My birthday dinner consisted of a Paella that was far more nutritious, but just as tasty, as the one I’d once had in Little Caesar’s. I decided to break my “no alcohol” rule and have some chardonnay with my meal.

“Am I lonely?” I asked myself as I nursed my second glass of wine at a dining table prepared for one. Shirley had wanted to throw me a party at her place, but I really wasn’t in the mood. Since I’d taken up bodybuilding, my evenings were mostly solitary affairs, as I took advantage of the free gym at work. Sure, others used it regularly, people I knew and others I didn’t, but no one were as committed to the weight machines as much as I was. I wanted to get big... no... huge. This gym would suit me for a year, I reckoned. After that, I’d hopefully outgrow the place.

And what about Xavier Heights? Well, things were certainly quiet here... too quiet. Several of the residents were bodybuilders who worked out at Mass Central, and by now spying on them – as they pumped and grew whilst attacking the weights (and sometimes each other) – had become a near-nightly routine for me. I would see them leave the gym afterward to return to their apartments, and occasionally there were loud noises around me, where they probably punched something they shouldn’t have due to being on a high from their workouts. Apart from that our paths never crossed, and I found that altogether strange. Lance appeared once in a while, inquiring as to my well-being, and, strangely, the subject of his somewhat antagonistic confrontation with me that first weekend never came up. He looked like his gaining had hit an inviolable ceiling, but he was pretty huge, and if you want my opinion, a greater surface area would only prove fertile ground for yet more hideous acne. What I also found a little strange, was the fact that I was now, noticeably, a bodybuilder. I’d gained another 10 lbs, not from ghostly intervention, but through my increasing knowledge of the science of bodybuilding. I was now a muscle-bulging 214 lbs at a height of five ten and a half, which, compared to the behemoths of Xavier Heights/Mass Central, was still way too small. Gary could still pick his teeth with me, I reckoned.

But what of Gary Shields? Well, that seemed to be the strangest thing of all. He’d completely disappeared off the radar, no longer training at Mass Central, and although he hadn’t formerly quit his job, Melanie in HR told me that they’d taken him off the payroll, although he was in breach of contract for not giving thirty days notice. Fuck all that work shit. Oh one other thing I forgot to mention: I’d asked Melanie about the photos from the last Christmas Party, suggesting they might be from a Christmas previous to that one (which would account for Gary’s astonishing increase in size in so short a time span). Nope, she confirmed that they were from last year.

Of course Shirley proved invaluable as my single source of information about the man I still obsessed over, only not so much anymore. There was a new man in my life to worship.... me! Still though, I was a tad worried about Gary. Shirley said that the marriage was completely over, and Gillian had a woman staying over (no prizes for guessing what was going on there).

Estelle was back working again, which meant my workload had been sufficiently reduced, although I felt I could handle the stress. And it really helped my workouts, I believed.

“Am I fucking lonely?” I had repeated the question as the alcohol in my system began to stir up my blood. I hadn’t had a drink in months, and two glasses of wine shot straight to my head. I decided enough was enough and poured the rest of the wine down the sink. I visited every room in my apartment, lingering in front of the mirror after I’d peeled off my sweater. I flexed my meatier muscles and smirked smugly when they popped out to obey my every command. I willed them bigger in my mind. I was still a long way away from being huge. But my body was well above-average, now. And here I was, stuck in on a Friday night, and on my birthday, too. I made a decision there and then to head out to a bar, probably the same one I’d visited before with Gary. An hour or two wouldn’t interfere with my regimen.

I rummaged through my closets for something to wear. I hadn’t bought anything new since January, and so the fact that I was now 10 lbs heavier with more muscle than I had back then, meant that anything I tried on now would look somewhat snug on me. I mischievously smiled, as a glint formed in my eye and stayed there. This is exactly the look I was going for. Sure, my ego was far more developed than my muscles, these days, and I was still trying to find a happy medium between the two. I didn’t want to come across as too cocky, now, did I?

I’d decided not to shower. I know... bad habit. But my body was rather musky just from sitting around, doing nothing, and being muscular. I splashed on some Hugo Boss, but not too much. I wanted to go for the designer stubble, rough n’ ready look, as though I’d just thrown on something without a second thought and still managed to come out looking incredible.

I opted for a white, sleeveless polo-shirt, with a red “Evisu” logo emblazoned on it slightly left of the centre of the chest. Below the waist I just about squeezed into a pair of distressed Diesel jeans, with more rips in them than actual denim, but I thought they looked awesome. I was up to leg-pressing around 700 lbs, now, and my quads had exploded in recent weeks. I’d seen guys on the internet pushing less than that with similar muscle mass to me, so I reckoned the entity hadn’t just bulked me up, but made me inordinately stronger, too.

And so my ritual of getting ready to go out took all of ten minutes. I ruffled my hair up with a bit of styling gum as a finishing touch, and that was it. I pulled on a leather jacket and left my apartment, making sure, as always, to set the alarm before going.

The cold air of the night sobered me up quite quickly, and my unwanted inhibitions returned almost in a trice. I thought about heading back in, getting an early night so that I could hit the gym bright and early. Due to cut-backs in the company’s recreational budget, the facility at work didn’t open at weekends, except for the family pool and cr?che area. Fuck it... I didn’t want kids running around disrupting my workouts. I would find another gym in town and just train there for a few hours. No biggy.

Lucky for me a taxi pulled up outside the Xavier Heights concourse and a pretty young-ish lady got out of the back seat. I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. She walked right past me and up to the gate I’d just stepped through and managed to slip through before it had closed completely. Oops, I thought. Maybe I should have tried to stop her, but it was cold, and I had to nab that nice, warm taxi before it pulled away into the night. Maybe one of the bodybuilders in residence was her boyfriend or something.

When I got to the bar they were only letting regulars in. What a stupid fucking policy. How can you become a regular if you’re never allowed to cross the threshold? I thought about swinging for the bouncer at the door, reckoning I could take him easily. But others had been refused, too. So as they set off in search of another venue, I just tagged along.

Soon enough they found another gay bar. This one was larger than the one I’d been to before. And their door policy was far more lenient. Before I knew it I was handing my jacket over to the cloakroom attendant, and I really couldn’t wait to strut my muscular stuff to the delight of many a horny Corkonian hotty. I was so glad my body still looked pumped, and the contours of my muscles could not have been better accentuated by the cuts of my clothing. I found one of the bars and ordered a Coors Light whilst some kind of incomprehensible techno-throwback to the 80s boomed out of speakers all around the sparkling, bustling venue. Within seconds of parking myself at the bar, eyes were upon me. I wasn’t used to the gay scene; it had never appealed to me, even back in my more youthful, days, when a young gay guy wishes to experiment. It was there and then I realised that I had very little experience with this sort of thing, let alone relationships. I hadn’t had enough “encounters” before and after my time with Gary in order to qualify as an expert at pick-ups. That was it. How pathetic was my past, eh? Never again.

I should have been nervous about being here. I should have nursed my beer like a person dangling dangerously over a precipice holds on to a life-line. But my muscles were like armour, now. And my armour was the kind that others found altogether pleasing to the eye. My shirt, being sleeveless, allowed me to play around with my show muscles, and I would wait until I had eyes boring into my biceps before raising the beer bottle to my lips. Then, just as I was about to take a drink, I’d tense the muscle, knowing full and well that it would respond to my command, putting out its bisecting vein as its admirers licked their lips with reckless abandon. I wanted to be subtle about my poses, making it look like I wasn’t showing off too much. Guys noticed me, and so I’d bounce my pecs a little, sometimes rising an arm to scratch a fake itch behind my head. I didn’t think I was being too much of a peacock.

This is how I met Ray. He came at me out of a horde vying for bar space so they could get served. His eyes never once broke from my gaze as he approached. He held me transfixed in his shameless stare, and I knew he already had plans for me. He was pretty damn hot, too. I took him in as he slowly made his way to me: about six feet one inch tall, well-built (but not as well as I was back then), shaved head, a trimmed goatee that neatly followed the line of his jaw on either side of his face to a firm, confident chin beneath slightly too-full lips that he’d already set to licking. His eyes were dark and mysterious, and one of them sported a teardrop tattoo just beneath it. He was wearing a tight, black wife-beater, its neckline low, so that his perspiring, and somewhat toned chest was easily on show. I broke his gaze, but only to check him out further south. His ridiculously narrow waist wore a band of metal studs and leather around it, one of those “rock-star” belts that look great threaded through leathers or jeans. It so turned out that his jeans were half-denim, half black leather, the latter component sewn in to look like chaps, although they were actually integral to the garment. Four shiny, Levi’s buttons caught my attention down the front, the panel of denim that should have been covering them up, completely cut away. Even in the dimmed lights of a busy bar, I could tell he was packing meat down there. He tapped his crotch a couple of times with the neck of his beer-bottle, and then a wink from him sucked my gaze back level with his eye-line.

How did I react to giving him the once-over? Easy, I bounced my pecs and reeled him in. We didn’t speak much beyond the customary small-talk you’d expect from an encounter like this. It was mostly lip-reading anyway, for the music was way too loud to allow for polite conversation. So we just drank some beers and went through the motions of making everyone around us jealous.

Okay, at this point in my recent developmental chronology, I was probably seeing myself bigger in my mind than I was in reality, but I used this as motivation, a driving goal, nothing more. Of course, as I imbibed more alcohol, I totally lost any sense of self-control, and my muscles really needed to come out to play. Ray dragged me up onto the dance-floor – something I never did – and by the time we had the centre of the floor to ourselves, he’d already stripped me to the waist. I soon got into it, moving with the music, not really having a best foot to put forward, but I tried my best to follow Ray who was an exceptional dancer, I thought. We soon had a crowd around us, many of whom were strapping lads, with pecs and abs everywhere I cared to look, but I could tell I was the most-muscular one of them all. This feeling of empowerment was addictive. I wanted more... I wanted to be the centre of attention always, and I suddenly regretted not sticking with the gym back in my early twenties. Imagine if I had... at thirty-six I would be absolutely huge, and the blokes ogling me from the circle they’d made around me would be throwing themselves at me without a second thought.

This was the Stephen Lewis I needed to be. But I wanted the muscles.... NOW!!!

The witching hour came and went, and the buzz was still electric at the bar. But I had to think about my weekend workouts, and decided to call it a night. Ray begged me to stay a little longer, but even though the alcohol had me swaying on my feet, I refused to be swayed in any other way. I’d lost my shirt earlier, but fortunately Ray pulled a rolled-up spare tank-top from out of his jeans and let me have it. I guess I’d have to think about bringing a spare if ever I came here again. We got our jackets and left together. It was cold outside, gusts of smoky breath issuing from our lungs, expedited by the beating of our excited hearts. Outside the bar guys were still queuing to get in. I was made curious by this.

“It becomes a sauna club from 2am onwards. I’m a member and could get you in no problem,” Ray explained.

“It’s tempting, but I’ve got to train tomorrow. It’s kind of late, Ray,” I insisted. My heart was pounding in lust for Ray. He was even better looking now that we had the light of streetlamps to see by. He’d looked older inside the bar, obviously the lights inside weren’t kind to a guy’s skin. Outside, however, he looked no more than twenty-eight or thereabouts.

“I’m not letting you go, big guy,” said Ray, grabbing me tight in a considerable bear hug. He was really stronger than he looked. I gained an immediate boner from his spontaneous contact. I decided there and then that my body was now too good to keep to myself, and that it needed to be worshipped on a regular basis.

“Let’s get a cab then. You know Xavier Heights?”

“Yeah, it’s across the street from that bodybuilder’s gym. You train there, right?”

I shook my head: “I have a somewhat complicated reason for not training there. I work out at the gym where I work. It’s free for employees.”

“I used to train a bit myself. But I’m so into my music these days. And it pays the bills, just about.” So Ray was a musician. I was starting to like him even more. I wanted him in my bed, this night.

And so we took a cab home to my apartment. I barely had the key in the door before Ray was attacking me with a man-lust I’d not felt in many a year. I must admit to meeting his lust levels more than adequately, and I hoped my new strength wouldn’t prove overwhelming to him.

We were naked in under a minute, our lips never once parting whilst we somewhat awkwardly shrugged out of our clothing. Ray’s tongue was deep and probing, and he had way more experience than I in the art of seduction. I found myself gasping for breath as he expertly toured the inside of my mouth with all the vigour of an explorer in search of some irresistible artefact. Once he had relinquished me of certain treasures, so that tongue would change direction, seeking out even greater riches further south.

And he found them without any trouble, his tongue mapping my surface in moments, the skin covering my upper pecs now slick with his spit. He moved lower, succouring on my nips as if a hunger like no other could be fulfilled through my nourishing buds. I gasped to his movements, his touch sparking up a fire that burned through me as much as it made me stiffen from head to toe. As we caressed, our eager hands roaming like predators on the hunt, so our man-lust sought out our obscenely-expanding members, and I was thrown aghast when I felt just how much of Ray’s meat had stiffened within my grasp. He was huge down there, bigger than any cock I’d ever experienced in the past, Gary’s included. I was suddenly a size-freak – not just for muscle – but for mammoth, pulsing cock, and I sought to know every vein... every last millimetre of that fantastic organ.

“Your body.... your muscles... so fucking hot,” moaned Ray as he gulped down huge breaths to further fuel his journey across my now beautiful physique. Hearing him react so positively to my body, spurred my lust further, and I wanted to get so much bigger and more muscular, so that men like Ray (would there be ones after him?) would have plenty to do and to play with.

He worked himself lower still, now kneeling before me so that his tongue could pleasure itself into every nook of my ab-wall. The muscles of my abdomen had become so hard and so prominent recently, and I was surprised that they took less work than I previously imagined they would in order to come out as they did. His tongue gorged on those delicious contours of mine, and I pleasured him even more by tensing my ab-wall, until it seemed as though diamonds would erupt through my skin, surely one of the greatest of treasures.

He nestled in my pubic bush for a time, inhaling my scent deeply, moaning with ever-heightening lust. My uncut cock was rock hard, now, bobbing before him as if to fend off his desire to completely devour my crotch. He took my engorged organ in his mouth – taking in its entire mass – and began to suck me off with such vigour that I almost cried out loud enough to wake my muscular neighbours. I was in the throes of total man-lust, now, so I didn’t care what consequences might ensue. I just wanted this time with Ray to go further and further and never end.

His deep-throating seemed to go on for time immemorial, but I soon bored of this, because I needed to dominate Ray, and I managed to yank him up to a standing position again, growling in primal heat, my strength too much for him to resist. I grew even more excited at the thought that I was the stronger man here. And I could only get stronger and stronger in the weeks and months that followed.

I swear to you, he felt like no more than eighty or ninety pounds as I carried him into my bedroom, and I don’t know how the bed didn’t collapse, such was the force with which I made Ray hit the thing. I didn’t give him a split second to realise that my intentions were anything but good at this time, but I had my workout to think about, and it was already way past my bedtime. I had to get this over with. Ray began to protest as I flipped him around on the bed so that his arse pointed to the ceiling. Then I was upon him, my limbs pinning him completely.

“Wha----? Dude, use a fucking cond----mmmmpppffff!!!”

“Fuck that,” I growled, pushing his face into a pillow as I exerted even more force over the weaker man. My lack of prudence was probably a side-effect of the drink still stewing away in my bloodstream. Ray began to struggle even more now, bucking beneath me in a vain effort to shrug free of my domination. In the darkness of the bedroom, I used one hand to guide my cock towards the entrance to his anus, and for a moment there was one less limb holding Ray down. He bucked again, this time succeeding in slipping partially free. He struggled even further, yelling all manner of obscenities at me. And that’s when it happened. Just as I was about to spear him with my cock, the temperature in the room quickly dropped to near-freezing.

“What?”

I stopped what I was doing and immediately looked up in time to see frost glazing over on the light bulb over the bed. Both of us began to shiver. Suddenly an unseen power propelled Ray right off the bed with enough force to send him careering through the door and out into the living room. Even though I didn’t see it happen, I heard the sound of bone hitting the radiator out there. After that... nothing. Ray was out cold. But for now he was the least of my concerns. The entity had returned. But why? Why, after almost three months, had it decided to re-assert itself now?

Maybe it was here to give me my birthday gift. Snarling with devilish delight, I lay on the bed and willed the presence to diffuse through me, as it had twice before. I didn’t pass out this time, nor was I coming out of those troubling and altogether convoluted dreams in which the massive muscles of a giant behemoth did all they could to encapsulate me and crush me to dust. I was totally coherent as the paranormal being became one with my body, pulsing through me... the cold of my flesh now alive with a different kind of fire.

I ejaculated several times as the being moved through every part of me, and the jizz felt icy cold as it spattered across my once-again changing body. I arched my back away from the bed, my glutes tensed and my heels digging into the mattress-top... and I actually felt the growth – more extreme than before – coursing through me... changing me for the better. And this change was the most significant one so far. Then the most startling thing happened. The entity manifested itself in real time above my bed. It was man-sized, of course, but lacked any discernible “face” as such, only the shape of the head, neck and shoulders could actually be seen. It misted about like a cloud trying to hold its shape, but must eventually dissipate, although in the centre of this cloud boiled a swirling electric-like nebula... the heart of the entity most likely. It seemed to regard me through non-existent eyes, but I could sense no animosity from it. In fact, I couldn’t sense anything from it at all. But one thing was certain to me... it appeared because it objected to my near-violation of Ray.

And then it was gone. The temperature in the room returned to normal and I was owned by the darkness for a time.

I thought about what I should do next. Should I carefully probe myself in the dark, delighting and gasping at the suddenly-new muscle masses adorning my ever-burgeoning physique? Or maybe I should stand in front of the mirror first and then throw on the lights to catch sight of the complete new me all at once. Better still, I could actually make it into the bathroom to weigh myself on the scales I’d bought recently, BEFORE looking in the mirror.

I deftly bounded to the bathroom, finding everything shimmering in that weird afterglow from the supernatural experience, so I was able to see well enough without crashing into something. I kicked on the scale and at once its red LED display shone with a “000”. Trying not to get over-excited I stood on the scale and held my breath. I could already feel the difference; my thighs were now rubbing against each other, and that alone made me hard again. I felt bigger all over, and instinctively I leaned forward to better read the display, because I knew that my pecs had gained considerable mass. Three zeroes immediately changed into a “2”, a “5” and a “7”

I almost fainted.

“Forty-three pounds. I’ve gained forty-three fucking pounds. All of it solid, sexy muscle. Welcome to the world of the heavyweight bodybuilder, Lewis!” I couldn’t wait to flex. I had to get to my mirror and pose for all I was worth. Then I remembered: “Ray.... shit... he could be hurt.”

Did I care? Of course I did, although I now regretted bringing him home. But then, the flipside to this reasoning was that the act of me bringing him home and attempting to fuck him bareback-style was what could’ve prompted the entity to return. Whatever strange policies existed in the afterlife, I was thankful that some kind of system had to be in place. I needed to take full advantage of that system in order to grow into the muscle behemoth I wanted to become. I was determined to make Gary Shields – wherever he was in the world at this time – look like a rodent standing next to me.

I loped into the hall and actually felt my even bigger pecs now bouncing more heavily under their own weight. Would my cock ever be flaccid again? Not if my body turned me on so much, it wouldn’t. Ray seemed fine. He was still unconscious as I lifted him up to carry him into the living room (he felt all of fifty pounds to me now). I planted him on the sofa, propped his head up with spare pillows, and tucked a duvet around him. There was a small bump on the right side of his head, but I’d had worse myself. I decided he’d live. And there I left him, for suddenly I felt exhausted. My body needed to re-charge itself. And so I went to bed. My flexing would have to wait until later.


I woke up to the strangest of smells coming from my kitchen. What the hell was going on? I could smell bacon sizzling, fresh coffee brewing. But ... I didn’t have any bacon in the house. I no longer ate food like that. I only ate porridge and white omelettes for breakfast, along with tuna and a protein shake. Still though, the smell was heavenly. Even more heavenly was the body that stared back at me from the mirror in my bedroom.

“Sweet God!!!!!”

The god was me, of course. I was massive, as big as Arnie had been at the height of his bodybuilding career, although men competed much heavier than 257 in this day and age. My traps had grown upwards, big enough to give Craig Golias a run for his money. I shrugged my shoulders a few times and they burst into massive relief. My cock sprung upright and started crying precum. My shoulders had also grown huge, crowned on either side by triple-head delts that rippled with ease with the slightest movements of my arms. My pecs had hulked out to gigantic pillows of awesomeness, and they seemed even more top-heavy than Lance’s had become. My nipples were bigger and more pronounced. I tweaked one between a thumb and forefinger and almost shot a load there and then. They were super-sensitive. Hell, a bloke only had to blow on these fuckers, and I’d probably drench him with my spunk.

I bounced my pecs vigorously, amazed at how heavy these babies had become. And as for their definition: they were the deepest and thickest muscle-tits I’d seen that didn’t hang from a guy named Gary Shields. Sure, there were bigger guys than me out there; many of them occupied the same building as me. But thanks to my esoteric observations of the goings-on in Mass Central, I could tell that I easily had better size and shape to my pectorals than the co-residents of Xavier Heights, Lance included. I curled my arms inwards, the biceps bulging insanely, ripped taut and hard as steel. I then commenced to crab down into a most-muscular, and I groaned – near to shooting my jizz all over the mirror – when every muscle on my hulking new body threatened to burst and fly apart with more maddening size. It was as though I was hewn from glistening marble, and I’d never seen muscles so defined, so vascular. I could almost count every vein and capillary as they criss-crossed my skin with staggering relief. Imagine how much more defined I’d looked coated in baby oil. There was none in the apartment, for I’d hardly had reason to require it... until now. Now I was big enough to oil up like the big bodybuilders. No, not like them... I was a big bodybuilder. But I still wasn’t as huge as I needed to be.

I growled like a beast, hulking and flexing harder still, almost willing my muscles to bulge huger. Of course, they did so only in my mind, but I couldn’t wait to get to the gym to see how much weight I could now annihilate. I bounced my pecs some more and then flared up to a massive full-lat spread. My delta-torso was a delicious throwback to the bodybuilders of the 1970s. There was certainly a Frank Zane-ness to me, for my waist was taut and trim and incredibly defined, although no ‘roid gut was in evidence whatsoever.

Strangely, my cock and balls seemed bigger and with greater heft than before. I welcomed this no end. Why not have the total package? My quads and hamstrings were unreal, and rippled with the slightest of movements. I had calves that would put Matarazzo’s to shame. And yet, I knew that I wasn’t done with growing, not by a long shot.

I decided to investigate the kitchen. Obviously Ray had made himself at home, which was probably a good thing. Well, it was either that or file charges against me for an attempted rape. I thought about how to present myself to him. How could I explain the forty-three extra pounds of beautiful muscle now rippling across my magnificent bod? Would my robe even fit me now? I decided to try it on. Thankfully it closed perfectly, and I could tie it at the waist no problem. But it was stretched to near-bursting point at the shoulders, and there was too much pec on show at the front where the lapels refused to venture. It was better than nothing. I thought the least-sexy of thoughts in order to collapse the tent out front of the robe, and then made to exit the bedroom. But I had to look out of the bedroom window before leaving, for this had become something of a morning ritual. My jaw almost dropped.

The same motorbike I’d seen before, the one that could only belong to Gary, was parked out front. He’d been missing for months, and now he was back, all of a sudden. I immediately dived on my binocs and was soon staking out the place. I scanned all areas visible to me from this angle, floor by floor. I went back, over and over, hoping to catch a glimpse of the biggest bodybuilder on Earth, but so far nothing. The place seemed deserted. There was only the boss’s SUV in the parking lot at this time, other than the bike, of course. I cursorily glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Quarter to eleven. I couldn’t even remember at what time I’d arrived home, with Ray. I didn’t even know his last name. But I intended to find out.


Sure enough he’d made my kitchen his own. He was wearing a pair of my boxers, ones that I’d since outgrown. He was completely shirtless, but his body was nice enough to keep me interested. He was definitely my type, since from now on I’d opted only to fuck averagely-built guys, ones who would readily worship me at the snap of a finger. He helped himself to more coffee from the percolator and served me up a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

“I don’t eat that stuff,” I said, showing no gratitude whatsoever.

“Oh well then, more for me, I guess. Hope you didn’t mind me helping myself, sexy.” He sat down and began shaking ketchup all over the eggs and bacon. I must admit to secretly drooling for a breakfast like that. I also craved coffee, but it was bad for me and I’d learned that it prevented the absorption of vital minerals and nutrients. And my body needed all the nourishment it could get. I set about making a protein shake for myself. This felt altogether weird. Ray said nothing about last night. I remembered what I tried to do to him, how my lust almost got the better of me. Had the bump to his head wiped his memory? Obviously it had.

“Where’d you get the coffee and bacon,” I asked innocently enough.

“I went to the shops about an hour ago. You were out for the count, snoring like a bull. Er, I needed a change of underwear, so I hope you don’t mind. And you can thank me for finding your keys still in your front door, by the way.”

“You don’t remember anything about last night?” I paused from adding a second scoop of protein shake mix to a jug of cold milk.

“I remember having a great time. And you are the best shag ever. Damn, not many blokes can take all of my ten inches, but you didn’t even scream. I can’t wait until we do it again.” He winked once at me and then went back to the tabloid newspaper he’d bought. I only ever read broadsheets, and mostly for the financial sections. So then, Ray had amnesia, or some kind of garbled brain fuck-up. He remembered things that most certainly didn’t happen. He’d not gotten near my arse with his big dick, but hey... if that’s what he wanted to remember, I was fine with it. Could the entity be responsible for this re-writing of events from Ray’s perspective? Then Ray dropped a right clanger into my lap:

“Er... I have a favour to ask...er....Steve, isn’t it?”

I can’t believe the fucker forgot my name. Still though, he was strangely growing on me. I think this came mostly from the relief I felt that I’d somehow gotten away with an attempted rape. Inwardly I felt bad, and I resolved to control my lust in future. This was new territory for me, and if I wasn’t careful it could end up becoming very dangerous ground indeed.

“Stephen, Ray. Stephen Lewis. I don’t like being called Steve,” I corrected sombrely.

“No worries. Listen, I’m being thrown out of my apartment on Monday, if I don’t cough up a grand and a half in arrears money. I need a place to chill until I get back on my feet.” Now there were favours, and then there were favours.

“How come you’re in so much debt?” That didn’t mean I agreed to let him stay. Although he looked phenomenally hot in my old boxers. I felt the tip of my cock moistening to the sight of him once more.

“I move between here, Dublin, London and Paris. I work the metros, you know? Buskin’. Good money to be made from it. Love my music, man. It’s everything to me. Anyways, I normally have digs to stay in when I’m in London and Paris which pay the most. But I fell out with some of my mates who would normally give me room and board.”

“Let me guess... you owe them money, am I right?” I knew I was right. I didn’t like where this was going. I liked having my own space. Besides, I was a bodybuilder now, with big commitments towards getting even bigger. Could I also commit to a relationship as well? Wait a sec, I was jumping the gun again. Just because Ray believed he’d fucked me, didn’t mean we were suddenly in a relationship. But I could stare at this guy all day, he was that hot. What was the harm in letting him stay for a while? If Lance got suspicious, I’d just say he was a friend visiting for a while. We were entitled to guests at Xavier Heights, weren’t we? I couldn’t remember half the things on that contract before I’d signed it, and to be honest I didn’t care.

“Yeah, I owe a fair bit. I’ve just had a bad run of luck, lately. So then, are we cool? I’ll do all your cleaning and laundry if you like... earn my keep and all that.” His eyes were bright with optimism, although I had the power to crush that optimism like a bug if I chose to.” I finished making my shake and knocked it back in two gulps. My new muscles made my appetite a voracious one. Maybe a little bacon and eggs wouldn’t hurt, just this once. I considered Ray’s offer. There were advantages to having a live-in maid, especially one I could have lots of sex with. I went through quite a lot of laundry and didn’t own a washing machine. Ray could take over that chore easily enough. And as for housekeeping? I seldom had time to keep the place as neat as I liked. Hmmm... this might work out for the better. But how would I keep the entity a secret from him? Maybe I’d try him out for a week and if nothing out of the ordinary happened, he’d be none the wiser. Or if it did, maybe the entity would play its amnesia trick, and Ray would still be none the wiser.

“Yeah, you can stay, Ray.... er.... Ray what?” I needed to know his last name, to sort of formalise our verbal agreement.

“Oh... it’s McInerney, nice to meet you, big man.”

“Hearing him say ‘big man’ caused my robe to tent out again. I would forever be regarded as “big” from here on, although I needed to get HUGE. Big was just an intermediate stage of my development. Wait a sec...

“McInerney? You’re not related to the writer... Sean McInerney, are you?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad’s uncle. But no one bothers with him. Old codger’s gone batty in the brain, Stephen. And just ‘cos he wrote one book in his life doesn’t make him a writer.” Obviously blood wasn’t thicker than water in the eyes of Ray McInerney.

“It’s just that I have that book. I’m kind of interested in the supernatural, especially what happened to that boy from Connemara.” I was hoping that Ray would offer some insight into an incident that involved a member of his family. Well, his testimony wasn’t exactly what I was hoping to hear.

“Sean got money from the Pope to self-publish that shite back in the 80s. This was at a time when the sex scandals in the Church were only starting to gather momentum. Although it was never proven, Sean wrote the book to cover up the fact that the kid he alleges was possessed by a demon – causing him to grow into a teenager overnight – was sexually abused. Sean twisted the facts; he was in fact the demon, and he buggered that kid. So in a way you could say that the kid “grew up” in the space of a night. My uncle robbed him of his innocence. The book was put out as a smokescreen, so he wouldn’t be investigated. Apparently proceeds from the book went to the kid’s family to keep their mouths shut, although I can't imagine it was much of a sum.”

I didn’t believe a word of it. “How long has your family been estranged from Sean?”

“Ever since the incident. The book had some personal family shit in it, too, so my dad tried to sue him in ninety-four. But by then Sean was already a ward of the state, put out to pasture in a funny farm for ex-priests that lose it. Fuckin’ perverts, the lot of ‘em, hiding behind a cloak of fake insanity in order to get away with child rape.”

I suddenly blushed, reminded of what I almost did to Ray just a few hours before. Okay, so he was a grown man, but still, rape is rape. No more alcohol for me, that much I was certain of.

“So you’ve never actually met him then? How do you know he doesn’t have psychic powers and can commune with the dead?” Some of the things I’d learned from that book had really captured my reasoning, although admittedly, I hadn’t read much of the book, merely scanning through it for things relevant to my situation in the apartment.

“He’d be in his eighties now, easily. Don’t give a flying fuck where he is. As far as I’m concerned he and his bum-buddy Father Xavier can rot.”

I dropped the jug formerly containing protein shake. Fortunately it was plastic and just bounced harmlessly across the kitchen tiles.

Father Xavier. Xavier Heights. I now realised that there was more going on around here than the growing of muscles via eerie forces that couldn’t yet be explained. There was a connection to this place and Sean McInerney. And this Father Xavier was the gel that bound the two together.

I decided to spare no further thought on this for the moment. The fact remained that the entity – which I now believed was directly connected to the past goings-on involving the then Father Sean McInerney – had the power to make my muscles grow in a matter of seconds, so surely this was my prime concern, yeah? How I acquired my muscles didn’t really matter to me, so long as I got them, yeah? Two things bothered me, however... things I hoped would not detract from my workouts to come. One: was I, in fact, a pawn in some bizarre ritual practice spanning this world and the next, and if so, would I emerge from it the victor and with a killer physique as my prize? Two: was meeting Ray the night before purely by chance, or were we somehow brought together? What if he was playing me in all of this... pretending to forget about what I almost succeeded in doing to him just hours before?

Should I just ask him out straight? He had access to the apartment, now... and also the amazing power it contained. What if he intended to use it himself? I panicked, inwardly. Suddenly the muscle-glutton that I’d become didn’t want to share a single muscle-fibre with anyone else. I wanted all the growth for myself. A quiet snarl began at the back of my throat, but was quickly silenced by the heavy hammering on my front door. It could only be Lance, probably here to complain about the noise from last night.

I went to answer the door, deciding not to glance through the peephole for fear of catching his acne through it. I really wasn’t in the mood for him this morning. I just wanted to get out of the apartment, to give my new muscles the workout they deserved. Saturday was chest day. I quietly craved it.

I opened the door.

I saw.

My eyes waxed to the size of moons.


Part 5 Click HERE

[arpeejay]

I'm hoping "soon" will be about 15 minutes from now! :-)

SLURP!

xoxo

Richard

[umlerian49]

I bet I know who's at the door!

Another crackerjack chapter. This one is running pretty long for "just two chapters." I hope you keep the inspiration going.

[biguglymofo]

*refresh*

tick tock tick tock

*refresh*

tick tock tick tock

*refresh*

tick tock tick tock

*refresh*

tick tock tick tock

*refresh*

;-) Loved this installment.

[philat99]

Soon can't be soon enough! You've got a real winner here!!!

[muscleboi25]

Oh man this is getting really good. I can't wait to see what role Ray really plays in this story! I wait with baited breath...