New Story: An Awful Circularity

[tekuno]

This isn't exactly my first story, but it's the first story I have bothered to type all the way through without giving up after the main part, and definitely the first one I've posted. It's actually inspired by a series of sketches I made, but since they're pencil sketches on lined notebook paper they probably wouldn't scan very well, so I'm not going to bother posting them.

Oh, and also: I made a point of writing this to a very definite end, which is a little grim. But in exchange for there being no more, and possibly not being the best ending (even though it's the inevitable ending to this kind of story, if it goes on long enough), you get the whole thing at once. So, uh, yay?

As usual: contains gay sex, do not read if this offends you, any resemblance between these characters and any living persons is coincidental, etc. etc. etc.

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I guess this is all my fault. Maybe. I'm not really certain, now that I look back, how much blame I really can take.

I mean, sure, some of it was my raging hormones, but Mike has to take some of the blame. Most of it, really, based on what he thinks.

Anyway, let me describe how it all happened.

Mike and I were high school seniors. The two of us were basically wannabe gym rats. There's only so much time in the day that a high school student can spend working out, but we put in a lot of time. We weren't exactly buff by adult standards -- there's a limit to how much you can do when you're that age -- but we were definitely a couple of the bulkiest, fittest guys our age in the school.

We were -- and are -- also gay. Both of us were gym rats because we wanted to have the kind of body which would attract gay men with that same kind of body. We spent our money on bodybuilding magazines -- both for the tips and for the photos -- and supplements. After a few awkward encounters, we figured out that we were both there for the same reasons, and since we were both pretty good-looking, we used to go over to Mike's house after workouts for, er, some extra exercise. (Our parents, as far as we could tell, never caught on. Then again, Mike's parents weren't usually around during the evenings. They were almost as energetic, in their own way, as Mike was.)

Mike was always REALLY turned on after a workout, even more than the usual teenage boy hormone haze would justify. To me, muscles were sexy to look at, and at first I was working out to attract someone who would satisfy me, and later to hold Mike's attention. Mike, on the other hand, may have started off thinking that other people's muscles were sexy, but before long the real attraction was being big and strong, himself. He welcomed every sign of puberty as a signal that his muscles were getting ready to grow, and it was a bitter disappointment to him to find that he wasn't a very hairy guy. (He was so far into the idea that he even managed to get satisfaction out of the relatively few pimples he had.) After a workout which pretty much guaranteed that he would be stiff and sore the next day, he would be so horny that he would make the soreness worse for himself by some really energetic escapades in bed. But, he always said, the soreness was a sign he was getting bigger, so that was fine with him.

It was a few days after Mike's 18th birthday (I'm about a month older than he is) when the trouble started.

We came home from our workout, having stopped at the store for protein powder and the latest month's muscle magazines. Mike and I did our thing, first on the bed and then in the shower, and were sitting around catching our breath. Mike picked up the new issue of "Muscle Trainer Monthly" and flipped through it idly.

"Huh."

He sounded interested. That could be good or bad. Sometimes Mike was interested by new exercise routines, but sometimes he was interested by weird snake-oil "discoveries" which turned out to be worthless. He was always in search of the bodybuilding equivalent of a winning lottery ticket. Some of the things he had fallen for had turned out to be actively harmful, and it was only by luck that he hadn't been seriously hurt. Sometimes we would argue about it, but the arguments always ended with him pointing out that he was successful so far -- it's hard to argue against results.

"There's an article here about hypnosis."

Well, that at least was probably fairly safe. In fact, we had already tried it, without much in the way of results. I'm fairly resistant to getting hypnotized anyway, as some people are, and there isn't much Mike could do to make himself more enthusiastic or energetic. And you can't actually hypnotize your muscles into growing, right?

"It says you can speed up your growth by up to a factor of two if you just follow the right steps."

"Bullshit. How would they know 'a factor of two'? How could you prove you weren't going to grow like that anyway?"

"Well, okay, but it can't hurt to try it, right? Here, you read it."

"Why? You're the one who wants to do this, can't you do it without me? Last time, you were fiddling with audio files on the computer and CDs for weeks."

"No, it says this only works if you have someone else do it. Take a look."

The article was... well, honestly, I can't remember much about the text at this point. What caught my attention -- and held it -- was the illustration on the first page. It was either a morphed picture, or the biggest guy I had ever seen. He was in posing trunks, but not shaved, and he had thick, sexy hair pretty much everywhere a guy can have hair and have it be sexy. And his posing trunks were skimpy enough to make it clear that he was hung like a monster.

But the main thing, the thing that made it hard for me to tear my eyes away, is that from the neck (what remained of it; the guy's traps were so huge that his head almost seemed sunken into his torso) up, it was Mike. Mike grinning, a cocky -- ha ha -- smile which said "I am bigger and stronger and sexier than you, no matter who you are".

I read the article as well as I could, what with that distraction -- and the Mike-model showed up on other pages, too, lifting huge weights, flexing at the camera, and in posed photos talking with other people which only emphasized how massive and thick he was -- and it seemed pretty simple.

"Okay, I guess I can help you. It doesn't sound like it will take a lot of work." (Translation: "If this makes you look like the guy in the photos, and I get to stay with you during and after that transformation, then there is probably nothing you could possibly do to keep me from helping you.")

"Nah, we can do it tonight. Let's see, we're going to need to find a second chair so we can sit upright facing each other..."

In about half an hour, we had gathered everything we needed, and made a list of the commands Mike wanted me to give him while he was hypnotized. Most of them were suggestions straight out of the article. (We even left in a couple about what spam e-mail calls "male enhancement". Could you hypnotize yourself into a larger dick and balls? Well, as Mike said, it couldn't actually hurt. But it made me laugh, the way the command assumed everything else would work: instead of just saying "your penis will get bigger", it actually said "your penis will get bigger at the same rate as your muscles". That would be a lot of help if you hit a plateau! And what if you stopped working out and started slimming back down?) A couple were things we had tried last time Mike wanted hypnosis, which he said he had trouble keeping up with otherwise. And a couple were completely new, stuff we threw in at the last minute.

Following the instructions in the article, which were pretty simple, I put Mike into a trance. I'll say this: the procedure was different than any of the things we tried before, and it seemed to work pretty quickly. At the right moment, I read off our list of commands, one by one. And then, from out of nowhere, another one came to me, and I blurted it out:

"The more erotic your life is, the more powerful you will become."

I felt kind of ashamed that I had said something we hadn't agreed upon in advance, but it's not like this stuff worked anyway. In hindsight, I couldn't even figure out how I came up with that one. It didn't even sound like me. But, just to be on the safe side, I added:

"You'll stay my friend and workout partner no matter what."

Well, I mean, what if this actually DID work, and Mike turned out like the guy in the photos, and I hit a plateau? In a couple of years, he could be so hot that he would have his choice of partners, and he wouldn't want to stick with someone as puny as me. I thought I might as well have some insurance, in case it all worked this time.

I brought him out of the trance. Once again, there were some subtle differences from the things which didn't work before. Maybe this had a chance of having some effects?

"Uh... Hmmmm... wow, I'm tired. REALLY tired. I'm going to have to go to bed early. But first we're going to do you, too."

"What?!"

"If it really works this time, I don't want to be the only one getting huge. Now give me the list and the magazine. And let's switch places."

"You know I don't respond well, remember? Last time, it took six tries to get me into a trance. Do we even have time?"

"So what? At least we can try. It can't hurt."

It took about twice as long for Mike to put me into a trance as it had taken the other way around. And even then, a tiny part of my mind was still floating around free while the rest of me was in a haze. I heard Mike issue the commands, one after another. He reached the end, and after a moment during which he looked thoughtful, he grinned, and the little corner of my mind heard him say:

"When I give you orders about your body and exercise, you will obey them as much as you can."

Then he brought me -- the rest of me -- out of the trance.

"So, are you tired too?"

"Yeah. What was that about obeying your orders? We didn't write that one down."

Mike looked a little sheepish.

"You remember that? Well, sorry. I just... well, sometimes you don't put in the effort you could. It really bugs me sometimes. I KNOW you're about as strong as me, but there are times when I'm doing two more reps per set than you are. From now on, you're going to put in as much effort as I do."

I really didn't know what to say to that. And even though he didn't seem to know it, it's not like I didn't give Mike a couple of off-the-record commands myself.

And that was that, really. We were both so exhausted that we called it a night. I managed to get back to my house, just barely, and more or less fell asleep the minute I hit the mattress.

It's pretty amazing, looking back, just how much that took out of me. Those photos of the Mike-model really got me going in the beginning. If Mike hadn't wanted to do the hypnosis right away, I would have insisted on at least jacking off. But after being hypnotized, it was like I hadn't slept in a week, and just ran a marathon besides.

I woke up the next morning feeling fine. Well, as fine as I could feel after the workout the previous day. My legs were pretty sore. And, I realized with a little bit of panic, Mike and I were going to be having gym second period that morning, and our gym class was doing jogging this month. This was not going to be fun. At all. (How had I forgotten that? I could have done a back workout yesterday instead of legs!)

I met Mike at his locker before classes started. Like me, he was sore in the legs and not looking forward to running in gym. He seemed a little bigger than last night. I was pretty sure that his arms didn't stretch his shirt sleeves quite that much the previous night, not that we had spent a lot of time with regular shirts on -- he had a loose wife-beater for the workout, and when we got home we didn't spend much time with clothes on at all.

He caught me looking.

"Heh. Yeah, I seem to be growing already. That trick really works! Check it out!"

He raised his arm up and flexed his bicep. Yes, it was DEFINITELY straining against the sleeve now. In fact, it looked even bigger, flexed like that.

"And just think, you're going to get this big too!"

"Yeah, wow. Whoops, I have to get to class, or I'll be late again. They're cracking down on first-period tardiness, remember?"

"See you at gym class."

I didn't really need to leave right away for my class, but I was feeling... odd. Not good or bad, just odd. When Mike said that, about me getting bigger, too, I had a feeling like the one you get when you get zapped by static electricity, only it happened inside me, somehow, somewhere in my chest, I thought.

My first class was Calculus. Not really difficult, actually, and in any case we were so close to the end of the year that we had finished pretty much all of the course, the Advanced Placement exams had been and gone, and except for the final exam everyone's grades were pretty much set. All that was left was a long review, in case anyone had forgotten anything. The teacher droned away, drawing graphs on the board and answering occasional questions, and I let my mind wander.

At first, I watched the swirling clouds outside the window next to my desk. I started to think about Mike, and how he was bigger that morning. If it was really that noticeable, we were going to have to have another session in his bedroom that night. Even if it wasn't turning me on -- and I was getting a little hard, just at the thought -- Mike would be really turned on. I just wished I was bigger, too. Maybe Mike was right about me slacking off. My biceps were...

At this point, I received something of a shock. Looking down at my arms, I discovered that my biceps were stretching my shirt sleeves just like Mike's had been. I tried a few experimental flexes, as discreetly as I could, and my arms were definitely bigger than I remembered. Had they been that big when I put the shirt on? I didn't think so, but I couldn't really remember.

How about the rest of me? Mike had seemed bigger all over, not just his arms. His neck had been straining his shirt, and I think his chest had been pushing against the shirt more than it had been the day before. Well, it's not exactly easy to look at your own torso without a mirror. Maybe I could see my reflection in the window?

Conveniently, the clouds had thickened, and a gentle but steady rain was falling. Thanks to the darkness outside and the nice, bright fluorescent lights in the classroom, I could see myself quite well. Yes, I was definitely bigger all over. My shirt was being stretched in all the same ways Mike's had been. I was looking really good! I could make out the outlines of my pecs beneath the shirt, and with the larger arms, shoulders, and neck, I was actually getting pretty hot!

I was pleased, but something at the back of my mind was bugging me. I decided to stop horning myself up by watching my body and think about this seriously.

Clearly, the hypnosis was working. Not only was it not plausible for a growth spurt to make anyone noticeably larger overnight -- or, in my case, quite possibly in half an hour -- but even if you accepted that it could, it was completely implausible that both Mike and I had hit that kind of growth spurt on the same day.

So, the hypnosis was working. Really, really well. Impossibly well, really. So, let's think about what those commands said. Lots of stuff about eating right, focussing on workouts, arranging rest days properly, pushing ourselves to work out as hard as we could. A few things to encourage us to think of workouts as genuinely fun, in and of themselves. And the "male enhancements"! Was my cock bigger? At the thought it was instantly hard again inside my pants, but I couldn't tell through the cloth whether it was bigger than it used to be. (Well, that made sense. My arms weren't THAT much bigger than before; it would be hard to tell from outside my pants if my penis was an extra quarter- or half-inch longer.)

Oh, wait, there were the other commands, too, the extra ones I gave Mike and the one he game me... SHIT!

Mike had commanded me to obey his orders about "body and exercise", and in the hall, he told me I would get as big as he was! That's why I was suddenly a huge stud! Heck, given how impossibly effective the whole thing was, I probably didn't even need to work out any more. He could just order me bigger and stronger and I would be. But I wanted to work out, so that wasn't going to be necessary.

Ah, heh, I wanted to work out now. Those other commands were just as effective as Mike's unauthorized one. Up to the night before, working out was something I had to do to get what I wanted, not something to do for pleasure. Well, that was probably a waste. But at least I'd be keeping Mike company.

So that was the explanation for me. How about Mike?

We both had all the listed commands, and they hadn't made me bigger overnight, so none of the stuff out of the list was to blame. It had to be my extra ones.

The second one wouldn't cause growth. I mean, he was now my friend for life, which was good to know. And it was probably to his benefit, if he was going to grow like that, to have a permanent workout partner who he could order to be stronger as needed. It's not like there are superheros visiting our local gym, and at this rate within a few days he would be too strong for ordinary people to spot. But that wouldn't actually make him bigger. I could set that order aside for the moment.

That left the "erotic makes you bigger" order. Mike was bigger, and therefore he had had some erotic experience since last night. What could it have been?

Did I have to ask? This was Mike, the guy who had to jack off twice because the thought of the extra testosterone released by jacking off made him hard again. He probably woke up horny from being sore from last night's workout. That would probably be enough to set up a little growth, right there.

And then, once he started getting bigger, that would make him even more turned on. After all, Mike found his own size and strength erotic. Things could only snowball from there. Even distracting him wouldn't work for very long -- if the "male enhancement" part was working, pretty soon he'd have enough hormones in him to make him think cardboard was sexy.

Well, crap. I had to find a way to shut the commands off. Maybe I could find an excuse to hypnotize him again, and order him to stop obeying the previous round of orders. Otherwise Mike was going to become monstrous. This was going to be scary.

And hot, said a part of me. Maybe I shouldn't be in such a hurry. Mike is going to look like that model, remember those photos? In fact, after a while he'll be bigger and stronger and harder and sexier than that model. And you're going to be the only person potentially strong enough to withstand sex with him once he gets that big. Why shut this down?

I sat and pondered the situation. If Mike had grown that much already that morning, and he was turned on by getting bigger, he was going to be at least as big as any heavyweight bodybuilder by the end of the day. We would have to go straight to his house and redo the hypnosis. I would have to come up with a plausible rule which I would have to claim I was going to add to his list.

At this point, the bell rang and class was over. I'd have to think about this some more later.

It wasn't difficult to spot Mike from down the hall as I walked to the locker room. Not only was he huge, he had even grown a little taller. Obviously, during first period he had found his body as entrancing as I had found mine. But unlike me, the whole thing made him grow even more.

His appearance was interesting, no doubt about it, even if you could set aside the fact that he was now possibly the sexiest man in the world. When you watch "shirt-ripping" videos online, what you're usually watching is guys who grab the collars of their shirts and tear outward. It's kind of disappointing, rather than sexy -- gee, wonderful, you just proved that you're stronger than cloth. Congratulations. That's because it's almost impossible to put on a shirt which is small enough for your muscles to rip through by size alone. But Mike was in a nearly unique position; he was growing at a rate which was noticeable from hour to hour. As a result, his shirt, which had been snug an hour earlier, was now reaching the point of bursting in several places. In fact, as he reached out to open the locker room door, the end of the seam on that arm burst as his triceps flexed.

I sped up to catch up to him. From closer up, Mike was breathtaking, even from the back. He had gone from a heavy athletic build to a junior bodybuilder. His back looked like it was twice as wide at the top as at the bottom. His deltoids were large enough to produce their own, separate bulges in the shirt. His traps had gotten big enough that his shirt was now riding up an inch at the waist compared to how he usually looked. His triceps, even unflexed, were visibly defined and noticeably large. And his ass... well, I had a lot of experience looking at and touching his rear end, and it had never been so round, or so good-looking. Further down, his thighs were clearly starting to stretch out his pant legs, and his calves were wide enough to be visible through the cloth.

Then he turned around, and I nearly passed out. Mike's biceps were huge and veiny, with forearms to match. At an estimate, his arms had to be 18 inches now at a minimum, and his forearms looked like they were probably as big as his upper arms had been last night. His chest had gone from "shape visible through shirt" to "shirt barely capable of covering". His nipples were clearly visible bumps distorting the fabric even more, their color showing slightly through the strained fabric, and below that the sudden looseness of the fabric made it obvious that his pecs were protruding at least an inch beyond his ribs. Further down, the riding up which had been visible from the back showed the bottom of what must have been a really impressive set of abs. And below that, pushed off to one side, there was a bulge which was definitely larger than it had been the day before -- as I had definite cause to know.

Sometimes I go back and forth on the question of whether bare skin is sexier than clothing or not. On the one hand, I'm pretty sure that Mike's body would have had me instantly hard and breathing heavily regardless of what he was wearing, or whether he was wearing anything at all, but the fact that his clothing was so tight, everywhere, practically drove me into a frenzy. I wanted to pull that huge cock of his out of its confinement and swallow it, except that then I wouldn't have been able to see the rest of his body.

And besides, the locker room was starting to fill up with guys changing into their gym clothes. Yesterday, I would have found them to be eye candy. Today, next to Mike, they all looked puny and small. Something about Mike's aura of energy and masculinity made even the hairy-chested football player at the other end of the aisle -- once the largest guy in the school, now definitely the second-largest -- look like a little boy. If I had been able to tear my eyes off Mike's studliness for long, it would have killed off my horniness fast to see all those thin, weak limbs.

Mike smiled at me, and said, as quietly as his now-enhanced body would let him, "Check it out! That hypnosis is really working great! I'm getting fucking jacked, and it feels soooo good!"

Then he did a take, and frowned. "Hmmmm. It doesn't seem to be doing you much good yet. Well, we'll try again, you're going to be as big as I am now."

A felt another shock, just like I had before. Well, no big surprise there. Looks like I was going to be just as jaw-droppingly hot as Mike was, soon. Maybe it was time to tell him what I had deduced.

"Mike, listen, I think--"

"Hey, jagoffs!" Just great. Our idiot gym teacher just HAD to pick that moment to poke his head into the lockers. "It's raining out, so you're not gonna run. We're gonna go do the weightroom instead today, since none of the other classes're using it." He pulled back out.

I looked at Mike. He had his shirt off -- oh, those pecs! I wanted to lick them, they looked so beautiful, such a wonderful separation between them -- and a broad grin on his face.

"Oh, man, lucky! I can get a workout now, instead of waiting until after school! I'm boning up just thinking about it!"

And he was. (Jesus! He was 9 inches long now! My ass would never be the same!) And, true to my orders, his body was reacting.

As I said, Mike had never been a hairy guy. As his chest swelled up an extra inch, a sprinkling of hairs appeared across it. His forearm hair suddenly seemed darker. I knew he had shaved that morning, but his jawline and upper lip suddenly had a crop of stubble, and his sideburns, which he shaved off as part of his hairstyle, were slightly visible.

"Fuck, yeah! This is going to be awesome!"

Yes. Yes it was. No question. But forget "heavyweight bodybuilder by the end of the day". It would be amazing if he wasn't as big as a heavyweight bodybuilder by the end of the hour!

As I changed into my uniform -- keeping an eye on Mike's beautiful body the whole time, as he did some light stretches and caressed his huge new muscles -- I thought about things. I had blown a chance at telling Mike what was going on. He was rapidly turning into such a giant that nobody would believe he was only 18. If our standard gym uniforms hadn't been so loose, he wouldn't have been able to fit into his. And I was going to go at least part-way along the same path.

"You're going to get this big soon. I'm going to make sure of it. Seriously, this is awesome!"

Make that the whole way. My cock was at full mast again, pushing against my shorts over across my thigh, as I thought about being as big as Mike already was, and having prolonged, repeated sex with him every night. That thought, along with the sight of Mike's amazingly huge body, kept me distracted until we were in the weight room.

"All right, jagoffs, you know the rules for the weightroom from last semester. You get started; I'm gonna go make a phone call." Our gym teacher was an unpleasant old guy, set to retire at the end of the year. Without having too much to worry about in terms of holding on to his job, he spent every moment he could in the gym teachers' office, smoking cigarettes he wasn't supposed to have on campus and making mysterious phone calls, probably to a bookie.

Mike wasn't going to complain. "Come on, let's make the most of this."

Over the next fifteen minutes, the two of us began a quick circuit of the room, using all the school's machines once and doing plenty of free-weight exercises.

As predicted, Mike went from huge to gigantic. His gym uniform shirt first rode up higher and higher, and then started to tear down the center from the neck, until finally it tore apart and he threw it away. The increasing gap revealed a perfect six-pack which, I noticed, became an eight-pack at some point, and then a ten-pack, although towards the end the hair obscured it. Mike's shoulders grew broader and broader; on his second stop at the bench press his back extended at least 18 inches out on each side of the bench. On top, his deltoids were approaching the size of basketballs. His massive, brawny arms were beyond anything I have ever seen on anyone else, to the point where I can't even say how big they were. It's definitely the case that after 20 minutes, Mike's upper arm was thicker around than the waists of most of the guys in the room. As his muscles grew in bulk, he started to get taller as well. After half an hour, when the teacher finally came back (smelling strongly of smoke), Mike was tall enough to have to duck through the door. I think he was probably at least 7' 6", but I've always been bad at guessing heights. (Most of my size-guessing skill is based on bodybuilding magazine photographs, and since a lot of bodybuilders are fairly short, I'm better at estimating the size of a huge arm than the height of a tall guy. But even my size references were beginning to fail because Mike had gone beyond the usual human frame of reference.)

Through it all, Mike was turned on. Unbelievably turned on. His cock stretched the mesh of his gym uniform shorts further and further. It was like he had a water balloon in there, inflating. I think he probably came a couple of times; he definitely paused and rubbed his crotch a few times, and seemed to temporarily lose a little tension, but within seconds the lump would be as large as ever, and then even bigger as his body obeyed my order. When it was around 15 inches long, the elastic on his gym shorts snapped, and he was left wearing only his jockstrap, with his cock poking several inches out of the top. (Seriously? He was wearing a jockstrap? Who wears a jockstrap for ordinary gym class?) His testicles, thrust forward by his enormous thighs, were likewise gigantic. I doubt that any other guy in the class had fists as large as Mike's balls.

Thanks to Mike's various comments between exercises, always along the lines of how I was going to get as big as he was and how much I would enjoy it, I had not only inflated to his locker-room size, but was a substantial way towards being a giant myself. I spent a lot of time about six inches shorter than Mike's increasingly imposing height, and almost as huge and thick as he was. In the mirror, I looked small next to Mike, but my body would have made any heavyweight bodybuilder you chose to name commit suicide out of jealousy and despair. My arms were at least 28 inches around -- as mentioned, I was beginning to lose reference -- and my shoulders were nearly as wide as Mike's. Like Mike, I eventually had to get rid of my shirt, when it split down the middle to reveal my gorgeous, thick, hairy pecs. My cock reached a respectable 16 inches -- compared to Mike's monster; by ordinary standards it was of course enormous -- and throbbed almost painfully as it pointed through my shorts to my pecs, where my nipples were forced out so far by the mass of muscle that they pointed almost the other direction. My thighs, with teardrop formations second only to Mike's, were bigger around than my waist by a noticeable percentage. My body hair was not as thick or widespread as Mike's had become -- Mike now had definite hairy patches on his shoulders, the outsides of his upper arms, and the upper middle of his incredibly broad back, and all the more common hairy body parts had become jungles of fur -- but I was probably now the second-hairiest guy in the school, including the teachers. Both of us now had full, if short, beards, and the view in the mirrored wall of the weightroom was the equal of any number of gay porn videos in terms of the amount of pure male sexuality on display. I particularly noticed that, as Mike and I got taller, our bodies changed somewhat. Our necks both got longer in proportion to our bodies, our jaws got wider, our stances changed subtly to allow us to have such thick thighs. It ought to have looked weird, but instead it only looked sexy.

Now, I know what anyone would say in response to all this: "what was the reaction of the rest of the class? Were they cowering in a corner, or jacking off, or what?" I barely noticed, so entranced was I by Mike's incredible physique, but oddly enough they were treating Mike as though he were just another student. When Mike sat up from his second round of bench presses, with the school's one Olympic bar loaded down with every 45-pound plate the school owned, plus all the 25-pound plates he could fit onto the ends, flexing his enormous hairy pecs in the open air as his giant rock-solid, throbbing dick, sticking out of his jockstrap, rubbed against the hair on his rock-solid but not throbbing abs, nobody made any fuss. I think someone griped about having to remove so many plates from the bar afterwards, but that was all.

In retrospect, that's ridiculous. Mike was a giant block of solid sex. He was the ultimate extension of male muscle, huge and hot and hard and hairy and horny. He loomed over everyone else, even me, and when he walked the floor groaned under his weight. (I was having the same effect.) But nobody seemed to notice.

The teacher, as mentioned, returned after half an hour, to Mike's (and my) superhuman development. This was when I noticed the unbelievable lack of reaction -- that horrible little gnome ought to have either screamed and ran or should have died instantly of a well-deserved heart attack, but he did neither, just looked around the room and announced that he was back. That brought my notice, because I had been promising myself a sneer at his reaction. The guy -- as male high school gym teachers tend to be -- was a rather nasty homophobe, and had tried to the extent of his limited intelligence and the boundaries of school guidelines to humiliate me and Mike all year long. But -- no reaction.

There was a little more than half an hour left in the class, and I had assumed that Mike would spend that time pumping up into even more of a superman. But I was wrong. When the teacher came back, Mike finished his set of hammer curls -- his arms had become at least a foot longer to accommodate his massive biceps without losing mobility; dammit, I was going to either cum in the remains of my shorts or die -- and walked over to the teacher, motioning for me to follow.

"I think my friend and I have had enough weightlifting for today, don't you? We're already as buff as we're going to get from these weights." The teacher nodded. "We're going to go back and hit the showers, ahead of everyone else. You just stay here with the rest of the class and let us get nice and clean." Mike leered, and it suddenly dawned on me that I wasn't going to have to cum in my shorts. Unless I couldn't hold it in for a few minutes, anyway. The teacher grunted assent.

The walk back from the weight room to the locker room was amazing. Mike was no longer a human thing. His back was so wide that he took up a substantial portion of the hallway, and he was so tall that even with those high institutional ceilings he had to duck occasionally. I was nearly as big. Mike was nude -- as he walked out of the weight room, he tore off the remains of his jockstrap and dropped them in the garbage, while I still had the scraps of my briefs on, although since the material had ripped to let loose my thighs and testicles, it was mainly being held up by my erect cock and the amazing curves of my ass.

Both of us were dripping pre down the length of our shafts when we reached the locker room. Mike almost had to drop to his knees to get through the door, as well as going sideways. I was slightly less impeded, but it dawned on me that in half an hour, getting Mike back out of the locker room might be difficult.

He turned on the showers -- as with many schools built in the 1950s, our school had a single giant shower area, with a window on the side where a teacher was supposed to watch for any sign of possible sexuality, although these days all the teachers stayed well away for obvious reasons -- and walked in. As the steam built up, I realized that he was already noticeably bigger than he had been in the weightroom.

I followed him in, and we kissed, our beards lightly tangling in the streams of hot water. The protruding masses of our pecs made it slightly difficult, but our longer necks compensated. Somewhere between us, below those massive pecs, I could feel my cock rubbing against Mike's larger one, the veins providing amazing stimulation. As we held each other, we ran our hands around each others' bodies. We were both so unbelievably huge by now that the mere act of feeling Mike's giant lats, a pair of huge curves which almost seemed aerodynamic, drove me to orgasm -- but I was now so transformed that I never even went soft. At about the same time, Mike came as well, and I could feel that he stayed hard throughout as well. After I shot what felt like an amazingly huge load, I was still hard and ready to go.

I reached down and jacked the both of us off. Although by now I was bigger and stronger than anyone in the world had been, until the day before anyway, I found that no matter how hard I squeezed, it didn't hurt. Our cocks were now so hard that they could withstand what absolutely had to be several hundred PSI of pressure!

After about ten minutes more of embracing, kissing, and what started to feel like endless cumming, Mike -- who, because he had stopped telling me to get bigger, was now at least two feet taller than me -- flipped me over, and fucked me.

This was another surprise. Not the fucking; I had been expecting Mike to do something like that, since we did that a lot anyway, but I had been expecting a lot of pain. By this time, Mike's cock was well over two feet long, probably closer to three, and massively thick. I was actually almost expecting to be seriously injured, since his cock would probably tear apart my guts on its way through my abdomen. (But what a way to go! Even while he was pushing his mighty cock between my huge, hard, and increasingly hairy glutes, I shot another load at the thought of being fucked by such an unbelievable stud.) But there was no pain. No bleeding, no crippling. Just intense pleasure. I looked down at my hairy abs, and noticed with mild surprise -- through the sexual euphoria and the shower steam -- that Mike's cock was distending my abdomen outward. You could trace the outline through the skin, despite my thick abs being in the way.

I was surprised enough to actually pause and ask. "How--? How come your cock isn't killing me, Mike?"

Mike, now easily three feet taller than me and having to crouch slightly, rumbled with laughter. "Not too difficult. I take it you liked my show in the weightroom?"

"Oh, yeah, it was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Strictly for your benefit, buddy. Strictly for you. I don't think anyone else even noticed."

"Yeah, what was up with that? I don't think we're even human anymore, we're so fucking jacked. How come nobody even said a word?"

"I can do that now. I figured it out around an hour ago. I can do a lot of things now. Keeping everyone from noticing a couple of twelve-foot superhuman musclestuds like us--" I felt another jolt; I guess that must have been an implicit command "--is trivial."

"What? How did that happen?"

"It was the hypnosis, dude. Those hypnosis commands did it."

"But that was just to get bigger by working out, not to grow any old way."

"Not exactly, stud, you gave me a command which wasn't on the sheet." I felt a sinking sensation. Mike had known about it all along! "You said that when I felt erotic, I would get more POWERFUL, not bigger or stronger. Ever since I started getting horny this morning, my mind has been becoming more powerful along with my body. It's even trivial to do this--" his gargantuan body started to float, lifting me off the ground with it "--or this." He shot a bolt of energy from his eyes at the outer wall of the locker room, blasting open a huge gap, through which we flew.

"You knew about that all along?"

"Of course I did. It was really useful. And I was touched that you want to be my friend forever, although 'friend' doesn't quite cover giant behemoth titanic fucking like we've been doing. Or are going to do."

"Heh. 'Oh dude, nobody has fucked like we're about to.'"

"Yeah. Still, I wouldn't do this with anyone else. You may not be quite as stone-cold drop-dead sexy and masculine as I am right now, but you're still a hot little fucker."

"So when you kept telling me to grow--"

"Absolutely intentional. And I think it's time to stop making you dependent on me for that. From now on, you will love your own size and strength just like me, and grow more powerful in response to it just like I do."

If the earlier commands had given me slight jolts, this was like the strongest orgasm I had ever had in my life. Suddenly, I didn't just want to be fucked by Mike, I wanted to be like him. I wanted the two of us to become bigger than the whole universe, fucking into eternity. And my mind suddenly saw how Mike was flying. It was easy.

In a few minutes, with careful adjustment, we faced each other, two awesomely superhuman, thirty-foot monuments of masculinity, exquisitely proportioned, inconceivably powerful, and unbelievably hung, covered in manly hair, hovering in the air over the town. Our physical differences were slight; different-colored hair and eyes, my biceps had a slightly taller peak while his cock was slightly thicker at its base.

"I think it's time we showed this world what real muscle looks like, right, Mike?"

"Right. Give me that super-cock."

We then began the 69 session we're in right now. As I transmit this to all of you, we are now over a mile in height, and only someone with our superhuman abilities could possibly, even if they were enlarged proportionally, have one of our cocks in their mouth without being killed outright. The curve of our impossible lats, the bulge of our ultra-superhuman arms, the immensity of our pecs, is unbelievable. I can tell from the minds of the ordinary people below us that we have crossed some kind of event horizon of sexuality. Every single one who can see us has orgasmed and passed out.

Just a moment ago, I thought to Mike:

"I wonder how come nobody else did this before with those instructions."

He gave the sexual chuckle which is our laughter in telepathy. "Nobody else ever HAD those instructions."

"Oh, you mean?"

"Ah, you have noticed. As of about twenty minutes ago, our powers have effectively made us gods. I reached back in time and planted that article, and nudged you into giving me that order. Those photos were designed specifically to attract you."

"Heh. If my mouth wasn't full of your cock right now, I'd say there's an awful circularity to this."

So, as I say: this was all Mike's fault, except the parts which were my fault. And I do apologize; our growth rate is accelerating, and the chances are that we will become so huge and powerful that the planet will be torn apart by the tidal force of the gravity from our massive bodies in about half an hour, if our incredible, unending orgasms don't start leaking out psychically and destroy all of you anyway. But at least now you know why it's happening, and what's -- heh -- coming.

[arpeejay]

Tidal forces! I love it!

xoxo

Richard

[tekuno]

Originally Posted by arpeejay

Tidal forces! I love it!

Well, yeah. I know I made the two main characters explicitly physically impossible -- creating mass out of nothing at will, levitation, energy beams, telepathy, and time travel; physics is obviously not a big deal to these guys -- but I like the notion that stories should be realistic where not explicitly impossible. If you had a mass which suddenly showed up close to the earth which was a respectable fraction of that of the earth (as in, comparable to the moon, but closer), gravity would start to tear the planet apart even if the mass was something totally benign. Doesn't matter if it's a huge human, a planet-sized space ship, or just an astronomically-scaled blob of water. And if you have the other thing growing exponentially, then it wouldn't just tear apart the planet but probably laminate it along a section of its surface in the long run. The protagonists are probably going to end up with the earth smeared across their legs after a while, although if they keep growing exponentially long enough it won't be noticeable.

Any story with a character who is growing exponentially, if it goes on long enough, has to have one of five things happen: (A) the character must stop growing, (B) the character must go somewhere so far from the earth that the effects of gravity don't have to be considered, (C) there must be some mechanism to stop gravity from working, (D) the planet gets destroyed by tidal forces, or (E) the author basically says "the heck with realistic physics" and just has the character keep getting bigger without any consequences.

(Of course, if the mass is a living thing, and you don't explicitly give it immunity to physics in some way, then it would almost certainly be dead before reaching such a size. A human would die before making it out of the "building-sized" class, because our circulation systems wouldn't be able to handle it -- a fairy-tale giant's blood pressure would have to get high enough to be able to tear right through its own arteries. To say nothing of breathing; the air pressure in the throat of a continent-sized human would be high enough to punch through their throat. And even if you somehow worked around the pressure problems, human physiology doesn't scale well. A planet-sized human would take appreciable amounts of time to sense things, because nerves don't work at light speed and most of the body would be really far away from the brain. And, proportionally to a normal-sized human, they would move really slowly; a planet-sized-but-otherwise-conventional human doing jumping jacks would be lucky to be able to do one per hour, even with super strength, because the speeds their hands and feet would have to reach would be large enough fractions of the speed of light that relativity would start requiring extra energy to accelerate and decelerate them. And once they started getting up to the range of the gas giants, their own gravity would collapse them, fusion would start up, and they would turn into stars.)

So I just turned these guys into superhumans with effectively omnipotent psychic powers, instead. It seemed easier at the time.

That makes you wonder why Mike and the narrator wouldn't just use those powers to, you know, just NOT kill everyone as they grow. But nobody said they were nice or considerate, just effectively omnipotent. The Christian god is explicitly all-loving and omnipotent, and his reaction to "the planet is all screwed up" was "let's kill almost everything and everyone by drowning", rather than using a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of an immeasurably small slice of a shadow of his omnipotence to just fix the problems directly. If a respectable fraction of the planet can swallow that, then I figure I don't have to answer that question either.

[no name]

Hey tekuno,

Thank you - I, ahem, enjoyed this!

Cheers,
no name

[Speaker]

I liked it! Every now and again I feel like a nice macro growth story will hit the spot. Now I have a story other than Massium that I can turn to in order to scratch that particular pulsating itch.

Also, I like that you thought through the physics of it all, at least in your response. There was a while where I had a pet peeve in that few authors take into account the whole issue of "where does all that mass come from?" Conservation, people!

At the same time, like you said, unreal forces allow you to do things in stories which, without being at all realistic, enhance the story that you're telling. Which is why I've gotten lazier about obeying the laws of physics/thermodynamics

All in all, this was great. Hope to hear more from you.

[tekuno]

Originally Posted by Speaker

There was a while where I had a pet peeve in that few authors take into account the whole issue of "where does all that mass come from?" Conservation, people!

I have that same pet peeve, but only if the author gives an explanation which doesn't work. (I have no problem ignoring the totally unexplained.)

Almost always, that means "oh, my character is growing by absorbing sunlight and/or electricity". Really? If you converted all the electrical power in the whole world over a period of several decades into mass, you still wouldn't have enough to justify a macro story. The whole point of "E=mc^2" is that it takes a huge amount of "E" to equal a small amount of "m", because "c" is so big and it's in there twice.

Sunlight is both better and worse: the sun throws out a lot more energy at all times than our generating capacity can produce, but if your character is going to go from, let's say, 50 Kg to 100 Kg by absorbing sunlight, then it means either your character is going to sit in the sun for a million years or your character is 50 Kg of monomolecular sunlight-absorbing surface, several square kilometers in surface area, and stands perpendicular to the sun to maximize coverage. (Paper Mario: The Muscle Growth Story)

[tekuno]

Sorry to keep bumping my own thread -- which sounds like a bad euphemism -- but this will (probably) be the last time.

Not being able to sleep, I went and scanned some of those sketches. As promised, they came out really badly -- even if you like the artwork, you can barely see it. But nevertheless, you can see what I was thinking of when I wrote this. See the thread at http://musclegrowth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=38095 for the gristly details.

[chocomus]

Except for the gigantism of the last part, this sems to be like a fantasy come from my head. THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR WRITING AND SHARING!!!!!