A Lucid Account - Part 2

[tekuno]

Content warnings and description appear at the beginning of part 1.

Part 1

No reason not to post this now, since it was already completed. Hopefully another part to In Corpore Sano tomorrow.

The "lucid dreaming" bit will start eventually; we're still setting it up.

A Lucid Account
Part 2

I stared at my reflection in the gym mirror critically as I ran through my usual sequence of poses. I was looking even better, now. A trip to the scale confirmed it: 6 pounds, almost all apparently muscle, in a week. It wasn't as obvious as it would have been on the more normal-sized Mr. Olypmia contestants, but since I used myself as jackoff material every morning and most evenings, I could tell I was bigger. The new supplement was obviously far more effective than the crap I had been taking before -- and I had gotten so big that a plateau was basically inevitable, sooner or later, so this was excellent progress. The only question was: should I continue taking the new supplement instead, or start taking both at once? I went back and forth for a while. It was a foregone conclusion, though: I was a monster, and I wanted to be even BIGGER. I would eat both supplements. Maybe I would take double doses for a while, in fact. I pretended to roar as I did a "most muscular" into the mirror, and a couple of men who had been surreptitiously watching me in the mirror found themselves having to run to the bathroom. I grinned at myself; I was now that sexy.

That night, in front of the bathroom mirror, I jacked off to the same reflection. My pump was gone, but I could still see the extra meat, pushing my arms up higher and my chest out further. I bucked and moaned as I stroked myself to climax. Then I grinned my cocky grin, the one which drove audiences wild and embarrassed other men at the gym, cleaned up, and went to bed.

-----

It was eleven days since I started the journal. Every morning, I woke up and wrote out a summary of another day in the life of the world's most oversexed bodybuilder. Of course, there were gaps in the account, dreams being what they are, but nevertheless the forty pages I had covered so far were like an erotic novel. The night before, in fact, I had masturbated to it.

Just to make the book even more of a stimulant to me, I found that I could now remember every scene I had written down: pumping my huge arms up at the gym, flexing into the mirror at the end of each workout, flexing into the mirror in my bathroom and jerking off, being worshipped by the members of the bodybuilding club at the local college (after they locked the doors, of course).

The other life I was living was starting to seem attractive. Of course, in the real world, someday that other me would get old, and his muscles would turn to fat, and he would have nothing to fall back on, unlike me with my tidy bank balance. (I wished the other me would check his balance sometime. I wanted to know how close he was to living hand-to-mouth.)

I sighed, and got out of bed. Nobody was going to run to the bathroom when they saw ME. Except maybe the idiot in the cube outside my office door, who had a tendency to smoke indoors despite my requests that he go outside. I felt oddly unenthusiastic about going to work -- but then I noticed how late it was. If I was going to be at my desk at 8:30, as usual, I'd have to hurry.

-----

It was Friday night, and I was at the gym again. I had an event to attend on Sunday, and I planned on picking up an admirer or two for some action while I was there, so I didn't feel too bad about being alone. Besides, I had a special treat for myself.

The new supplement and the old one, working together, had been almost miraculous. I had put on a whopping ten pounds over the previous seven days, and apparently none of it was fat at all because I was staying cut. Even people who knew me, who knew I was possibly the world's biggest professional bodybuilder, were doing double takes when they saw me.

And, to make it even better, I seemed to be having higher testosterone levels than usual. Not that I was usually short of the stuff; my doctor told me I had the highest levels he had ever seen on someone not taking steroids (and he had satisfied himself that I wasn't). I was almost constantly hard. All week, I had been jacking off at least two extra times a day, in addition to my usual morning and evening sessions: once during my lunch bathroom break at work, and once in the gym toilets.

So, tonight, I had made a point of wearing old clothes -- stuff which had already been small on me when I had stopped wearing it a few months ago. I had on a t-shirt with longish sleeves (almost all the way to my elbows) and a pair of two-layer mesh-and-stretchy-fabric workout shorts, with a jockstrap underneath just in case. And some gym shoes, of course. Except for the shoes, everything was at least a size too small when I put it on.

As I worked out, my muscles pumped up with blood. I could feel the clothing get tighter and tighter, and I heard an occasional snapping thread. I skipped my usual cardio session at the end and raced home. To replace the loss of pump, I did a quick runthrough of exercises with my heaviest freeweights. And then I stepped into the room I had prepared.

I pressed a button and a series of accent lamps turned on, shining on a spot in front of a couple of huge mirrors. Another button and a camera pointed at the mirrors started running. And then I walked in front of the mirrors, and flexed, while taking as deep a diaphragm-based breath as I could, distending my amazingly-still-cut abs outward.

It was a perfect moment. My clothing burst off of me. The rags which had been my shirt hung around my neck for a moment before my traps burst through, exposing my massive pecs, shoulders, and arms. The shorts burst their seams along the sides, both layers. The string waistband of the shorts and the elastic waistband of the jockstrap, which I had pulled up under the shirt to almost the middle of my stomach, were likewise burst open by my giant abdomen, which I quickly relaxed. The mere thought of it all made me harder than ever, and it almost looked as though my cock had forced open the jockstrap. I flexed and bulged in the mirrors, and then jacked off as explicitly as I could. It was all so erotic that afterwards, I flexed some more until my refractory period was over, and then did it again.

Finally I turned off the camera. I did a little basic cleanup before going to the kitchen to eat as much as I could; this latest recording was part of an erotic record I had kept for the last 20 years. I sometimes went through and used it as jackoff material, because it was so fucking hot. In fact, that sounded like something to keep me occupied tomorrow...

-----

I sat up in bed and groaned. Did I have to wake up now? Over the weekend, the other me had lived through the sexiest three days I could possibly imagine. After Friday at work, there had been a workout wearing extra-small clothing which led to an incredible striptease and sex show, and then he spent Saturday watching homemade erotic videos, and finally on Sunday in the early afternoon he had gone to a discussion panel on bodybuilding at a local college and taken home a big black stud he knew slightly, and they had fucked four times over the course of the afternoon and evening -- with an incredibly erotic workout in the other me's basement gym in between. I wanted to see what would happen when they woke up in the morning -- would they go at it again? Exchange numbers? Go out for breakfast? The only way to find out was to go to sleep again.

I looked at the alarm clock. I had been letting myself sleep in fifteen minutes later than usual, recently, but even so it was time to get up. Maybe I could just call in sick and go back to sleep? Surely they wouldn't miss me?

Yes, they would. Those incompetent idiots in my department would probably set the building on fire if I wasn't there to stop them. I sighed and headed for the kitchen for coffee.

Part 3

[HugestFuckGod]

I have never read any other "lucid dreaming" growth stories but I like the promise in this! Maybe our dreamer will have a detailed "hook up" with someone, and I am sure that they would not mind helping him releive the preasures caused by haveing many hormones