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Old May 13th, 2013, 12:25 AM
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A Lucid Account - Part 4

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

I had enough time to write a new part of both this and In Corpore Sano, so I did. Enjoy!

Note that I'll be using the number of "like"s and comments to help prioritize the different stories I write. If you enjoy this one, you should say something about it, or click the "like" button, just so I know.

A Lucid Account
Part 4
As I fucked the face of the latest frat-boy trainee at work, I watched myself in the bathroom mirror. I was huge -- absolutely the hugest natural bodybuilder on the planet, arguably the hugest bodybuilder, period, if you didn't count off-season weight (I didn't bulk and then cut, I was always lean and sexy), and, in pre-competition measurements, I had the best official measurements in nearly every respect: bigger arms, broader shoulders, deeper chest, greater height... I also had a narrower waist and lower bodyfat than anyone who even came close to my size. And, of course, I was better hung than average, although not the best-hung guy competing.

Or, at least, I hadn't been. Lately, my cock seemed to be getting even bigger. At first, I had dismissed it as merely my imagination -- the result of too much concentration on my body and my sex life. But after a while I had given in and measured, and I was indeed bigger than before. For the last decade, I had been a respectable 8 1/4 inches long, erect. Over the last two weeks, my cock had very gradually gained an extra 3/4 inch in length, and the diameter had increased by a quarter inch as well. My sex drive had gone through the roof when I discovered that I was actually growing, for real. My nuts seemed to be getting bigger, too, although I had never measured them so it was merely my impression.

On the other hand, after the day when my arms had inflated so dramatically at work, my growth everywhere else seemed to be halting. Of course, I was fucking huge, always in the top five at every competition I entered, but that wasn't enough. I wanted to be The Hugest, with a capital H. I wanted to blow away the competition so thoroughly that there would be no debate. If my growth really hit a plateau, I was either going to have to break the habits of a lifetime and finally sink to drugs -- and I had no confidence in my ability to do that undetected -- or give up on my dreams. And I wasn't about to give up. I would have to find a way to break the plateau.

Meanwhile, having the extra size on my cock was nice. The frat boy started to choke as I came -- with the larger cock and balls, I was producing more cum now, too. He pulled his mouth off, and got his face covered instead. I grinned, stuffed myself back into my pants, zipped up, and left the little jock to clean up as well as he could.

There were times when I found my life a little boring. I longed to unleash my beast-like body all day, every day. Having to dress up in formal clothing was just so tedious, although I admitted to myself that there was a definite pleasure in seeing and feeling my body strain against the fabric, and there was a thrill in having illicit sex in the bathroom instead of just fucking people openly. But having to work with these weak little nobodies also meant that I only got to see people who really understood me on weekends, if then. Maybe I needed a steadier relationship -- but then, what about workplace sex? As I started working, mechanically, on the latest account, I considered ways and means of improving my sex life.
-----

Dammit! 16 days of spending every available moment at home chanting "my other self's dick will expand until it is 3 feet long", and the total result was 3/4 of an inch? And, at the same time, my dream life was starting to fall apart -- "I" wasn't growing any more, "I" was getting bored... heck, after destroying that shirt at work, "I" had had to buy a whole new batch of formal shirts, which meant that "my" finances were getting tight.

I sat back after masturbating to my dream journal. I so dearly wanted "my" cock to get larger, but not if it was going to interrupt everything else. And it wasn't like I wasn't making progress on this goal -- if I kept concentrating, I could probably reach a 3-foot cock in about six months or so.

I considered the matter. Was there any way I could increase my concentration? As I prepared for work, I came up with a couple of ideas. First, of course, I could start chanting while at work. I'd have to do it under my breath, but it would give me an extra 8 hours of chanting time every day, more than I currently had, total. I could keep pushing for a larger cock while simultaneously pursuing other goals. In addition to this, I could use visuals. Instead of staring ahead of me, or closing my eyes, I could try using a picture to focus my mind on the physical changes I wanted to make.

As I drove to work, I chanted out loud: "my other self's dick will expand until it is 3 feet long... my other self's dick will expand until it is 3 feet long... my other self's dick will expand until it is 3 feet long..."

I sat down behind my desk, half an hour before anyone else as usual. Now that I was actually at work, I realized I couldn't keep up a complicated chant and still concentrate on my tasks. I would have to simplify. I settled for simply reciting, in the back of my head: "muscle... muscle... muscle...". For the rest of the day, I kept it up, and switched back to the other chant when I got home. I could hardly wait to go to bed and see if there were any results.

-----
Hot damn! I was looking good!

I swaggered through the gym on my way to the exit, watching my reflection in the mirrors. I was doing it! I was breaking the plateau! All it had taken was lifting heavier and longer, and everything had clicked into place. Once again, my weight was rising, and it was going to all the right places. 10 pounds in the last week alone; if I hadn't been so tall, I would already have been big enough to dominate any contest. But that was coming, sooner or later, at this rate. And with the height added in, I would be a fucking monster!

To make things even better, whatever had caused my dick to get bigger seemed to be continuing. I was now up to 9 7/8 inches erect. (I usually didn't bother with eighths of an inch, but I was definitely bigger than 9 3/4, but honesty kept me from laying claim to 10.) My testicles also seemed to be continuing to swell. In fact, pretty soon the crotch of my pants was going to bulge almost as much as my shirt sleeves. I smirked in the mirror. Wow, with all that testosterone, my beard was growing faster, too. I had shaved before hitting the gym after work, but I already had 5 o'clock shadow again. Fuck, I was sexy!

Tomorrow, I would try to beat my personal best, and fuck three different people at work. Maybe I'd even break in that new intern... It wasn't as good as fucking a bodybuilder, but what the heck, I could watch myself in the mirror instead. I really had to see about finding someone for a more serious relationship, though. I wanted to hold someone else's big muscles, too.
-----

For the first time since I started recording the dreams, I found myself completely unsatisfied by them as I awoke. As I headed for the room I used for meditation, which was plastered with posters of bodybuilders, I considered the cause.

It wasn't a lack of muscle, or sex, or anything like that. "I" was now bigger than ever, having more orgasms than ever, and my slow-but-steady progress on enlarging "my" cock was paying off. But for the past several nights, "I" kept thinking about finding another bodybuilder for a real relationship, and I had made the mistake of imagining it while awake. Think of having sex every night with someone as hot as "myself"! As incredibly hot as my dream life was, that would ramp it up several notches. I got into position for my morning hour of meditation and began to chant "my other self will form a relationship with someone as hot as himself... my other self will form a relationship with someone as hot as himself..."

-----
I swaggered into the room -- my thighs were now so big around that I had a choice between waddling or swaggering, and when you look like I did, you swagger.

"So, what's the deal, here? You're paying for a posing session, but I don't see a stage." This was nothing unusual. My weekend paid worship sessions often started off this way. But it was unusual to get a request from a group of bodybuilders which was going to do it at a public location where the doors wouldn't lock.

The big guy in front of me spoke. "We don't need a stage. In fact, we're not really interested in poses, exactly."

I gave them a look. "Then why am I here?"

"Relax, big guy. We brought you here to see how you compared to Moose. We have a bet on that he's bigger than you."

Bigger than me? I had to see this guy! Even if he got that way from drugs, I couldn't wait to see him. It had been a long, long time since I had seen someone who gave me a really serious run for my money. "So, where is this 'Moose'?"

The spokesman pointed off behind me and to the right, behind the door. I turned. Standing there was the biggest guy I had ever seen outside of a mirror. He stepped forward.

"Huh. You're bigger than I thought." The guy was indeed huge. I wasn't sure that in some ways he wasn't bigger than me. But overall, I thought I was bigger. "Okay, we're going to do some measurements now."

It didn't take long to establish that I was indeed the superior bodybuilder -- but by a very slim margin. There wasn't a single measurement where I had the guy beat by more than half an inch, and he tied me on a couple. And I couldn't even claim it was because I didn't have a pump, because 'Moose' didn't have one, either. Damn! And he was within half an inch of my height, too! If he ever started competing, I might be in trouble!

We finally ended with cock measurements (taken facing away from the closed, if unlocked, door, with someone standing in front of it just to make sure) -- at long last, I had a clear edge, being a full inch longer than Moose and about an eighth of an inch bigger around. But if it had been a few months ago, before my cock had started growing, he would have won that one. Damn, again!

A lot of money changed hands between the guys in the room; apparently this had been a pretty serious bet. They paid me my fee -- given how quickly this had happened, I was tempted to give them a discount, but they were willing to pay full rates, so why bother? As I stepped out of the room, I discovered that 'Moose' had been waiting for me.

"Want to go for a beer, man?"

"Sure, why not? My treat -- I just got paid."

'Moose' turned out to be a really nice guy. His real name was Mark. We had a couple of beers, then went out and had dinner at an Italian place, and ended up coming back to my place. Mark challenged me to a posedown, and it wasn't long before we were making out instead.

As we lay on my bed, afterwards, Mark reached over and tweaked my nipple. "Damn, I was disappointed that you were bigger than me, but that made up for it."

"Want to go again?"

"Geez! You're a horny fuck!"

"Like you aren't!"

We finally fell asleep after four orgasms, each one better than the last. As I drifted off, I smiled. This was what I had been missing. There was potential, here. I'd have to get Mark's number.
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Old May 13th, 2013, 03:09 PM
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Well this is starting to become one of my favorite stories! I was wondering what would happen if he chanted a mantra that was, lets say, "my dream self has a 12 foot cock" would he grow faster or would it just change the end result? and why couldn't he just chant "my dream self grows faster"?
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Old May 13th, 2013, 09:34 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by HugestFuckGod View Post
Well this is starting to become one of my favorite stories! I was wondering what would happen if he chanted a mantra that was, lets say, "my dream self has a 12 foot cock" would he grow faster or would it just change the end result? and why couldn't he just chant "my dream self grows faster"?
In this particular case, because I'm headed somewhere with this, it wouldn't have any extra effect. But the official in-universe excuse is that he's too much of a detail-oriented anal-retentive person to generalize and come up with a solution like that. (And note that I'm not saying all accountants are like that; notice that the other self is also an accountant, just much less fussy and a lot more lovable, even if you aren't into muscle!)

(Oh, and in case you're wondering: I ran out of Narbonic strips which had "heh heh heh" in them. I was sure there was one later on, where Mel goes in to assassinate Dr. Narbon, but I couldn't find it.)
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Old May 13th, 2013, 09:52 PM
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heh heh heh... thanks for responding! I was curious
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Old May 13th, 2013, 10:50 PM
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Not that this has anything to do with this story, exactly, but I thought I'd post a link right away.

I'm considering doing some artwork with (or maybe in place of) the next story after all this stuff is over. But I'm not sure if I will or not, so I set up a poll. (I'll put references to it in the top sections of the next few story parts I post as well, just to be sure, but why not start now?) Go vote.
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