NEW STORY - A Year in My Life

[Tanker]

After reading lots of great stories here, I've decided to post one of my own. Not a story with lots of growth scenes, this one looks at what it'd be like to be huge. Be kind in your comments, thanks.

Tanker

A Year in My Life

I strolled out of the showers at the gym still dripping water from my pecs, the river valley of my wide back, and my 10 inch soft meat swinging between my legs. My ?giant? bath sheet towel seemed tiny hanging between the column of my neck and the over-inflated basketball that is one of my delts. The locker room falls silent as men just stare at me, open mouthed. Time to add to the show, I think and so pause in front of the floor to ceiling mirror to flex and admire my fully pumped 32 inch bicep. I run my free hand over the surface of the ball of muscle and growl softly. My dick throbs as I turn myself on with this quick self-worship.

I started thinking back? A year ago I would never have been this bold. But then, in six short months, I was changed from a pudgy 300 pound nerdish guy with a nice smile but not much else. Never expecting to become the 360 pound muscle god that could turn straight men gay (more times than I can count) and was the wet dream of much of San Francisco?s gay community where I had lived invisible and unnoticed for so many years.

How could I have known that working in some dumb accounting job at a little known research lab on the San Francisco Peninsula would put me first in line for an experiment in ?nutritional supplementation? as it was called. All I figured I?d get was some free food and perhaps to lose a pound or ten. Yeah, they promised me a ton of money at the experiment?s end and that wasn?t bad either. So, I ate what they fed me and took the weekly shots. ?Aids to augment protein synthesis? was all I was told. At first, nothing happened. Oh, the shots hurt like hell and I was hungry all the time, but that was it. ?Some experiment? I thought, ?another failure for the research guys?. But then, after a couple of weeks, my body seemed to switch gears. One morning I sat up in the research wing bed (no going home for pizza I was admonished) and noticed that my stomach was shrinking. Cool, I?m missing pizza but this is neat! No exercise, no endless salads. I?m just? getting smaller. Another couple of weeks and I?d dropped an incredible 100 pounds. I was still kinda round and the loose skin looked awful but I felt great and was shocked at how much the guy in the mirror had changed.

And then they switched drugs and the food changed. The shots now hurt like nothing I?d ever experienced and they came daily just before bed time. Sometimes in my neck, sometimes in my ass, now and again in my balls. I was an aching pin cushion. Food, oh did I ever have food! It didn?t taste all that great but I had to eat it all or the experiment would fail I was told. Monster sized meals ?particularly high in protein? according to one of the research scientists. Another week later and I realized that I was almost constantly hungry, even with the giant meals. I started asking for second and third helpings! They laughed at first, but I got them.

The change into the muscle god that I am today came slowly. Little by little, my body would thicken, getting harder, feel more powerful, more, well, godlike. I?d go to sleep, stomach stuffed to the max with food, wondering what new changes awaited me when I arose the next day. Weird dreams every night ? sex dreams, me as the Incredible Hulk, me as a Tom of Finland clone. Still no exercise other than some stretching and cardio to keep me loose and agile. ?Hey, I?m going to be a like a fitness model? I remember thinking. With 230 solid pounds on my 6 foot frame, I figured I could have my pick of the muscle queens I?d lusted after every year at the Folsom Street Fair.

Oh, I should mention that yeah, I?m gay. I?ve been out and proud since I was 17, some 20 years ago. But the quiet kind of gay. You?d pass me on the street and never know. I?d walk into the local leather bar and barely be noticed. At work, a few guys had figured it out when I never drooled at the big chested 49ers cheerleaders. But as far as my sex life was concerned, it wasn?t. Rare one night stands with men that never wanted a second roll in the hay. Eh, that was my life. I accepted it as my fate. Then.

So, OK, back to research institute and the experiment. I remember waking up one morning and feeling horny. Well, that wasn?t surprising. Most gay men seem to be horny 24/7. But this wasn?t horny, this was HORNY. I needed to cum and now! Stepping into the private bath next to my room, I grabbed my dick. And my mouth fell open. I was bigger down there. A LOT bigger. Not porn star but I guessed an 8 or 9 inches of hard steel cock (damn, I wanted a tape measure!). It only took a few seconds and the bathroom mirror was covered in dripping ropes of juice. The bolts of electricity that seemed to radiate outward from my big meat curled my toes and made me see stars. In that moment, I think I started to change mentally.

With each passing day, I grew. 240 pounds, 250 friggin pounds of lean beef. No more fitness model, I looked like a bodybuilder. I began to have to walk like a bodybuilder too, my thighs becoming so thick that I?d have to swing one leg around the other. The loose skin I?d gained from my massive weight loss seemed to fade away until it was tight and blemish free. My chest and cobblestone abs developed a sweet carpet of hair that, if anything, made me look even bigger and sexier. I liked this new look but began to wonder when I?d stop growing. When I crossed the 300 pound mark, the scientists and attendants celebrated with champagne and I even got a glass (which quickly went to my head and gave me one massive headache!).

They wanted to see how strong I was becoming and had set up a surprisingly well equipped gym for me to do the basic lifts. But, in short order it got to be kind of comical. It didn?t take long until I maxed out on every test. Bench 800 pounds? I could do it for reps and the weight seemed to get lighter the more I did. But that?s all the plates that?d fit on the bar. Squats approaching a couple of tons (again, all the machine could handle) were nothing. They just noted the results, shook their heads, and gave up. ?You?re strong enough!? the head researcher told me with a chuckle. For me, it wasn?t the weights, it was the endless power I seemed to possess. I could lift any weight again and again and again without breaking a sweat. At one point I found a thick steel bar that must have been left behind after the place had been constructed. I bent the thing into all sorts of crazy shapes and finally crushed it into a somewhat lumpy ball. Heck, I?d sneak into the gym and play with the weights just to get off on myself. I?d end up soaking several towels in manjuice as I got more and more turned on by my abilities. No, I wasn?t quite a superman, but I was a muscle freak compared to anybody I?d ever heard of or read about.

The daily weigh-ins (oh, did I mention them?) showed me how much the changes affected those around me. The hands on me taking measurements would linger just a bit longer than necessary and my muscle would be prodded now and again (they learned that it was awfully hard to ?dent? my body). They?d take deep breaths and have to ?check some readings down the hall?. One guy in particular would shiver when he touched me and I thought I heard him groan from time to time. I got bold and casually ran my hand down his back and ass (awww, he had such a nice ass too). He whimpered loudly and jumped out of my grasp as if he?d been poked with a cattle prod. He finished his measurements and beat a quick retreat but not before I noticed that the slacks under his lab coat had a telltale wet stain spreading from his crotch.

I don?t believe that I fully realized what I was becoming at that point. Yeah, I could sense the men (women too!) around me that seemed to be almost worshipful. For my own amusement (and because it turned my crank), I?d randomly flex an arm or a leg and mumble ?pretty damn big, eh?? just to get a reaction. And I always got a reaction, always. Sometimes a smile, sometimes an ?oh yeah!?, from time to time (especially if it was just me and one other guy) they?d feel my flexed muscles and say how big and powerful I was becoming. I liked it. I really liked it. And I wanted that attention more and more often. Mr. Wet Pants (that?s what I renamed him in my head) was my favorite target. He?d bravely do the daily measurements and I?d be playful, forcing him to pull my arm down, having him insist that I stop flexing my quads so he could get an accurate ?relaxed? reading. Finally, it was time. I wanted that sweet ass of his. So I allowed my massive tool (and it was huge when hard, at least a foot long and as thick as a beer stein) to tent in my shorts as he measured. ?Hmm, looks like I need some exercise, doesn?t it?? I asked, my deep voice, another change in me, rumbling in my chest. Wet Pants hand began to reach towards my cock but then stopped suddenly. ?No, the cameras!? he whispered, glancing quickly at the far corner of the room. In an instant he was gone, the rest of the readings forgotten, his clipboard clattering on the floor. I guess I should have realized it, they?d been video recording my growth. No harm, no foul, I was their experiment after all. But damn, did I ever show off for them from that point on!

Then, finally came the day when the experiment was over. I was told that at 360 massive pounds and still only 6 foot tall, I?d gone well beyond their wildest expectations. I was gigantic, I was bigger than any but the most ridiculous morphs you?d find on the net. They told me as I dressed for that final time that I?d likely never get any smaller. The experiment had changed my physiology and musculature so that the hulking beast I had become would remain for years. I would probably get bigger still if I worked out in a gym but, they laughed, how could I want that? I was already a muscle monster. Despite their best efforts, the jeans and Tshirt they provided looked painted on me. Seams would creak when I moved. My dick and balls were stuffed so tightly in my jeans that it left nothing to the imagination.

I asked to be dropped off in San Francisco?s downtown, telling the van driver that I wanted to walk along the waterfront and enjoy my restored freedom. But that wasn?t it at all. I quickly slipped down the outbound Muni steps to the stares of everyone around me. In a few minutes I reached my destination, the Castro Street stop. Faces turned in my direction wherever I looked. A few men across the platform were so drawn to me that they came perilously close to falling onto the tracks. As I rode the groaning escalator to the street, I reveled in the new me.

When I stepped out onto Castro, traffic quite literally stopped. Men whistled, called out, or just stood rooted to the ground. I think I even caused a minor fender bender when a driver hit a parked car. I flexed and preened, finding the need to curl my arm to run my hand through my hair, bending down to tie my shoe even though it had been tied perfectly. The braver souls around me would nervously say ?hi? and when I?d respond ?hey, how are ya?? they?d never seem to come up with anything more to say. As I waited to cross Castro at 18th Street, a guy pressed his card into my hand and, almost begging, said ?call me, please!?. It was only later that I realized that the guy was one of the local porn stars, one I?d lusted after in the magazines.

In that short block walk, I finally knew I?d become a muscle god. I could draw any man to me. I was bigger and more powerful than any man I?d ever meet. It was as if I had some new inner power emanated from the muscle on my body. I was beyond anything I?d ever dreamed of and more. I glowed with power and masculinity. My smallest twitch would mesmerize them all, big and hulking, small and lithe, chubby and nerdish, it didn?t matter. They all wanted me. They needed me. It was the new me. It?d be this way from now on.

I was a king and these were my subjects. My muscle was my power. Pausing in front of a crowded coffee shop, I decided to have some more fun. ?Jeez it?s a hot day? I growled to no one in particular. Pulling my T shirt over my head, it tore in half and I stuffed it into a trash can. ?Yeah, that?s better? I said as I flexed quickly from double bi to side chest and to a lat spread. Jeans creaking my dick began to harden. I wanted a man, now! I spied a particularly handsome fellow just exiting with his fresh brew and, speaking directly to him said ?hey, can I see you for a sec??. Like iron drawn to a powerful magnet, he came to me. ?How big do you think this is?? I asked as I curled my arm in his face. ?I?I?don?t know, big, huge, amazing? he responded. ?And this?? as I took his free hand and rubbed it against my crotch. ?Oh man, it can?t be!? he moaned. ?Well, let?s take it home and find out, shall we?? was all that I needed to say. He was mine. A muscle gods first conquest.

Like a puppy on a leash, he followed me the few blocks to my apartment. My cock, readying itself for action, somehow found its way past my belt and rubbed seductively against my rippling belly. He noticed, of course, and gulped his steaming coffee, wanting no distractions when the time came. Once through the door, I tore his clothes from his body as he groped wildly at my chest and arms. With a groan, his cock fired, untouched spraying cum over his chest and hard belly. ?Nice? I laughed as I kicked off my shoes and wriggled out of my jeans. ?Now I think it?s my turn? I snarled, my balls churning, my dick harder than I?d ever known it.

We played through that day. As I finished plowing his ass for the fourth time, he confessed to me that he was a total top, had never found a man that could take him. ?Now you have, baby, now you have? I answered. He finally collapsed, exhausted, on my bed and slept unmoving, his body covered in his own seed and my own. I found that I wasn?t tired in the slightest and that my body wanted more, a lot more. I truly did have some strange godlike power inside me.

In the days and weeks that followed, I learned that my body had few limits. If I wanted, I got. Two men at a time, four, it didn?t matter. Men who wouldn?t have given me the time of day when I was my old self. They came begging to their muscle god. The money I?d made from the experiment freed me from the need to work, at least for a while and so I took full advantage. From morning until late at night, I received pleasure and gave it back ten fold. I cut a wide swath through the gay community sharing myself with both the handsome and the not-so-handsome. I?d never forget my past invisible life. I wanted to make sure that those like my former self would have as much chance as any stud. I was a generous muscle god, to be worshiped by all.

I decided to join a gym, not that I?d ever really need it. Picking the big bodybuilders gym in SOMA, I?d arrive in baggy sweats just so I could peel them off and reveal the string muscle shirt that stretched across my pecs and the tiny posing briefs that barely contained my package. I?d toss the weights around, trying to make it look like I was working hard when I wasn?t. I never needed to ask for a spot, men would fall over one another vying for the opportunity. When I started heading for the locker room, it was like the school bell had rung and everybody in the place suddenly needed to get showered and dressed. ?Do you compete?? I was repeatedly asked. ?No, I?m too big for that? I?d respond with a laugh.

After a couple of weeks, I knew who the biggest bruiser in the gym was (well, before my arrival that is). Bruno was a 6?3? hairy bastard, thick, bull strong, 275 pounds of man?s man but I outweighed him by 100 pounds at that point. ?Hey, measure me, would ya?? I asked as I tossed him a tape I had in my gym bag. Bruno?s hands shook as he measured my 30 inch waist, 64 inch chest, and 22 inch calves. Curling one arm, I smiled as Bruno tried to mask the tenting in his gym shorts. ?Twen..twenty seven inches? he stuttered. ?Nah, that?s not big enough? I muttered. Grabbing an Olympic bar loaded with 400 pounds from a nearby bench, I curled each arm individually until my arms looked like they?d explode. ?Again!? I commanded. Bruno unrolled the tape. ?Thirty and a half inches, man? ?Yeah, that?s about big enough for now? I responded. I took Bruno home that night. My king sized bed never seemed so small as he whispered ?freakin? muscle god? time and again. Half way through the night?s action, we broke the damn thing and ended up sleeping on the floor!

It never changed and I don?t think it ever will. Men come in all flavors and types, some with a wild side that I let them exercise with me. While I?ve grown accustomed to my body and its impact on those that see me, I never seem to get tired of the sexual encounters and all that goes with it. I?ve been offered money, places around the globe to vacation, and much more. Sure, it?s flattering and while I?ve turned down the money every time, I?ve been able to see much more of the world than I ever thought I could. I was asked by one very average guy who I?d played with for an unheard of third time (he was fun, what can I say?) whether I?d become jaded or might want to settle down one day or perhaps just want to be an average guy again so I could go out and not be the center of attention. And dammit, he said, to be seen as something other than an object, a wet dream muscle god. I bounced my pecs, snarled, and responded ?give up THIS?? with a laugh. Well, maybe one day, I will become bored. Maybe I will find a man that?ll be able to handle me 24/7 and see me as just another guy. But for now, it?s just too much fun and looking at myself in the mirror never seems to get boring.

And so, a year has passed, an amazing year. As I strolled through the locker room that night, I grabbed an ass here, rubbed a crotch there, growling a few words to those men I had had or those that I might want sometime soon. I was big, I was hung, I was a muscle god. I was what they all dreamed they?d become.

?What?s next for me?? I wondered as I arrived home, alone for a change. Checking the answering machine, I noted a single new message. ?Wow, slow day I guess? I thought as I punched the Play button on the machine. ?Hello! This is the institute calling. We were wondering if you?d be interested in volunteering for our Phase 2 study that?s recently been funded. We think we can take you to the next level. Call the institute if you?re interested. We hope to hear from you!?. The machine clicked off. ?Bigger than this?? I responded. ?I?m already a muscle god with a dick of death and more men than I?ll ever be able to handle, what more would any man want?? I asked as I stared at the machine.

Shaking my head with a laugh, I dialed the number?

[megamuscle69]

Loved the story dude!!! Please continue it!!

[mlbjock]

Wow...loved it man!

[vlad]

awww hell yeah, more!