I met my trainer for a rare out-of-gym session of tennis. “Sort of a cross-training type of program,” he says. Not that I minded, he weighed about the same as me but was several inches shorter. It was going to be fun to watch that much bulk try and maneuver the return strokes.
Admittedly, he performed very well, and afterward we headed back to his place to cool off after a couple of hours in the California sun. We were in the car when I found out how much into being worshipped he was.
“I dunno, I guess it just started happening. I was used to being ogled, but then I found out that there were people, mostly men, who were willing to pay to get me off on myself. I pretty much thought it to be a win-win situation.” I asked what his wife thought of this. “My ex-wife,” he corrected. End of topic.
We were back at his place when I hit him with my offer. “How much?” he asked. Since I had been supplying some of the necessary 'accessories' to his supplemental habits, I suggested we take it in trade. “OK, but only 30 minutes, and don't expect much action from me. This is strictly a business deal.”
He had no idea what he was in for.
I kept myself relaxed while he showered his earlier workout off. When he came out into his bedroom, he had put on a pair of nylon warm-up pants, the kind that button all the way up the side of the legs, but was otherwise bare of foot and, better yet, chest. “Well, where do you want to start,” he asked. I was sitting on a chest pushed against the wall, so I motioned him to come over to me. “Let's start with that magnificent chest of yours.”
He raised his eyebrows in appreciation, obviously pleased at my appraisal of his off-season physique. I would more than make up for any deficiencies shortly, only he didn't know it. As he crossed the room, he did a bodybuilder stretch of his chest by throwing his arms back and forth across his chest. Like most men of his build, they could barely pass back over his lats. I made a mental note to determine how much it would take to truly make a man musclebound.
As he reached me, he straightened both of his arms, crossing wrists at his navel—pre-double-bi style. I grabbed his wrists as if to indicate that this was far enough into the pose. Besides, this makes the pecs stand out at their thickest while still allowing access, which my tongue eagerly sought. As I moved in, I started his morph—slowly at first, so that he thought it was just a pump from a hard workout.
“Damn, this feels good. Guess I'm in better shape than I thought, not bad at all for off-season beef.”
I continued to trace the lower shelf with my face, working lower onto his upper abs. I heard him groan as I added a little more to his frame. His head was thrown back, enjoying the massage I was giving his forearms and the attention his torso was receiving. He didn't even notice that he was getting taller until he heard a couple of the snaps give way under the strain of his thighs.
“What the …”
“Easy, Joe. I am about to make your wildest body fantasies real, but first you have to promise not to go nuts.” With that I stood up, and he realized that he was looking me straight in the eye.
“How big can I get?”
“As big as I want, and I feel the need for some real muscle coming on.”
“Can you do this to yourself as well?”
“If I want to, but I enjoy it more to see other men getting off on themselves.”
“No problem here. If we're going to do a little more, can I help you get out of these clothes?”
“Sure, but let's make this fun. First, I expect to do more than a little more, and second, you can take off the shirt, but you can't use your hands to do it.”
Puzzled, he looked down at my T-shirt. Without warning, he went for the neck with his mouth. Straining and pulling, he succeeded only in getting a large wet spot on the collar before I stopped him.
“I'll give you a hint—this shirt's not big enough for the two of us.”
The light went on at that, and he dropped to his knees. Not wanting to miss anything in the area, he opened his mouth and took in my crotch through my shorts. My cock, always straining at the sight of muscle, put up a valiant fight to free itself of my underwear at this actual attention from a muscleman.
Satisfied that I was thoroughly excited by him, he put his arms straight up my torso, tracing my abs and chest on their way to my shoulders, which he used as a guide to the sleeves. Once his hands had made their exit, he started to stand up again, slowly exploring me in the same way I had him earlier. Upon reaching the top of my chest, I was breathing rather heavily. His attempts to push his head through the neck hole wasn't making it any easier. I finally reached round him, grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it down over his head, allowing him to stand up straight again.
“Now what,” he asked. I could feel his anxiety to be free of this latest encumbrance.
“Wait here, I'll be right back.” With that I ducked my own head through the neck hole, but rather than leaving, I simply made my way around him, enjoying the press of my face against his chest and lats. When I had reached his back, I stood up again. Now we were both still wearing the shirt, but it was on backward.
Feeling my cock pressing against the back of his nylon pants, he could tell I was excited as he was about losing these clothes. With my arms under his, I started slowly massaging his pecs. I had my face buried in his traps and could feel his voice rumbling as he began to moan. Now being as good a time as any, I started adding more to him. In sync with his heavy breathing, I began to push his chest and back outward and upward. Height came as well, as my mouth dropped from his hairline to nape to lower traps in less than a minute. I could feel the hem of the shirt climbing up my own back as it strained to keep up with its new wearer's size. The lower armholes had begun to give way, and he was getting turned on by this. “Flex for me, Joe,” I instructed. He complied immediately by taking up the 'relaxed' pose, which felt anything but. As he brought his hands to his waist for a lat spread, I added more. Soon it was all I could do to keep my fingertips touching across the span of his chest. My elbows were bent trying to reach around his lats and my forearms could feel the added mass of his upper arms pressing down on them. I struggled to move them as the weight of his arms crushed down upon my own. I traced down the front of his abs toward his crotch, which was straining at the nylon and cotton holding it down, and gave it a couple of healthy squeezes.
Finally I could tolerate no more. I leaned myself to the right, reaching up toward the neck as I went. Grabbing the shirt by the neck, it was me who pulled loose the tearing cloth across his torso, adding to the effect by blowing him out even as the shirt revealed his incredible new size. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! His expanding quads made quick work of the nylon pants, which, although still fastened at the waist, hung down over his legs like a modern-day loincloth on an ape-man that would make any would-be Tarzan jealous.
Now free of the cotton binding that had held us together for the past few minutes, I leaned into his yard-wide lats, and we both stood panting, assessing the recent developments. I had come during this last growth spurt, although my cock was no longer buried between his ass. I was nothing short of stunned as I looked up and across at the shoulders of my trainer, who had only minutes before been much shorter than me. Not only was I amazed at his growth, but his capacity for it.
He didn't seem to mind any of the usual discomforts of growing pains. If anything, his stoicism indicated that he was used to it or perhaps even enjoyed it. He seemed to be enjoying his new look, too, if the self-appreciating look in the mirror were an indication. I made my way around to the front of him, looked up at him and smiled. Completing his survey, he looked out over his pecs, inhaled and smiled back down at me. “Much more of this and I won't be able to find any clothes that fit,” he smirked, obviously enjoying the potential outcomes of this situation. I grabbed the side of his nylon pants and pulled loose the last two snaps that held them to to his waist. His briefs, made for a significantly smaller man were straining to contain his meat.
Pulling downward in front, they revealed not only the upper portion of his pubic hair, but the actual base of his cock as well. “Not bad,” I said, “but still not quite befitting someone standing 6’8”.
“Well, don't just stand there, do something about it,” he said. As he spoke, his briefs began to take on the look of a time lapse photograph of nature. The way a banana or other large tree fruit starts to swell and hang lower. The front of his shorts pulled lower as his cock elongated and thickened. Soon it was several inches across and almost a foot long. Reaching up to re-new the massage on his abs and waist, it then became obvious to him that it hadn't even started to get hard. Sure enough, as it stiffened, only the sound of our excited breathing could compete with the slow, deliberate sound of the cotton tearing at the seams. Longer and longer it got as it stiffened and begun to rise, arching back as it did, soon coming to rest pointed back at his torso.
“Not to complain, but do you suppose we could make it a little bit longer,” he asked. “I've always been curious about something.” I asked him to say 'when' and started to further elongate him. Just as the base of the head crossed the threshold of his pecs, he indicated that it was enough.
“Just to let you know, that's still a bit too large for any of me,” I said. “You just relax and enjoy the show.” With that he lumbered over to his dresser and pulled out an econo-sized bottle of lubricant. I was already hot and ready to go again at the sight of this much muscle in motion.
“Guess you see your fair share of action,” I mused.
“Look again, the bottle's nearly full, but we'll take care of that too,” he smiled. “You see, I've always wondered what my wife felt like when I fucked her chest. Given the chance, I'd like to try that. Thanks to you, I can not only feel what's it's like to be chest-fucked, but I can feel what it's like to chest fuck myself.”
With that he cracked open the bottle and poured some of it down the chasm between his chest. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned as the head of his cock encountered the lube and began to move more easily between the mountainous mass of his pecs. Realizing that more motion would help things along, he widened his stance, slightly bent at the knees.
“Don't neglect the abs,” he quipped as he began to do what could only be described as abdominal crunches in a standing position. Each 'crunch' pushed his cockhead further into the lubricated portion of his chest, making further progress all the more enjoyable.
“Time for some nice, tight resistance,” he said. With that he straightened out his arms wide and slowly brought his hands together and locked fingers in front of his chest. Remembering my earlier taste for his thick pecs, I moaned and began to stroke myself in sequence with his own thrusts. He was enjoying this new sensation immensely and added to it by further tightening his pecs around his cock as it made it way up/down and through his chest. Each crunch/thrust/flex was accompanied by his growing chorus.
“Oh, yeah. OH, Yeah. OH, YEAH. OH. OOH!, OOOOH!” He lost it and so did I. My inadequacy felt as my own orgasm paled in comparison. As he loosed his volley upward into his chin and ecstatic face, all I could think of was how much more of him there was—and how much more of him I wanted. As before, I lost control of myself briefly during my own climax thinking about what what I enjoyed most—more, More, MORE!
“AAAAAAGGGGHH!” he screamed as his final load spewed forth passing over his head and onto the approaching ceiling. Wait a minute, he thought, approaching ceiling. Climax subsided and reality kicked in, but he kept his eyes focused upward on the blotch of cum that dripped a mere 6 inches down onto his grinning face. Opening his mouth and taking in some of the dripping excess, he smiled again and locked his eyes down on mine.
“Just couldn't resist, huh?” I walked over to this new behemoth and just stared in an effort to take it all in. He must have been seven and a half feet tall and weighed close to 800 pounds. Amazing. He just stood slowly swinging his arms back and forth, feeling the mass of contact between them as the pushed against his lats, shoulders, and pecs for enough room to accomplish this simple motion. I then remembered my earlier notion. “Joe, how long has it been since you competed?”
“Any particular reason.”
“Honestly, the diet's a bitch. That and the fact that I actually like just being big—you know, fucking buffed but not ripped.”
“So you like this look, then.”
“Like it, I fucking can't get enough of it. I had no idea how orgasmic I would feel to be this muscular, to feel the sheer mass of my body weighing down on itself by even breathing. Every movement, every twitch does nothing but reinforce the bulk of my body. I FUCKING LOVE IT!” With this he brought his arms up into a double bicep. I nearly came again as I saw his massive fists drag across the ceiling prior to coming down into the final position. He was enjoying this too, as his cock was on the rise again.
“Easy there, big fella, don't want to strain something. You're arms look almost too large to complete the pose.” Taking this as a challenge, he exerted more effort into the pose. Grunting as he attempted to force his hands toward his shoulders. His biceps responded in kind to the ad hoc workout, pumping themselves even larger with this minimal exertion, pressing even more against the upper half of his forearms, which were doing their best to keep his hands bent in place. Giving in, he finally let his arms drop as far to his sides as they were able. Pumped as they were, they could barely reach 45 degrees out from his torso.
“Fuckin' awesome, dude, how about more?” I couldn't believe it, he actually wanted to experience more massive bulk. With any lick, er luck, maybe he'd want to push it to the same extreme as me.
“You actually want to know what it's like to be truly musclebound?,” I asked.
“I won't be happy until I can barely walk because my thighs are too massive for anything—first pants, then doorways, and ultimately each other. I want every part of my body competing to be fucking king of it's domain, pushing back all invaders on their turf.” With that he bent his elbows in and made as if to do another lat spread. The new width of his shoulders combined with the bulk of his upper body and made it impossible for his hands to reach into his waist, which although not competition thin was still distended proportionately to the rest of him. On a smaller person, giddy would be the appropriate feeling for his anticipation. Magnified to his size, I would have to say he was becoming light-headed at the thought of what was now possible for him to experience.
Slowly flexing each of his pecs in turn, he composed himself and said, “make me massive.” I had to force myself to stay calm as I began the process. I wanted to savor each moment of his exceptional growth, witnessing firsthand his reaction as his body ballooned itself toward the ultimate in muscular immobility. I instructed him to perform some simple arm movements, up, down, front, back and asked that he concentrate on these so that he would be able to determine when, if necessary, he wanted to stop.
“No problem, but I don't think that's gonna happen.” He began slowly, and so did I. First some added support would be required. I added density first and then girth as his legs started to expand. As he made his first stance adjustment, I could see his excitement. His feet came down with a massive THUD onto the floor as his quads swelled before our eyes. He pretty much had to watch in the mirror as the protrusion of his chest kept him from looking straight down without bending at the waist. More and more I focused on his massive pillars. The muscle seemed to convulse and breathe on its own as it expanded out.
Highly toned quads first pushed themselves upward, forming a small shelf where they originated at his waist. Size and weight took over as the entire bulk shifted downward, out and over the knee joint. The 'teardrop' sought by bodybuilders swelled to a giant's tear as it pushed its way down. Not one to be ashamed of his gut, he seemed all the more pleased as it too came into its own. Pressing out, his waist expanded to hold what was coming next. Without warning his pecs expanded. Pressing downward onto his abs, his nipples hardened into steel rivets as his chest continued its outward press. Soon the front/back motion of his exercise diminished by more than half as his growth continued. Upward into his chin they blew forcing his gaze no lower than horizon-level. Still mobile side to side, he took advantage of this for one last survey of his magnificence. Up/Down went the arms. Starting to fight a bit, he shrugged his shoulders at the top of the movement in an effort to force more momentum into the movement.
Each shrug, however, brought several inches and pounds of meat into his back. Wide became wider, thick became thicker forcing his arms up to almost level with the floor. The side-to-side motion of his head stopped completely as his traps and neck expanded to their full potential, forcing his gaze even higher. Finally, the arms. At close to 3.5 feet around, they were undoubtedly already the largest around. And they were still growing. Inch after inch of fully rounded muscle completely filled in the space between his shoulders and elbows.
I imagined them at 48”, then 50, then 55, each time satisfying my lust for size by giving it to him. Not to be ignored, his forearms thickened further and swelled so as to prevent any elbow movement. Several more macrobursts of muscle completed his transformation into the ultimately-muscled man. His arms were several degrees above level, pushed up as they were as much by their own bulk as by the bulk of his lats, which were now completely visible from the front and assisted in keeping the pecs standing solidly at attention. He had ceased any attempt to move several minutes earlier, but I could tell he enjoyed this state. I moved in toward him and simply stroked my hands over the hard round mountains of muscle that covered him.
Moaning at the extra sensory input, I tried to grab handfuls of his muscle and squeeze it but to no avail. It was simply too solidly toned. I settled for as much of massage as I could give him, his cock rising with my careful ministrations. As it reached full size, I pushed it back toward his chest. Although he rippled slightly at the thought of another self fuck, his new bulk would not even separate enough to allow entry, much less allow him the movement necessary to do this again. I gathered his lubricant and oiled him well and set about jacking him off myself. No permission was needed, as his moans and smile informed me this was what he wanted—to get off on himself at this immense size. Although he was large, any doubt I had as to my ability to stimulate him was soon quelled by his innate excitement toward himself.
As in a wet dream, the slightest touch could bring about orgasm due to the excited state of the body. It didn't take long and soon he was showing the signs of another orgasmic explosion. I hoped the ceiling plaster would hold. Several long grunts were replaced by a look of surprise in his eyes. I quickly realized that in his excitement, he had tried to lean back and was now ready to fall over. Good thing I was in front of him, because he fell back into the mattress with a the slow motion of a giant tree being felled. Moaning all the way his fall was inter-spliced with several loads spraying up over his head. The ceiling and wall behind the bed were now dripping in the product of his excitement. Feeling that it was time to pause myself, I climbed onto him and renewed my explorations of his mass. Although I could tell he enjoyed this, I could also see that he wanted to be able to move at will once more. I set about making the corrections when I fell asleep on top of his chest.
I awoke later too groggy to check the time and too comfortable to care. I had apparently made some of the necessary adjustments to Joe while sleeping. I was laying on my side with my head on his chest and my arm cuddling his semi-erect cock beside me. A few languorous strokes down the shaft corrected this as it once again stiffened and arched upward, bringing my arm with it. Down below, my bottom leg was between his two thighs and the other thrown over the opposite leg. I didn't have a blanket, but the warmth of his body was more than enough to keep me cozy. I looked further down to make out his feet, but couldn't see them.
His knees were bent over the end of the bed. I then looked up and saw that the top of his head was pressing against the headboard. Instead of decreasing his muscle size, I had made him taller, thereby allowing him to keep the bulk he had gained in our last session. “Welcome to the land of the living … and apparently the living large as well.” He smiled as he surveyed yet another new body fantasy. Without a word he straightened both of his arms to the side and brought them forward and up as if to do a bench press. My head rose several inches as I rode this muscle wave toward its peak.
He seemed pleased with the results as well. “Of course, I'd be happier if I could actually reach the ceiling.” I looked up from my muscle pillow and saw that his hands were only a couple of feet under the level of the ceiling.
“Holy Shit, Joe, what have I done.”
“Don't worry about it. Besides, from what I can tell, you don't mind at all,” he said, referring to the pressure my own erection was placing on his abs. “As long as I don't need to stand up, we're OK. I would like to know just how big I am, though.” I felt his abs tense, and I braced myself for what came next. My body slid down his cock as my feet reached the ground between his thighs. A couple of seconds later, I regained my balance and stared up at my personal trainer—the musclegod himself. His head was about a foot above mine, even in a sitting position. I did some quick math and reported that he was probably close to 10 feet tall. He nodded appreciatively and stroked his cock hard several times.
“Ya know, I feel like I'm having all the fun here,” he said, “why don't you give me a try on for size.” He then reached both of his mammoth arms around me giving me the largest hug I had ever received. My excitement was growing.
“Not too fast,” he said, “Let's save it for a better time.” With that he moved me into a position straddling his cock. I had no worry that he would try to stand so I just went down with him as he laid himself back onto the bed. “How would you like to be the one to chest fuck me now?” he asked. With that he reached for more lubricant, oiling his chest liberally as well as my back. I took up my position with one hand on each of his pecs. I could feel his erection crawling along my spine, which explained the lube there. My hams would have the job of massaging his cock as I did push-ups on his chest while thrusting myself into his pecs.
“See now, you're getting along fine,” he reported. It was my turn to take up the gauntlet and I applied myself whole heartily and bodily into the task, squeezing with my thighs, pushing harder and deeper with my arms. He simply laid his head back and adjusted to the movement of my body on his. Groaning in pleasure as my thrusts deepened and the weight increased.