President Gil Clifton was having problems in his first term of office. He knew things wouldn't be easy for him after he was elected, but he didn't know how bad they'd get. First the controversy over the RapidRiver developments in his home state, then the tell-all novel from Lola Stone, the former staffer suing him for sexual harassment, and now the news that his wife, Jill Marie, might've been “bribed” by European multinationals. And each of these problems only intensified his overeating. Not for the first time had he heard Don Mailer joke on his late- night show about the president's “chubby white cheeks”, and not those on his face. God, how did he ever get talked into wearing that thong on the private beach?
The stress was taking a toll, and his daily jog didn't help matters. His latest visit to the doctor didn't prepare him for the bad news. Blood pressure, up. Cholesterol count, up. And he didn't mention the slight pain in his chest a couple of weeks ago. Gil felt lousy as he sweat heavily, watching his two Secret Service bodyguards run effortlessly, their massive thighs rubbing together. Gil had to admit these two men were the most incredible physical specimens he'd ever laid eyes on, and he felt jealous of their bodies.
The dark-haired one was Dante Vittrelli, whose Brooklyn origins were evident once he opened his mouth, while the blond was Bret Swenson, a midwestern farm- boy type. They had both been Marines at one point before both joining the Secret Service, and by chance they were both assigned to the President. They had remarkably handsome faces with strong jaws; Dante had a cleft in his chin, while dimples appeared whenever Bret smiled. Their heads sat on blocks of muscle that others would call necks. They both needed to buy the largest clothes available, which never fit right since their waists were relatively tiny compared to the mighty chests that jutted and the tree-trunk thighs that spread. One time a seam gave way and an arm the size of a bowling ball peeked through Bret's sweatshirt.
Neither of them liked jogging compared to weightlifting, one of their passions for the past few years. Although both were equal when it came to the amount of weight they lifted, they never got tired of watching each other bench 1000 pounds or more, or press over a ton with their legs, or curl 400. The amount they lifted stabilized shortly after the experiment they underwent while they were still in the military. They still kept in touch with many of their Marine buddies who also grew as large as them, along with the doctor who supervised. The doctor also secretly helped those who asked him, including Dante and Bret. Now Bret's dad had no problems with the heavy lifting he had to do on the farm, as did Dante's childhood friend on the construction crew back home. And they thanked each of them in very special, loving ways.
When they got back to the White House, Gil was on the verge of collapse. Bret and Dante carried him into his bedroom, and Gil felt so relieved and tired. Bret said, “Mr. President, you don't have to keep doing this if you don't want to. There's a way you can make sure you never have any weight problems again.” Dante was surprised Bret even hinted at the experiment. It was supposed to be kept secret, and they had to sign forms saying they wouldn't talk about it. Even with the occasional circumvention of the rules, less than 100 men in the U.S. had undergone the change. But none of them were public figures.
Gil sat on the edge of the bed and said, “There's nothing out there. Believe me, I've tried many of them, and they don't work.”
“But there is, and I should know. So does Dante.”
Dante said, “He's right, Mr. President. We didn't come by these bodies naturally.”
“I had the feeling you two took steroids. No thanks.”
“But it's not a steroid. You have to take those over and over. We only took the formula once, and never again. And this was the result.” Dante lifted the wet sweatshirt of him, and Gil gasped when he saw how big his muscles were. Bret did the same, and Gil's eyes almost bugged out. Both their chests were moderately hairy, but they couldn't cover the intense musculature they had. Striations and veins appeared everywhere through the thin skin. Their chests were so large that their nipples pointed downward. The V of their back spread at least a yard wide, which forced their arms far apart. And what big arms! The biceps seemed like Popeye's after he'd eaten his spinach, and the triceps were equally large. Gil had bought one of those ab-rollers, which he rarely used, but the men had six-packs so thick they could hold quarters in each separation. Gil noticed Dante's belly button was an innie, while Bret's was an outie.
Gil whistled and said, “Wow.”
Bret said, “And that's only our tops. You should see what's below our waists!”
Dante said, “Uh, I don't know if we should do that.”
Gil said, “Oh, come on, I'm already impressed with what you have. Let's see the rest!” Gil was surprised by how eager he was to see their bodies.
Bret said, “Okay, you asked for it.” They took off their sneakers, then their pants. Gil tried not to gape as he looked at their massive legs. Each of their thighs seemed thicker than his own waist, and they had to stand slightly bowlegged because the muscle pushed their legs outward. Their calves equalled the girth of their arms. But what really shocked him was how full their jockstraps were. What did they stuff them with, cantaloupes?
Gil muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Dante said, “It's the real thing, Mr. President.” He stepped forward, his huge crotch in Gil's face. He took one of the president's hands and touched it to his belly. “Feel that. You can have one like this. No love handles ever.”
Gil couldn't believe he was caressing another man's body, or that he liked the feel of the rippling muscle under his fingers. Bret joined them, grabbing the other hand and lifting it to his chest, and said, “Feel how powerful this chest is.” He put the hand between the crevasse and gently flexed. Gil panicked; it was trapped! Then Bret let go. Gil took his hands away, and noticed each of the crotches before him had swollen even bigger. And so had his! His sizable cock seemed so small compared to these studs. But he wasn't ready, and the agents sensed this. They put their clothes back on, and told the president about the experiment they took a few years ago.
The formula the doctor had discovered was a muscle-growth formula, based on stimulating the pituitary gland. A test group, which included them, was given the formula, and everyone had the same results. But there was one side effect which the government considered detrimental. Each of the men began having homosexual relations, and soon all the men were discharged from the Marines. Some honorably, some not. Bret and Dante were two of the lucky ones. The experiments with this formula were discontinued, and the doctor was asked not to create any more, which of course he had.
They were about to tell the president about the side effect, but they didn't have a chance. Gil wanted to take the formula, no two ways about it. They looked at each other, smiled, and Dante said, “We'll make the arrangements.”
The next day, Dante called the doctor in California and told him someone was interested in taking the formula. He didn't mention it was the president. The doctor asked for $5000 to pay for everything, and the president dipped into his personal account, hoping Jill Marie wouldn't ask. A few days later, Dante received a UPS package with the formula inside.
The next day, Dante and Bret were inside the presidential gym with Gil. They told him the results would be instant, which was why the president stood before them naked. Looking in the mirror, there was only one thing he liked seeing, and that was six inches of limp dick under his pudgy belly. They also said it was a good idea to start lifting weights immediately after ingesting the formula, as that would enhance his growth.
Gil readily agreed, and Dante showed him a vial with a clear liquid inside. He poured the contents into a vanilla protein shake, which suddenly turned bright yellow before it changed back to its original color.
Gil lifted the drink to his nose; no change in smell. He said, “Bottoms up,” and quickly drank it. He licked his lips. “Not as tasty as McDougal's fries, but not bad.”
Bret suggested he start with some bench presses. Gil asked him how much weight was there.
“Five hundred pounds.”
“Five hundred? Can't you start me with something light?”
“Believe me, Mr. President, this won't be heavy.”
Gil took his position on the bench, and Dante helped spot. As soon as he took the weight off the supports, the bar fell. If Dante hadn't been there, the president might've been killed. But Dante held on, and the bar landed gently on his chest. He strained with the first lift, pushing with all his might. But he didn't realize Dante was barely holding the bar. The next lift Dante's hands weren't even touching them. Gil found each lift easier, and he soon lost count. He put the bar on the supports and asked how many reps he made.
Dante said, “Sixty-nine.”
“What! Ohmygod, I don't believe it! That was incredible. Put more on, I want to see how much I can lift.” The men added one-hundred pounds to each side, then Gil went back to lifting. This time he counted, and stopped when he reached 100. When he stopped, he looked ahead and saw his chest was now in his way. He couldn't see past it! He went to a sitting position, and began feeling his huge pecs. Damn, he now had a bigger chest than that stripper from New Orleans, Belle Odaball. His other muscles had also started growing, although not nearly as large.
When Gil asked why this was, Bret said, “Give it time. Soon all your muscles will be in proportion.”
The president soon moved to arm exercises, then shoulders, abs, legs. With each exercise, his muscles continued growing stronger, bigger. The fat evaporated from his body, and his skin thinned to show each striation and vein. Damn, even his dick looked bigger!
When he looked at himself in the mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself. He felt like crying, seeing the magnificent muscleman he'd become. Dante and Bret took off their sweatshirts and showed him some bodybuilding poses. He began posing for them, totally un-self-conscious of his nudity.
Bret said, “Well, Mr. President, there's one muscle we still haven't worked on.”
Gil said, “Which one? Let's make it bigger!”
“This one.” He reached down and caressed Gil's cock, which began growing. He took Gil by his thick neck and drew him closer. Gil felt no resistance as his mouth touched Bret's. They pressed together, wet, warm, excited. Their mouths opened, and soon their tongues began darting in and out. Damn, Gil thought, he kisses better than Lola!
Gil felt something touching his beefy buns and looked down to find a giant cock sticking out from Dante's crotch. He gasped and said, “Holy shit! How…how big…”
Dante said, “When hard, it's just over twenty inches long and ten around. But you should see Bret's. Show him what you got!”
Bret dropped his pants and jock, and his even bigger dick slapped him in the chest. He said proudly, “Twenty-two and a half, and almost eleven around!”
Gil lost himself in lust as he bent at the waist and kissed Bret's giant cock. Pre-cum oozed from the tip; Gil thought it was the best thing he's ever tasted. He opened his mouth, stretched his jaw wide, and slipped the uncut head into his mouth. Now he realized why so many women liked sucking his big cock! It felt like soft, warm leather in his hands. He slid one hand further down and caressed the orange-sized balls dangling heavily from Bret's groin. Bret moaned and said, “Fuck, you're good. Ever suck cock before?”
Gil shook his head, not wanting to let go of the thick shaft. He inhaled, and soon the head slipped further and further down his throat. He worked himself up and down, loving the feel of the giant dick near his stomach.
Gil felt the head of Dante's dong near his asshole, and he prepared himself for entry. With one quick, strong thrust, over half of Dante's tool entered him. Gil couldn't scream with about eighteen inches of Bret's cock in his mouth. Dante began fucking him hard and heavy. In a minute, every inch of his huge shaft had penetrated the president, who hadn't even realized his own cock had hardened. He was paying too much attention to the mighty studs in each orifice.
The intense feeling of fucking the president was too much for each of them, and they said, “I'm cumming,” at the same time. Their shafts expanded, and soon quarts of cum began shooting into the president's muscled body. Bret pulled most of his out, and Gil tasted and swallowed most of the thick, delicious cream. Some escaped and dribbled down his chin.
Gil was so dazed by the wonderful sex he just had that he didn't realize he hadn't cum yet. He sat down on a weight bench, and felt something touch his chin. And then he noticed his cock sticking up. He gripped it in amazement, the huge head as big as a grapefruit. Dante and Bret looked at it in awe, then Bret said, “Mr. President, you've got the biggest cock we've ever seen!”
Dante said, “Yeah, I'll bet you've got over two feet of dick in your hands!”
Gil said, “Aren't you hunks going to help me with this?”
They knelt before him, stroking the thick shaft. Bret said, “I'll bet it's a foot around, too!”
They took turns licking, kissing, tasting the huge dong. Gil moaned, rubbing his hands in their thick hair. His dick was red with blood, and he thought he could see the veins pulsing. Dante and Bret then contested who could deep-throat better. Gil judged Dante to be a better sucker, although Bret could take more down. Soon all six hands were on Gil's cock, roughly yanking his massive dong until Gil shouted in rapturous agony. His cock spewed cum several feet in the air, big drops landing everywhere. The weights, the benches, their bodies were all soon drenched in presidential jism.
After several minutes, Gil kissed his agents and said, “I love you guys. I feel so incredible, like…”
Dante said, “Like the most powerful man in the world?”
“Exactly. The most powerful man in the world!”