Description A skinny researcher’s muscle growth experiments on himself make for impressive changes. Then he tries them out on his friend, who’s already muscular.
|Updated||01 Feb 2009|
Before the Change, my favorite bodybuilder was Mike Francois. The man was totally fucking freaky. Blond hair, blue eyes, clean-cut All American, yes, but at 5’8 1/2 inches tall he competed at 242 lbs. of solid, hulking muscle and in the off season he swelled to an awe-inspiring 270 lbs. In person, even in street clothes, he looked as wide as he was tall, which wasn't too surprising given his 57 inch chest, 21 inch biceps and 31 inch thighs.
But that was before the Change. Now that it's over, I make Mike Francois look like a piece of spaghetti.
Angelo DiGirolamo, that's what happened.
DiGirolamo, as we all know now, was a precocious genetic engineer—and gay. Following up on research showing that gay American men differed from their straight brothers in having larger corpus callosi (the bridge between the two lobes of the brain), DiGirolamo found a gay man's corpus callosum was larger because of a hitherto undiscovered growth hormone, which Angelo named Agent X—and then began a series of experiments to discover whether Agent X had any other growth enhancing properties.
Early experiments with white lab rats were disappointing, until, that is, one day Angelo happened to notice two of his lab rats, Fuzzy and Snuffy, copulating in their cage. He wouldn't have thought much of it—except that Fuzzy and Snuffy were both *male* lab rats! The light bulb went on inside Angelo's prodigious brain. He injected Fuzzy and Snuffy with Agent X. The results were spectacular. In less that a week, Fuzzy and Snuffy both doubled in size and weight.
Angelo then violated every code of experimental research ethics—and common sense. He injected *himself* with Agent X, then left his Atlanta lab to go to his cabin in the north Georgia mountains.
You have to understand that at the outset Angelo was a fairly petite man. No more than 5’8” tall, Angelo had never topped 140 lbs. in his life. He was muscular, well-defined, exceptionally well-conditioned and quite thoroughly attractive. But despite years of diet supplements and protein powders and just plain gorging, he never gained any weight.
That is, until he injected himself with Agent X.
In one week, Angelo grew six inches taller and doubled his bodyweight. Returning to Atlanta, he was recognized by no one, which isn't surprising: At 6’2” tall, he weighed 280 lbs. of solid, spectacular muscle—and bore only the vaguest resemblance to the man who had left his lab a week earlier.
Needless to say, Angelo left the lab and never returned. In fact, he all but went into hiding as he worked to determine whether his results could be duplicated.
As it turns out, I was the second person to undergo the Change, which isn't too surprising, considering that Angelo and I had been best friends since college. We spent a year as roommates at Emory before we ever came out to each other, then found out we each had a crush on the other—and then realized that despite definite physical, emotional and intellectual attractions, we really weren't right for each other. That we remained friends despite that disappointing realization always seemed to me proof that we were just brothers separated at birth—we were meant to be in each other's life, just not as lovers.
Unlike Angelo, I tended toward the brawny. By the time he discovered Agent X, we were both in our late 20s. At 5’11 I was a couple of inches taller than Angelo and at 205 lbs. of solid muscle I was definitely prime beef: 48 inch chest, 32 inch waist, 18 inch biceps. Even so, despite my best efforts, I was still light-years away (it seemed to me) from being in the league of Mike Francois or any of the other big boys.
I was the first person Angelo called when he returned from his cabin. “Hey, Bryan,” he said when I answered the phone. “You gotta come over right away, OK?”
“Who is this…?” I asked, not immediately recognizing the deep resonant voice on the other end. “Angelo…? You got a cold or something, bud?”
“Nah, not a cold,” he continued, chuckling, “but I still need to talk to you. Can you come over?”
I looked at my watch, then stared at the ceiling—plenty of time to go by Angelo's for a quick bite before chorus rehearsal at 8 p.m.
“I'll be there in 10 minutes,” I said.
“I'll be in the shower,” he answered, “so let yourself in.”
Which I did. Sitting on the sofa, I picked up the latest issue of “Muscle & Fitness,” shaking my head at Angelo's determination, and then glanced in a puzzled fashion at the torn clothes on the lounge chair. What the hell?
The shower stopped, I called out a “hello,” and kept reading as Angelo dried himself off and ventured into the living room. I didn't bother to glance up, at first, knowing that he would be wrapped in his light terry robe.
And then I did look up…
…and my jaw hit the floor.
Angelo had dispensed with the terry robe—it was no longer big enough—and instead wore nothing more than a white towel around his waist.
I had never seen anything like it up close and personal.
“My God,” I gasped. “What happened?”
“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling mischievously.
Now, I ask you, what kind of question is that? Angelo had turned into a virtual Paul Dillet—his chest was mountainous, his shoulders were as wide as the bathroom door, his arms were the size of my thighs, his thighs were bigger than a normal man's waist. And apparently not an ounce of extra body fat.
“Jeezus!” I breathed, racing to him and beginning to run my fingers across the massive expanse of muscle that his body had become.
He was looking down at me for the first time we had known each other and I realized, with a start, that there might be some implications for our relationship, which he acted upon immediately, quickly reaching his newly massive hand down to my shirt front and gently lifting me off the ground and into the air above his head.
“Well, that answers one question,” I snorted, putting my hands on my hips. “You're obviously as strong as you are big. What about the rest of you, huh, big boy?”
He's eyes twinkled again…
The towel dropped to the floor.
Afterwards I asked Angelo what it had been like growing six inches taller and gaining 140 lbs. of solid muscle in a single week…
“I was hungry all the time and I ate all the time and when I wasn't eating I was sleeping,” Angelo said. “It was like having a lifetime of bodybuilding crammed in a single week.”
He yawned and stretched his massive frame. I quivered at the sight of so much rippling manflesh, the contraction of his awesome 23 inch biceps and the heaving expanse of his vast 65 inch chest.
“I didn't realize how much I had grown until the morning after I arrived,” he continued. “I tried putting on my robe and it wouldn't fit. Then I looked at myself in the mirror and my eyes nearly bugged out. I hopped on the bathroom scales and saw that I had gained 20 lbs. overnight. It kept up the whole time I was there.”
I shook my head. “But what did you do about food?”
“The first day I had groceries delivered—three different times. Gallons of milk, loaves of bread, jars of peanut butter, steaks for days—it was ludicrous, I ate all of it the first night,” Angelo explained, his new deep bass voice rumbling with every word.
“Finally, though, I just called a wholesaler who agreed to bring a whole truckload and park it out back where my parents normally keep their RV—it's all gone now…”
The towel dropped to the floor and Angelo gently lowered my 205-lb. bulk as if were a puppy. Given the new discrepancy in our heights, Angelo's crotch was now at my waist level—and his raging cock stood proudly before me, a lion rampant. I nearly swooned at the sight…
You have to understand that while Angelo had never been short-changed he'd never exactly been terrifically endowed before—nor had I for that matter. Angelo's was a decent 7 1/2 inches, tending to be long even when flaccid and getting only marginally thicker when hard. Unlike Angelo, I was a grower, not a shower. Flaccid, my cock was tiny. Hard, it was no more than 6 inches in length but at 6 inches around it had a definitely brawny appearance.
But now Angelo, thanks to Agent X, had gone through the Change…
He had grown six inches taller and doubled his weight. At the same time, it turned out, his cock had grown six inches and doubled in girth! At 6’2, Angelo carried 280 lbs. of solid muscle and it looked like about 40 lbs. of that resided in his newly huge, 13 x 8 inch cock.
“Sweet fucking Jesus,” I murmured when I finally caught my breath again.
“You like it?” he asked, chuckling. “I'm not altogether sure what I'm gonna be able to do with it. 'Cept for me, nobody's touched it yet…”
I looked up into his deep brown eyes, twinkling with delight.
“Uh, well, gee, Angelo, I'd sure like to be the first to give it a workout!” I volunteered eagerly.
He reached his massive hand down and picked me up again, lifting me so that we could see eye to eye.
“You realize that it doesn't really matter what you want,” he pointed out. “If I decide to take you, there's not a damn thing you can do about it, little man. I could split your head open like a ripe watermelon, I could ream your insides out, and you wouldn't have a chance.”
I burst out laughing.
“Oh, stop it, Angelo,” I said, giggling. “You know damn well that that's always been my favorite fantasy. And I know damn well that no matter how fucking big you get you're constitutionally incapable of hurting a fly!”
He let me drop with a thud, then let out a big sigh.
“Goddamit,” he said, “why do you know me so well?”
I ran my hand across the dark, silky fur covering Angelo's now perfectly formed, diamond-hard abs, then up into the wiry tangle in the spectacular cleft between his two enormous pecs.
“Because I know you want to be worshipped, that's why,” I replied softly. “And you know that nobody is better able to do it than I am….”
He looked down at me again, this time softly—a gentle smile playing on his full-lipped, sensuous looking, perfectly shaped mouth.
“Oh yeah…?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said.
And I proceeded to show him how.
Angelo swept me up into his massive arms as if I were a rag doll and quickly strolled to the bedroom where he deposited me on the queen-sized bed in one swift, gentle motion.
Exploring his body was like mountain climbing—it was vast, huge, hard. I was used to thinking of myself as a big guy—48 inch chest, 26 inch thighs, 17 inch biceps, the whole works—but the newly massive Angelo made me look like a piece of spaghetti. His arms were nearly the size of my thighs, his thighs bigger than my waist, his chest broader than my wide, powerful shoulders.
It made me very, very hot—and judging by the twitching of his now awesome cock, that 13 x 8 inch salami—it was making Angelo very hot as well.
“You're so fucking huge, Angelo,” I murmured as I ran my hands across his mountainous pecs, “and so fucking hard.”
“And so fucking strong,” he answered, pulling my arms down to his sides as if I were no stronger than a butterfly, despite the fact I benched more than 300 lbs. at the time. Then he wrapped his tremendous arms around me and squeezed ever so gently. I gasped, knowing that my life was literally in Angelo's hands, that he could crush it out of me without exerting himself.
I went down on him then, clasping the shaft of his massive, raging cock with both hand, unable to get one hand all the way around. I'd never been the world's greatest cocksucker but somehow I found a way to open my mouth and my throat as I'd never done before. Slowly, surely, gently, I took him all the way in.
I'd always admired Angelo's big, square hands, appreciating the masculine connotations of their width and strength. Now they were more than twice as big, twice as thick, and much more muscular. Feeling his bearpaw on the back of my head intensified my own raging hard-on and caused me to redouble my efforts at Angelo's fountainheads. I could feel the orgasm building from the moment my mouth touched his member but especially as it throbbed inside the my mouth and throat, getting ever harder and longer, Angelo guiding my head up and down with his hand, slowly and surely at first, then ever more rapidly and intensely.
Finally, he began to groan, the low bellowing of a bull, and I knew it was almost time. His Herculean chest began to heave, to drip with sweat, and his gargantuan legs began to shake as the massive muscles therein flexed and contorted. I was almost thrown, so intense was his reaction.
And then it happened. I tried to keep my head in place, wanting desperately (albeit stupidly) to feel his cum in my throat, but he pushed my head away as if I were a moth. He fountained all across his magnificent torso, the cum landing mostly on his incredibly chiseled abs and pecs, a good bit of it shooting over his Herculean shoulders and hitting the bedroom wall.
Then he took my cock in the tremendous bearpaw that his own right hand had become and jerked me off in three short, swift movements, and then it was my turn to gush all over Angelo, my friend and former lover, this newfound god.
When I finally caught my breath, I raised myself up and, leaning on my elbows, asked Angelo THE question:
“When do I get to try it?”
“When do I get to try it?” I managed to ask, when we had somewhat recuperated. I was straddling his narrow hips, feeling his gargantuan thighs twitch and ripple beneath my butt, running my strong, square hands over the chiseled perfection of his abs, the mountainous expanse of his pecs.
He yawned and stretched, flexing 24 inch biceps and 20 forearms, a sight to set me panting all over again, then he took my hands and pulled me down to him, at once incredibly strong and tremendously gentle. He wrapped his arms around me, arms that could crush a grizzly, and rolled us on our sides, so that we were nose to nose, hip to hip—I felt like a child next to him…
“Whenever you want,” he answered, finally, “but keep in mind we need to make some preparations. If your experience is like mine, you'll be out of commission for a week or so. And we need to have food on hand—lots of it!”
He was right, of course. In the week after he had injected himself with Agent X, Angelo had added six inches to his height and doubled his bodyweight, ballooning from a lean and muscular yet relatively small 5’8” and 140 lbs. into the 6’2-inch, 280-lb. mountain of muscle I now found myself with. Having me undergo The Change would require some careful laying of groundwork.
“Let's get on with it, shall we?” I suggested, eyes glittering with anticipation.
“But maybe we should get it on first?” he countered.
I fell on top of him again…
A week later we were ready and I made some additional discoveries, including:
1. The fact that despite his newfound size, Angelo had enough stamina and aerobic capacity to keep any 10 men happy. To my delight, his supply seemed to be inexhaustible.
2. He was still growing!
We didn't really notice the latter until the day I was to receive my injection. We decided for the sake of scientific accuracy that I should be weighed and measured so that we would have before and after records for comparison.
As expected I came in right at 5’10 1/2 inches tall and 205 lbs. Then we decided to measure Angelo to see whether everything still appeared to be on track.. The results, though, surprised us: 6' 2 1/2” and 290 lbs., 1/2-inch taller and 10 lbs. heavier than he had been the week before.
“At this rate…” he began.
“At this rate you'll be 6’3 and 300 lbs. in another week,” I said. “Who do you suppose will be bigger then?”
We were about to find out…
The injection didn't hurt but I instantly felt my body beginning to grow. It was if I had had a cable attached to my body and it was beginning to draw electrical current. But the longer it lasted the “fuzzier” I felt; I became less and less aware of my surroundings, focusing only on the fact that I was overwhelmingly hungry and overwhelmingly sleepy.
Angelo said later that it seemed like I had turned into a hibernating bear; he didn't speak to me unless to give me a direct order, which I generally obeyed without thinking about it at all.
In the end, it turned out that The Change was even more dramatic for me than it was for Angelo. I had been taller than Angelo to begin with but after his Change he overtopped me by a good four inches. About halfway through the week I realized I was looking him right in the eye.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice to me sounding as if it were emanating from the bottom of a well, “you're growing even faster than I did.”
That's when I realized that I was also bigger than Angelo—by a lot!
“Uh,” I said fuzzily, “any idea about how…?”
“About how big you are?” Angelo grinned. “I'm guessing right at 325 lbs—I think you're just about 30 lbs. heavier than I am now.”
Which turned out to be an accurate guess but it was just the beginning.
A week after I had received the injection, I awoke in the morning and realized I no longer felt muzzy—and that the “current” I had felt in my body was no longer pulsing as strongly. I experienced a momentary letdown, then “felt” the current again, realizing that it was still there, just not as strong.
“Hi, there, monster man,” Angelo said, bringing me a breakfast tray that could feed the Chicago Bears. “Are you back with me?”
I sat up and stretched—and saw Angelo's eyes widen in surprise.
“Well, yes, come to think of it, I guess I am,” I said, hopping out of the bed—and feeling the hardwood floor beneath me *thwonging* under the impact. I pulled myself up to my full height and turned to face Angelo.
“Oh!” I exclaimed…
“Oh, indeed,” he echoed, sardonically. “You're just now figuring it out, aren't you?”
I looked down across my new body and suddenly realized I had grown even more than Angelo had done—taller, wider, heavier, stronger, it was all there.
“Face it, guy,” Angelo said, all 6’3 and 300 lbs. of him (he had continued growing, of course.). “Now *you* make *me* look like a piece of spaghetti.!”
We went to the new gym he had installed in his home to measure. He was right, of course., I realized as I looked at the two of us in the mirror, I *did* make him look like a piece of spaghetti. Still, I was not prepared for what the tape and the scales had to say:
“Six feet six inches tall,” Angelo called out, “and 400 lbs.”
I couldn't believe it myself: 78 inch chest, 39 inch waist, 40 inch thighs, 32 inch biceps, 27 inch forearms—I reached out when I saw those and very easily, very gently hoisted Angelo, all 300 lbs. of him, into the air with one hand.
“Easy does it, big boy,” Angelo said. “You may be the biggest thing anyone's ever seen but you're still dealing with a full-grown ox here.”
I nodded my head, then set him down…
“Speaking of oxen,” he continued, “or maybe bulls or stallions, have you, uh, checked out the other equipment…?”
I looked down quickly at those words, then looked back up just as quickly, utterly surprised.
“You've gotta be kidding,” I told Angelo. “Surely it's not real…?”
He snorted, then laughed.
“Maybe we should try it out?” he inquired.
“Maybe…” I replied.