The G

By Braun1 
6 parts
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• Latest update: 23 November. Next update: 7 December. (Submissions welcome.)

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Part 1

One is never old enough to state one’s beliefs as facts, but with 28 years behind me, I’m not green nor wet behind the ears either. In those 28 years I’ve lived and then worked in a lot of weird places, and I’ve seen all sorts of people, and if I’ve learned something, it is never think you’ve seen it all.

Anyway, this is my point—I’m absolutely certain there are people on this earth that are not entirely human, or rather, are more than human. And they may not even know it. Call them mutants, call them aliens, call them what you like, what do I care, I know what to call mine. How do I know? Ah well..

I love muscular men. And I mean, the bigger and freakier the better. And yes, I am gay, and I’ve learned to live with it. I’ve been that way ever since I remember—my first hardon (not that I knew what it meant at the tender age of 9) I got looking at a picture of a body-builder in a body-building course ad in a Marvel comic book. I happen to hold a science degree and I’m not easily convinced into something, but I have learned to spot good genetics, and am especially good at spotting freaky genetics. But I’m clouding the issue here, so I’d better get on with explaining my claim.

Right after I moved to this godforsaken town I decided to find the local gym, or whatever they decided to call it—not without previous information that there was one. Well, I guess that’s my style. I try to research everything first.

Believe me, I don’t hunger by far but I can’t imagine myself not working—so before I ever appeared at the ‘G’ as it was known (simply because that was the only letter still left visible on the board above the entrance, probably left there since it used to be a garage) it was already almost common knowledge that the newbie (me) was good at fixing things. I was always good with hands and I enjoyed working. So it came that I was the one who refurbished the electrics, fixed the air-conditioning, and finally did the job that got me into my present situation. I simply never asked for any money aside for larger material bills, which soon gave me a no-charge membership and the keys of the place, since I usually worked at odd hours. I would usually get there an hour before closing (which was around when all the seriously built were in) and my work would be done after the gym closed for the night. I would sometimes work out only to keep appearances. A fairly nondescript face under dark brown hair on a 6’4” frame at close to 200 pounds, with a metabolism that allowed only a fixed and small amount of fat. However, that frame is a fairly large one—in clothes people definitely didn’t try to mess about with me, but out of them I could be called slim at best, and compared to the guys in the gym, I was the proverbial thin man—I never managed to put on any weight on so I stopped earnestly trying. My workouts were done because ‘when in Rome do as the Romans do’.

Well, as past experience taught me, the small-town gyms are a most prolific source of real freaks—I have been surprised so many times (and remember, I have experience!) at what teen-age competition, pumping iron all day long and huge amounts of food and in many cases of chemicals and god knows what else, coupled with no inhibitions whatsoever (which was fine by me) could do to a guy that was huge to start with, in his attempts to become king of his particular hill. In short, there always had to be a gym legend, the man everyone talks about as the freakiest.

This being a small town, homosexuality was unheard of, or to be more precise, unspoken of. I was sure I spotted a few candidates who were probably young enough not to even know what they were, and certainly would not admit it to the general public—and neither did I. I could get off on watching and I have a firm motto of not bashing people over the head with my private views of anything, especially not sexuality. Anyway, I wasn’t after the gays anyway, as I said, I was after serious muscle freaks—I was after the gym legend. But in this case, the legend was secretive, and very seldom to be seen, and talks of him seen to be training would have been dismissed as lies instantly. He never competed with anyone in any sense but still, the stories told about this guy were akin to fishermen’s tales, and then some. Contrary to heroes of many legends, it turned out this one was very real—all the checks I got for the materials had his signature on them—Victor Calan.

As a matter of fact, I first set sight on him (and left it there for an embarrassingly long time!) when he signed the very first of them. This was not surprising, since that was the first time I ever saw the biggest possible size of baggies actually be used as tight-fitting clothes. They could not even begin to hide (and you always got that feeling he was hiding it) his outlandish physique. I learned that he was the actual owner of the gym, in fact, he had a stake in practically anything that was worth any money in this town. He was also considered a hermit of sorts—he never ‘mingled’ as one guy put it. When his father died, he inherited all the business worth any money in this town, and he quickly gave large chunks of it away to the managers, retaining only small volumes of the business. Needless to say, every one of the new owners had no trouble prospering as his father used to rule by an iron fist—and after that no one questioned any motives he might have had in his life. I’ve only seen him up close that one time but that was enough. Although he didn’t grace the premises with his presence for several past weeks, I very clearly remember the few times he did, usually right before the gym closed, to discuss things with the manager. They would go into the glass cubicle of the office, another relic from the times this used to be a garage. He would pace around in there, sometimes gesticulating, and my sights would be glued to him, covertly looking at the incredibly arousing ways his undersized ‘oversize clothes’ were being stretched by the undoubtedly record size muscles underneath. He would be easy to spot coming in, a very tall black-haired figure with yard-wide shoulders that had to stoop in a rather strange way to barely pass through the door frame. To top that off, he looked… well, handsome doesn’t even begin the description. I was hooked from the very start. What I would give to see that guy without at least some of the clothes, or preferably without all of them… The guy was a giant, a mutant, a freak of nature if there ever was one. He looked only slightly taller than I am, probably 6’5”, maybe 6’6” and seemed at least half as wide and a third as thick as that. He must have had all his clothes custom made, his dimensions were impossible to accommodate by any standard, that was for sure. As I said, I always got the impression he was hiding his body under those clothes, but no clothes, however made, could hide that wherever he was thick, he was incredibly thick, wherever wide, incredibly so, and wherever he was thin he was incredibly thin, which made him look even wider and thicker. This guy was far larger than anything I ever saw or imagined up to that point. What I would do with him fired my imagination no end, sending me to trips of fantasy involving a tape measure. God, you could feel it in the floor when he walked past! What was even more of a torment, rumor had it that his only goal in life was to get bigger, that he wanted to get to the limit of possibility, and then pass it. The numbers people kept quoting gave me a hardon in themselves. All my attempts to find out more about the guy ended in a dismal failure. As I said, I get off on watching, and this was one, actually—the only, case where I would have tried to take the initiative. But as I said, I’m about research—and there was none. Bottom line—he was someone who I could never be with. Well, so I thought.

I arrived at the gym late that Saturday, since I had to adjust the burglar alarm window breaking detector. The big street window had been replaced after a few discontent youths put a brick through it, and being beside a railway station, the low train rumble kept setting the damn thing off. I remembered myself thinking once how it’s incredible that people try to break in all sorts of premises even in places with no rampant crime, hell, the worst crime they had was when a few teenagers tried to steal a car. In fact, this was the second time already, but back then it was a sixpack of beer cans getting thrown through, of all things—that’s why the alarm thing got built in the first place. I, however, was starting to suspect it was put there solely to keep me trying to fix it for the fourth evening in a row. It was almost half past nine—long after Saturday working hours—when I let myself into the gym trough the front entrance. The premises remained lit with a few fixtures even at night, and I just went to the locker room in the back. The alarm box was in one of the lockers, but just as I got my tools unpacked, I noticed the back door, which was appropriately marked ‘staff only’, leading out the back way through a small corridor gaped open.

I started tinkering with the box, which was appropriately disabled, so I turned on the alarm monitor. Just then I heard the water opening in the shower, nothing strange since there was also a cleaning lady who had the keys to the place and did often come by on Saturdays, albeit much earlier. I went back into the gym and tapped at the window, noting with satisfaction that the alarm didn’t go off.

I sat down on a bench and decided to wait for the old faithful—the dreaded 9:40 train that kept setting the damn thing off. I had only three minutes left and by the end of the second minute I noticed the bench was damp and it started soaking through my jeans. Good old Matilda, not a bad hair on her head but how did she get the idea of washing the bench I would never now, I thought to myself as the train rattled by, and when the noise subsided I was really glad I wasn’t hearing the bell like the last three times. Then I just realized I still heard the shower and started toward the locker room wondering what she could be doing in the shower that long?

I slowly started toward the door, expecting who knows what. As I turned into the locker room, I noticed something I’ve missed before—one of the locker doors was not closed completely because there was a towel hanging over it. And then the water stopped. And then I knew who it was.

Now remember I’m writing this with hindsight. I guess I was lucky the adrenalin-pumping shock of realization what was going on hit me with its iceberg-blow-to-the-stomach-which-then-curls-up strength before he actually came out of the showers and I saw him, because if it didn’t, so help me, I would not have survived it. This way, I barely managed to. To do the situation justice, imagine I was describing this all at once with 100 voices, one for each of the 100 things I noticed at once, instead of a listing from head to toe, because this is how I perceived him when he came out of the shower.

First of all there is this short-cropped raven black hair atop a face handsome to the point of pain. He is also by far the widest man I ever saw in my life, and that included doctored pictures. This guy set completely new standards as to the shape a human body could attain. He was monstrously big—to say he was over-muscled would be an incredible understatement There is simply no single word to describe him. His pecs were not slabs of muscle, thick but flat—instead they bulged outwards and upwards, practically overflowing his skin, stretching it with their impossible half-ball shaped bulk, so that his nipples faced straight down. They made the crevice between them look like a deep canyon, which could probably fit my palm sideways, trapping it between bloated muscle.

He literally had no neck—what would have been his neck tapered by inches thick traps into melon-sized shoulders. His arms were so big, they must have been thicker than thighs of any athlete you care to name. His bone structure was very thick but he was so big his joints looked small—going from his yard-wide shoulders down, his upper arms bulged immensely, thick veins throbbing over his biceps which bulged out blatantly completely relaxed, and triceps being pushed out by oversize lats, ending in a pair of forearms so muscular he could squeeze stones into dust with no trouble at all. There was not enough space between his arms and his lats so his elbows were held apart, something even huge bodybuilders achieved only with a high pump plus a lot of strutting. But this guy did not have to pretend. His abdomen did not look as if it were merely tiled, the muscle bulged immensely outwards and moved with his every twitch, as he started rubbing himself with the towel which looked more like a hanky once he took it in his hands. His waist stayed incredibly thin for the size of him, it looked like only a bit more than the third of the width of his preposterous shoulders, creating a taper which most people would not dare imagine, making his chest look even bigger and his shoulders even wider. Apart from little chest hair and traces up his abdomen, he was practically hairless. His skin looked perfectly smooth, strange as he had really thick black hair and a strong day’s beard. He looked like someone pumped him up with a compressor until the thing dropped dead. As he turned around and I caught a glimpse of his back. His lats were out of this world! With most guys the back tapered from shoulders to waist in a V shape, but with him it first bulged outwards, pushing apart his cord-plated triceps, and then tapered in a sort of rounded way to his lower back, coming in almost horizontally, and then changed direction further tapering down to his unproportionally small waist, creating a curve oozing with power as it went down to a tight, incredibly muscular and striated ass, striations in the huge square muscle forming with the slightest shift of his frame. Striations which run into twitching cables of his thighs, and I had no doubt in my mind that his thighs were wider than most guys were around the chest, and re-emerged in cut forms of his immense calves. No one ever was so big. I was dead sure. I would have bet anything that this guy must have had a quarter of a ton in him. That was quite probably a conservative assessment. All of them take drugs, I thought, but his were really something. He wasn’t ripped in the sense that word was normally used. He looked smooth until the skin got stretched by any movement, to the limit, exposing individual heads and strands of muscle only by virtue of sheer size! I know I must have been gazing at him with the blatancy of a blowtorch, but I would not have averted my sight even if it meant falling dead on the spot. When he faced the locker, so I had a side view, his chest was so big and high with the pump it stood out almost horizontally. He looked ready to rip his seams. A network of thick, bulging veins sprung out on his forearms and his shoulders, and the separate heads of his shoulder muscles actually stuck out. If he flexed he’d surely rip his skin.

There were fainter lines on his otherwise perfect skin—stretch marks? My god, could he still be growing, at this size?! He already looked as he had all the muscle in the world on him, but surprises were far from over. I’ve seen muscle, and I could maybe even have been able to dare and conceive of something like him, but my jaw had dropped, I was sure of that, and I must have been drooling like a mesmerized baby. I would have fallen over if it were not for the locker behind me that provided the much needed support. As if his physique was not enough, the guy sported the biggest piece of manmeat the world ever saw, or indeed imagined.

As he rubbed himself down from head to toe, each move sent a shudder down his abs, each breath raised his overgrown chest and making his even more overgrown fuckhose swing. I could not move even as he turned to face me, still rubbing himself down. It hung down from his almost smooth crotch, swinging between his thighs and shuddering with his every move. And believe me, measuring anything on this guy in inches is a futility, only feet, and quite possibly yards could do him justice. It was thick, and so fucking long, and although the preposterous size of the rest of him confused the eye, I swear it was only slightly shorter than two feet in length, hanging down and reaching inches below his knees! He slowly went over it, from underside, from base to head, and it hung limply over the towel. He pulled slightly at it, which made it stretch a bit as he dried it with the towel. Even without that show, there was no doubt it was completely flaccid. As he lifted it, I caught a glimpse of his balls which were huge. I had no doubt in my mind that this freak of nature had testosterone levels of a pack of sex-crazed bulls, which also explained his body and the thing hanging down from his crotch. I know I probably kept repeating some expletive or other, and it probably came out completely unintelligible. He kept on looking at me, a gaze I then could not describe, with eyes of an almost diabolically electric green color. And then I heard his voice.

“So, is it all you expected?” he said…asked, a voice which had every right to say ‘let there be light’. Those six words were a question, a motivation, an answer and a hint at consequences all at once. He was looking straight at me, a look dissecting me down to individual atoms that made my worthless self. And then he was right before me, and he just lifted my chin shut. This startled me and I regained precious little conscience, noticing how he moved. Imagine tanned skin-colored living steel. That’s how. He put the towel over his shoulders, and raised an eyebrow. Afterwards I remembered what was a truly strange moment of realizing that words did not come out of my mouth because I was really scared to the bone-marrow. I tried but instead I simply nodded in a mixture of lustful stupor and terror. He laughed, a sort of rasping rumble, shifting his hands onto his hips, stood that way for a second and then he slowly started stroking his pec with one hand, swinging his meat back and forth. Each time it collided with his thighs it would smack faintly, shudder and bend.

I was being overwhelmed with having all my secret dreams displayed before me in the form of a he-man, a giant which was impossibly huge EVERYWHERE. To have this before my eyes—the unbelievable combination of my dreams! Cruel fate that does not let me touch him, and I would die to do just that!

“Oh yes, it’s real, don’t you worry—and I can see you like it…” he said slowly. I realized I sported the boner of a lifetime which must have been very obvious. “So, my skinny little friend, a penny for your thoughts…?” he said, again with that rasping half-laugh. I just looked at him, frozen. He laughed again, twitching his pecs, teasing, all the time maddeningly stroking his thighs, and carefully avoiding his cock, which looked like a long club hanging down like that.

“I bet you’re sorry you don’t have a tape measure right here, huh? So you could see how big I am… no doubt with particular emphasis on certain body parts, eh? Well?”

“I… I’m…” I tried, but the words simply stuck in my throat.

“Yes, go on, ask me, and I might be good enough… and let you see for yourself…”

I just nodded, stuttering something. He never shifted his gaze locked into mine, but suddenly there was a subtle change in his eyes and I found myself released from eye-contact.

“You like a bit of meat on your men, do you? So how do you like me, huh?” He said, puffing up, but only a bit, and twitching his chest muscles. He sort of half-flexed, which with his full pump threw me onto new levels of arousal. He was so near that for the size of him I could only look into his face or his pecs. His pecs, my god… and then I felt like I got pricked in my balls and I realized I’d shot my load into my pants! He looked down, to the bulge on my jeans, and the spreading spot of wetness, making an almost comically inquisitive face, peering over his huge chest.

“Well, well… I guess really you do like what you see!” So, now he knew.

“Nice… I like being appreciated… so, what’s it gonna be, hm? The question?”

He asked again.

“I… How…” I gave my throat a second chance. His face was a ‘go on’ gesture, the very expression saying ‘Come on, I don’t have all day’. Somehow this made my throat unclench and the words finally got out. “Wha… What do I have to do?” I winced.

“Aha!” Again that rasping laugh, “Not exactly the question I would have expected, but still good… an honorable man, no less…”. He could have crushed me with one hand—I remembered at that point thinking of a cat cruelly playing with a mouse only to kill it later. “But, as long as you’re interested…” he looked at me. “If I let you go, you’d dream of me for the rest of your cock-sucking life, huh? Imagining drooling all over me, feeling and squeezing, feeling miserable because you can’t… you think you could take it, huh?”.

If he only knew how right he was! I dared hope he did know. When… If I get out of here alive I’ll have trouble facing the world knowing that something like him exists.

“Well, not fair to let down a fan, is it… especially not one so curious…” he laughed again, pacing back to the locker, exposing his giant back, “and I might add resourceful…” He closed the locker. Why, why, why did it have to happen this way?

“And also different… proposing equitable trade, no less… Well, well…” He droned on. Suddenly he turned to me. I was beyond the point where anything could startle me. “I’ll tell you what. Consider this your lucky day, your break in life…” He took the towel in his hands again, “I’ll cut you a deal—I’ll let you grope and squeeze all you like, even with my help, and drool all over me as long as you like… under a condition—If you want me to flex, you have to get this baby to flex too…” he said, pointing at his crotch, “You are allowed any method or methods you like, as long as I don’t get bored and at least one of them works. There will be a special bonus if you manage to go to certain…lengths…” Was that a wink? “Let’s just say I like a honest admirer to really get to know me, once in a while… and so you’ve got your chance… and you’d better make it good!”

He stood there, waiting, but the immensity of the situation had stuck me to the spot. What did I get myself into?

“Come on, out you go, never mind the tools…” he said, and practically carried me toward the back door.

To date I have absolutely no idea how we got to his place, although it is right above the gym. I had a million things in my head, whirling in a crazy pattern of fear, denial, lust, greed. And finally, I decided to die rather than miss this opportunity, such as it was. I… wanted him. I had such strange thoughts—one side wanted to have him, hard, all of him, and the other was afraid of not being able to do what he asks. Something was clearly strange here—this nagging feeling which mixed up with all the fear and lust—was it fear of disappointment?

The apartment was above the garage, the only other floor in the building. The entrance had only a small hallway which then went to a combination sitting/living/bedroom right above the gym, and of the same size—pretty huge for an apartment. He practically led me all the way. It wasn’t easy to unstick my gaze from his monstrosity of a manhood, even if only to look at the rest of him. All of a sudden it dawned to me why he never appeared in gymwear or competed—there was no way to fit his thing into posing slips, and the thought of seeing him overwhelm a pair with his size instantly started another erection.

I don’t even know how, but in the process of getting from the entrance to a sort of bedroom area I lost almost all my clothes too. There was a huge bed which looked more like a mattress on the floor there, and it faced a wall—a mirror wall. There was a good distance between the bed and the wall, covered by a thick rug, and there was a hip-height dividing wall right over the head of the bed.

Well, the stage was set, the actors were in, so there was nothing left but to start the show.

He sort of sat down on the bed which was big enough so that even two of him would have felt comfortable, and with much space to spare. He actually almost lied down on it, back propped on the dividing wall, and lifted his thick cock over his thigh. When he lifted it, it still drooped over his palm.

I stood there at first, not certain how I could approach him. Suddenly I noticed the top of the wall was actually like a shelf over the bed, with a large bottle of baby oil, a tube of moisturizing cream and a tape measure ready and waiting.

The guy had it all prepared. “Well, I can see you have noticed the tools of the trade, so you might as well start using them…” he said.

I found myself kneeling at one corner of the bed. He had practically spread himself onto it, but there was still more than enough place for me. His horrendously big body was still all pumped up, ballooning muscles bulging. I could not resist anymore, and placed my hand on one of his impossibly huge pecs.

The shear curvature of it made me start stroking it, and I felt my cock going completely rigid. He groaned, his eyes half closed, and started stroking his cock, so damn slow, pulling to the side, with every stroke stretching it, hinting at the size it could become. If I managed to get it hard. If. I didn’t know what to do, what he expected. I reached for the oil. “Aha! The cream goes first!” I heard him say. I took the cream and looked at him—what do I do with a moisturizing cream for God’s sake?! His eyes slowly went from me down toward his crotch. I opened the tube, and squeezed some of the clear cream onto my palm. I went down hesitating, still not understanding what he wanted, when it suddenly dawned to me. I smeared cream onto my palms, and went down, reluctantly touching his manhood I guess I was afraid it would have turned out to be a dream after all. His satisfied grunt told me that was exactly what he wanted.

The skin moved over it freely, it was practically shriveled. He was uncut, and holding it near the head was like holding a very thick, heavy silk rope by one end, while the other was tied to his crotch. It was completely flaccid, and as I smeared the cream and enjoyed every moment of it. I was amazed how it easily stretched by inches if I squeezed and pulled only a little. I didn’t even dare think what happens when he has a hard-on, and I managed to stifle down the hedonistic urge to pull at it only to get an inkling of the size it would become.

“Yes, good… smear it thick, all over…” he mumbled, as I added more and more of the cream. All of a sudden he opened his eyes and his arm moved to straighten his cock over his thigh which he did by pulling at it by the base. It made a faint slap. Then his hand started groping around the shelf until he found the tape measure. He tossed it to me, and just said, “Well?” I obediently took the measure. He pulled his hands away from his hose, and lifted up his crotch by trusting his hips upwards. God, what a monster—now that I had something to compare it with it looked even larger. I had to carefully straighten it and it reached down below his knees! I stretched the measure.

“So, how long is it?” he said, he’s eyes still closed. He put his arms behind his head which made his biceps bulge outward, losing the contest for precious space with his forearms and shoulders. When he rose his arms his pecs flattened only slightly, and his chin was pressing into the crevice between them.

“Jesus… It’s almost two feet, twenty-two and a quarter inches!” I said. In amazement I realized that a cock of those dimensions was never heard of.

“Hmm… I thought you were supposed to get it hard… and bigger…” he rumbled, softly. His abs twitched as he spoke and then continued to slowly rise and fall as he breathed. Shit—can you get bigger than this?!—I thought. And then, I had a sudden realization! The guts and the brain clicked in together—a sudden idea. Maybe a stupid, preposterous one, but I was sure, dead sure I knew. I knew what to do. And I knew why. I managed somehow to stifle down the lust boiling inside. This was going to need concentration, all the concentration I could muster. After all, I hadn’t done this for a long time.

I had not done anything with hypnosis since my university days, where it started as curiosity, went on through good fun into a way of supporting myself. But I knew the way, and it was almost as I had a guiding spirit. Somehow there was something strange about this whole situation, the guy obviously enjoyed himself but no hard-on? At his size a hardon is probably a matter of discussion, but still—he was completely soft! I had real trouble controlling my voice, and I finally started chanting and stroking him rhythmically. He only commented that it’s certainly a new approach, but, again, there was that change in his eyes and he cooperated wonderfully, which only added to my certainty. In fact, it was so easy … He did not even know when he went under. I remember distinctly finding it… well, funny, trying to practically tell someone ‘your cock will grow’ and keeping a straight voice, but in this case, I managed to suggest it, but not in so few words. I suggested that he’d start getting hard, after I say a key word, and sort of keep going on until I told him to stop. After the deed, I realized in surprise the darkest depths of my most secret desire—I always dreamt of feeling in flesh the biggest cock in the world. Only the thought of the size the freak in front of me could become pushed me to the brink of shooting my load. At his size it would take ages to get hard, if he got hard in any usable sense. I was sure that was his problem. I also made sure I used every way to convince him he could do it, and if I was right he wanted to do it, and for me to be there with him when he did was the fulfillment of my most secret desires. And now I had a chance at hand and I had something I wanted to prove—I wanted to see this preposterously, grotesquely overgrown mutant piece of man meat get so hard, so hard that there was no hard-on like it in history, and I hypnotically suggested exactly that. But then that was not all. I did not care about any consequences—I wanted to see how big the biggest is, I wanted him to grow more and more, to grow to unimaginable dimensions, to bloat up, to pump himself bigger and bigger. And then, to see him have the most earthshattering orgasm.

Then I said the keyword.

Nothing happened, except for him opening his eyes—a record in short recovery.

He seemed completely undisturbed by that fact, and handed me the bottle with the oil. “Let’s say I’m giving you a clue… just oil me up, it’ll help.” He said with remarkable calm. I poured oil from the bottle in a greasy line from his crotch right up to his pecs, and started rubbing it into him. My hands glided over him impeded by every bulge of his muscles, but as much as I pressed into him to make them flex, he neatly avoided it, smiling, because he knew what I wanted—and my part of the bargain was still not done. He was so hard, and had such control he could have played with me as long as he wished. Just as I started oiling his giant pecs, the sheer feeling of their impossible dimensions keeping the disappointment of my seeming defeat away, he started breathing more deeply.

“You’ll have to hurry it up… it seems you’ve been pressing the right buttons after all…” he just said. A single glance at his face told me it got going. I deliberately avoided a self-gratifying look, and took more of the oil to cover his arms. I did it very quickly, marveling for just a second at the fact that I would need a third hand to attempt to reach around. This way I couldn’t even attempt it, not by far.

“Yes… good…” he said, and I could not contain myself any longer, and neither could he. As soon as I stopped rubbing him, he reached down and pulled his hose up over his belly. It was a bit bigger, but still drooping, and it’s head was right over the crack between his pecs. There were only three inches to spare to his chin.

“Don’t you worry… It will take a while…” he said. He went over his pec with one arm, and I needed no more cues. I started stroking his pec again, intently looking down his abdomen where his hose rested cradled by the six huge bulges of his muscles.

At first it only swelled slightly, very slowly, getting about an inch and a half longer in the process, and only a bit thicker. I continued stroking his pecs which he flexed only a bit, and I groped them hard every time he did so. God, what volumes! I carefully avoided his cock, though. After about half a minute, I could feel his heart pumping as the veins along his lower abdomen slowly twitched and started bulging. “Ahhh—yes…” he sighed, and then it really started happening. In a matter of seconds it grew over an inch, and then it just kept going, getting longer and slightly thicker. I had to touch it, feel it growing in my hand. I carefully wrapped my hand about the middle of it, amazed that it was still soft. I could feel it twitching with this heartbeat. It was slowly stretching my hand, and it crawled in small jumps over his oiled belly.

He was still lying down, his preposterously big chest rising as he breathed deeply. It struck me that it was so big that he had to lift himself up to see his crotch over it. I started stroking him, mumbling to myself, stroking from crotch to head, the whole incredible length, which was getting bigger by the second, while he moaned like an animal. It was starting to curve to the side, twitching slightly, its head now pinned below his pecs. “Oh shit, it’s growing…” I blurted out, watching with an eerie feeling as he pulled it loose, and straightened it out. I never let it go, it was so heavy, and so hot… I was sure it had long broken any imaginable size record, as it grew, extending to the side, over his left pec.

“Oh…I’m getting really big…oh yes…” he started moaning, his eyes closed again. The urge came and I started licking it all over, feeling with my lips it’s giant length, it’s impossible thickness, it’s bulging veins, and it was hot, so hot. And it was far from hard. And then I felt it—he started ‘flexing’ it, pumping blood into it, I could feel how it stretched under my lips. “Oh yes, pump it up…” I said—but it sounded like licking, because that’s what I did, all the time stroking his bulging pecs.

“Bonus for you my friend, it’s never been this hard in my life…” I heard him say, and felt his hand on my back, stroking me. Hard? I was right—he was still soft, he never had a full hardon—but he was well on the way to having one now.

“Oh yes… lick it… is it big enough, huh?” he moaned in half slurred words “…don’t you worry, you’ll get more, its getting bigger… I can feel it…”

It was very difficult to stop licking him, going from the shaft of his pole to the nipple of his bloated pec which supported it. I did not want him to come, he had yet to get hard properly and I wanted to see that as it happened. I sat up.

“…oh yes… I’ll pump it up… oh God…” he moaned, his eyes closed, and I saw his cock flex and stretch even further. In what seemed seconds it grew even more and was already reaching over towards his shoulder.

“Fucking shit, how big do you get?”

“We’ll see…” he squeezed trough clenched teeth.

The sight froze me on the spot. I could not move—I felt my own cock hurting me with a once-in-a-lifetime-hard-on but I could not move—as he moaned, his mutant cock continued inflating, like a balloon, a thick throbbing vein running all the length of it. As the skin stretched, hundreds of small veins and bulges started showing. I heard his voice drone ‘I can feel it… it’s getting harder… I feel the hardness in… inside me… like riding on a steel rod…’

I just kept looking, transfixed. I had no idea where he got the blood to get it this big, and I didn’t really care. Watching even from this crazy angle, there was no doubt at all the beef-heap in front of me would have had trouble giving himself a blowjob because his over bloated fuckpole was too long. I suddenly remembered the tape measure—it was still somewhere near.

He suddenly moved, startling me as he sat up, and taking his tree-trunk sized manmeat by the root. My view was now obscured by the curtain of his back, but as he slowly lifted it the cockhead came fully into view over his shoulder.

‘Oh shit…’ I mumbled, I needed the tape measure badly—this wasn’t real! It was swinging slowly under it’s undoubtedly very considerable weight.

‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, whose’s the biggest of them all?’ I heard him say.

Surely, this is as large as it can possibly get, I thought—but that was not enough for him. He stood up, left fist around the base, barely covering the circumference, and his right holding it straight in front of him. If he wanted to reach the head he would have had to pull it upwards. Compared to this I had no cock to speak of. A voice kept repeating ‘this can’t be, this can’t BE’ in my head, as he held it there, before the mirror, looking at its reflection and wheezing like an animal. Suddenly I felt the tape measure in my hands, god only knows how it got there, but before I could come closer…

‘Not yet!’ he uttered ‘get the cream, now!!’

I obeyed, frantically searching for the tube, almost schizophrenically. I could see his reflection in the mirror. He looked like a tipped tripod, with the third leg of his mutant cock held up by his hands. Finally, I found it. I was beside him in a single jump, squeezing it so hard that the contents of the tube almost exploded onto his ramrod. I spread it all over as quickly as I could. He was trying to press himself into my hands, barely containing himself, but his legs twitched with that telltale jerking rhythm which gave off his intention, but he did manage to control himself.

‘Enough’ he muttered. He slightly altered his posture and shifted his grip. In utter amazement I watched him squeeze the base of his cock, and saw how the skin on it stretched before my very eyes. I was afraid even to move. Unbelievably, the underside became visibly thicker, and with each squeeze and pump it curved upwards some more, as a bow, with him moaning like an animal on every squeeze.

He was literally flexing it, and it twitched with every ‘flex’, growing still bigger, curving upwards and slightly to the side. He was still holding it with his right hand, gingerly from the underside, the skin slipping several times as it grew even longer. I watched, rooted to the spot, as he continued to literally inflate his cock. The sense of time passage returned when his incessant flexing started bringing ever smaller gains in size. The mid-section of his cock was now much wider than the root, and the head, which was even wider, glistened like purple glass. He still squeezed madly, all sweaty, incredible muscle shapes sticking out on his arm and abdomen with every squeeze. Finally, after several flexes resulted in no movement at all, he sighed, and opened his eyes, a strange look in them. I swear I saw a glint there which gave me the creeps.

He very carefully lowered it a bit, so blatantly showing it off by pushing his hips forward, still flexing it—I could see his balls twitch. He moved his right hand toward the head, but stopped mid way, holding the gigantic trunk of his cock from underneath, not being able to reach any further, without pulling it up again. If he could squeeze only a drop of blood more into it, he would have, no matter what. He held it so, watching his image in the mirror, puffing and wheezing, which inflated his huge chest to the point where I thought it would rip his skin.

‘Yeah…that’s what I call hard…really hard…’ he said. “Now you measure it.”

I realized the tape measure was in my hand. As I approached, he moved his hands a bit. With much hesitation I put one end of the tape onto the spot where his impossible organ jutted from his abdomen. Two veins bulged immensely on the sides. It looked like even the smallest scratch would make it explode. With great care to cover all of its curve, I unrolled the tape over the top of the biggest cock ever, going from the root forward and up over the slightly tapering trunk that then got wider again. Ten inches. Wider again, gingerly feeling the bulges of the big veins. It had a feeling of a hot steel rod that I savored as I passed over his right hand. Twenty inches. It still curves higher, now at the level of my chest, tapering again, the skin getting lighter as I reach what would have been the foreskin, were it not stretched out, the blood engorged tissue underneath forming thousands of small bumps. I reach the crown of his cockhead, jutting out like a giant mushroom, and go over it, hearing his sighs, as I pass the corona, flaring wider than my fist, stretching the tape further over the dark purple balloon of his cockhead, and reach the piss slit. Thirty and a half inches of meat. With trembling hands I measure the circumference of the thickest part to be eleven and a quarter inches. I could actually feel myself going mad at the sight.

‘Get the bottle…’ he says. I take the bottle with the remains of the lube and squeeze it into the palm of his left hand, outstretched to me. He was not holding the base of his cock any more, but it lost none of the hardness at all.

The veins over the root pulsed faintly, trying to get still more blood into it.

He quickly spread the lube over his abs and half his chest.

‘Hold it’ he said, and I gingerly took his engorged organ right beside his right hand. He started letting go, and it sank down a bit. It was so heavy and I was unprepared.

‘Careful…’ he moaned. I was holding it, about ten inches inwards from the head. He let go of it. Hanging down it would have reached his ankles. He took the bottle from me and managed to spread some of the contents over his chest and arms, taking care not to move too much. If I let his cock fall I thought it would probably tear the ligaments that held it and tear itself off his crotch.

The crazy idea of him fucking me was so strong, but incredibly some reason remained—he would probably tear me and himself apart. He could literally spear me through with it.

Suddenly, he moved, faced the mirror. He looked at his own impossible reflection for a second, panting.

‘Ohhh, look at me, I’m really huge, huh?’ he whispered. Watching in wonder I started stroking it over with my hand, still holding it as steady as I could with the other. ‘Oh…a….ah…’ he moaned as I went over the rim ‘Oh Jesus… jack me off… oh yeah…’ he said. ‘Do it…’ and then before I could see what’s coming he did a lat pose, slowly spreading until his lats filled out the space between the rest of his torso and his elbows. That was too much for me.

In front of me there was the strongest, biggest, most desirable male—a superman in every respect, strutting, flexing and inflating himself, showing off like a bull-frog. He looked ready to burst his seams. Inside my head a switch flicked from ‘human’ to ‘animal’. My tortured manhood was by now engorged as never before, all dripping with precum, lust taking over what precious little was left of the rational mind. All at once I had the impressions of his inflated chest, his pumped up pecs, the granite of his mountainous abs, his lats flaring at an improbable angle, the corded pillars of his legs, and the impossible size and shape of his manhood, swelled to grotesque and gigantic dimensions by his incessant pumping, as I held it in my hands, and his back fully flexed. I could feel my balls twitch as I started rubbing him uncontrollably. He started moaning as an animal and then he suddenly inflated his chest to the max, and then it felt like a lightning strike.

It came like a flash, I had never experienced something like it in my life. I must have been shaking like a maniac, still trying to hold his pole while jerking him off, my cock exploding with eruptions of hot jizz all over me, him, the mirror, without me even touching it, shooting gobs of my milky juice yards away. It felt like pissing, unending, but I never shifted gaze from him.

He held the pose, flexed to the point of cramping, his face holding a mask of a man screaming, but without a sound. His abs twitched uncontrollably and he stabbed forward with his hips playing dangerously with my precarious balance.

His balls were twitching in orgasm, trying to pump his sperm into the shaft of his cock. I swear I felt his cock swell as he came. But nothing came out of the piss-slit for several seconds, and then there were waterfalls. I still continued rubbing him until he finally unwound and took his cock with both hands. It was dribbling gobs of his manjuice when I finally let it go. I slumped onto the bed and he leaned onto the mirror, passing slowly from the root to the head of his monster manhood, squeezing, a stream of jizz coming out of the piss-slit every time he would reach the head, holding his cock almost straight into the air to accomplish this. It was long enough to reach his forehead. He really could not give himself a blowjob without bending it down.

We stayed that way for a while—I have no idea how long. But his ultra-erection had no intention of ebbing—in fact I could have sworn it looked even bigger.

‘I knew you would be doing something right…just tell me you can do it again’ he said. I shook my head affirmatively.

‘God… it must be thirty inches long… and it’s hard’ he utters.

‘Even longer…’ I hear myself rasp. ‘I’d like to know about the rest of you…’ God I don’t believe I said that! He laughed, but then slowly kneeled, keeping his knees wide, so that it ended up a sort of a half kneel and half squat. He gingerly let his monstrous pole down onto the rug. God, what a scene—I felt the rush of blood again. It extended so far that he couldn’t reach the head of his own cock without bending it up. I did the same, half squatting directly in front of him, his cock passing between my legs and inches under my ass. My sights were again glued to his pecs. I started stroking them and he obediently flexed them into huge and hard mounds of freaky flesh.

Then he literally inflated his chest by breathing in as deep as possible and then flexed his pecs so his chest stood out practically horizontally. I didn’t even try to stop a gasp of satisfaction at the feeling of it harden and grow under my hands, forming warm, bulging cords.

‘Jesus…how can you be so big…’ I muttered more to myself, stroking him, until I finally succumbed and still stroking went down over his huge shoulder to feel and squeeze his arm. It was so big, his bicep bulged even totally relaxed.

I could not even get a grip around it’s elongated, football shaped bulk with one hand, there were inches to spare. ‘…huge fucking beef…’ it was like hearing someone else talk. Suddenly I realized I must have been mumbling like that all the time, groping him and squeezing, not believing the volumes under my hands.

He was obviously getting a kick out of it as well as I did, moaning and whispering encouragements to me. I didn’t even want to guess at the size of him, I wanted to know it exactly. In a regrettable glance past his yard-wide physique I noticed the tape measure on the floor. There were some things I just had to do. Making sure my touch never left his skin, I took the tape. First things first—I carefully wrapped it around his arm, as he helped me rising it a bit, where I guessed it would peek the most. He knew exactly when to start flexing, so maddeningly slowly.

‘…Yeah…flex it…pump it up big…’ I started as he first raised his arm, which made the huge gob of flesh that was his triceps hang down. I had only fractions of a second to check out the cold measure before he started bringing up his forearm stretching the tape. It was definitely something over 28 inches, that’s all I could see before it started getting larger by the second as he slowly flexed. His half-hanging biceps first rose to life again forming that foot-ball shape and as he brought his forearm higher it started getting shorter and then round, almost a perfect ball. With great control he stretched the flex in time to my utter enjoyment, as the separate heads started showing on his biceps as it became shorter and higher, and his triceps became a collection of thick cords. He then slowly pulled his elbow inwards and slightly down, making way for a full biceps flex and then turned his wrist inward fully flexing.

‘Fucking shit!’ I exclaimed as his bulging peak suddenly became higher and grew a further peek of the second head of the muscle, breaking all size records by far, the big cords of his triceps dividing into smaller cords. Even with his long-boned frame there was only what looked like a bit more than two inches to spare between the tip of his engorged biceps to his clenched fist. I almost unconsciously adjusted the measure, which read something over 30 inches, I didn’t even check! My god, there were people whose waists were that big! The flexed muscle of his forearm pushed out a network of bulging veins. He had the most freakishly shaped biceps of all times, bulging almost twice as high a its length, so that the tendon holding it to the elbow joint now stood vertically under his skin. His skin was stretched so much that it became visibly lighter.

He pumped it up and down very slightly squeezing so hard I could hear his tendons groan, regaining pump, and soon the ends of the tape popped out of my hand. I let the tape fall down to feel this steel mountain of a muscle with both hands, for which there was plenty of space, and as soon as I started squeezing I felt his cock rise and fall between my legs as he started jacking off by rubbing it into the soft carpet, his arm under mine and behind my back.

In a second we synchronized perfectly, my right hand rubbing my cock into his monster, his left rubbing it into me and stroking, and my left squeezing and groping madly the oiled balloon of the biceps of his right, which he continued pumping up and down, making me feel it ebb and grow back to its out of this world dimensions. Our voices became a collection of grunts, hisses, sighs, and finally wails as I experienced the fire of orgasm again, spraying his chest with more jizz than I ever thought I had. I almost fell back as I tried to drop down to reach his own fountain in time, distant because of the preposterous size of his manhood, moving as he started spreading my jizz over his pecs with his hand, his pecs which twitched uncontrollably telling me together with the expression on his face about the rising roar in his head. I practically lied down before it, my cock still dribbling, unwilling to even touch his spear, and wrapped my lips as much as I could over his cockhead, managing to get them around little more than his piss-slit, teasing it with my tongue. He shouted the same instant, barely managing to hold himself from falling over, and this time I was sure his hose swelled, as I waited for it to fill me up with pints of his man-juice. It took several seconds for it to reach the great distance from his big balls, while I licked him. Finally I was rewarded by a gush of thick, hot liquid. He tasted sweet, and of something reminding me of almonds. Streams lashed my tongue as he moaned like an animal, again and again.

What followed is more than a bit hazy. I remember I watched him half-sprawled on the floor. It took almost ten minutes for his hardon to start going flaccid. We were both spent and he even dozed off on the floor. I the next few minutes his shaft started wrinkling and grew noticeably shorter. About that time I found the moisturizing cream bottle and managed to wring the last of the cream out to spread it over his cock, to keep the irritation down. The stroking woke him up and we moved to the bed. We slept together, reeking of sweat and come, completely spent out.

The night was full of dreams of him, as I felt the bulges of the huge muscles of his body touch me and press into me, and I could feel his long cock spread over my body a few times, a feeling impossible to describe.

Part 2

I woke up to a feeling of something moving beneath me. Half-dazed I realized I was using his chest as a pillow and he moved under me. He moved away, and I heard him rise and walk away. Then there was a brief period of nothing when I drifted back to half-sleeping, and then I woke with a start The first thing I remember seeing when I opened my eyes to the gloom was him standing in front of the mirror. It turned out there was a closet behind it and he was taking out fresh towels. I could clearly feel the stains from yesterday on the bed sheets.

It must have been past mid-day. He was stark naked. He turned to me and threw the towel at me.

‘Care to have a bath?’ he asked, smiling. The dark was being sliced by thin slits of sun squeezing through the closed blinds, which I hadn’t even noticed from the outside, putting narrow bands of light over his body, showing tantalizing parts of it. In a band of light I could see his grin and the top of his pecs. As he moved the light exposed narrow, whirling slices of his body. He turned around and his whole face appeared in the light. God, he was beautiful.

This play of light was maddening, describing impossible illusions when he moved with that incredible grace, so hard to connect with his huge body. It was like the world itself moved out of the way to adjust to his passage. I could see curves forming in the half-light as he moved, walking around, picking up the remains of yesterday. When he walked you could really feel the floor shake. He was so huge, so hard, but yet so fantastically agile. It is a difficult thing to describe—human knowledge only had to choose from mere humans in describing perfection, never knowing of something like him. Grace does not even begin to describe it, now that I think of it. His body in motion had the determination of time itself. It was powerful… and sexy beyond belief. I had all the invitation I needed. ‘Just let me deal with the call of nature’ I replied, and there was a chuckle from the gloom.

When I returned after locating what seemed like the only door in his apartment, he had opened the blinds halfway, exactly the proper illumination. He was still naked and walked over, no trace of any shame imposed by taboos of the society.

They hardly applied to him anyway, I thought. ‘Oh boy…’ It escaped my mouth before I could stop it. He just looked at me inquisitively. ‘Were you not…smaller?’ I asked cautiously. It took a while for him to realize what I was getting at.

There was no doubt his cock was flaccid but now it was longer, it looked almost as long as it was when hard, and it was slightly thicker than flaccid. Only some inches more and it would have reached his ankles. He looked down.

‘I thought you would be the last person to complain…’ he said. ‘Morning high?

Or maybe it gets bigger with exercise like the rest of me…’ ‘Well, I hope it still fits your underwear’ I said. He just waved his hand. ‘I don’t wear any, but even if I did I wouldn’t mind. Bit of a problem if it started dragging on the floor, but I know you wouldn’t mind…’ he answered. I chose to take that as a joke, but after last night I couldn’t help wondering. It was quite painful getting out of the bed, in fact I felt every joint in my body.

He went out, and that was a good reason to hurry it up.

When I finally located the bathroom, I found him already sprawled in the huge recessed tub. He beckoned me to join him—there was space, the tub looked more like a small pool. It was quite disorienting not to have walls in such a large place as his. But, there had to be some logic, after all—it was walled off right over where the showers were in the gym below. I stepped in. The water was surprisingly hot and it took me a few minutes to get used to it. Thank God for hot baths.

He moved over a little, to make enough space for both of us. He still took up most of the space, and as the water soothed me out of the morning drowsiness, his body, soaking right next to mine, but not touching, took more and more of my attention.

‘It seems the tub’s too small’ I said. He was looking at me, and I returned his gaze. He was breathing slowly, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. It made his huge chest heave and his abs twitch. His gaze was somehow soft, his eyes looked…relaxing.

‘Man, you’re monstrous…’ I said, more to myself. My hand had already found its way up his abs and over his pecs. No matter how many times I did it, I couldn’t get over stroking them, simply for their shape, bulging size too large for the skin over them. He sighed, approvingly. In a sudden fit of pique I embraced him around the chest, not managing to get my hands meet, although I could just feel I needed only a hair’s width. He was really huge, probably close to 80 inches around the chest. My face was right in front of him, and I couldn’t help but lick the crevice between his pecs. He flinched to the feel of my tongue, which made his pecs twitch and puff up, and then slowly relax, as I explored the bulges and cords that appeared under his skin, before they disappeared again. I could feel his slow heartbeat as my tongue went upwards, under his chin, and my hands downwards, exploring his back, and then up again. Before I could reach his shoulders, he moved and raised his arms. It made his lats which were already in the way spread out even more, and the large bands of his intercostals pop out through his skin like long narrow cobblestones. Reaching his upper back, I had new bulges to feel. My hands went down again and up his flanks, and then squeezed his jutting lats. I enjoyed every second of it. I looked him right in his eyes. ‘What’s this thing you do with your eyes?’ I asked. He laughed which made his lats jump. He looked back at me. ‘What, this?’ he said, and then something happened, that strange subtle shift, but for a second it kept going and it was like I could feel I was glowing, a tingle in my spine, but then it stopped. It was such a surprise I realized I had stopped stroking him, and then I continued, gazes still locked. He grunted approvingly, but…it…was gone. He closed his eyes as he was enjoying it as much as I was.

He held his hands together and as I felt upwards, brought them behind his back.

His biceps literally inflated themselves into balls of freaky flesh, and he wasn’t even flexing. I felt them over, full, but hanging. They stretched his skin in patterns I never imagined possible. The water made his skin slippery, and I groped his still hanging football sized flesh madly, trying to get a hold onto it’s too large bulk. The feeling was so maddeningly sexual that it made me completely forget about the two feet of his cock I could feel touching my leg.

‘I’d be afraid to flex…’ I whispered, more to myself. ‘You mean like this?’ he said and flexed his biceps. They jumped up, swelling, and in the position his arms were in, they looked even bigger than the night before. “Jesus!” I uttered, and started squeezing the huge ballooning gob of his biceps. That shape was maddening, it was just stronger than me. “One of these days you’re gonna pump it too big…” He just laughed again. “There’s no such thing as too big…”

I looked at him. He’s eyes were still closed. “So how big do you want to get?” I asked.

He opened he’s eyes and looked at me. “Just bigger…” he stood there watching.

I could not help my imagination wander. Bigger? But, as I said, I was a believer—especially since proof was right here, under my squeezing hands. “Speaking of which, I think I’ll need a hand…” he said, and looked down. So did I. It was blatantly obvious he was having a hard-on. He had spread his huge legs apart to make space for his cock to stretch freely over the bottom of the tub, and the water and soap foam could not hide that it already reached as far as his legs did.

“I always wanted to know how big it really gets…’ he said, conversationally.

“Well, now you know. You’re the biggest.” I answered.

He laughed that raspy laugh of his again. “I’ve known that since I was 14. Today it does not mean the same thing. I liked yesterday, and I’d like more of it.” I just looked at him, not understanding, but his eyes were closed and he continued breathing, faster. I reached down his abs, under the water and held him around the base of his gigantic mantool. “Well, who am I to argue…”

“No…I…You misunderstood…” he started, and then it dawned to me—I looked at him, surprised.

‘You mean…’ He nodded before I finished. “C’mon—you can’t mean?! I just couldn’t believe it! He wanted more of his own cock! He wanted it bigger!”

‘Ungrateful fucking—don’t you think you’ve got it big enough, huh? How big do you want it then?’ I was sure nothing could surprise me any more, but was I wrong!”

‘It is not what I want, it is what I have. It’s what you want’ he said, and closed his eyes.

This was utter madness. And the most maddening thing was that I liked it! But too much is too much, I thought, and quickly uttered another word. It was supposed to cancel out the hypnotic suggestion from yesterday, but he only laughed. ‘You’re not that stupid and you know it’ he just said, not even opening his eyes. I was beginning to get scared but then he opened his eyes and there was this look of…invulnerability and I knew that I couldn’t have done nothing if he didn’t let it be so.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, but he only smiled. I let my hand search under water and found his pole. His hands were also under water, and I could feel him pumping his cock. I could clearly feel it getting a bit longer with every squeeze and then ebbing back. He obviously believed he could pump it even bigger! ‘Careful, I don’t want to come’ he said. I could almost hear the rest of it in my head: ‘there are some ways even I can’t go’.

The foam had dispersed somewhat. I propped myself up to look at his hose, I just could not help it. I could not get a clear view, or at least I made myself think I couldn’t—I went down tracing his cock from his crotch and I thought I saw his foot. I didn’t even bother looking further, and pulled the plug out.

‘The tape’s right there’ he beckoned, and I noticed it in the soap holder I plunged my hand back into the water and found his clenched around the base of his cock. I wrapped mine around it, just over his.

‘Yes, do it, pump it up… yes, more… come on…’—I realized it was me cheering him, I didn’t recognize my own voice at first. Suddenly I realized that the swellings got larger and the ebbings smaller. He just continued pumping, but something was strange here. He must have been bigger already than yesterday and he was still not as hard. The fucking thing probably never distended to its maximum dimensions before yesterday, I thought, or he simply had more blood available since he hadn’t pumped up his muscles. It must have been longer already and it was still growing! I let go and he shifted, ending up sitting on his heels with his knees apart. The water was still high and his crotch remained under the foam. I looked at him—with his pumping he could go on until…?

‘Shit, what are you trying to do?’ ‘Damn it, I don’t care if it bursts!’ He growled, startling me ‘Then make it burst you freak, I want to see that’ I blurted out, and gave myself the fright of a lifetime! What was I saying?! I realized I was shaking. But it was not terminal fear, it was… terminal sex. He continued wheezing and pumping it up, and another me took and unwrapped the tape measure. The hot water helped circulation and this inflated his cock even further. I could now see his three-inch thick shaft slowly swell and slip over the bottom. As the water slowly drained and more of his body came clearly into view. He was holding both hands around the base of his cock. It looked as if he was holding a bent cannon shaft, which was getting exposed further and further as the water went down.

‘Oh yeah… more…’ I mumbled on. It was all skewed and bent, shiny stretched skin except several very visible discolorations that could only have been stretch marks. He was wincing. It must have been engorged to the point of pain.

The water went down and suddenly it was all out.

‘Oh my… fuck!’ I managed to blurt out—I thought I would pass out! It was fucking impossible! He growled, panting. “I want you…to measure it when I come, I’ll… hold off…I’ll try…’ I was at the end of the line anyway. ‘Yeah…c’mon, flex it…’ I hear myself saying, jacking mine off so fast I was cramping.

‘Arghh… I’m…doing it…’ he shouts, and I could not hold it off any more, the water had drained almost completely and I plugged it back with the last bit of consciousness I had. His grotesquely inflated meet stretched what looked as a yard in front of him. It was so big I was sure he couldn’t reach to its head.

Then I came. It was so violent and stuffed in such a very short time that I blacked out for a second. When I came to he was still in the same pose with his eyes shut, and I had my own cum dripping down my hair. I didn’t make a sound. I took the measure as soon as I could. There was only an inch or so of water in the tub and I was sure he was about to come only by looking at himself, at his cock. He slowly stroked it, stretching as far as he could reach, with both hands.

‘oohhh…look at me, I’m the fucking biggest…’ he said. It was distended so much it had turned dark red and the head had an almost brown tone to it. The piss-slit was gaping open and the foreskin was stretched over six inches, making a lighter band of skin right below the head. The skin was in fact stretched so much it looked like glass and the skin of his crotch was pulled over the base of his cock so that the part with the little hair he had was around the base.

‘Get ready’ he hissed, and I stretched the tape beside it. Then he slowly went into that ‘flex it all’ pose. Cords of muscle showed up on his chest and arms, but I knew—he was actually posing, showing off his cock. The sight got me so hot that I thought I was going to burst in flames. He took it carefully around the base holding one end of the tape, and did something I’ll remember for the rest of my life—he held it up with his left hand, and then pushed out his crotch, and did a one-armed biceps pose with his right, holding what looked like three feet of his impossibly bloated fuckmeat up in the air. I stumbled toward him and held it, and he went into a one-leg kneel, It looked like a huge sword of flesh, curving upwards, I had to stand up to get to the tip of his cock with the tape.

‘I’m so big…I’m big as a house…’ he started, but it became wincing. He quickly kneeled almost toppling over. He was still trying to pump it even bigger! ‘Burst you fucking…!’ he said, it sounded like sobbing.

‘Ohhh…shit. I’m…Aaaahhh!!’ he shouted—he was coming, and I could feel it.

I swear I could feel him getting harder! He shouted, and continued wailing uncontrollably, and then he did a double biceps pose, growling like an animal. I felt his jizz getting through, and then it just flowed out of his humongous piss-slit as a single shaft of liquid. I continued trying to hold him and stretch the tape at the same time, smaller spurts splattering all over. He was in a most-muscular pose and flexed madly, cramping, as gobs of his juice continued spewing from his pole, wincing with every flex. I swear his pecs pumped up more and more with every flex. When he finally caught his breath, I was still stroking him, very, very slowly. He panted for several seconds, and then propped himself up slowly, while I lowered his spear of meat down. I was afraid something like this might happen. His coming seemed to have pumped his monster to the maximum possible limit. It was hard as stone and completely inflexible, like it was an iron bar. And I was so hot over it I must have radiated like a stove. ‘Shit… it’s so hard it burns…’ he said. ‘…and it won’t go down’ Now that the stupor has subsided a bit I could get a look at it with a little more sanity. I found the measure again. He could do nothing but stay that way, and I suspected the condition wouldn’t last very long. There are no words to describe how he looked, something like him has never been seen before.

His cock was very thick, especially in the middle, where it flattened and widened, and bent upwards. It was over 12 inches around the thickest part, and form above it looked as an immensely elongated ‘S’. It did not look very thick simply because it was now 37 inches long.

The cockhead was huge, blunt, far longer than it was wide and dark purple, and there were stretch marks over its skin, which was no wonder. Except for that it was stretched until it shined like glass. There were also stretch marks on the skin of the shaft, in the middle, where it was thickest. It was dark red with irritation and all swollen and lumpy—there is simply no better word—with veins and it’s own freaky flesh. Couple that with a body exploding with muscle—my God, not even the statues of the most wildly imagined sex gods looked like him. I needed no imagination anymore—the God was right there and he was mine.

He suddenly rose out of the tub and lied on his back on the edge. He caught me around my hips with his legs and I knew what he wanted. ‘But I’ve ne…’ was all I could say before he grabbed my cock practically pulling me in, so I ended holding his knees apart while he stroked his pole which was sticking in the air right over him. He was fantastically flexible and it made his thighs which were bigger around than my chest produce such bulges it was just incredible to look at them. I was moist from my cum and his and he relaxed his glutes, and practically pulled me into him. The second I touched his hole he squeezed me in with his legs. I’m not exactly small compared to the norm but he pushed so strong it was painful—but then, I was suddenly in to the hilt, and he started stroking himself, shifting slightly, which made his innards do a most incredible massage, helped by his twitching glutes. I bent forward. His monster shaft was right beneath my mouth and I started drooling and licking it over, as far as I could reach, and then held it with one hand close to the head and started stroking. The second I took it, barely being able to hold it around, he held me by the shoulder. At the first stroke he moaned and squeezed his hand so I thought he would crumple me but he stopped just in time.

Then both of us started stroking, and I started pumping, and then it got faster and faster and there were grunts, moans and then I felt it coming from my toes upwards and then he almost screamed as I redoubled the speed, and he squeezed his muscles hard, including the one I was fucking and it hurt, I could feel my shoulder getting to the point of jumping out of its socket. I heard myself cum with such force that it burnt, and I spurted what seemed like dozens of times.

Then I felt him shuddering from the inside and I felt his balls move on my gut and his come going through the length of the shaft. Then we were both sprayed as it bounced off the wall and then, then I felt I could breathe no more as I came again, several spurts more. I almost fell backwards because he spread his legs.

My cock went out of him with a clearly audible sound as he continued stroking and milking himself, and I continued shooting all over him.

When I came back to the living, I still felt convulsions in my balls, and his come was still streaming down his cock, which was now smaller but still half-hard, and lying over his right arm, while his left was rubbing our combined juices into his abs and pecs. I crawled over to him and tried to lean over him, when he opened his eyes, looking straight into mine. I felt like my whole body was a bell struck with a hammer in order to sound its best tone ever. It was like for a second I was everywhere and then in a flash of light collected myself back into my body. I felt something warm beneath me and around me and behind my ear, and awoke to him kissing me, hugging me down to his chest. The…feeling… was still there seconds after, disappearing somewhere in my toes and fingers.

A little later, we were back in the tub/pool, this time really relaxing in the warm water after a good wash. We both managed to get in to the neck ‘Why me?’ I asked him, finally. He sighed, and then chuckled silently.

‘Ah… I don’t exactly know…’ he said, looking at me through half closed eyelids ‘But I’ll try my best over breakfast…’About half an hour later I had discovered that he was also a good cook. It took him about 15 minutes to jump into some very baggy sweatpants and whip up some concoction while I finally discovered at least one thing that happened between the gym and his apartment—stairs, that’s what. I went down to the gym, using the stairs that came out through a door in the corridor connecting the gym with the back door. My clothes were a good pointer as parts of them were distributed along the way. I entered slowly, relieved that there was no one in the locker room. I rummaged quickly through my locker and found a T-shirt and shorts to put on.

I could hear there was somebody there and I didn’t want to get caught wearing only a towel, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Once I got back it was very easy to sit at the table, across him, and delve into this strange salad he did. After the last 18 hours or so I really needed some sustenance, and this was really delicious, egg, pickles and a ton of tuna, with very good seasoning. After several satisfying gulps I started looking at him. He was munching it down with such determination, the huge heap in front of him methodically becoming smaller. Anyone might have expected that to maintain this body he should eat like a pig, but instead his eating was done with almost surgical precision. His movements were… strange in a way, no—different, and I realized this was not surprising—his shoulders were wider than the table. He was definitely in a league of his own with size, so one could expect he had a special way of moving. He noticed I was looking.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Well, for starters, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are several unusual things about you…’ I started, and he almost bit on his fork and started laughing ‘Obviously you look yourself in the mirror from time to time, and I think you don’t see someone like me in it. And then there’s that… what you did back there, it felt…’ he wasn’t laughing any more. ‘I think you owe me some explanation, don’t you?’ I finished.

‘Ahh… I wish I knew how to put this…’ he looked at me. ‘First of all, give yourself some credit’ he said, and I was just about to tell him he’s not getting away with a load of bull, but he stopped me by continuing: ‘Only a man knows what a man is… how to touch… what a cock feels like… and you are not afraid of knowing what you are and what exactly you want…’ he whisked away a few more mouthfuls.

“…but maybe that’s not a good answer.’ I didn’t exactly get what he was saying, but there was something in it…

He put his fork down, and then he put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together and lowered his head down, his forehead resting on his hands. It made his pecs bunch up so that his chin dug into them and his traps went up to the level of his ears. He sighed, but it ended in that raspy throaty chuckle of his.

“What do you think would happen if I went down those stairs and into that gym, right now?” he asked without rising his head. “I’ve done that a few times, when I was younger, and smaller, you know…”

That was really difficult to imagine, but it must have been a hell of a sight.

He lifted his head back up and resumed eating, finishing his meal. I knew he didn’t expect that answer.

“Most of them would be surprised that they sported a hard-on which they would not even admit to themselves. A few would… but the common thing to all would be that they’d all be juicing themselves up to their ears in a week. And imagine I wasn’t wearing anything?”. He reminded me of a nagging question.

“So, then you say you’re not on the juice?” I asked, cautiously.

He chuckled again. “I was really starting to wonder when you were going to ask that, others did… but I’ve underestimated you again it seems, the first thing they would be interested in was what I was using. I’ll answer one question in advance—yes, of course there were others, but you seem like the right one, and if I was asking I’m sure your answer would be the same.” He drank out of his huge glass, the mineral water disappearing in a second. Then he wiped himself clean and just said, “No”.

I laughed out loud, I could not help it. He just clasped his hands below his chin and looked at me.

When I stopped he said, “Not that I didn’t try it, but it ended down the toilet together with everything I had eaten for the following three days… but let me show you something…” he said and almost extruded himself from underneath the table. He went toward the far side of the room.

I forced myself to look away from his exposed back, so incredibly wide over a waist only slightly bigger around than his arm. Instead I looked around at his place. No walls, except for the partial walling off of the bed, and the separate toilet and bathroom. No doors if it could be helped. No wonder, in any normal home he simply would not fit. When he doubled back, I was not so successful, noticing clearly the outline of his super-cock dangling down the left leg of his pants.

He gave me a picture which had seen better days. I didn’t see it at first, but…

“That’s you?!”

“Yes, that’s me, I just turned 14 on that picture” On the picture there was a lanky boy who looked like his bones were several sizes too large (especially the shoulders), surrounded by a muddy beach, a lake and some shrubbery. But the face was his, although it was a boyish face of anger and shame mixed. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and his hands were in front covering a huge bulge on his shorts, which was all he was wearing.

“The other kids used to call me “bones”…my family was a very conservative one, and I’ve discovered jacking off at about that age. Shortly after, I first saw another guy with a hard-on, and I was shocked at the difference. That’s the first time I ever measured my cock, and it was 14 inches long, flaccid. I was also shocked that it never became as hard. Puberty hit me properly at around 15, and I started doing weights then, really seriously just before I turned 16. In a matter of months I gained over 100 pounds of muscle. I remember I just couldn’t stop eating. Then I got sent to boarding school. I learned afterwards the real reason was they were really scared of me, not yet 17, I was over 300 pounds of wild teenager meat. If nothing else, I’d empty the contents of the pantry every few days’ he laughed.

“And I didn’t want to stop. Everything on me grew, and by the time I was 18, my cock was 20 inches long. During that time, my body would grow and I discovered the more I lifted, the better the hard-on. It has to do with the amount of blood as my body grew, but for me the connection was more muscle—harder cock. Just what I wanted. That’s how I got introduced to the juice. I wanted to get a step further. I don’t even remember what it was I bought but the guy I bought it from looked at me as if I was mad, and got richer beyond expectation in the following months. Word did get around. I gave it a shot and I never felt that bad in my life. I ended up at the local doctor’s, with severe dehydration. It was a shock—I was never really ill in my life. And I lost tens of pounds.”

I wondered what that doctor must have thought, seeing him. As if he read my thoughts, he continued: “He gave me a thorough once-over. Was he surprised! He wanted to write about me to a medical journal but I didn’t like the idea.

Shortly after that I lost my parents, and I moved back here.” He paused, no doubt reminiscing. I didn’t want to intrude.

“Anyway… my body chemistry is different. It is practically impossible for me to accumulate fat—I seem to have a fixed level, and I’d probably gain some muscle even if I didn’t lift a finger. If I eat too much I get bad indigestion and if I really go overboard, or eat really fatty food, I get really sick. Also, If I tried to do juice, I’d probably die, either of dehydration because of being sick all the time, and not being able to eat or drink, or of anaphylactic shock. It’s not as if I need it anyway.”

“Are you saying…that you are still growing?” I asked incredulously—as far-fetched as the story was, he was living proof of it. I couldn’t help wonder… he laughed out loud, it made his face beam, and his abs corrugate into rounded mountains under his skin.

“Depends what part you want to know about…” he said and chuckled. I could see he found this really amusing. “OK, OK…” he said, calming down, shaking his head, “Ah, that was a good trick you did yesterday…” he started and I knew what he meant. Oh boy, he-men can really be infuriating!”

‘Come on, you and I both know really well that I could not have hypnotized you in a million years…’ I started, and he finished ‘If I didn’t allow it…” he smiled, and looked me directly in the eye. “You’re really something, you know. But anyway, no, I don’t think my…private…parts can get any bigger…” I could clearly see in his eyes that he was trying not to laugh “…anyway they haven’t since I was 19 or so, not that I had much chance to test that. Yesterday was really the first time after… who knows, but I can hardly wait for more ‘testing’, although I’ll have to be more careful’ He said, and held my shoulder.

“But I doubt I would ever be able to get a hard-on if I wasn’t this big. It seems nature has a way of balancing things” My shoulder was still sore and I had a clearly visible bruise where his thumb squeezed. “Not that I would mind if it grew, but it’s getting difficult to do myself…” he said, smiling.

“Well, I’ll do you every fucking time,” I said, my mouth running on automatic.

But he only smiled and said, “I’m sure you would, or should I say—you will…”

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and squeezed a little, amicably.

He had that warm glint in his eyes again, and I knew he probably couldn’t hurt a fly on purpose. Be that as it may, I cringed a bit. He could break my neck like a twig, with two fingers. “You don’t know how powerful you are,” I said, shifting my shoulder.

“I don’t really care these days, I just want to see how far I’ll go…” he said. Unbelievable!

“Until what?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Until I hit a limit of some kind…so far I have not. I’ve told you, there’s no such thing as too big”. He looked at me, and I looked at him. My gaze automatically drifted to his pecs, taking in his shoulders and arms. I could not help imagining how they would look bigger, it was hard even believing what I was looking at right now. I felt the start of a hard-on, and I didn’t even try to stop it.

“Hey, hey, hey—I know that look… I know you can’t wait to see my assets, but not until tonight…”

I realized why I found him at the gym. He had to have it for himself simply not to be interfered with, and for the fact he probably needed all the weights he could get.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you only a quick test…put your hands like this,” he said, rising, and walking over towards the middle of the room, showing me how to hold my forearms together. I did that, crossing my arms together and holding tight as he asked.

“Now rise them up and hold tight,” he said, as I put my tangled arms over my head. He pushed his hand between the top of my head and my arms, gripped with the power of a vise-clamp, and pulled up. It was a very unstable condition but I could feel my toes leave the ground, as he lifted me with a side lift of sorts.

It made his arm become a mass of tied cable, and his shoulder became a three-lobed melon of muscle.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. I could hear his tendons crackle as his whole body got tense, dividing and subdividing into cords over bulges. I looked down to find his right pant leg distended with the mass of his flexed thigh underneath, as it was holding most of our combined weight. But he never so much as shivered, and he even started teasing me with his other hand, smiling like it was the most natural thing to do.

“Enough?” he asked, chuckling. I just nodded.

“Ah, pity, I haven’t even started to feel a pump…” he said, stretching his arms above his head. It made his lats literally unfurl. “Mmmm… that felt good,” he said, and stretched, so that his lats flexed outwards even more, and his intercostals looked like they would pop out of his skin, they were so huge. I grabbed his jutting lats as well as I could, for the size of them, and squeezed, and dived down between his pecs with my chin, licking. He moved out of the way so fast I almost fell.

“Hey, no tickling… at least not until tonight”.

“Jeez, come on…” I almost cried like a baby. “…then please at least put something on, I’m not going to last until tonight if you don’t!” I said, this was so frustrating, I wanted every inch of him so bad I could grovel beneath him for the rest of the day.

“Not in this house I’m not” he just said.

Part 3

He was right. Even if he did put something on, some piece of garment that could probably double as a tent for anyone else, he would be a sight, now that I knew exactly what was underneath. I wondered if that turn-on would ever get weaker with time.

He proceeded to another corner of the…room. I caught myself thinking of it as a living-room, but it was actually more like the all-room. There were oversize chairs, and an even more oversize sofa, all in leather. Very tasteful and simple furniture, a whole wall full of books. On the other end, a huge wooden desk, with tons of paper, and a laptop computer. Toward the third corner, opposite of the kitchen area, a king-size TV and a sound system which obviously tipped on design. The floor in front of it was something like a futon, padded. And, no phone—not one that I could see, anyway. He went over to the sofa, his footsteps like muffled low thuds. I’ve almost gotten used to this fluid way he moved, but it amazed me every time, especially when things like his footsteps reminded me of how big he really was.

“Do you ever wear any footwear?” I asked, intrigued, noticing he was barefoot.

“No… not while I’m here” he answered, taking a notebook from a small table beside the sofa. “I don’t wear anything at all here” he finished. He sprawled onto the sofa.

“Make yourself at home…I just have to finish something,” he said, leafing through the notebook.

“I still do have to do some work for a living” I wouldn’t let go that easily. “So what’s with the sweatpants then?”

“That’s for when I’m working so my cock won’t get in the way,” he said, not even lifting his gaze from whatever it was he was doing. His candidness got me laughing but I realized he was right. I rummaged around, while he scribbled something into his notebook, and then went over to his desk and shuffled through the papers. His forearms looked amazing while he did that, but I forced myself not to stare (more for my sake), and looked at the bookshelf instead.

That afternoon was the hardest to live through in my entire life. First of all, he was always near. OK, I was in his house, and I seriously considered going home and returning later. I knew he had a workout in the evening (which finally explained why the gym got closed on a Saturday, Sunday, Wednesday and Thursday after 8 in the evening), and I would not have missed it if the world came to an end. If I went home I’d probably have beaten my cock into a pulp. Staying was in a strange way easier.

Second of all, he told me he’s taking it easy this afternoon because it’s his heavy day today. We talked on and off about all sorts of things, and in those four hours or so he must have drank some sort of protein shake, or eaten some snack at least five times. It looked like it was completely automatic—he would just keep talking, walk over to the kitchen area and fix himself something, always asking if I wanted some, and then slurp it down between sentences.

Finally, a bit before nine, I was really at the end of the line, looking at a terminal case of blue-balls (with such a turn-on prancing around half-naked, I thought I was doing pretty well, though), when he finally almost jumped up from the sofa in mid-sentence. It was surprising and got me wondering again about the speed he could move at, but he didn’t give me time to think that over. He went over to the blinds and said ‘OK, time to go now’. It turned out he heard the manager’s car leaving. In about 20 minutes he sort-of tidied up his desk and the kitchen, managed to get some towels, direct me to an eight-pack of what looked like half-gallon bottles, containing some supplement drink (saying half of it is to keep me cool, with that rasping chuckle of course). A minute later, we were bounding down to the gym.

Sure enough, everyone had left, and we, or rather he had the gym all for himself. We passed through the locker room, where he left the towels in what I now knew was his locker. He took some keys out of it and threw them to me.

“Now be a good boy and go close the blinds. The key’s for the top lock on the door’ he said. I practically ran into the gym. Sure enough, there was a lock up near the top right-hand corner of the door. I knew this was the only key. But before I locked the door, I opened it a bit and checked from the outside, and sure enough, the lock was only on the inside. I did come by on the days he worked out, but so far he seemed to have stayed out of my way—until yesterday.

I knew already I’ve been set up, but this was the clincher. Did I mind? Not a chance, but still I made a mental note of it. I locked the door and closed the blinds, then went back into the locker room.

I found him taking a leather bag of sorts from the bottom of the locker. He already had some sort of lifting gloves on and they didn’t help him while he was locking the outer back door. I waited patiently for him until I couldn’t wait any more and in an attempt to speed things up tried to take his bag into the gym, and almost fell over with the surprising weight in it. But he was finished preparing anyway and easily took it from there, chuckling again. He went into the gym and I followed not two yards behind.

“Now, I thought today I’d try something different since you’re here,” he said, unpacking the bag.

“Is that it?” I asked, looking at the bag.

“No, no, those are my regular bars,” he said, proceeding to take out two very thick but strangely tapering bars, obviously intended to be dumbbells, once weight-plates were put on them, which would normally belong on a barbell. The size of the things almost got me dizzy, I didn’t even dare think of the weight.

I looked around for clues and sure, some of the machines that I’ve seen so many times suddenly got to look different. To be more correct, some of them looked deliberately enforced and otherwise modified.

“I think today’s a good day for a really heavy workout followed by a good all-out pump-up,” he said casually.

Now you would probably have thought this guy had some sort of special routine planned to the last detail, and you would be completely wrong. With him, it all seemed very instinctive. First of all, stretching. He went through it with such agility that I gasped in surprise several times. It was just plain unthinkable that he could have that range of motion with his size. Nevertheless, huge mounds of muscle gave way to other huge mounds of muscle, as he went through a session which would befit a floor gymnast better. The shapes poking out under his skin were incredible to watch and such a turn-on I almost hated him for it. But I vowed to myself that I’d never even touch myself or him before he was through the workout, even if my balls went into meltdown.

“There’s a tape in the bag, you might want to use it,” he said, standing up from a position I’d never even dare try. “This is your last chance to do cold measurements if you want to” he finished. Did I want to? Did I want to? I would have come from the dead for it! I almost ran to the bag, the half-boner I must have been sporting for the last two hours quickly trying to go all the way.

He stood patiently waiting while I fiddled with the tape trying to untangle it after I tangled it myself trying to unravel it only seconds before. I realized I was hurrying to the limit of dexterity, anticipation getting the better of me.

It really took will power to slow down. I started with his chest. He obediently raised his arms for me to put the tape around him, but then I remembered, and told him to hold one end with his left hand, while I circled around him to connect the ends of the tape.

“No cheating, OK?” he said and brought his arms in front of him slightly, not to interfere with the tape, as far as that was possible. He kept on breathing normally while I adjusted the tape. It read 77 inches. He breathed in a bit more deeply and it stretched further, but as I tried to make a reading again, he said, “A! No cheating!”. Next came his waist. It was 37 inches around although it looked narrower, simply because of his abs and cords of lower back muscles jutting outwards, and not sideways.

He would probably have to have lied down for a proper relaxed measurement. Then I went to the more interesting parts. I kneeled and started putting the tape around his left thigh, but he moved out of the way.

“Hey, I said no cheating!” he chuckled, moving back into a slightly spread-legged stance, his cock now clearly outlined on his sweatpants, hanging down the inner side of his left thigh. I wrapped the tape around his right instead, touching the dormant monster along his left, trying hard not to think about it. He shifted his weight to his left a bit and I measured a hulking 44 inches. His calves were a tad more than 27 inches around, and at those measurements the skimpy sweatpants he was wearing meant no error at all. And that only reminded me of what came next. My pants were probably tented out but I couldn’t care less. I quickly wrapped the tape around his biceps, to finally take a proper cold measure. I must have jumped from foot to foot in anticipation, as I wrapped the tape around the arm of the biggest muscle-man I was ever likely to see in this life, reading with pure sexual delight 30 inches.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, for a minute there I thought you’d bite off a piece of me,” he said, teasing. I managed to collect myself a little.

“Finished?”

I nodded.

“OK, time to do some damage,” he said, and walked over to the lat machine.

Now, I said some of the machines looked different, and out of three in the gym, now that I knew what this was about, this one was really special. First of all, there was no cable, but instead there were two chains, like you would find on a forklift fork. The construction was three times as thick as on another machine just opposite of it. It looked more ‘fancy’ or ‘heavy-duty’ but in fact it was specifically intended for what was probably the most heavy-duty workout on this planet. He put the peg in at the bottom plate, sat, and pulled about twenty reps in a matter of half a minute, with the whole stack. It looked like there was no effort in it at all. Then he paused a second, did that once again, and then quickly loaded barbell weight plates on the sides of the stack holder, which had two protruding bars welded on it. Other guys used to have their training partner lift the stack by those to force out reps but I knew this was their real purpose. He also put a padded part into two holes on the frame, a holder to keep his shoulders down.

Time had lost any sense as he did several sets, with a weight I didn’t even attempt to calculate. All I could see was his lats pumping up, veins popping to the surface on them, on his shoulders, his neck and his arms. He motioned for me to add two more plates and I did, the time taken for this disappearing from my memory instantly. I have no idea how many sets he did, but by the end of it, the machine groaned and moaned as loud as he did. He stretched only a little after that, and drank what looked like half a bottle of the liquid we brought down in one gulp, and then continued, this time by pulling forward, with a belt tied around his thighs to the bench attached to the machine, and with less weight. I soon managed to figure out that eight was his magic rep number and added or subtracted weight from set to set, even without his coaxing. Before he ended that I could see the machine literally bend as he did forward dips. When he stood up, he downed the rest of the bottle. His skin was glistening with sweat and his shoulders, pecs and especially his abs were pumped into incredible shapes. His arms stood wide only with the pump in his lats, and he breathed so deeply that I thought I would faint looking at his chest inflate. His sweat pants were getting soaked and it only made the shapes underneath more pronounced.

What seemed like seconds later he was pumping his hamstrings on a leg machine while I sat on his back, and I’d lost my T-shirt, drank a hefty load of that drink he had, thinking how he was right to have taken more, as I remember suddenly finding my throat dry enough to prevent me from speaking. I tried to sit as close to his shoulders as possible to give him proper leverage, while he held to the bench, but I couldn’t because his lats were so huge. I held to his shoulders, my arms stretched, and closed my eyes for fear of cumming all over his back if I continued looking at the flesh under me.

One bottle later, he was punishing his quads with the combined weight of several plate racks. He pumped and pumped, and his pants were so stretched that I could see his cock clearly. He looked right at me as he continued heaving. I caught myself with one hand on his thigh and the other on my cock. In the middle of the next set he suddenly stopped, and literally tore his pants off.

“Fuck with them,” he said, as he threw the remains away, sat right back, and adjusted his visibly larger and harder cock so it hung around his right thigh, out of the way. He was getting turned on and it interfered with the workout, but it only made him more intense. Near the end I had to put my hand on his thigh, to feel it being obviously pumped up larger. The second time I realized our stares were locked I caught myself rubbing his thigh and my cock, and my shorts around my ankles. I stopped, the hardest thing I ever did, remembering my own vow to try to ride this to the end no matter what.

The next I remember were three bottles left and him doing bench presses, and then using those fancy dumbbell contraptions of his with stacks on each side which would kill any pro to further pump his chest and shoulders. By the time he was over his chest was pumped so much it looked permanently flexed, and I had a hard-on that made the general area around my crotch hurt, and my balls were all slick of sweat and pre-cum. I had no idea how much time had passed. He was all sweaty, and when he rose, his chest heaved…he was breathing so deeply that his arms ended up almost horizontal, and his chest inflated outwards and upwards like a balloon. He must have been burning calories at the rate of a blast furnace, I could almost feel how hot he was from where I was standing. His lung capacity must have been incredible to be able to support such exertion, and it showed. He walked over to the weight rack. I know what a pump looks like, but he was visibly larger, even with his stance taken into account. Every bit of him looked pumped up, and to top it all off, he sported a half-hardon which was even more obvious since it was trying to raise its huge bulk. He walked over and it bobbed from side to side like a blind man’s walking stick, slightly shorter but thick like a baseball bat.

But the workout wasn’t over yet. My crotch and my brain were screaming overload, but that could not stop anyone. He started doing triceps extensions first, again with weights which would make any pick out of any contest go to a monastery for the rest of their days. It made his tris bloom into shapes which only vaguely resembled a horseshoe, only because they were so much larger and looked like every fiber was bulging separately, and as if that was not enough, his cock was sprawled in front of him, over the bench he was sitting on. I thought my feet were leaving burn-marks on the floor I was so hot. We shared the next bottle taking turns at it, and then he left it in my hands and started alternate curls, pumping his biceps. Rep after rep, and so help me, I could see them grow. He had to bend his hand up because they were so large there was little space left once he flexed them up. After the first set he up-ended the penultimate bottle, added another plate to his overcrowded dumbbells, and curled anew. I thought I would die. He pumped and pumped set after set and I realized I was holding my hand on his right biceps, it was getting crunched between its peak and his forearm every time he would bring it up, with a grunt, and the next thing I knew was that I was fondling my balls, and I remember a voice saying “c’mon, cum all over them.”

I was pounding my meet engorged to such dimensions I thought I’d burst, so slowly, unable to get the barely detectable ridge of my foreskin over the head, and being surprised at it, completely synched with his pumping. His grunting sounded more like suppressed shouts, as his biceps turned from football-sized shapes with veins sticking out under the almost red skin into super-pumped steel balls, veins almost popping through skin distended so it was almost transparent, ready to explode, and then going back. A few more strokes, grunts getting louder as he matched every stroke of mine with a rep, and then I thought I could see stretch marks when he made his biceps into those peaked balls of steel, and I heard myself wailing but it wasn’t me, it was distant, and I shot, and shot and shot all over his arms and chest and face.

Darkness got me for a second and when I could see only a little through the tunnel-vision, I found myself on my knees, my cock stuck painfully into my abdomen, and he was doing that last rep, howling, and then he let the weights fall, which they did, cracking the floor.

I came to completely after he squeezed the last bottle so the cork flew off, along with a lot of the fluid, into his face. Some of it went into his mouth and then he just said, “Yeah….”

A second later I had the tape ready, and he lost his lifting gloves. I croaked: “I only want to know two things” and he held one end, while I stumbled around him, and took the tape ends into one hand each. His chest heaved with the exertion, and it brought his pecs up like a shelf. He must have had such lung capacity that when he inhaled fully, it must be incredible to watch. And I was ready for that, and he knew it. “Show me,” I said, and he did it. Think of a front lat pose done with arms extended to the side. Then he inhaled, and at the same time flexed his lats. He just kept on sucking and his chest extended until I could see his ribs poking out amongst the mass of muscle, and then even more.

The tape extended and I thought his pecs were going to hit him in the face, and his arms went almost horizontal. Then he stopped, and with a grunt spread his lats and flexed his pecs, and I thought he was going to explode as I attempted to make the tape ends meet over his right nipple, but the tape had 8 feet, and that was short by almost two inches. I let the tape go and started groping, I could take no more, but he let his breath out with such force that my hart missed a few beats, and he continued breathing deeply, his face flushed.

He had held the tape under his armpits and I took the ends again, so he let it fall. One more thing to go. I pulled the tape loose and he held his arm out, and I wrapped it around. Pumped up but relaxed his left upper arm reached over 32 inches, and I couldn’t wait to see it flexed to the point of cramping, which was exactly what was happening. However, he brought it down a bit for maximum effect and then bent his arm, and then he flexed properly, so I could hear his bones click. He groaned as he squeezed so his arm shook visibly, the cabled triceps engorged, and the biceps two intersecting egg-shapes the size of my head, stretching the skin to pearly white, and stretching the tape with their diamond hardness to just over 35 inches. I took only a fraction of a second to measure and several seconds to grope the slippery sweat drenched skin, but he didn’t let me have it just yet. He bent over, taking the bottle with the remains of the liquid in it, and tugged down half of it. He bent down, his hands gliding down his super-pumped thighs until his forehead touched his cock which pulsed visibly trying to get up, but not succeeding entirely mostly because of its weight.

“Oh, fuck with it…” he said, and took the bottle and poured the rest of the contents all over his cock, and then into his hand which he passed between his ass-cheeks, his legs spread, and clearly finishing off, although I didn’t see it, with his asshole.

I was dazed but he wasn’t, and lifted me to my feet. The next I knew he was sitting on the bench, wringing the last bit out of the bottle and onto my cock which never came down. Then let himself down, rising his legs up, he wrapped me around with them again and I knew what was next. He pulled, and put me in there to the hilt, placing my hands on his pecs, his engorged member between my hands, going over his pec and up over his shoulder. Then, he took it in his hand, obviously it wasn’t as hard or as big as earlier this very day, but it was just perfect because he bent it down and stuffed the head, and I mean all of it, in his mouth. The second he did it, me gasping in surprise, he put his arms over his head, brought the elbows out a bit and half-flexed, teasingly. I slide my hands over his sweaty hard, pumped and flexed pecs, down almost missing his shoulders, onto the half-flexed ball like biceps. The second I touched he flexed them hard, and brought his crotch up, writhing on my cock and putting his deeper down his throat. I was bowed toward me, enough to do the right thing, wrapping my lips as much as I could over the shaft of his arcing cock, and then as a single unit we started moving. Faster. He pumps his arms a bit. Faster, I feel the steel balls of his biceps, he groans, his cock stuffing his mouth. More. I can only see his shaft and I dance my tongue over it, I feel it on my chest, while his innards dance around my cock, making me feel the burn in my balls even while his, so much bigger, dance on top of my shaft. I feel the taste of the drink all over him, mixed with his sweat, moving, moving, faster, more, and then I feel it coming and I can’t, I won’t stop. I feel his biceps suddenly getting harder, bigger, hard as stone and hot, and I feel his shaft pulse with his cum.

He lets out a wince, his mouth stuffed by his growing cockhead, and then I can feel him clamping me in him, making me feel him gulping down his own cum. My balls try to explode into a closed passage as my engorged cock gets constricted so I feel it’s head stretching inside of him, and I can take no more, I start to scream. Amongst all that I clearly hear a pop as he literally exhales his cockhead which ends between his biceps and my hand holding it, spurting cum. He squeezes my cock more and more, as he inhales, his chest again rising to its incredible dimensions. I feel my balls cramping, trying to squirt out what feels like a tennis ball, and then he howls, shaking and the clamp is gone and I shoot, and fall on him, unsupported now, his cock between us, still dribbling cumloads.

Later, who knows how much, I was sprawled over him, both our cocks between us, in a hug, his huge muscle squeezing me tight. No words, just looking into each other’s eyes, stroking each other. I saw the intention in his eyes even before he lifted me like a feather and now it was my turn to lie on the bench, but he went down, further and further until his lips found my cock and wrapped themselves around it. He only took my head in, spreading my legs to the limit with his yard wide shoulders, and then suddenly his arm was under my right knee and darting over my belly and chest. His mouth was hot as a stove, and his hand was electrifying. I groped his arm with both hands, so huge and hard, and tried to raise my head up. The moment I did, I felt his fingers entering me from behind and I pushed my crotch up, moving away, and looked down. His eyes were wide open and locked with mine, that green glow in them, telling me to trust him. And I would have died for him. A second later he got two fingers in, and I writhed, trying to stay relaxed around them. All of a sudden, I felt him shift a little, and his fingers pulling out. A moment later, I feel something wet, hot and huge pushing into me, and I gasp in realization, but I can’t break eye contact. I gritted my teeth as he pushed his cock into me. I just knew what he’d done, he took it up near the head, squeezing it so the trapped blood engorged it, but not fully hard, and still I felt I’d split open. But then, he was sucking me and fucking me at the same time, I felt like his mouth, his cock, and his eyes were the only things holding me in my body. He slurped up and down my cock, stroked me, teased my nipples and with every stroke pushed more and more. He had me locked down with his arm, and it was the only part of him I could reach, so I squeezed his writhing forearm and his pumped up biceps and triceps. He continued his triple-dance and I felt his cockhead enter me whole, and start growing. I moaned, and winced, never breaking eye contact, I felt like he was going to rip me apart, filling me more and more, I felt his shaft with my innards. It must have been only a few inches but they were getting wider by the second, and then I felt him pumping it in and out, slowly. It was like electricity, from his eyes to his mouth to his cock, I lost all feeling of my body, and I was only a ball of pure lust, pulsing, until I could feel suddenly shocks becoming waves, and his eye-contact broke. There was no return, that out-of-body feeling was there again and it was getting stronger, like a tide. My cock popped out of his mouth and he bent it down, rose himself up, filling me until I thought he’s spear me through, and I shot, all over his chest and face again, moaning in one single cramp that seemed to last a lifetime. Once I felt myself collect back into my body, the first thing that I realized was that I was holding him by his hair and his face was a mask of bliss, I felt my ass being stretched again and filled with a cumload so big, it practically ejected his cock. The cockhead rim went out, causing me to wince in painful ecstasy, moving my hands to his traps, as he lifted himself with myself in his arms, squeezing me into his pecs, slippery from our combined cum and sweat, with his every breath. Finally, my hands fell over his shoulders and down his arms as far as I could reach, and then back up, my face still in contact with hot, living and moving steel. He knelt, I unwrapped my legs from around him and he let himself fall backwards to the floor, me on top of him, straddling him, right over his abs.

“O boy…” he rasped, the words making his abs under me bunch up, massaging my balls. His lats jutted out spreading my knees apart so I was actually supported by his abs. He panted, his incredible chest heaving, with me propped by my hands onto it, like I weighted nothing at all. I bobbed up and down slowly, as he breathed in and out, not being able to look away from his beautiful face and his shoulders. His arms were spread to the side, sex seemed to have pumped him up even more. I could not say anything for several seconds. In time, his breathing got slower and shallower. I could feel him shift, moving his hand behind me and his knee up, and then I felt a hot, sticky rod rise over my back, as he lifted his cock, and went up over it and my back with his big hand, squeezing out the last of his cum. It was still half-hard.

“O boy…” he said again “sorry I couldn’t get it really hard for you to play with…”

That was absolutely the last thing I would have expected he’d say. My cock ached which was probably the only thing keeping me from getting hard again and cumming over his abs because of the thing he had over my back. Lying beneath me was the biggest, strongest, most beautiful sex god, and yet so simple, and gentle and caring. He was just so perfect I could barely keep myself from cuddling and kissing and hugging him. “Well then you’ll just have to get bigger,” I said instead, but held that thought.

“Right now I really feel so huge I could explode. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a pump and it feels wonderful, and you feel even better on top,” he said.

“Well, then I propose we get up there” I beckoned above with my head “and do more looking so we know exactly how wonderful it feels,” I said. He laughed, and lifted me off, but not before I could pull a stroke over his huge pecs which bunched up again when he lifted his arms. In a second we were both on our feet, and we kissed for what looked like minutes. Then our lips finally parted.

“And, besides, you never explained what that thing is you do with your eyes,” I said. He just smiled, and started toward the locker room, with me in tow. All I could think of was that I never want this to end.

Part 4

Sure enough, it didn’t. We left the gym as it was, cum and sweat drenched, and hit the showers. They didn’t help—hot water did nothing to cool the passion.

He went to the showers first, and not surprisingly, used the corner stall.

Things really got quite obvious once you knew the reason they were made that way. I always thought the shower stalls were done hastily, all were the same width, except the corner one which was far wider, but just narrow enough that two stalls would have been too narrow in it’s place. Of course, once he stepped in, it was quite obvious why it was that way. Soon the water flowed over both of us. I stayed behind him, taking what looked like seconds to wash off our combined cum, so fast I was again challenging dexterity as a concept. When I finished off, he was just starting, and I was almost full-mast again, and started soaping up his back, while he started on his chest. But, I soon got stuck going down to his ass, tracing the curves. He sported a pump the likes of which were never seen before, his arms were pushed wide by his lats, which were in turn pushed back by his triceps, so the top of them jutted out towards me. I started kneading those incredible bulges. They were so huge and so hard. It took real effort only to move on, and I finally managed to do so. He moved his arms as he was soaping himself and it made all sorts of new bulges appear and move under his skin. I forced myself to move my hands downwards, but it didn’t help, I was getting hotter and hotter, going down that impossible curve towards his lower lats, jutting, not thinning out at all. Then, suddenly, as my hands felt down two huge pillars of muscle, they reached his ass, hard and writhing as he moved, and in one second more, my cock was up his ass-crack and the head between those pillars of muscle, my chest pressing into the bulges of his upper back, my arms barely reaching under his arms around him, and there were four hands on his huge pecs, stroking, and my lips on his traps, licking, kissing and nibbling at their hardness. He let out a breath, a sound full of passion and concentrated power. And soon our hands went down and up exploring, my left on his left nipple, his right over his right pec, my right down getting stuck in the bulging abs, his left helping it over to touch his thigh, then we would move and twist a little, both sending waves of passion to each other, my hands moved to touch his arms, his to reach my thighs, lathering each other with our bodies. It was like breathing fire, while he flexed every part I passed over, it became a bulge, it ballooned out, or jumped up forming cords, and as he moved I’d feel everything down to the faintest shudder on my chest, my belly, my cock, my thighs.

Then, suddenly, he turned around and picked me up by my ass, and lifted—the next I knew his passion engorged man-meat was between us, and I was licking it’s head as best I could as he lifted me up and down over it and his pumped up chest and abs, the bulges and ridges rubbing against my own cock. I went from cock to his face, his hair, licking and kissing, jacking him off with my whole body, feeling his cock with my hands and tongue alternately, fleeting moments of touch given to his pumping shoulders, triceps and biceps. I wanted to suck him, but I couldn’t any more, he got too big already, I didn’t know if I moaned it or said it or though it. “You’re growing…” It was like a signal, and with my whole body I felt his cock really grow, cumming, his breath stopping, and then becoming a growling sound I felt through his chest as he exhaled slowly, his eyes closed, as he came with four slow convulsions, and four gushes of hot cum.

Then I came again, short, shocking and blissful, shooting a wad of liquid into the crevice between his abs and chest. Our juices flowed slowly flushed by the hot water, and I could feel my feet touch the ground again. As soon as they did his hands went up over my back and around me, and we were separated, his huge organ slipping down, still swollen.

The next thing I knew, he was toweling off the water from him and me, from head to toe, and we were in the locker room again. I just looked in wonder at him, like the day before. He was pumped up incredibly, more than ever, as he moved, a little of the rational I managed to regain registered that it showed, a strange and obvious loss of range of movement, and a stance which would look funny and overdone on anyone but him. He finished the job and we both went up to his bedroom—he with that incredible coordination of his, now only slightly hampered, and I, following, still basking in the glow of recent sex.

He came in first, and I almost collapsed onto the bed as soon as I could feel it in front of me, still holding the towel he dried me with a minute ago. He switched on the lights and I noticed I actually barely missed the low wall. The small but powerful lights shone above the mirror wall, and he stood there, in front of it, looking at his reflection. He twisted a bit to the right, and then back again.

“This is so good…” he said.

“Huh?” I replied, while he moved to face the mirror head on.

“Look at me, I’m so pumped up… my skin feels so tight and I love it… it’s like it’s four sizes too small,” he said. The bright light now showed him in all the glory, and I realized he’d just seen himself for the first time since his workout—I had lots more time to get used to him in this overpumped state he was in, not that I had any great success as my aching loins could testify. He shifted slightly, and felt the skin of his right biceps with his left hand, his fingers going back and forth over the veins which now, under the light, looked to be bulging even more. He took special attention at what could only have been a stretch-mark, Barely visible, but there, and another one in the crevice between his pec and shoulder.

“I haven’t had such a pump…I’m not sure if I ever did,” he said. He shifted slightly and flexed his pecs ever so slightly, just making their huge bulk bounce under the skin which really looked tight to the point of becoming paper thin. He turned so he had a side view and brought his arm down, but didn’t flex.

His triceps stood out, a huge gob of muscle, nevertheless.

“Oh yes, this is sooo good…” he kept on saying. He was getting off on himself, and it made my blood churn, and his also—his cock was swollen again. He turned to face the mirror again and flexed his thigh, which jumped up from several huge cords into the same cords, but even bigger, with tens of new cords over them. It made his cock bounce from thigh to thigh and it stayed suspended in the air slightly, a hard-on in progress as evident as the enjoyment on his face. He lifted his arm up, and bent it over, which made his biceps again become a huge, but still not flexed, ball, which he then felt over with his hand, watching himself in the mirror. He noticed me ogling and I could see his realization that there was no reason for keeping back. He looked at my reflection. Then he glided down over his pecs and his abs with his left hand, still holding his right up, reached his crotch, and lifted his monster cock, huge with his blood, with that slide-under-and-lift motion, which only someone of his endowment would have needed. Then he flexed his biceps and started stroking his cock, which I could see getting more rigid by the second. His biceps, now in a proper one-armed biceps pose was something I’ll never be able to get over, that impossible shape and super-human size. In a second I was beside him and my hand replaced his, stroking his cock. He was getting off himself, I was getting off him getting off himself, and he was getting off me doing that.

“Now you flex properly,” I said, stroking him very, very slowly. His hand free now, he went into a full double biceps, flexing up slowly. First his abs practically extruded themselves what looked like two inches forward, his thighs went huge and rigid with almost a snap, his calves following, and then he lifted his chest, and slowly brought his lats out as far as he could, which was inhumanly far, it looked like they would bulge out to his elbows, flexing his pecs at the same time, and then his arms went ballistic, muscles swelling larger and larger until his impossible biceps peaks reached almost to his fists, and his triceps bulged down trying to meet the bulges of his lats. I started stroking him only slightly faster. His cock throbbed visibly, with his slow but mighty heartbeat. As if he was reading my mind he undid his fists and his fingers reached down to touch the peaks of his biceps. I could tell he was flexing for all he was worth, a suppressed groan coming from him. I could see his abs moving up and down as he stopped holding his breath and was starting to breathe, more deeply by the second. He relaxed a little and then went into a front lat spread, his lats filling the space between his arms and his torso. I stroked with all I was worth, feeling through all the numbness my cock being hard again, looking like a permanent bruise, a purplish red. His cock was slick from what looked like a torrent of precum, the amount was incredible considering the number of times he had already cum. He was now moving his crotch in the same slow rhythm, exactly in the opposite direction of my stroking, fucking my fist barely reaching enough around his pole to hold it. His cock was rigid enough but also stayed smaller, enough to let his foreskin glide unimpeded over the head. I stroked him up and down, deep strokes going almost a foot in length, slow, holding his cock to the side, so that he could face the mirror, and I stood sideways. He kept looking at both our reflections and my eyes kept darting back and forth between a real super-pumped monster muscleman and another one, in the mirror. He went into a most muscular, slowly, it made his pecs and shoulders blow up into cords and cables and veins until the skin turned red, and I felt the inevitability of cumming, not now, but it looked like my whole body was going to cum and it was bracing itself. Then, all of a sudden, he changed his mind and shifted, kneeling on the floor in a novel kneeled side pose, and I moved over, holding his cock straight in front of him, and up. He kept his eyes on his reflection in the mirror, and I looked straight at him. Then he started doing it, and I felt I was going to cum, although I was completely dry, spent with all the previous sex. I have no idea how I remained standing, but I didn’t cum the moment I knew what he was going to do, because I felt like a huge, hot steel ball was wedged and stuck between my balls and my asshole. As if the size of his pecs wasn’t enough, when he breathed in fully, it made him attain a shape never before concieved of on this earth. He knew I wanted to see that once more, but he decided on teasing me.

He breathed in, expanding his chest a little, and then breathed out, but not fully, and breathed in and out again, the same way, it made his chest heave and expand more and more with every cycle. He held his arm under his protruding pecs, flexed, but soon there was going to be no space for his chest to expand. I started stroking him faster, and started stroking myself as well, although I was so numb that the feeling was totally different and strange. His cock arced straight up from his crotch which he pushed out as far as it would go, while he leaned backwards as far as possible to still be able to keep the balance. He let his arms down, and then brought his elbows apart, and his chest kept on ballooning outwards, sideways and upwards as he continued with that breathing of his, looking at himself inflate in the mirror. I thought I was going to jump out of my skin, stroking like a maniac as his chest went higher and higher. And then he started stroking it, still keeping his elbows up simply to be able to keep it expanding and keep on stroking. I knew he wanted my juice all over it, and I kept on jacking myself off faster and faster, and him unevenly but slow. It went on and on until I thought he reached the maximum capacity of his lungs, his face flushed, but the steel ball in my gut didn’t go away, it only became larger and harder, and he continued sucking air into him and flexing until his face was purple and it looked almost blue. He kept looking at the mirror, his pecs so high now he could probably not have seen the tip of his cock which could not attain its yard-long length but did it’s best at what looked like only inches smaller, were he trying to look over them, and he still stroked and tried to inhale more, until there were huge veins over his pecs and his breastbone and ribs protruded through the huge mass of the muscles, even his abs were distended slightly. He looked like his chest was a balloon under masses of muscle, ready to explode any second ripping his chest open down the crevice between his pecs which he stroked. I looked in the mirror and saw on his face an almost pleading look like he was begging me to stop exactly that from happening, and the side view of his body showed he had really inflated himself up with the air in his lungs until looked like he could burst! I cried ‘Oh my goooooo…’ and the ball in my guts shot out of my cock in the form of a single burst of cum which seemed to me like it lasted half a minute, splashing all over the inflated size of him, and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his chest trying to expand even further and his body trying to flex at the same time, and then his cock literally flexed with the amount of cum that I felt passing through it, but I managed to hold it right below the head, and squeezed as strongly as I could, bringing my lips as far as possible over the huge head of his cock, and then I let go. He let his breath out with a roar so loud I thought it would bring the building down. I felt his cum jet into me with such force I almost drowned, and I tried to swallow, but in the end I ended coughing and getting some up my nose, it burnt like hell, it didn’t matter, I was in heaven.

There was a roar in my head, an echo of his own, and then I came to, realizing I had licked his shaft clean. I let it slip down. He had collapsed backwards, his mighty cock now sprawled sideways, soft, still huge but shrinking over his half-bent huge legs, knees in the air and wide, his arms to the side, his hands, the fists half closed, upwards. His chest heaved up and down hugely. He was so big that his head, resting on the floor, went so far down he almost ended up looking backwards. His skin looked almost translucent and shone with sweat. I got on all fours and managed to get the towel from the bed. It was still damp. I almost crawled to the huge superman sprawled on the floor and started rubbing off my juices and his sweat, noticing how it had no odor at all. He kept looking straight up, not seeing, not moving. I slowly toweled every inch of him I could get at, finishing with his huge balls and his cock, which for once remained soft.

“Thanks” he whispered. It sounded like his voice was pretty much gone after that ground shaking shout. He looked at me, and then let his head back on the floor again. I stumbled and finally got onto my feet. I swear I could hear my joints squeaking in the process. I managed to realize there’s no way I could use the same towel on me, I couldn’t believe how soaked it was.

I have only a hazy memory of how I got to the bathroom. My first real recollection was flushing my mouth, my face soaked in the water. I lifted up and saw death warmed over in the mirror, and then realized it was me. I stayed that way a while, it took time to gather enough strength even to move a little. The pain in my crotch filtered through the haze of sex, and pure, blissful exhaustion. I looked down at my tortured genitals. I was so tired that the pain didn’t even register properly. I still looked almost hard, but I was totally soft, only still swollen from irritation. The skin of my cockhead looked like a balloon that was pumped to the point of bursting, but then deflated back, all crinkly and shriveled. The cockhead looked as large as when hard, or at least what I remember it looking when hard, and the shaft looked like one big bruise.

My balls hung low and swollen, and hurt a stabbing pain every time I moved. I managed to move enough to dry myself off, although at the time my standards for dryness were pretty low. I was winding down and I noticed with a start I was almost shaking with every move. I started my slow journey back to the ‘bedroom’.

When I finally got there, he was sprawled on the bed, holding one arm over his cock which went over his abs, sleeping with an expression of an angel, and for some reason it all looked exactly right atop of his colossal body. He was so beautiful it almost made me cry. His chest rose and fell with his slow breath. I found the light switch, used it, and lay down beside him, and guided by some unknown spirit in the dark, kissed him in his chin, not being able to resist that sudden urge.

I put my head on his chest, huge muscle I used as a pillow. The second I did that, he moved his arm and wrapped it around me, with a sigh. It was warm and reassuringly heavy, and I put my arms around it. I listened to the slow, ponderous rhythm of his heart and let myself slip away…

I opened my eyes.

The daylight shone in through the blinds again, and I could not move. I felt down and my hands ground into his arm. Sensations seeped in through the morning drowsiness, and I realized I was lying atop of his body, and it was warm and heaved with his breath, his arm wrapped around my abdomen, and our legs tangled.

He slept like a baby with my weight on him, not even noticing I was there. I slowly moved to release his hold, and it wasn’t easy. He was so huge, and his relaxed arm was so big it made my left leg go to sleep with its pressure. I finally managed to roll down from him, a sizable height—he was enormous. I ended on the bed with a muffled thud, and it hurt. Yesterdays exertion presented it’s price today.

I looked around to find something which could tell me the time. All seemed quiet except for the muffled sounds from the railway station nearby, but they were always there anyway. I managed to stumble onto my feet and looked out. I could just make out the station building, with it’s old facade, and… there, I could see the clock over the entrance, it read… something around seven?

With a start I realized in about an hour someone would be coming to the gym, and the door was locked and half of the floor is covered with cum.

The next I knew, I was in the bathroom, it looked like I managed to sort myself out in about two minutes, although I just had to stop to look at the toilette bowl, which was, not surprisingly, built into a block of concrete and thus reinforced. Even supermen needed to take care of the physiological needs, I thought, a smirk on my face. Well, at least it reassured me the last two nights were real.

I went down to the gym, naked and shivering, and tried to find my clothes that got stripped off yesterday. It wasn’t yet very easy to move, I could almost feel my joints squeaking, and wondered what the colossus upstairs feels like after a workout the likes of yesterday night, followed by… well, certainly by the wildest sex I ever had. First I found some rag and realized those were the remains of his sweat-pants. It took a while to recognize them as they were made in a way no-one else would have needed them to be, with long zippers at the sides. This was no wonder, the waist would have had to go to less than the size of one thigh. This guy even challenged the art of tailoring with his size. I found my T-shirt soon after, and then my shorts.

There was a long stain on them that could have only been my dried pre-cum and possibly more, but they would have to do for now. The smell of cum was still in the air. I switched on all the lights and went to the locker room. I knew where old Matilda kept her brooms, mops and stuff, as I had more than one occasion to use them. I found them and set to work.

About an hour later, I switched off the lights again as there was daylight enough outside, I could see it through the closed blinds. The worst was scrubbing the dried cum out of the floor-mat. God, the monster upstairs really cum quarts, I thought, and I must have had a grin of a Cheshire cat on my face.

The heavy work was disassembling those impossible bar-dumbbells of his. He had some sort of screw-on plate retainers which he screwed on so tightly I had to use a wrench to get them loose, good thing there was one in the office, kept there for cases of rampant plumbing that seemed to have been more common before I moved in. Finally, I remembered the magic key was still in the outer door, together with the key to Victor’s locker and I used it, straining my back to tidy up his things as best I could, locking the locker shut. I went into the gym, looked through the blinds on the door, saw no-one around and opened the blinds on the windows, and unlocked the door. ‘I must remember to ask him about this lock’ I thought as I unlocked the special upper lock. Just then I remembered I had my old workpants stashed in my locker and went to change my current apparel—even my work-pants were clean compared to what I was wearing now. Just as I was closing my locker I heard a car stop at the parking in front.

It must have been the manager. No-one ever came around this time of day, I was sure, but there was this plaque on the door saying ‘we open at 9’ and he was a very punctual person. I hurried it up and closed the back door behind me.

Besides, I was really hungry and I thought it was high time I found the fridge, I knew I wouldn’t be the only one interested in it.

I found him sprawled on the bed, still that serene look on his face. I opened the blinds slightly, only to be able to see better, my eyes still accustomed to the glare in the kitchen area. His right forearm was under his head, he used it as a very adequate pillow. God, he was enormous, and I just couldn’t get over it. His cock was sprawled straight down between his slightly spread thighs, shriveled, and his waist was up in the air, a bridge between his immense torso and his hips, which were lifted by his ultra-muscular glutes and his incredible thighs. He slept naked, no bed sheet. His chest went up and down slowly, very slightly compared to what he did yesterday. I almost got hard just thinking of it now. He stirred suddenly, and sighed, stretching, and then groping around with his arm, not opening his eyes, a childish worried look on his face. One just couldn’t connect it with his appearance, but it was so sweet I could have kissed him right then. He opened his eyes and mumbled: “There you are…”. I almost choked trying to suppress a laugh, but he stretched again, this time earnestly, which with him meant one couldn’t look away. “Mmmm….” he mumbled, rolling to the side, and then back.

“What’s that delicious smell?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing—just me, the omelet-101 man at work’ I said, remembering that name a friend of mine gave me, reminding me of my limited culinary skills. Well, at least I was good at the little that I had!”

He stretched again with a sigh. He stood up deftly, definitely a morning person.

It usually took me much longer to just open my eyes… He rubbed his chin which rasped with stubble and I remembered my own. I followed him to the bathroom.

Now, have you ever seen a naked giant take a piss? He just spread his thighs and stepped around the toilette. His cock was so long he just sort-of slipped it over the edge and I could hear the sound of passing water, followed by a sigh.

You just couldn’t not notice that for the novelty! And the shaking off, or should I say squeezing off? I admit I was getting used to him, but if I saw this two days ago I’d probably pass out on the spot. We took turns washing, it was so strange having someone else in the bathroom and one so huge I just didn’t know how to move. I was just putting the towel back, when all of a sudden he said, “last one’s a rotten egg” and ran out with such speed I could hear the ‘whoosh’.

When I managed to come to enough to get to the kitchen, the biggest omelet I ever made in my life was already on the table, and he was at it full-speed.

“Oh yes,” he said between munches “this is really good”. I come from a big family so I know what it means to be slow at eating, so I took a fork and joined him.

Man did it feel good! It must have also been a calorie bomb, I just kept putting everything in I could find, ransacking the huge and well stocked fridge, it just felt right at the time and it turned out it was.

There must have been four pounds in the thing, but it was disappearing fast, mostly by his doing. I was soon satisfied, but he kept on until the last atom was gone.

“Ahhhh… that was sooo good,” he said, and went over to the fridge, took out a huge container of milk, and upended it whole in what looked like two gulps. I could just watch as it went down, and then he casually popped out the absolutely largest protein container I ever saw and mixed himself a shake with yet another container of milk, and upended that as well. I was left speechless. He turned to me, and asked “Do you want me to get you something?” It took me a while to answer “No, I’m fine…”. I could have gone for days on what he devastated in a few minutes. I looked at his body. Were his abs slightly distended? That wouldn’t be strange considering the amount of food he eat in what looked like minutes. It was hard to get over looking at him simply because one’s not accustomed to seeing people having breakfast naked. Luckily, the lingering pain in my crotch kept the thoughts away from the sexual. He ‘whooshed’ back to the bedroom part and came back in a few minutes wearing another one of those sweatpants of his. He sat down across me, and propped his chin with his hands, elbows on the table. It made the table sag quite visibly. He looked at me with a glow of satisfaction, which made even me feel warm.

“You were fantastic,” he said, again surprising me, man this guy could really get to you.

“Wha… No… Me?!” was all I could say.

“That was the best time I ever had, oh boy…” he said. He stood up and almost whooping, swished me off the chair in a bear-hug squeezing until I could hear my bones groan. We winded up on the huge sofa, me straddling him over the hips. I got into the mood soon and remembered yesterday, laying myself onto him, cuddling into his chest, so big it was like a world under my hands. “I was good?

Me? God, you sound like you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror first time yesterday,” I said, my chin in the crevice between his pecs, and my hands stroking his arm. His head was propped up by his other arm, and he looked into me, again that warm glint in his eyes. I basked in the moment. He sighed, and let his head down, and moved his hand onto my back. I could feel his heart as I teased him, rubbing the stubble of my chin into his pec. He stroked me slowly which made it swell and ebb with the rhythm of his stroking. I thought how funny this all looked to me, like two lovebirds, a stereotype I always made fun of, but I couldn’t care less, it was a feeling of such content and I just immersed myself into it, and so it seems did he as well. “If you only knew what you do to me…” I said, and he chuckled, making my head bounce slightly. His breathing was slow and rhythmical, and he stopped his stroking, his hand nestled on my lower back, just over my ass. “You are just…” I started, but realized I didn’t have words. I shifted a bit and played with the soft, short hair on his pecs.

The last two days have been a puzzle, I simply couldn’t get over that. He was like a god and compared to him I was so insignificant, and yet for some reason he seemed to like me. He was all my dreams in person, and he was so huge and so strong and he was superman in every respect, but he seemed so gentle to me and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. I felt the guilt in even pondering this, straining to savor the moment as long as it lasted, not thinking about when it would end. But I knew I was a hopeless realist and it saddened me to think about it now. I was just an average guy, and he could have chosen anyone, or any number of people, he was… perfect, so perfect, so perfect for me. I never was religious but I thanked the man upstairs in my thoughts, so he would allow this to last, and I would be thankful for every second that I could have with him. It seemed so unfair I was even thinking this. But, after all, I was certain I would not be here if he didn’t want it. I pondered about the last two nights…

“Why did you wait for me Saturday evening?” I finally heard myself vocalize a nagging thought. My own voice startled me, and I looked up. He didn’t move. I waited for a reaction, but it didn’t come. His chest just kept on rising and falling, slowly. I propped myself up, carefully. He was asleep, his face so content. I almost laughed at the thought that came—great, now I know how interesting I really am—but I somehow knew it was a cruel thought, and I let my head down onto him, continuing my pondering, looking through the window. Then I noticed there was a clock display on that fancy music system of his, and it showed 10:20. 10:20!!! OH SHIT!

I quickly broke contact, moving off of him. Shit, shit and double shit! I was supposed to be at old Kelloway’s place fixing the damned press controller, I had already done half of the job and took the money, he’ll be really mad. I had ten minutes to get there, and I still had to go home to get into some proper clothes and take my tools and… oh shit. No phone. I moved as fast as I could. It was so difficult to leave, but I made it a point to do my jobs and it was the way I was, and… I looked at his face. You don’t even know what you are, I thought, looking at him. No matter how he looked, you could not believe he could do anything wrong and I was so sad I was going to leave without a word, but I couldn’t wake him up, funny, but that seemed even more wrong. I found a pen on his desk and scribbled a message, where I am, my address, my phone, and that I’d be back in the evening. If he would have me, I thought, a ball of uncertainty making itself known in my stomach.

It was a good thing I lived so near, as I had to run in a T-shirt and old trousers, not at all something to wear with this weather, but I was at my wits enough not to go out in my cum-drenched clothes from Saturday night. I just bundled them up and left through the back door, which latched themselves shut with such finality. I forced myself not to think about that and ran pretending not to see the strange looks the passers by gave me.

I got home later that night after a day’s work which was actually spent more on concentrating not to have a hardon every time I’d think of the last two days instead on the work itself. I was actually lucky I didn’t get electrocuted about half way through, and the realization of how lucky I was not to, got me through the remaining hours. I got home, showered with incredible speed, trying not to remember another recent shower, and got some proper clothes. I took more in a bag I used a lot to carry things around, including tools, so it wouldn’t be conspicuous. Just then the phone rang. The machine answered before I could get to it.

“Hi, Greddy here” It was the gym manager. “The boss left an envelope for you, he said there’s a problem he needs fixed. Listen, I’m having Lenny sit in for me, I have to go over to my brothers, so I’ll leave it at the desk, you have the key in case no-one’s here anyway. See you!”. I realized I stopped with my hand half way to the receiver. I almost jumped to the ceiling with glee, and then rewound the tape to listen to it again. In no time I was in my car and on the way to the ‘G’.

When I got there, no-one paid any attention to me as I got into the office. The big change was I paid no attention to anyone else. The ‘big’ guys were in, it was a bit past eight, but I couldn’t care less. Big—that simple three-letter word had an altogether different meaning now. I found the envelope and almost ripped it open. I ended up with a smaller part in my left and a larger part in my right, while, slowly, a check floated down to the floor, spinning. My hart stopped. I couldn’t believe it. A check! I had to sit down. The clang of the chair must have been loud as a few people looked towards me through the glass.

Of all the… how could I be so wrong? I crumpled the envelope parts with both my hands, I felt I was going to cry like a baby, but then, I felt something hard in my right hand. I opened it up, and unraveled the paper, and found a key. Not a key—the key. The key! I picked up the cheque so fast I almost fell over and the chair clanged again. On the check, written in neat print, deliberately missing the form fields, was: “The pool, 22:00 sharp, wear casual”.

I jumped and stopped a ‘yes’ in the middle, realizing where I was. I was out of there with a speed of a rocket, almost passing through that same glass window I fixed not a week ago. I went to the car, drove home like I was right out of Indianapolis and with no job but to get to Summer Street 58b, got there, stuffed the biggest towel I could find in the bag, donned a pair of bathing slips, and then I cranked up the music so loud the windows almost flew out. Doing my own version of Pavarotti, which probably scared the shit out of the pet population of the neighborhood, I passed the time until half past nine. It took about 15 minutes to get to the other side of town, but I didn’t want to be late. I shut everything down, took the bag and switched the phone back on from the ‘do-not-disturb’ setting I put in it myself, and that’s when I saw the letter.

My heart sank like a stone, as I looked up at the ceiling, saying ‘So that’s how I pay, you bastard’, and I meant it. But I soon started blaming myself, for not remembering what the next 5 weeks were all about. Stupid idiot! And I took the money from Kelloway precisely because I knew I wasn’t going to be here! I looked at the letter, which has been standing there for two months, the words in it playing in my head like from tape. ‘Dear Sir, we are glad to inform you that we have found a buyer for your assets, and we would like you to attend…’. There was just no way I could have done this long distance, and even worse, it was near to my family and I hadn’t been there for four years, and then there was the birthday thing, and the job I got to do at NIS Inc, and I was so proud I managed to put it all into those 35 days, practical me, oh yes so clever me, oh stupid and idiotic me. I leaned down banging my head on the wall softly and stayed there for minutes, fists on the wall. And I even had everything arranged for the flat here… there was no way I could get away with not going. I could shorten that maybe… I noticed the time and decided that today I wanted to forget about tomorrow, and went to the car.

Needless to say, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, cursing fate that just three days before a trip I can’t avoid, she deals me the deal of a lifetime.

Part 5

I ran to the door of the swimming pool building. There was a truck on the deserted parking lot and I was sure it was his. I didn’t exactly know what he had planned, but I did have some ideas.

The door was locked by a padlock and chain of all things, so I couldn’t open it more than a crack wide, and I was starting to get puzzled but then I remembered the key. Sure enough, it fitted perfectly. I managed to open the door and get in, and then close it and lock it after me, using the same chain and padlock from the inside. I was at the pool only once but I remembered the way, and besides, there was clearly a trail of bread crumbs in the form of lighted corridors. I soon ended up pool-side, and he was already sprawled on top of a towel. He lifted his head up and said, “I thought I wrote: wear casual”. I just had to laugh and he sniggered, rising to his feet.

Surprisingly, he was wearing some sort of spandex-like shorts which clung to him like a second skin, which made his cock very visible, squeezed down his left pantleg, and barely at that. It had to be bent into an S-shape to fit. The shorts themselves looked like they were heat-shrunk onto him, heaven knows how he managed to put them on at all. I soon corrected my condition by stripping down to my slips and getting my towel from my bag. I spread it on the floor beside his, and as soon as I did he laughed out, scooped me off the floor and flung me into the pool with such force I must have flied to the middle of it before crashing into the water. I swam up to the surface of the cool water only to see him jump into the pool, again displaying those graceful movements so difficult to connect to his size. A perfect lunge, the water almost swallowed him with a sound which had more to do with a slurp than a splash. I could see him glide under the water, before the strange optics of the rippling surface made it impossible. I swam slowly to the other end, expecting him to surface any moment. I reached the side, gripped the edge and waited.

And waited, and waited. I knew he was goofing around but it was becoming increasingly strange, so I popped my head under and looked, but I could not see him, the chlorine stinging my eyes. It was a long time since I last had a swim and it took some adjusting to see anything beyond a few yards. I swam slowly, looking around. All of a sudden, I saw a figure moving through the water with such speed, and then he surfaced, jumping off the bottom, which caused a small tsunami, moving me away from him just enough that he didn’t crash into me. He surfaced, exhaling, the water streaming off his face and his shoulders.

“Showoff,” I said, and he smiled. There is something about muscle and water, they simply go together, and it multiplied the sheer pleasure of looking at him, how his shoulders and traps broke the surface like an island made of muscle.

“You have gills stashed under those arms of yours?”, I asked, while he swam slow strokes, backwards, getting further towards the middle of the pool, still looking at me. His exhaling and the subsequent rasping chuckle of his was clear and loud in the acoustics of the empty building.

“Man you must have been under for minutes,” I said. After all, that wasn’t strange, the guy had such lung capacity he would probably have found living on the top of the Himalayas a minor nuisance. I swam towards him, but just as I could reach him, he lunged away, laughing. The water streamed over the muscle bulges of his back, like they were cascades.

“We got this all for ourselves tonight?” I asked, looking around and then at him.

“Some people owed me a favor” he answered, nodding. I looked at him, moving slowly towards him again, but he dived again, teasing me. No you’re not, I thought, and dived to see where he went, and swam towards him, trying to get to him. Well, I would probably be a pretty rotten swim-team member, but you could still call me a good swimmer, and I tried my best. He would tease me, waving under water, and then surface, just continuing to swim if I was near enough. We must have been playing catch like little children for half an hour, because he would allow me to touch him first, and I even managed to get him by the traps, but he was slippery and damn, he was so big I just couldn’t grab him well enough. I managed to do that once again, deciding to change the strategy and dunk him under, but he simply added a little force to his strokes and he supported himself and me, although I was pushing downwards, so that I practically ended up propped out of the water to my hips. He didn’t budge at all. All of a sudden, he dived in, so I had to do some quick maneuvering, and a few seconds after that, while I was catching my breath, his shorts floated up to the surface. I almost breathed some water, laughing. All of a sudden he surfaced at the far end of the pool. “Hey, can you spell ‘motivation’“ he asked, and broke out laughing as well, but I was already on my way. It was really strenuous after last night, but that was no excuse. And he didn’t even breathe harder, the freak! Just as I got there, he went towards me, a tactic I didn’t expect, and then, just as I was upon him, turned, but I managed to grab him by his ankle, something which was still small enough for me to grab with one hand, but he lunged, and dunked me under, laughing, and got away. I could see his huge body writhe around, under the water, his legs slowly pumping. It was maddening to look at the size of them, even his swimming moves were different. His cock trailed after him, as he swam away slowly breast stroke, like a long tail of sorts, and I got an idea. I surfaced, panting, and stayed put until he started teasing, coming nearer when he saw I wasn’t going to move. He breathed slowly, making bubbles in the water by submerging himself just keeping his eyes out, and I could see in them he was smiling. I slipped out of my swimsuit under water, and flung it at him, which he easily avoided, chuckling, and splashed his arm into the water, splashing me with enough water that I had to hold my breath.

Then, I started slowly advancing, but of course, he saw what I was up to instantly, but continued to tease, as I knew he would, swimming backwards, slowly. Then, just as I was almost in reach, I lunged forwards as best I could, and grabbed, my hand slipping over him, down his abs, and then I had him, his hose slipping through my hand as I squeezed down, finally stopped by the huge head. As it went it stretched to the same outlandish dimension when hard, and thinned out. Needless to say it stopped him in his tracks and I practically crashed into him.

He had a look of utter surprise on his face, but I let go and swam back, realizing that might have been painful.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I started saying, but he cut me off.

“You do that again and I’ll crumple you like a piece of paper,” he said, but his eyes were telling me a totally different story.

“You couldn’t hurt a fly even if you wanted to,” I said, still in the water. “Oh yes?” he said, and lunged himself into me with such force he practically plowed me over, catching me around the chest under water. I knew it was play so I didn’t kick, but I felt his arms move, one around my shoulders and one around my ass, pressing me into him, and then we surfaced. I knew that if he wanted to he could really crumple me, and probably anything else anyone cared to name. He squeezed with such force I thought I could hear my spine crackle, but he knew the limits and besides, my face ended in those pecs of his, and I felt his crotch press into my belly, his cock between us, folded. We were both as shriveled as could be in the cool water and at that point it was a good thing we were. He lifted me outwards, going into a back-stroke, supporting both of us only by outward strokes of his thighs which he held apart. In a second we were at the edge of the pool. It was shallower there and we could both stand on the bottom. I noticed, wondering that I didn’t before, that he was quite a bit taller than I thought, now that I managed to stand in front of him under…

cooler circumstances. But that was no surprise, his proportions were so incredible they defied any guess at them. I stroked his pecs, and he held his arms under mine, grabbing me by my, especially for his standards, rudimentary lats. I went down a little, just brushing his nipples, and feeling the topmost ridge of his abs, before I found his intercostals, moving up, and then his lats.

I slowly stroked them, as far up as I could, getting stuck between them and his triceps, not being able to reach his armpits at all.

“You are so huge and so strong…God this sounds so stupid” I broke in a laugh, and so did he.

“It’s like out of a fifty cent love story,” I said, repeating myself, in a high piping voice, which made us both laugh out loud before I could get to the fourth word. “Not that it isn’t true,” I said, looking him straight in those eyes of his, and his face. “And you’re beautiful,” I said. I held his lats, then moved my hands around his shoulders, as well as I could, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, and hugged as strong as I could, and he hugged me back, kissed me, and then we were both licking each other’s face and ended sharing tongues. It lasted long, but so short compared to the lifetime I wanted it to last.

“That was some trick you pulled,” he said softly, stroking my back, gently.

“I hope it didn’t hurt, I didn’t think…” I said, but he only smiled.

“It was pretty rough fondling,” he said, and I could see the laughter in his eyes well before he continued “I wouldn’t like to stretch it even longer with out you to take care of it afterwards,” he said, and sniggered his devilish laugh. With a painful pang I was reminded of tomorrow, and it was difficult to laugh with him.

He must have seen it, as he stopped laughing. There was that strange shift in his eyes, and his face changed into a frown.

“What’s wrong?’ he asked, as he stopped stroking my back.

I weighted the answer for what looked like a small eternity. “Oh, nothing.” I said, finally, but even I could hear the ring of a lie in my voice.

He looked at me, and then said, “Why do you lie?”. His eyes bored into me. I averted mine, and the contact was broken. He let go, scooped his shorts which somehow floated to the edge, and mine which were already there, and threw them out near the towels. Then he lifted himself out of the water, with one smooth move, which made a play of incredible shapes under his skin. He ended up out of the pool, sitting on the edge, his feet in the water, and I couldn’t help notice, his cockhead hanging over the ledge. He reached down and simply plucked me out of the water, lifting me by my armpits. There was no effort in it at all. He carried me right to my towel, and let me down. It was so strange, I didn’t even move. I almost expected him to sit me on his enormous thigh and ask me to talk to daddy, but I knew it wasn’t like that and the thought made me ashamed of myself. He sat on his towel, cross-legged, facing me. Up to now it was impossible to imagine how someone so huge could do that. His cock rested like a dormant serpent, in the little remaining space between his incredible calves and his crotch.

“You are too old to behave like a baby and you know it, so I’m just going to sit here and let you do the talking,” he said.

I sighed. Three days ago, it would have been so easy to talk to anyone without any emotion at all about anything, but those three days were very special. I didn’t really know anything about the man in front of me. The man, the ultra-man—but he was so big, so powerful, and I just knew he was so…good. There wasn’t a bad hair on his head. After all, he was something so special, that all the insecurity all of us mere humans had, and all of the arrogance, and all of the hidden pain and the learned responses and complexes and frustrations were just not there. If you gave him a first glance, he was sex personified, and he knew it, he could have seen it in my eyes hundreds of times in the last three days, and before that as well, I was sure he did. And yet, looking at him now, he was so much more then that. I have never met anyone like this, and I probably never will again, and… when I go away? What I have been planning for a year as a holiday now lost all it’s appeal, and became a major nuisance. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure why I was here—when it could have been anyone else. If he wasn’t so secretive, there would have been pilgrimages to this very spot.

“Why did you pick me?” I asked. I was surprised at the loss of control in my voice. I felt like crying, but… men don’t cry, do they? The huge building around us shrunk to a small space containing just him and me.

“Because you made me see it’s not easy being the man in the ivory tower,” he said.

“Now what kind of a stupid answer is that”, I exploded, frustrated, “Next thing you are going to say you were all truthful and sincere just two days ago, Saturday night?”. I realized I was getting furious only because of my own frustration, but it didn’t stop me. “You could have had anyone, anyone! And you pulled that macho super-stud stunt on me, letting me think I was actually doing something for you, you could have got that thing of yours’ and I pointed at his crotch, my finger shaking, ‘up any time you fucking wanted to, and don’t even try denying it. You don’t need me, why would you need me?’, I was almost crying now, ‘Why are you so good to me, why am I here today when you could just dump me any day and…’ My hands just fell to the ground, I had the feeling my soul was all black and dying. He started rising his hand to touch me, but I just lifted mine in a gesture to stop him. I felt a tear stream down my face and I wiped it down with the same hand. I calmed down in seconds, not being able to look him in the eye. God, I never lost it this way.

“If you only knew how easy it would have been if the act stayed an act,” he said, there was a subtle change in that godlike voice of his, it made me look at him.

His face and eyes were a mask of sorrow such as I have never seen, it was impossible to connect with his figure, so much so that I laughed, but it was a painful laugh. It made his face change, understanding all over it.

“You know, when I started growing,” he said, “for a long time I thought it was a fit revenge for all those that kept teasing me as a kid. In no time at all I was so much bigger, stronger and I thought better than any of them, and it made me just go on and on. It’s a feeling of domination, and it made me only want more and more. When I remember those days I’m not surprised people could not deal with me, I was really wild”.

“It was like the ugly duckling getting to be a swan, and then even more—soon even the swans looked like ugly ducklings compared to me. It didn’t matter, I tried being ever more and more—bigger, stronger, faster, cleverer, better—or so I thought. Every time I’d look in the mirror I’d see someone who can be even bigger, and it made me… I jacked off so many times on that. In a way it’s still like that today, but you know that. There used to be an insecurity phase as well—how would I know I was the best? When I was younger, I would go out nights, traveling far, and be a flasher for the night. The faces people would make in the alleys, they turned me on so much, I’d go on it for days, and it made me want still more and more of myself. Then, as I got more, I realized people would either run away, or at best do themselves and me, moaning ‘You’re the biggest’ with such detachment, knowing it would be better to forget the whole thing and go on, thinking they were lucky I ever gave them an opportunity.

It was like I wasn’t real, because I was so unbelievable to them that I couldn’t be. After that, it became pure curiosity—how far can I go, and that was also satisfying. I thought hell with them all, and went on”. He sighed. “Then I saw you. Man you had a way of looking without looking! I could see the sizing up and the realization in your eyes, and then the shear lust, you knew exactly what you laid your eyes on, and after a long time I decided to play the game again—I thought you were the same as… And then, you thought I had a problem, and you wanted to solve it. First I thought it was so funny, and I wanted you to get the surprise of your life. But after all that, I realized you did it for me, as well as for yourself, and it turned me on so much, so you see, there was some truth in what I said”. He paused a little. “Then, I realized that if your trick would have failed, you would have blamed only yourself. I was so shocked that someone would care for me, when everyone I knew thought I needed no care because I already had everything… the next morning I would have done anything… I didn’t know how to get out of pretending, and Sunday morning you finally managed to corner me, but your own curiosity let me off the hook”.

“Then came the workout, and I got so high on that I felt like I was 18 again, and then after that up at my place, boy that was something… for the first time, I felt someone sleep in my bed with me, someone who wanted all of me, for what I am, who was warm and tender and… and… mine.”

“You asked me what that thing is I do with my eyes,” he said, “but I really don’t do anything much, no more than you do it. I guess it’s the look of joy in me when I see you are enjoying me, and understand how I enjoy myself, and it makes me feel… it makes me feel I was made for someone, and I just want to give you more, it’s fantastic and when I see that ‘I know you, you’re mine, I want all of you, I want more of you’ look in your eyes, I…” he left the words hanging there for a while.

“It’s like sometimes you know me better than I know myself, and it’s only been what—two days? I don’t know if this made any sense to you, but I thought about it ever since you first asked”, he said after a short pause. “For some reason we seem to be a pair”.

I was quite baffled, to say the least! This was really weird!”

He held me to him again, and I had no intention to stop him this time. He gave me one of his incredible hugs, his huge muscle almost enveloping me whole.

“So, when are you leaving,” he said, still holding me. He had shifted together with me and we were laying side by side, my hand on his abs. I explored them almost unconsciously, feeling the now dry skin, stretched over those incredible protruding cobblestones of muscle, tracing the almost invisible hair down the mid crevice that run to his crotch hair.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I said, the sadness clearly evident in my voice. My hand still went up and down over his abs.

“No doubt to some old fat guy with a gut like this,” he said, and made his abs almost plop out of his skin, in a sort of weird reverse-flex which made a huge gut-like shape, large like a basketball, which looked it would rip his skin and drop out of his belly.

“Jesus, don’t do that!’ I almost shouted, my hand still on it, but this was not a belly of a fat man, it was steel-hard muscle. “And why not?” he asked, now even exhaling as much as he could, which made the muscle seem to bulge even more. I looked at him, and he made a face, plumping his cheeks with air and trusting his lower lip outwards, in an imitation of a fat man, but it was so funny on him I almost choked trying to laugh, which in turn made him laugh, and that made his abs snap back into their cobblestone shape, rippling with his laughter, catching my fingers between them, they were so big. I jerked my hand away, saying “Aw!” and that made us laugh even more. All of a sudden, he took my towel, together with my bag, and scooped me up as well, and then his stuff. I had no choice than to just hang onto his incredible frame protesting, as he practically ran out to the lockers, carrying me. He let me down, took his bag which was stashed on a bench there and started putting clothes on, which was really something to watch.

I continued putting on mine, but I never so much as wavered my gaze which stayed firmly glued to him. First, he fished out another pair of those spandex-like shorts. Now, I had time to notice they were completely open along one leg by a long zipper. He squeezed his right thigh into the normal leg, and then lifted up his cock in such a way I almost laughed out, but I realized it was a normal gesture for him, as normal as adjusting your nuts into briefs. He ended up zipping up the zipper, his behemoth cock stuffed along his left thigh in that S shape again, so the head would not protrude below his kneecap. Then came the shirt, which was more or less normal. I guess a T-shirt would also have to be modified to suit him, simply because he couldn’t get his shoulders in it, and still have it taper properly to his waist. This was probably the reason why he wore a regular shirt, well, of sorts—considering his size and shape it really was highly irregular. Then came the jeans. This was a sight as well. Again, there was a long zipper running from about 5 inches from the right pantleg cuff up, along the inner side of the thigh, and then up over his crotch. Once he put those on, they still appeared baggy on his thighs, but almost lost the battle of bagginess on his calves. When he zipped them up, they looked pretty normal, considering. The telltale was the belt he had to use, because even with that strange cut his waist was still so small compared to the rest of him. Now that I knew about it, I could trace the outline of his cock, but the cut was pretty subtle, and even if you had the thought, without previous knowledge, you’d disregard it as simply impossible. I wondered who the tailor was and felt a pang of jealousy, which caught me well off-guard. He finished off with a jacket and it, at least, seemed normal, but of course, it could have doubled as a sleeping bag for me. For him it was tight in a strange, non-revealing way, which made him look even more sexy in clothes since I knew what they were hiding, especially as he was now looking at me, his face beaming. I barely resisted jumping onto him and just licking him all over.

In what seemed like seconds, we were in his truck, decided we’d pick up my car later, and on the way to his flat. The truck seemed cut out for him, but although I could fit well, someone of a bigger stature could not fit with him at the driver seat.

That night, we didn’t make love, but we cuddled and hugged and got to know each other in a totally different way—as friends. We talked, listened to music, or just were with each other. I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and I know he wouldn’t have as well. I will never forget that sleep-over, our naked bodies together in that bed, using nothing but each other for covers (although I was well aware I got a better bargain), warm, and so calming to be together for that short time that remained. No sex, but so sexual, so tender and understanding, and…loving?

The next day, he drove me to the big city, all the way to the airport. He certainly did get glances (to say the least), and when we finally parted, it was so strange, only a few words from him: “I…” and after a long pause “…you know where to find me”. For what turned out to be over seven weeks, I thought so often about that single letter ‘I’, and regretted that I was the one not offering any words at all. There was so much to do, so many people to see and so many places to visit, it made me almost forget, but then, at night, it was so difficult to sleep at first, as the thoughts would be there, but then I had dreams of him, and sometimes they were good, sometimes troubled, and sometimes, they were…very sexual, to say the least. And, there were more hand-jobs I gave myself thinking of him, than I would have believed possible a month ago.

By the middle of my ‘holiday’ I felt I was over the hill, anticipating the day I would return, but still there was a pain there that sneaked up on me every time I’d be insecure of what I would find once I came back. I even called the ‘G’ once and got the manager, and then hung up after a few words that were essentially meaningless. I kept telling myself I could handle anything, but deep down I didn’t really know what I would do if… but, I’m straying again.

Finally, that day came, and I found myself at the airport, and in a phone-booth.

I dialed up the number of the ‘G’.

After a few rings, I heard a ‘hello?’. It was Greddy, the gym manager—thank heaven he was still there, the ‘G’ would close in a few minutes.

“Oh hi, good thing you finally got here. The boss called earlier.” My hopes went about 11 miles up!”

“What, Vi… the boss was there?” I asked, cursing inwardly at the slip of the tongue.

“Nope. But you know how he is. In fact, no-one’s seen him…well, pretty much since when you left or thereabouts. He called on the phone, damned if I remember when he did that the last time. He left a note for you…By the way, someone called Kelloway called earlier this week, he seems pretty anxious to get hold of you” Well, I knew what that meant, but it must have been the least important thing in the world right now. I heard him rummaging amongst the heap of magazines he always has lying on the desk.

“Now where did I put the bloody thing… he said to himself, I could hear him rustle through his notebook. It held a list of the gym members and he’d usually have a check or note for me under my name. He leafed through it so damned slowly!!! Eventually he said: “Here, a note for you, he said you’d call…

There’s a note saying to tell you just ‘The usual time’, strange, but that’s what he said.” he said. The usual time? Yes, of course, 9:40, I remembered the first time in the gym!!!”

“OK, I’m kind of in a hurry here…” I started, getting really anxious to get there. It took little less than an hour and a half and it was getting near 8 PM already. “Whoa, what’s the rush… I wanted to ask you—can you wield an arc welder, by chance? Someone managed to break a machine here and the big lat is bent as well, think you could look at it?” he asked. Now Victor, what in heavens name have you been up to? “Sorry, I have to go, see you later…”. He must have heard the urgency in my voice because he trailed off a “When you have the time…”.

The drive was a blur. I just know I found myself stepping out of the cab in front of my building. It was almost half past nine. As I struggled with my bags, I noticed my car was parked there, one promise kept. I found the keys and a letter in the letter box. The letter had no return address. I tore it open in anticipation, and there was a note in it, and a key. “My place. 21:40 sharp, wear nothing. And I mean it!” was written on it, and I thought my heart would leap out through my throat! I had no time to waste! I stuffed some clothes in my bag, although I knew full well I wont be needing them any time soon, and practically ran to the ‘G’, a hardon begging to get itself noticed through my jeans. When I finally got there, I went around to the back door, taking extra care that no-one sees me. Of course, the key opened the lock, and as soon as I got in and locked the door behind me, I stripped down, shivering in the cold corridor, and packed my clothes in the bag. I used the key to open the door to the stairway, and ran up, my cock bobbing. I thought it was too blatant, but when I came up the stairs, opened the door to Victors flat and got in, nothing in this world could have prepared me for the sight that was waiting there for me.

“Oh my…” I just let my breath escape and it came out that way.

He was right out of the tub, and rubbing himself down, and he was just…

unbelievable. We were both taken unawares, and there were two muffled noises as my bag and his towel fell down.

“Hi…” he just said and looked at me, and there was that look in his eyes again in that set ecstatic shivers up my spine.

“What…” I realized my throat was dry, and my head was spinning. “What in heavens name have you been doing” I asked, staring at him, but trying to remember if there was somewhere I could sit, before I fall down.

Now he is… no—he used to be monstrously huge, and now… now I have no words! I knew it was his heavy day today, assuming he hadn’t changed his schedule, so I expected he’d be fresh out of the gym and pumped. And he was pumped up to the max, but that was only on top of the fact that he was also so much bigger, to me he looked like he doubled in size—I wasn’t even going to guess what he would weigh. Jesus Christ! He even looked taller—but I reminded myself it might have been an illusion because his shoulders, and his traps were bigger! I must have been mumbling something trying to find words now that the total scene managed to sink in. First of all, he was really a lot bigger, so much so that I could see a loss of range of movement, and even at his previous impossible size he was very flexible. But, the most outstanding change was in the shapes of his muscle, it was mind-boggling. To top all that, his cock looked as it was already half-hard, but as he moved it shuddered and I realized it was only an inkling of a hard-on, and yet his cockhead was dangling down below the…edges on his calves—there was no better description, his calves were so large that their shapes actually acquired edges, stretching the skin. And so were his shoulders, and his arms and his pecs… I was beginning to feel dizzy again, and I guess I just let myself fall on him. The next I knew my hands were all over him.

“Aaahhhh….” he sighed, almost pressing into me, which didn’t work well because his muscles were so hard that I could hardly feel I made a dent in them, even when pressing hard—and he wasn’t flexing at all. My hands shot over him, and I tried to step back, to be able to see more of him at once, but I didn’t do very good simply because I wasn’t willing to trade sight for touch, and boy did I touch. “What have you done…” finally came out of me, but he was also stroking, me and himself, alternately. “Mmm…later,” he said. He scooped me up again, like I weighted nothing and hugged me into his pecs, and I started licking him wherever I could, feeling that he was carrying me, his footsteps making me rub into him as they produced low thuds in the floor.

He went on to the bed and the lights went on, and as he started lowering me, I feel something hot under my ass, and I look in the mirror.

His cock was getting hard, and it wasn’t merely trying to rise as before, it was rising, as unbelievable as it may have been. It was already as big as I ever saw it and it was twitching up, and getting harder, and bigger!”

“Oh shit…oh…fuck…you look like you’re going to burst,” I said, still stroking him, awkwardly as I was trying to look at the mirror, and at him, and at the floor, which I felt the soles of my feet suddenly touching. It was a strange feeling, I felt like I was suspended an inch above it, all my being was in my stroking hands.

“No I’m not…not yet” he mumbled. I looked at the mirror again, and I almost fainted, seeing him move away, and then kneeling so his side was to the mirror, and I knew what would come next—my favorite. As he did that his cock never touched the ground, it had long ago attained what was full hard-on as I knew it, it’s shape bent again into an upwards curve, skewed to the side, but then it went far beyond. I noticed then he was wearing some sort of cock-ring, and I asked “what’s that”, my hand moving to touch this tree-trunk of a manhood, but he whispered: “Don’t touch or it will be all over fast”. I stayed back, and watched as his yard-long cock became longer, thicker and harder, rising proudly upwards, while he started doing his thing, puffing himself up slowly. I was so hot I thought I would melt through the floor, and I knew this would be over soon no matter what. Deprived of touching him, I wanted to touch myself, and more, but I stopped myself in an attempt to make this last as long as possible.

He had pumped himself up, and I mean all of himself—managing to get his cock hard, whatever that ment right now. I had no idea how this came to be, and I didn’t care. His stance was such that his cock was jutting up at a 45 degree angle, and he held his arms to the side, and as he inhaled slowly, teasingly, already he was larger than ever before, all of him, and he was getting even bigger. He kept on inhaling more on every breath, and his cock was still twitching. He was looking into the mirror, and his face was flushed, but his pecs became higher and higher, and his breastbone was starting to poke out under them. I kept moaning, asking him for more, and he grew, inhaling, his chest expanding. His pecs were so pumped and when he flexed them in short twitches, they became all veiny and glistening with the sweat of exertion, and they were so huge they already stood straight out from him, but he continued on heaving, his hands groping the empty air as his enormous arms went up and down. I watched him, stroking my belly right over the root of my painfully hard shaft, making me feel ecstatic pangs in my head, I felt my own pre-cum ooze down my nuts which felt as someone hung weights off them. I thought I was going to burn up, but I held on. His cock was now visibly larger than before, and it was again all veiny and distended, and purplish red, except for the head which looked like a very elongated mushroom, or better still an elongated grapefruit, engorged until it had a dark purple-brown sheen. The shaft glistened, the skin stretched until the tissue underneath formed lumps all over, sweaty. Pre-cum gushed from the gaping piss-slit and oozed down the length of it, I could see a steady stream. I looked upwards, and saw him trembling, his face flushed. He could not move his head any more because his chin would get stuck in his pecs, a look of total abandon in his eyes, and still he was trying to suck in one more breath, his chest trying to rise even more in small jerks. His chest looked like it was going to rip open every time he did this but now it was bigger, wider, higher and puffed up more, and it looked like exploding any second. His lats jutting at the sides made it all look even bigger, and I could take no more, I started stroking myself, and I felt the first cramp in my balls, spraying his swollen chest with jizz, as I knew he wanted, and then, with a barely audible wince, he brought his arms up in a double biceps pose, and flexed his abs and his biceps all at once. All in the same instant I felt like I was cumming again, his abs became six huge bricks, rising his chest even more, I thought I could hear his ribs crackle, and his triceps became so huge that the bulges connected with his jutting lats, while his biceps went up to his fists and pushed them out of the way. For a moment everything stood still, and I remember thinking that he was really going to burst, split open down his largest chest possible all the way to the gaping piss slit on the largest cock possible, when I heard a sound like a faint pop, and then I went somewhere else. I had a feeling that all of me was shooting through my cock, and I felt a splash of something hot on me, and something hit me, and there was a roar like the sky was falling which became the tone of the largest imaginable pipe organ, with all the pipes at full blast. Everything was shaking, and all was white, and I had no body any more. It went on and on, becoming unbearable, and then, suddenly, it all stopped.

Part 6

First there was this buzzing. All around. No…coming closer, closer to my… head? Ants crawling over me… over my hands. No ants—only my hands. My hands.

Hands. Feet. Shoulder hurts. Sticky. Wet. Suddenly, as a flash I see, a huge leg. I move, and it’s like fire in my veins, and I see him, on his back, his arms spread on the floor, and his cock, full mast, jutting up, curved. What a good description, a curved mast. From this strange angle it looked like it reached the ceiling. His chest is huge, heaving what looked like a foot up and down, so high and wide I cannot see his face at all. I realize something is streaming down from my hair, and I move to touch it, and it’s sticky. Cum. I rolled over onto my side, which gave me a better view, and I looked at him, genuinely surprised that he was still in one piece, although I knew the notion of him exploding was absurd, the last time I saw him he looked big enough for that to happen. And of course, he didn’t look much smaller—it’s amazing how the mind’s eye works. If anything, from this angle he looked bigger. I just watched, until I decided I could crawl over. As I did I saw the remains of the cock-ring, and I knew it had made the pop as it snapped. As I moved closer, I saw that his cock, now softer only enough to hang a bit lower, nearer to his thigh, still dribbled cum in small gobs. I saw his fists twitch with his heartbeat, and then he moved one arm, as I came nearer, and pulled me in, so I ended up straddling him. He bent over, looking at me, panting, saying nothing, and lifted his cock straight over my back. I knew that in more than one way we were continuing where we left off, a month and a half earlier. I bent down, pushing my ass lower, so the shaft of his cock went into my asscrack. It bent the shaft—it was softer now, but only a little, and it came up over the back of my head.

I lay myself on him, my lips ending up at the level of his eyes, and his around my throat, and I licked him first, and then kissed him, and I felt the huge weight of both his arms now around me, lifting me up a little, and then his lips on my chest. My hands were on his shoulders, which were so big that the surface they held to felt like it had no curvature, only large, hard lumps and bands under it. His huge chest supported me above his face, and I bobbed up and down as he breathed. I let my hands slide down, to his arms, and he let his slide down to my lower back, and then, they left my skin, and suddenly, my hands were in his, holding each other. He shifted a bit, and my balls and hard cock were pressed down by my abs and massaged by the huge ridges of his abs. I moaned in pleasure, and his hands left mine, I lifted myself up, my hands again on his pecs. His cock never left my back, and he started stroking its shaft and my back with one hand, and his other found it’s way under mine, rubbing my cock into his abs, forcefully. I thought I would cum again that very moment, but he sensed it and eased the pressure. I squeezed his nipples and stroked his chest, and nuzzled the back of my neck into his huge cockhead, which made his whole body shudder. We looked each other straight in the eyes, sending each other an electric shock, and like a unit we came. I shot my second load over his abs, it rebound and sprayed my chest. I felt him jerk as he came, and I could feel the rush of his cum as it went through his python-sized shaft, and it shot right behind and over my head, spraying us both.

The subsequent slower and smaller gushes ended oozing down my back, hot gobs leaving cooling trails. Our eyes never left their lock and that incredible sound was there again. As it faded, we started making each others face out in the mist, and then the world around intruded on us again. We stayed like that a while, and then I felt a warm serpent get unstuck from my back, and slap down on his thighs, and I slid down, feeling his balls under my ass, lifted enough just to touch them lightly, and feel his pubic hair grind against my own balls. Again, my hands ended in his, sprawled to the sides, but this time, our lips met, and then our tongues, and it was long and hot, and lovely.

After a long time, we untangled. I rolled down on the floor, my head nestled between his left armpit, his lat, his biceps and his pec. My body was pressed into his. We were all reeking, and sticky, but it didn’t matter at all. He spoke first.

“Don’t take so long the next time”.

I didn’t know what he meant.

“I mean, coming back,” he said, making it crystal clear.

“This was incr…” I started saying, but he cut in.

“Shhh… we don’t have the words for it yet”, and he was right. We could have had sex, or we could have stayed right here on the floor like this, or do anything as long as he was near, and I never would want it to end. I shifted, rolling to the side, so my thigh ended over his, lifted high by the size of it, and my body pressed into his side. My hand was again on his abs, which rose and fell slowly as he breathed. His hand soon encased mine. Our toes played with each other. He laughed.

“So there wasn’t an old fat man after all,” he said, and I had to chuckle.

“No” I answered “But there was a huge monster waiting right here and by the time I came back it got even bigger” Now it was his turn to rasp his raspy chuckle, making our hands bounce on his belly, and his chest felt like he was purring. I licked the side of his pec a little and then kissed him, and nibbled just a tad.

“And it got this impossibly huge hard pole sticking out of it, waiting for me” I continued, and he laughed. I stroked his abs a bit, all sticky with my own cum, and then moved my other hand and tickled his side softly, which made him twitch only a bit. “It never did that before, I’m really curious how come it can now,” I said, while he sighed. “And I want it” I finished. He almost burst out laughing, but I pinched the skin on his but. It wasn’t a real pinch as he was so hard, and his skin so tight, I barely managed to get enough between my fingers, but that probably made it painful. He twitched, pinning my hand into the crevice between the top ridge of his abs and his pecs. “Hey… quit doing that,” he said, sounding hurt, and I chuckled again, and kissed him.

“Good food, plenty of exercise, rest, and a crazy idea,” he said. “That’s how the pole got there”.

“I want it, and I’ll have it!” I said, playfully, but truthfully.

“And how is a little cuddly thing like you going to make me… I mean this huge monster… give it up?” he asked, sniggering. “It is too big, anyway” he finished, stroking my forearm again, and touching my back with his fingers, although that pinned me to him, because his arm was so big. I couldn’t have wished for more.

“Maybe I…actually, the little cuddly…” I’ll need to talk about that with him later! “…ah… thing has something to offer to the great hulking muscle-monster,” I said, grabbing the ridges of his abs, in vain hope it would be at least slightly painful. But his hand slid away, and he shifted, which actually meant we both moved, and found my cock, now soft, but stirring in his huge hand.

“Maybe it has… yes… I think it has,” he said, fondling my nuts, my own cock surprising me by the quickness of it’s response. My hand went down from his abs to his crotch, and soon found the root of his awakening cock. It was bigger around then I remembered it, and I felt a ridge of sorts.

“What’s with the cockring” I asked, realizing how it got there, and ending the wordplay.

“It’s for when I work out, so it stays hard” he answered, now tugging at my cock. Work out? Hard? I started imagining that and my cock went rock hard in a second.

“Oooh, you’re quick…” he said, surprise in his voice. Suddenly, he moved, and I moved with him. Then, I was kneeling, and he was on all fours, his ass right over my bobbing cock. I could feel his cock stirring on my thigh, and he extended it out to the side. He spat in his fist, and next it was between his glutes, which he brought apart by moving in such an arousing way I thought I’d cum right there. Amazingly I held on, probably because I already had cum twice, and he did the spitting thing again, and once more. I was still all clammy, but I got the hint and did the same, smearing my cock all over. Then, I held it and this time it was me that found his hole, and slowly eased the head inside, which made him moan, and lower himself, but I held out by pulling myself lower a bit, and I didn’t go in completely. He was so tight! He rocked a little, and I put my hands on his back. It was so huge, the taper was even more incredible and I started pumping slowly, and he caught the rhythm himself, and I started squeezing the mounds his movement made on his back. He was so big that I couldn’t reach his shoulders, because I’d have to bend enough to pull out from him, and it was the last thing I’d want. His innards shuddered with his enjoyment, and I could see his cock taking off, stiffening and growing. First it started straightening out, and I took it into one hand while my other still groped and stroked, and lifted it, bending it, while it was still pliable, over his back. It was so heavy already! And it was also long enough to reach around him and over him so I rubbed it into his back, which made him moan louder. I couldn’t stop looking at the incredible expanse of his back, this huge sea of writhing muscle.

“You are enormous,” I said, and then the picture came of him, pumping up in the gym, his gigantic cock hard, and I started humping up and down like a maniac, feeling his cock becoming more rigid and larger, until I couldn’t hold it any more without causing him discomfort, so I bent it upwards, over his lat, and started stroking it, and his lat, which twitched and writhed as he moved. He almost shouted in ecstasy, and I felt his hole tighten, starting to convulse, but he held it off, and it became several small shudders, which made a huge amount of pre-cum gush out of his now almost completely rigid pole. I couldn’t reach the head easily, it was wedged between the mountains of his lat and his triceps, but his bulging and writhing muscle took care of it more than adequately. Then, I felt another suppressed convulsion, which sent me into the realm of bliss. I shot, only a single shot, and then a few shudders, wincing, and then, I felt his ass clamp shut, his balls stir on my thighs, and I bent his cock backwards, so it’s head came right into my mouth. It made him wince as I bent it, because it was so hard, and then shout, and I felt him loosen and then clamp even harder, so I thought my cock would explode inside of him. Then his cum hit me into the face, a shaft of thick hot liquid squirting from his piss slit, right before I could get my lips around it, but I didn’t want to loose the next helping, and the next one after that, which I knew was coming, his innards cramping again. It had that salty-sweet almond tang again, and I sucked at it like a baby, lapping down barely in time, because it was like drinking, so large was the quantity. I was still at it as it started softening, and he just let his chest down on the floor, sighing. A little later, I felt my member ooze out of him, and I sprawled myself over his back, stroking his lats and arms, pushing my fingers into the numerous crevices between his bulging muscles. We must have stayed that way for minutes.

Finally, I grabbed him around his waist and my hands went below, and found the root of his now almost soft cock and pulled it, with both hands, like one would pull a rope to get to it’s end. He sighed, there was no doubt that he liked it.

I could feel his heartbeat in it, pumping it into another erection. He seemed to be able to go on and on, but I was well spent, but not willing to give it up just yet.

“O no you don’t!” I said, and practically peeled myself off him, sweat and cum drenched, and coerced him to come to the bed by pulling on his member.

“I want you and I’ll have you,” I said. I knew this was quite possibly dangerous, but he had done it once, what seemed only moments ago, but was in fact weeks, and I wanted him again. I grabbed his cock about 8 inches from the top, and squeezed both hands around it, to stop that part from engorging. Before either of us really knew what was happening, I rose my knees, and lying on my back, pushed him into me. It was like all my senses disconnected momentarily, except my hands and my hole trying to get the soft but still huge head of his cock into me, because that’s what most of the 8 inches I had were. I winced in pain as the rim of it finally got past my sphincter, which convulsed uncontrollably, and I almost lost it then and there. He moaned and moaned in pleasure. I had stopped hearing my own moans and winces, and who knows what else, a long time ago. I just started pumping it in and out, and soon noticed he was setting the pace. I looked up and he held it by the root with one hand, while the other stroked his abs. The shaft was almost completely rigid now and so fucking long I probably could not reach him with my legs straight out to him. I could barely hold the pressure back, feeling painfully sweet pangs as the head passed somewhere over my prostate, and I thought I would start melting. Then, all of a sudden, he went into a full lat spread, big enough to eclipse the sun, and then went right into a double biceps pose, his lats staying spread. I almost bit my tongue in half looking at his waist bloom into his arms and shoulders by a completely continuous, and downright preposterous curve, going from his lats directly into the unbelievable triceps, to his elbows. And his biceps… I could only say ‘Fuck…’ which ended in a wince, as I felt my balls cramp in a totally unexpected orgasm, my cock not managing to attain full hardness, and I never even touched it. I lost it for a second, and lost my grip on his cock as well, and the pressure in his engorged cock expanded his cockhead in me until I thought it would rip me apart, but that only amplified the feeling of ecstasy, and I realised I must have been screaming aloud. Then I felt another burst of ecstatic pain. I must have blacked out for several seconds, and when I came to, he was bent over me, his hands on my shoulders. I heard his “Are you all right?”

like it was far away. He was fast enough to realize what was happening and pulled himself out, but as he grabbed me, he had to push his cock which was rapidly attaining full erection, and now that was something entirely different from what I knew, right over my belly and chest, until the cockhead got up to my face. At that moment I came sufficiently to my wits. He shook me a bit and said a loud “Answer me, are you hurt?”, and looked into him, not believing what I now held over my body. Instead of an answer my face became a picture of lust as I wrapped my hands over this bloated log of manflesh, and I was instantly in heaven.

“Look at you… your cock is… it’s bigger…it’s enormous…how big is it?” I asked, stroking and trying to lick it.

I could almost see a sigh of relief on his face. My touching seemed to be a good incentive for him, so he started tugging it back and forth a little, and I knew he was far from a climax and wanted to play some more. I suddenly realized that my own cock hurt me with another hardon, better late than never, and knew he was not the only one who wanted to play.

“Get the cockring and the tape and you’ll know in a minute,” he said, rasping that chuckle of his again. “The usual place” he added, grinning. It took me a few seconds to realize, but then I remembered I was in a position to get my hands onto the shelf on the low wall, and soon enough, I felt the tape, and something else…yes, a strap of sorts. I grabbed both, never even trying to turn and look. Then I looked right back at him, enjoying the way the boulder size muscles moved under his skin, huge volumes threatening to rip it open. I extended my hand and he took the cock-ring, or rather strap, and deftly wrapped it around the base of his cock. The reaction was almost immediate—I could feel his rod stiffening. He moved a little, and I spread my legs so he could kneel over them. His left thigh ended between my thighs, and my left between his. It made his cock push upwards, and I started licking it, experimentally. I would extend my tongue as far as it would go and press my lips on it. He pushed it and pulled back, and the sweat and cum made it grind against my own cock, and slip all over my crotch, belly and chest, and under my tongue and lips.

“Aaa…ah…careful, I want this to last” he whispered. In a matter of seconds I could feel it getting steel hard, unbendable, and so incredibly heavy. I was getting hot as a stove, and as for him—I could have felt the heat like it was radiating from a bonfire. His cock was so big before that if he had fucked me with it, he would kill me—and now it was much bigger, the head reached over my face, and his crotch still couldn’t reach mine simply because his legs were so incredibly huge that I just couldn’t spread mine so far in this position.

“Oh shit… I’m getting so hard it hurts…” he moaned, and I tried pressing my fingers into his shaft, but it was like hot steel, and didn’t budge even the slightest. The veins and lumps on it ground into my skin and I felt I was slowly going mad, as I tried to reach the cockhead which again attained the size of an elongated grapefruit, and was engorged so hard it felt under my tongue like a hot, disfigured glass ball. I couldn’t get to the piss slit, and I got my lips along the ridge of the head instead, but left it be the second I heard his wince. I wanted this to last as well. I looked past the head of his cock which was in my direct view, towards his face, and saw an extended hand.

“Give it… give it to me I feel like I’m going to burst any…second…” he winced, the last word had a inflection of urgency. I could feel it flexing, as he tried to pump more and more blood into it. I gave him one end of the tape which I still held in one hand. He stretched it to the root of his tree-trunk cock so forcefully, almost ripping it out of my hand, and I knew he was almost gone too far. I stretched the tape, it went and went.

“Oh…my…oh shit…” I started mumbling and then almost shouting when I saw the number. I could not believe it, but that wasn’t important anyway, I just wanted him.

“Fuck… fuck my body, I want to stroke all of you with all of me…now!” I shouted, ripping the tape out of his hands, and let it fly to the floor, and started licking, stroking and massaging all of him I could reach, and he did the same, grinding my cock into his, and stroking himself, and with one mouth, one cock, four hands, and a whole upper body on and around his cock there was still to spare. He started pumping it up and down so fast I thought he’d ignite me into flames. I felt his huge, heavy balls over my thigh and I wanted to feel it all, have it all, all three and a half feet of his flesh, coupled to his enormous body, so huge it shamed any sexual image of a man that humankind ever invented. Then, time stood still for me and I felt like I was going to pass out, the orgasm was so strong and so different, I can only begin to describe it as burning. Somewhere before, who knows when, our eyes locked again, and it was like a tidal wave built between us, engulfed us and then rolled us over, a million times, finally depositing us in the warmth of our combined juices. I had never thought I could cum so much after so many times I already have, but he came in form of a torrent. When I came to I was all covered with his cum, and he had my own streaming down from his face, to his chin, down his throat, nestling a while in the chasm between his traps and his pecs, before again flowing downwards between them. He was kneeling, holding his balls with both hands, and then suddenly started falling towards me, but spread his arms and stopped himself just short of that. He was so huge, I was probably in a very real danger of being crushed, but I wanted so much to hold to him, to kiss him, that I would have believed it to be the ultimate form of being with him that moment, however strange it looked. But he knew what I wanted without us ever exchanging a word.

He lowered himself, and I held myself to him, my legs around his leg, and my arms around his traps, because he was so huge that was the only place I could hold to—I couldn’t by any stretch of my hands be able to reach around his chest. I hugged him, squeezing as strong as I could, and kissed him, and stroked him, and he held me, standing up. I felt his lips on my shoulder, my ear, my lips, and his arms around me, and all over me. I was completely spent, and it was such a delicious feeling.

I awoke to a feeling of moving, and then to sudden warmth. I must have dozed off, exhausted, and as I opened my eyes, I looked into him. He was lowering me into the tub, almost overflowing now with hot water. It was so wonderful a feeling, when you need to wind down, then just go for the best. We finally diverged into two separate beings.

“Are you back with me?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh…my god, you seem to be able to go on and on…” I answered. He just laughed. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way” he concluded.

We bathed each other. Again, I had the better part of that bargain. His body had attained size and shape which was a challenge to describe. About the only bones I could touch on his body were his wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles. Everything else was muscle. It was so large that I could clearly trace every individual head, and more, even when he was totally relaxed. His shoulders were so wide, it must have been a lot more than a yard, and the deltoids were cut into three separate parts. They didn’t simply bulge—they looked like they were extruded outwards, first rising up through his skin, not curving at all, forming very visible and hard edges, before they domed into bulges. Each head was cracked into separate fingers before it connected to his arm, traps, pecs and back, the heads colliding together like some incredible under-skin waterfall, forming a crevice. The muscle was so dense I had to press hard to get my fingers into those very crevices they formed. His traps were enormous, and the expanse they covered was wider than the shoulders of the largest man I ever saw before him.

His chest was so deep that I could lean on it from above and quite possibly stand on it, and he wouldn’t have to move his head out of the way at all. The pecs were separated into heads as well, and the crevice between them became a chasm so deep that I could really fit my palm in it sideways—I just had to try it, but I had to work at it long, soaping it, and he had to stay completely relaxed. His nipples were hidden somewhere, under the huge mass of the muscle, now that he was bent over and sitting in the tub. My hand disappeared between his pecs and only my thumb remained exposed. When he moved his arm only a little, my hand still between his pecs, I thought the tension would crush it.

His abs were something I would not have been able to imagine, even knowing him beforehand. I must have took half an hour exploring them. Totally relaxed they looked ready to burst through his skin. The central line was so deep that you could only guess where his navel was. When he flexed them a bit for me, playing, they jutted out by inches, and all the channels they made between them became hairline cracks with almost a snap. He bent over a bit more, and they rose even higher, the top ridge almost reaching as far as his pecs. The lateral obliques were two bands, sticking out almost like some lesser man’s lats. As I washed, he lifted his arms out of the water, and stretched them on the edge of the tub. It made his traps and shoulders lift up until I thought his head would sink into them, and his intercostals literally swung out like woven steel bars. His chest must have been… what? 85”? 90”? Even more? He was so big I couldn’t even make guesses.

“Oh man… oh… man, you are gigantic” I whispered. I had problems believing what I saw, and even what I touched. His forearms must have been the largest imaginable size. Muscles in them stood out as big as they would have on thighs.

Towards his wrists, you could see the tendons, squeezing each other to get to his hand. And his upper arms were… just out of this world. How big were they?

How much more than a yard around? His biceps was permanently divided into two heads. He held his arms bent only slightly, and they already bulged out in a maddening curve. When he twitched only a little they subdivided into bulging bands. I tried to squeeze them, and although totally relaxed, I could barely move them, was it because they were so hard, or simply so heavy? I could put both hands over his triceps that extended backwards, and I couldn’t cover enough to need him to lift his arm!”

“Jesus Christ… I can’t get over your arms… oh my… they must be over a yard around,” I said. I still tried to move his biceps.

“Well, more like pushing 40 inches…” he said.

“My god, can you flex them fully at all, look at your forearm!” I said. He chuckled. “Well, it is a bit difficult, but here…” he said, and brought his right arm down, and a bit to the front…”goes nothing…” and flexed, slowly.

If I hadn’t cum who knows how many times already, I would have, now. This way I could feel my balls try cramp in vain, but still, it was like an electric shock.

His biceps grew like a double-lobed balloon, and he ended up pushing his wrist into the crevice between the heads of it. The peak couldn’t have bulged more upwards, so it bulged outwards. This time I could actually see his skin became distended, lightening as he flexed. I stroked it gingerly, afraid that it would burst if I was any rougher. And his triceps, oh man! It was as big, and bulged downwards, my mind had problems grasping the shape. I didn’t even dare guess the size it attained, and didn’t want to risk asking of fear he would tell me. His whole arm was so huge that the only place I could poke my finger at was down at his elbow, but even that was too small. He knew what I wanted and moved his forearm only slightly outwards. His biceps didn’t get any smaller at all. I grabbed the opportunity and put both hands around it, his forearm between them, and squeezed as hard as I could, but it was hot, living diamond. I must have been at it for minutes, because I swear I could feel it getting a bit bigger as he regained some pump from the effort of flexing.

“You like it?” he asked, and I nodded, lust in my eyes. “Maybe I’ll make it grow some more”. I struggled hard not to think what those words meant. I went through the same routine with his left arm, this time licking him a little and then kissing him. Then, it was time to move down again.

He put his arms in the water, but lifted them up again, when I went to his lats, doing a half-submerged lat-spread, and my hands couldn’t find end of the cloak of the masonry-thick muscular wall they created. I didn’t ask a thing, I’d probably faint hearing the answer.

“No wonder you are hiding, you’d have to run from all the cumshots coming your way if anyone saw you,” I said, shaking my head. My hands were on his thigh. It was like a tree-trunk of some unimaginably huge and hard tree. He was totally relaxed, but his legs were spread out, and that meant that the muscle could go only up. Still they were so large they kept getting in each others way, even when he spread them outwards. And his calves were just… impossible.

“No, it’s actually because most of my clothes don’t fit any more. I’m waiting for new ones to be delivered”.

“Well, if this goes on, then don’t even bother,” I said.

“I’m taking it lightly now, I need to have some of the gym equipment fixed, or even replaced. I’ve… outgrown it,” he said, thoughtfully “And I can’t use some of it because of my cock”.

This made me feel a very strong sexual pang, remembering what he said earlier.

“Come on, to me you look like you doubled in size, and I mean everything. OK, now you tell me what you’ve been up to while I was gone,” I said, adding a whispered “I think I can take it now without drooling too much”.

“Doubled, huh? You wish!” he chuckled, twitching his thighs, which I still stroked… I mean washed, under the water. Even if he didn’t really double in size I had no doubt he could. He gave me a friendly jab in the shoulder, which was like being hit by an incredibly slow locomotive—I knew he was controlling himself, but still he managed to move me some 4 inches to the right. I grabbed under water, and caught his cock, and found it was half-hard. It was pushed outwards by his thighs, together with balls the size of large oranges. My ministrations were having effect, and we both knew that—Although I was far from being unaffected, my whole crotch hurt and it was the only thing keeping me from jumping onto him, for better or for worse.

“Hey, you’re giving me that look again… and more…” he warned, and it took conscious effort not to go down that road. “We both need a bit of rest, and I feel kind of hungry,” he said. I laughed aloud, but soon calmed down, because I felt it too. In about three minutes, we took care of ourselves and the bed, which looked very inviting right now. He went over to the kitchen, and mixed himself some supplement, again from a king size container, in fact this one looked even bigger than the last one I saw.

“Want some?” he asked. I just wanted something to drink. I told him I had an airplane dinner.

“It can only do you good—well, after all, it’s probably the best supplement you can get,” he said, “And, anyway, you seem to like the results of my using it”.

He made a large glass for me, and a pale… well, something that looked like a half-gallon pitcher for him.

“Well, that’s certainly not the result of this,” I said, first pointing at the hose hanging from his crotch, and then to the glass he gave me. His cock was now finally soft, but that didn’t prevent it from hanging down to the middle of his calves. I tried hard not to look at it with ‘that look’.

“Well, maybe it is, but mostly it’s a result of a crazy idea” he explained, sipping, propped to the counter by one elbow. I was honestly expecting the counter to crack any second, but he was such a sight that I wouldn’t let it bother me at all.

“When I had the first workout after you left, I couldn’t help remember THE workout, I mean with you. I kept getting hard every two minutes, and it was beginning to really get on my nerves, I usually concentrate very easily. It only made me lift more, but it was beginning to be really cumbersome with this thing’ he pointed at his crotch ‘extended before me’. He gulped several gulps down, and I sipped as well. It wasn’t half bad—actually it tasted very good.

‘Then, about halfway through, I was really into it and also fully hard, and I mean bursting hard. I just wouldn’t let it bother me and went on and on, until I almost fainted’ Now that was something I couldn’t imagine, no matter how I tried. In fact the only pictures my imagination threw at me were of him, curling away with his cock full mast in front of him, so I refrained from imagining at all, because I didn’t think I could take it.

‘That was something really new, let me tell you—and then I got this crazy idea. Before, it was either fully hard or fully pumped’ he continued, sipping nonchalantly, almost at the end of the pitcher already. It reminded me to continue with my own, and I did. It helped (or so I thought) to take my thoughts of that picture… which kept coming back into my mind.

‘Well, then—my metabolism seems to be able to adapt to make me grow, so I thought—OK, adapt to this then—I want to be hard and pumped. So I’d put a cockring on to keep it hard or at least near enough, and… well, I adapted.

Actually, over adapted it seems—I haven’t grown this fast since I was 17, I think!’ Listening to all this was like being grilled slowly over a sexual fire, but it did make sense. He was to say the least highly unusual, and his metabolism seemed to have gone into an over-adapting mode, his body probably got starved of blood. I looked at him, from toe to head.

‘Stand up straight for me a bit, would you?’ I asked—I had the distinct impression…

‘Fine like this?’ he said, straightening out, sucking in his belly, as much as that could apply considering the absolutely incredible shape his abs attained when he did it, and also bringing his chest out. It looked deep enough for him to tip over and fall on his face, and of course that was looking from the front.

‘Yes…’ I whispered, an thought ‘My god!’ The expanse of his pecs was big enough to serve dinner on. Just looking at him could make me cum, if I did it too long. And, it could also make me laugh, and cry and talk of anything, and I realized I wasn’t looking skin-deep any more. But, that impression was back.

“You… look taller… how tall are you?”

“A hair over 6’6”, but I haven’t measured that…Ah, it must be years now.”

I couldn’t help myself any more. I stepped nearer, and embraced him, as well as I could. I buried my face into the top of his pecs. I sighed, content, and I felt his arms around me, impossibly huge and strong, and so heavy, so reassuring. I felt his cock touching my leg, a spot no-one in this world but this giant muscle-god could reach that way.

‘God… your cock is enormous’ I whispered, ‘It’s grown’ I went on, but he silenced me with a very tender kiss. Then he chuckled his raspy chuckle I wanted to hear so much during the last seven weeks.

‘Well, it does get exercise as well, I guess… even more now that you are back… and it’s still not dragging on the floor’ he finished, and again, I felt his chest rumble like he was purring, that chuckle was there again. I was in a playful mood anyway, so I jabbed my hand below and caught him half around the base of his cock (my hand was too small for more), and pulled it a little.

‘At least it doesn’t when it’s soft’ I said, chuckling myself, remembering that first morning with him.

‘Well, neither does it when it’s hard, now’ he said. I rose my eyes to meet his, wondering that the ceiling might become a limit for that.

‘Prove it to me again then, my monster?’ I said, but we both knew I wasn’t up to that.

‘Any time, but not right now. We both need a rest, cuddly’ he said, chuckling again, and I squeezed his cock hard, whispering ‘Cuddly, eh?’ and he make-believe winced. ‘Come on, let’s hit the sack’ he said, and we walked over, still touching, and stroking.

He lay down on his belly, stretching, and I lay beside him, switching off the lights. The air conditioning did a fine job of clearing the smells of sex, and now I could only feel his squeaky clean soap tang.

‘Just you wait monster, I’ll get to you in the morning’ I said. He chuckled softly again, and sighed. We stayed that way about a minute, my arm over his.

The soft light from outside made him barely visible in the darkness, a shape made of 6 hills, his head, his huge back, his ultra-tight ass, and his thighs, his calves and finally his heels.

‘Don’t you think you should be nearer?’ he asked, and that moment I knew what was still missing.

I rolled over, and sprawled over his back, my arms around him, feeling his huge body, warm under me, heaving as he breathed, and… then I knew how I missed him, and it was only seven weeks, so short a time. What was this thing we had for each other—it started as a cruel joke and… I remembered the time at the pool, and then when we parted. In a way it was cruel to both of us. And now? So strange, and unusual, out of billions we found each other, the most unlikely pair that ever was, and…and it was just right. For me. For him? He sighed then, so content a sigh as I have never heard, and I knew it was the same for him. How strange this, I thought, and then I knew of only one word that fitted: love.

‘Victor…I…’ I started, still unsure, and ashamed that I was.

‘I know. I love you too’ he whispered. I was so overcome, I felt my heart skip a beat, and I squeezed him harder, kissing his neck softly, and he nuzzled into me. Holding myself to that feeling, I drifted slowly to sleep, finally at rest, at the place I most wanted to be.

Life is strange, and wonderful. Our life together for the past months has been even more strange, and it was only fair it was even more wonderful. And it’s getting even better. Of course, I did keep that promise about getting him in the morning, and not only that morning. Well, what would you do every time you woke up beside an enormous 650 pound (or maybe more?) muscleman you love, lying on his back sleeping, with a hardon arcing straight up, looking like it reached the ceiling? You have the best sex on this earth, that’s what. And several times over at that. I think I’m getting better—you know, I think that supplement thing he takes works on me too, especially since he got me working out after I pulled a muscle really bad just trying to help him train (and more) in the gym.

We made the pool a regular, and the times we go camping out are just fantastic, the summer sun on us oiling each other (again I had a better end of the bargain on that)…

But I’m digressing again. I know you want to know—is he still growing? You bet. Too big? There’s no such thing as too big.


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