Having decided to use some of my more interesting abilities to my advantage in this material world, I recently began my own video production company. My target audience—the myophiles of the world. And by this I don't just mean the ones interested in watching contests and pictures on the net; I meant the ones who got off on serious mass and extreme muscle growth. I figured with the advances in computer imaging, people would think that much of the imagery had been generated. The video's subject was mind wiped and facial features altered to prevent legal complications when the video was released for sale. Only I knew what had really happened.
I started the pilot episode at, where else, Gold's in Venice. The subject was a well-known pro just starting pre-competition dieting for some exhibition work. He was halfway through his set of single-arm cable curls when I isolated him in his environment and removed him from the current timestream, leaving only the two of us in the gym.
“What the Fu …!” he said, trailing off in mid-swear. “Where did everybody go?”
“Just you and me,” I responded “and we're about to have some fun … BIG TIME.”
“Look, homo, I ain't doin' nothin' till I know what's going on.”
“First the rules, big guy. 1. No one knows you're here or even that you're gone, so whatever goes on is between you and your muscle-worshipping fan. And since more men than women buy your magazines and go to your shows and yet you continue to pose/perform, you do the math. 2. Regardless of what happens, no violence. That means toward me or destroying your surroundings. I don't get off on domination, so don't bother. 3. Don't piss me off. What I do, I can undo … and I can make it permanent.”
A dubious look on his face, he opened his mouth and said, “why don't you just get me outta …”
Then I hit him with the first shot. Surprised, he doubled over. He was 5’9” when he bent over. As he straightened up, he was looking at me (6') eye to eye. “Oh, fuck,” he said, “this feels awesome.” I kept him growing at a steady rate over the next few minutes. The oversize T-shirt he wore for off-season workouts tightened gradually over his chest as it bulged outward to the front and sides, straining the two buttons at the collar. The sleeves climbed up over his arms as they lost some of their off-season roundness, expanding from 23” to 26” and onward to 29” in a matter of minutes. Surveying himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but start to perform for himself. Slowly inhaling he brought his chest up and arms into a front lat spread. As he relaxed, his chest blew out yet again and this time pulled the buttons open. He stood open-mouthed at the chasm revealed by the opening. By now he was at 6’6” and obviously enjoying himself if his crotch was any indicator.
He'd had the sense to kick off his shoes in a hurry when he realized what was happening, saving him some pain as his feet extended up to size 14. Although he was a full 9” taller, the shirt had only barely cleared the elastic waist on his baggies, which were gathered tightly around the base of his calves. “I guess it's what comes from off-season clothing,” he said.
“Still want to leave?” I asked.
“Not a fucking chance. How did you say this worked again?”
“I didn't. Only that I get off on size—serious size. I also get off on guys who enjoy their size.”
“No problem there,” he said, “but first I have to get out of these clothes.” With some effort he then brought his hands in toward the collar of his shirt as if to tear it off.
“Uh-Uh-Uh,” I said. “We're going to do this the fun way. Allow me. Three poses, please—another front lat spread, a most muscular, and finish with a slow and easy front double bicep.”
He complied, and I started working a little more on him. He was incredible at the slow, sensual type of posing, and it made the results that much more enjoyable. As he adjusted his stance to accomodate the pose I added more fullness to his thighs, making taut even his baggiest of baggies. The curves on bottom weren't about to be outdone by what happened above. As he brought his shoulders up and out for the first phase of the pose, they broadened, and broadened, and broadened until his shirt sleeve revealed not only his full upper arms but half of his shoulders as well. It was hard for me to control myself as I heard the tearing of the fabric on the underside of his arms and down the side of his lats. He was still grinning as he surveyed himself in the mirror, lats now partially exposed and pressing his arms higher and further away from his sides.
Obviously pleased with the way the sleeve fabric lay loosely across his shoulders, he savored the sight for a few seconds and brought his arms fully out. Stepping forward and keeping eye contact with me throughout, he lunged forward into his most muscular. The rewarding sound of fabric pulling across his traps and down the front of his chest as they filled out even more. A few more solid pumps at the bottom assured him that he was finished here. Standing again to survey himself, he saw that the holes his sides had increased and were pulled tightly across the front to reveal the outer curves of his massive chest. Not able to contain himself, he bounced them a couple of times just to see them in action.
Smiling again, he slowly and deliberately started his front double bicep. Out of stage habit I guess, he looked up just prior to performing the pose. All the better, I thought, as he couldn't see me mutter to myself the words “going up …” He was halfway through the pose before he realized what was happeining. His arms reached the level of his shoulders as I saw the bottom of his shirt climb up over his navel, revealing the brick wall of his abs. As he pulled his fists into the heads of heads of his biceps, I defied him to finish the pose by swelling his upper arms past anything yet seen on stage or fantasy mag. Grunting and taking up the challenge, he fought a pumped more effort into it. Even as his body grew toward 7 feet, I continued to feed him additional body mass until his arms reached 40”. Chest heaving, he threw down his arms, reached across his chest and pulled the remnants of his 'oversized T' from his newly acquired stature.
Although the waistline of his baggy pants was still intact and clinging to the top of his swollen thighs, the side seams had given out completely during this last episode. Disregarding the fabric hanging between his legs, he reached for the waist and ripped them off as well revealing his immense 58” thighs. Although his cock had grown a bit, at 6” soft it still seemed to lag a bit in comparison. Filling out what was left of his boxer briefs, he noticed this as well.
“How about some hands on work now?” I asked.
“After what you just did for me, you can touch me anywhere you want.”
Not wanting him or it to get too large before I had a chance at this piece of meat, I started slowly. First I took the liberty of tearing off his briefs so as to have full access. I like taking a guy in first and then letting him harden, and this is how I proceeded here. If the groans were any indication, he enjoyed to heightened sensations his new size brought as well. I continued to minister to his needs, occasionally circling the glans with my tongue prior to swallowing him. As I continued I allowed this lagging body part to catch up to him, enjoying his gasps as it continued to come out longer and fuller than it went in. Finally he gave in and I was rewarded by several volleys of hot cum from his balls, which had swollen to the size of small oranges during our intercourse.
“Time for a break,” I said. “Why don't you get to know yourself before we move on.”
“Why don't you give me some stats? I like to measure my progress with the mirror and the tape.”
“Very well. You're at about 7 feet in height and wiegh in at 650 pounds. Not a bad growth spurt I'd say.”
“Fucking A, man. You said you get off on size, why don't we see how much more we can get you off.”
“You want more already?” I asked.
“Fuck, yeah. I don't want to stop until you're completely satisfied and devastated by me. I loved being a freak before, walkin around with everybody staring and wanting to touch me; now there's just you, and you can touch me all you want, making it better every time—with this body, there's no telling how much I'm gonna love seeing myself get huge and pumped.”
“Enough talk, now I'm going to give you some tongue action.” He stood up straight as I moved in toward his pecs. I love working over a guy's chest, especially the base of the chest where it meets the abs. The harder they flex and work to make it unreachable, the better it is. What he didn't know was that I never liked having to bend over to do it, so I blew him out quickly as I moved in.
“Holy Shit!” he cried. “It's happening again.”
When I was done I was standing eye-level with a set of pecs that jutted out from his ribs by almost 6 inches. Nipples the size of gumdrops hardened to my tongue's touch across them. I looked up between his pecs to see him smiling down at me again. Realizing what I wanted, he brought his arms together around my head, crushing my face between the swelling mountains of his chest.
“In-fucking-credible,” he said. His voice rumbling lower yet with this latest cycle. “Anything else you want rub your face in, like my thighs?” he laughed.
“Not just yet. Although I would like to go for something a little different.”
“Such as …,” he responded.
“Let's blow you out to off-season proportions.”
“I normally wiegh in at 240 for contests and 290 off-season, what good would 50 pounds of water and fat do?”
“50 pounds at 5 foot 9 is about 20% over and above your competition body weight,” I started. “Now that you're up around 950, that 20% comes out to be …”
“Omigod,” he said as what was about to happen sunk in.
I was a full staff just thinking about the changes. Although not a fan of fat, off-season bodybuilders, I love a full, round, smooth men pumped out and still strutting their stuff. As his arms and chest lost their definition and were replaced by thicker rounder slabs of beef, my cock was throbbing and would need some relief soon. He groaned in ecstasy as his head and chin were forced up by the upward expansion of his traps and pecs. Soon he was unable to look down at me fully without bending at the waist which along with his belly had blown out to an amazing display of roidgut. Threatening to push me away even as it grew. His legs, once heavily striated, thickened out to fully round barrel size thighs hanging from the bone. The slightest movement of his knees sent the amazing mass swaying from side to side. I was in hog heaven as he dipped his right shoulder down and presented me his 55” fully pumped bicep for my inspection.
As he re-stood, I pressed myself up over his belly and once again pressed my face into his chest. He complied immediately by bouncing and flexing them in my face. This sent me over the top. I could no longer contain myself as I threw my head back, eyes closed, and reached down for my throbbing member. I gave several long, satisfying groans as I unloaded thinking of nothing but how much more I wanted. Then I realized that he had been groaning along with me and I opened my eyes and looked straight out at his belly button.
“Oh, Shit.” I said, “I must have lost control a bit.” The same enormous pecs which had been at eye-level now loomed a foot-and-a-half over my head. I looked up, unable to take him all in at once at this new size. The smile on his face hid nothing.
“You can lose control like that any day,” he said as he bent over and curled his arm around me. Lifting me up to his eye-level, I took it all in. He had to have been 10 feet tall now and, still at off-season proportions, wieghed over a ton. He pulled me firmly toward his face, my entire thorax hanging down over his pecs. I could feel my cock, hard again, trying to press into the crevice between them. After kissing me, he lowered me slowly, intentionally sliding me down the front of his body. I shivered as my face was dragged down his chest, my arms stretched wide in an attempt to assess their size. I finished my downward slide by bringing my hands together along the underside of the 8 inch overhang of chest. As my feet re-touched the floor, I allowed my face to drop and bury itself in the only patch of hair on his body, breathing heavily down the 12 inches of rapidly-stiffening meat at my chin.
“Better let me handle this one,” he said. Using his ample pre-cum as to lubricate himself. He quickly worked himself up to 2 feet pointed stiffly upward. Even his enormous hands could barely contain the width of his staff. Grunting and perspiring in true gym fashion, I watched (careful to keep myself in control) as he released quarts of cum through the air and over the empty benches. “Always wanted to do that,” he concluded. He then walked over to one of the standard olympic bars on a nearby station, picked it up and planted it's end on the ground next to him. At his new size, the top end of the bar fell between his navel and pecs. “I'm gonna need bigger equipment to work out this bod.” With that he took the bar by the end and flipped it up over his head. With his other hand, he grabbed the free end and brought the bar down across his traps as if to prepare for squats. His shoulders now being almost as broad as the bar itself, it was almost funny to watch his arm s! train in or to make it all the way down. In the end, however, he made it but not without seriously bending the bar over his bulging neck.
“How about taking me back to contest shape?” he asked.
Wanting nothing else but to see him happy, I started in on him again. But rather than allowing his skin to shrink-wrap itself over the muscles, I went again for a size increase. First allowing his frame to grow into his muscular proportions and then adding to it. “Fuck, yeah. If this keeps up, I'll need to go outside just for room to breathe.” I was now eye-level with his crotch and looked up at one of the happiest bodybuilders on the planet. Although there was plenty of room between his head and the ceiling, I figured the equipment must be making it difficult for him to stand. In addition, the doors leading out would soon be too small for him.
“Very well, let's see if some fresh air will help you along.” I circled around him dragging my hands across him as I went. My hands caressed calves that were 20” across and hard as boulders. I indulged in kissing his hamstrings and quads just to feel his immensity against me again.
Motioning for him to exit through the back of the place, he carefully made his way across the room to where the back gates were chained shut. Effortlessly he reached down and grabbed both chains and began to pull. The groan of the metal weld weakening and finally snapping on both chains filled the room. As they broke, he allowed the pieces to fall aside and pushed opend the chain-link gates. Stepping through the door, he commented “I've still got a few feet before the door would have been a problem.”
Preparing for the finale, I made my way to the other side of small lot behind the gym. “What did you just say?”
“I said there was still room for me to make it through the doors,” he replied, only just realizing the error of his statement.
In the short time, I had started to really work him. With no ceiling and plenty of space I let it go as I poured more and more into him.
“Aw, fuck,” his voice booming, “I am fucking incredible.”
I continued working on him as he turned around and realized that he was now almost as tall as the building—26 feet of man-muscle. Pose after pose he gave as his frame expanded. Reaching down, his cock exploded at first touch and sent cum flying out over the cars in the lot and into the street. “Shit, at this size, there's only one place to go and get cleaned up after that.”
I watched as he turned to his right so as to make his way down to the beach. At this scale he seemed to be moving in almost slow motion. The only affirmation of his size came with the crashing of his feet on the pavement. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM as each massive thigh trembled with the landing of the foot. His shoulders must have swayed several yards from side to side as I watched him walk away. Oddly enough, not fading into the distance as one might have thought …
Fade to black.
I met my trainer for a rare out-of-gym session of tennis. “Sort of a cross-training type of program,” he says. Not that I minded, he weighed about the same as me but was several inches shorter. It was going to be fun to watch that much bulk try and maneuver the return strokes.
Admittedly, he performed very well, and afterward we headed back to his place to cool off after a couple of hours in the California sun. We were in the car when I found out how much into being worshipped he was.
“I dunno, I guess it just started happening. I was used to being ogled, but then I found out that there were people, mostly men, who were willing to pay to get me off on myself. I pretty much thought it to be a win-win situation.” I asked what his wife thought of this. “My ex-wife,” he corrected. End of topic.
We were back at his place when I hit him with my offer. “How much?” he asked. Since I had been supplying some of the necessary 'accessories' to his supplemental habits, I suggested we take it in trade. “OK, but only 30 minutes, and don't expect much action from me. This is strictly a business deal.”
He had no idea what he was in for.
I kept myself relaxed while he showered his earlier workout off. When he came out into his bedroom, he had put on a pair of nylon warm-up pants, the kind that button all the way up the side of the legs, but was otherwise bare of foot and, better yet, chest. “Well, where do you want to start,” he asked. I was sitting on a chest pushed against the wall, so I motioned him to come over to me. “Let's start with that magnificent chest of yours.”
He raised his eyebrows in appreciation, obviously pleased at my appraisal of his off-season physique. I would more than make up for any deficiencies shortly, only he didn't know it. As he crossed the room, he did a bodybuilder stretch of his chest by throwing his arms back and forth across his chest. Like most men of his build, they could barely pass back over his lats. I made a mental note to determine how much it would take to truly make a man musclebound.
As he reached me, he straightened both of his arms, crossing wrists at his navel—pre-double-bi style. I grabbed his wrists as if to indicate that this was far enough into the pose. Besides, this makes the pecs stand out at their thickest while still allowing access, which my tongue eagerly sought. As I moved in, I started his morph—slowly at first, so that he thought it was just a pump from a hard workout.
“Damn, this feels good. Guess I'm in better shape than I thought, not bad at all for off-season beef.”
I continued to trace the lower shelf with my face, working lower onto his upper abs. I heard him groan as I added a little more to his frame. His head was thrown back, enjoying the massage I was giving his forearms and the attention his torso was receiving. He didn't even notice that he was getting taller until he heard a couple of the snaps give way under the strain of his thighs.
“What the …”
“Easy, Joe. I am about to make your wildest body fantasies real, but first you have to promise not to go nuts.” With that I stood up, and he realized that he was looking me straight in the eye.
“How big can I get?”
“As big as I want, and I feel the need for some real muscle coming on.”
“Can you do this to yourself as well?”
“If I want to, but I enjoy it more to see other men getting off on themselves.”
“No problem here. If we're going to do a little more, can I help you get out of these clothes?”
“Sure, but let's make this fun. First, I expect to do more than a little more, and second, you can take off the shirt, but you can't use your hands to do it.”
Puzzled, he looked down at my T-shirt. Without warning, he went for the neck with his mouth. Straining and pulling, he succeeded only in getting a large wet spot on the collar before I stopped him.
“I'll give you a hint—this shirt's not big enough for the two of us.”
The light went on at that, and he dropped to his knees. Not wanting to miss anything in the area, he opened his mouth and took in my crotch through my shorts. My cock, always straining at the sight of muscle, put up a valiant fight to free itself of my underwear at this actual attention from a muscleman.
Satisfied that I was thoroughly excited by him, he put his arms straight up my torso, tracing my abs and chest on their way to my shoulders, which he used as a guide to the sleeves. Once his hands had made their exit, he started to stand up again, slowly exploring me in the same way I had him earlier. Upon reaching the top of my chest, I was breathing rather heavily. His attempts to push his head through the neck hole wasn't making it any easier. I finally reached round him, grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it down over his head, allowing him to stand up straight again.
“Now what,” he asked. I could feel his anxiety to be free of this latest encumbrance.
“Wait here, I'll be right back.” With that I ducked my own head through the neck hole, but rather than leaving, I simply made my way around him, enjoying the press of my face against his chest and lats. When I had reached his back, I stood up again. Now we were both still wearing the shirt, but it was on backward.
Feeling my cock pressing against the back of his nylon pants, he could tell I was excited as he was about losing these clothes. With my arms under his, I started slowly massaging his pecs. I had my face buried in his traps and could feel his voice rumbling as he began to moan. Now being as good a time as any, I started adding more to him. In sync with his heavy breathing, I began to push his chest and back outward and upward. Height came as well, as my mouth dropped from his hairline to nape to lower traps in less than a minute. I could feel the hem of the shirt climbing up my own back as it strained to keep up with its new wearer's size. The lower armholes had begun to give way, and he was getting turned on by this. “Flex for me, Joe,” I instructed. He complied immediately by taking up the 'relaxed' pose, which felt anything but. As he brought his hands to his waist for a lat spread, I added more. Soon it was all I could do to keep my fingertips touching across the span of his chest. My elbows were bent trying to reach around his lats and my forearms could feel the added mass of his upper arms pressing down on them. I struggled to move them as the weight of his arms crushed down upon my own. I traced down the front of his abs toward his crotch, which was straining at the nylon and cotton holding it down, and gave it a couple of healthy squeezes.
Finally I could tolerate no more. I leaned myself to the right, reaching up toward the neck as I went. Grabbing the shirt by the neck, it was me who pulled loose the tearing cloth across his torso, adding to the effect by blowing him out even as the shirt revealed his incredible new size. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! His expanding quads made quick work of the nylon pants, which, although still fastened at the waist, hung down over his legs like a modern-day loincloth on an ape-man that would make any would-be Tarzan jealous.
Now free of the cotton binding that had held us together for the past few minutes, I leaned into his yard-wide lats, and we both stood panting, assessing the recent developments. I had come during this last growth spurt, although my cock was no longer buried between his ass. I was nothing short of stunned as I looked up and across at the shoulders of my trainer, who had only minutes before been much shorter than me. Not only was I amazed at his growth, but his capacity for it.
He didn't seem to mind any of the usual discomforts of growing pains. If anything, his stoicism indicated that he was used to it or perhaps even enjoyed it. He seemed to be enjoying his new look, too, if the self-appreciating look in the mirror were an indication. I made my way around to the front of him, looked up at him and smiled. Completing his survey, he looked out over his pecs, inhaled and smiled back down at me. “Much more of this and I won't be able to find any clothes that fit,” he smirked, obviously enjoying the potential outcomes of this situation. I grabbed the side of his nylon pants and pulled loose the last two snaps that held them to to his waist. His briefs, made for a significantly smaller man were straining to contain his meat.
Pulling downward in front, they revealed not only the upper portion of his pubic hair, but the actual base of his cock as well. “Not bad,” I said, “but still not quite befitting someone standing 6’8”.
“Well, don't just stand there, do something about it,” he said. As he spoke, his briefs began to take on the look of a time lapse photograph of nature. The way a banana or other large tree fruit starts to swell and hang lower. The front of his shorts pulled lower as his cock elongated and thickened. Soon it was several inches across and almost a foot long. Reaching up to re-new the massage on his abs and waist, it then became obvious to him that it hadn't even started to get hard. Sure enough, as it stiffened, only the sound of our excited breathing could compete with the slow, deliberate sound of the cotton tearing at the seams. Longer and longer it got as it stiffened and begun to rise, arching back as it did, soon coming to rest pointed back at his torso.
“Not to complain, but do you suppose we could make it a little bit longer,” he asked. “I've always been curious about something.” I asked him to say 'when' and started to further elongate him. Just as the base of the head crossed the threshold of his pecs, he indicated that it was enough.
“Just to let you know, that's still a bit too large for any of me,” I said. “You just relax and enjoy the show.” With that he lumbered over to his dresser and pulled out an econo-sized bottle of lubricant. I was already hot and ready to go again at the sight of this much muscle in motion.
“Guess you see your fair share of action,” I mused.
“Look again, the bottle's nearly full, but we'll take care of that too,” he smiled. “You see, I've always wondered what my wife felt like when I fucked her chest. Given the chance, I'd like to try that. Thanks to you, I can not only feel what's it's like to be chest-fucked, but I can feel what it's like to chest fuck myself.”
With that he cracked open the bottle and poured some of it down the chasm between his chest. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned as the head of his cock encountered the lube and began to move more easily between the mountainous mass of his pecs. Realizing that more motion would help things along, he widened his stance, slightly bent at the knees.
“Don't neglect the abs,” he quipped as he began to do what could only be described as abdominal crunches in a standing position. Each 'crunch' pushed his cockhead further into the lubricated portion of his chest, making further progress all the more enjoyable.
“Time for some nice, tight resistance,” he said. With that he straightened out his arms wide and slowly brought his hands together and locked fingers in front of his chest. Remembering my earlier taste for his thick pecs, I moaned and began to stroke myself in sequence with his own thrusts. He was enjoying this new sensation immensely and added to it by further tightening his pecs around his cock as it made it way up/down and through his chest. Each crunch/thrust/flex was accompanied by his growing chorus.
“Oh, yeah. OH, Yeah. OH, YEAH. OH. OOH!, OOOOH!” He lost it and so did I. My inadequacy felt as my own orgasm paled in comparison. As he loosed his volley upward into his chin and ecstatic face, all I could think of was how much more of him there was—and how much more of him I wanted. As before, I lost control of myself briefly during my own climax thinking about what what I enjoyed most—more, More, MORE!
“AAAAAAGGGGHH!” he screamed as his final load spewed forth passing over his head and onto the approaching ceiling. Wait a minute, he thought, approaching ceiling. Climax subsided and reality kicked in, but he kept his eyes focused upward on the blotch of cum that dripped a mere 6 inches down onto his grinning face. Opening his mouth and taking in some of the dripping excess, he smiled again and locked his eyes down on mine.
“Just couldn't resist, huh?” I walked over to this new behemoth and just stared in an effort to take it all in. He must have been seven and a half feet tall and weighed close to 800 pounds. Amazing. He just stood slowly swinging his arms back and forth, feeling the mass of contact between them as the pushed against his lats, shoulders, and pecs for enough room to accomplish this simple motion. I then remembered my earlier notion. “Joe, how long has it been since you competed?”
“Any particular reason.”
“Honestly, the diet's a bitch. That and the fact that I actually like just being big—you know, fucking buffed but not ripped.”
“So you like this look, then.”
“Like it, I fucking can't get enough of it. I had no idea how orgasmic I would feel to be this muscular, to feel the sheer mass of my body weighing down on itself by even breathing. Every movement, every twitch does nothing but reinforce the bulk of my body. I FUCKING LOVE IT!” With this he brought his arms up into a double bicep. I nearly came again as I saw his massive fists drag across the ceiling prior to coming down into the final position. He was enjoying this too, as his cock was on the rise again.
“Easy there, big fella, don't want to strain something. You're arms look almost too large to complete the pose.” Taking this as a challenge, he exerted more effort into the pose. Grunting as he attempted to force his hands toward his shoulders. His biceps responded in kind to the ad hoc workout, pumping themselves even larger with this minimal exertion, pressing even more against the upper half of his forearms, which were doing their best to keep his hands bent in place. Giving in, he finally let his arms drop as far to his sides as they were able. Pumped as they were, they could barely reach 45 degrees out from his torso.
“Fuckin' awesome, dude, how about more?” I couldn't believe it, he actually wanted to experience more massive bulk. With any lick, er luck, maybe he'd want to push it to the same extreme as me.
“You actually want to know what it's like to be truly musclebound?,” I asked.
“I won't be happy until I can barely walk because my thighs are too massive for anything—first pants, then doorways, and ultimately each other. I want every part of my body competing to be fucking king of it's domain, pushing back all invaders on their turf.” With that he bent his elbows in and made as if to do another lat spread. The new width of his shoulders combined with the bulk of his upper body and made it impossible for his hands to reach into his waist, which although not competition thin was still distended proportionately to the rest of him. On a smaller person, giddy would be the appropriate feeling for his anticipation. Magnified to his size, I would have to say he was becoming light-headed at the thought of what was now possible for him to experience.
Slowly flexing each of his pecs in turn, he composed himself and said, “make me massive.” I had to force myself to stay calm as I began the process. I wanted to savor each moment of his exceptional growth, witnessing firsthand his reaction as his body ballooned itself toward the ultimate in muscular immobility. I instructed him to perform some simple arm movements, up, down, front, back and asked that he concentrate on these so that he would be able to determine when, if necessary, he wanted to stop.
“No problem, but I don't think that's gonna happen.” He began slowly, and so did I. First some added support would be required. I added density first and then girth as his legs started to expand. As he made his first stance adjustment, I could see his excitement. His feet came down with a massive THUD onto the floor as his quads swelled before our eyes. He pretty much had to watch in the mirror as the protrusion of his chest kept him from looking straight down without bending at the waist. More and more I focused on his massive pillars. The muscle seemed to convulse and breathe on its own as it expanded out.
Highly toned quads first pushed themselves upward, forming a small shelf where they originated at his waist. Size and weight took over as the entire bulk shifted downward, out and over the knee joint. The 'teardrop' sought by bodybuilders swelled to a giant's tear as it pushed its way down. Not one to be ashamed of his gut, he seemed all the more pleased as it too came into its own. Pressing out, his waist expanded to hold what was coming next. Without warning his pecs expanded. Pressing downward onto his abs, his nipples hardened into steel rivets as his chest continued its outward press. Soon the front/back motion of his exercise diminished by more than half as his growth continued. Upward into his chin they blew forcing his gaze no lower than horizon-level. Still mobile side to side, he took advantage of this for one last survey of his magnificence. Up/Down went the arms. Starting to fight a bit, he shrugged his shoulders at the top of the movement in an effort to force more momentum into the movement.
Each shrug, however, brought several inches and pounds of meat into his back. Wide became wider, thick became thicker forcing his arms up to almost level with the floor. The side-to-side motion of his head stopped completely as his traps and neck expanded to their full potential, forcing his gaze even higher. Finally, the arms. At close to 3.5 feet around, they were undoubtedly already the largest around. And they were still growing. Inch after inch of fully rounded muscle completely filled in the space between his shoulders and elbows.
I imagined them at 48”, then 50, then 55, each time satisfying my lust for size by giving it to him. Not to be ignored, his forearms thickened further and swelled so as to prevent any elbow movement. Several more macrobursts of muscle completed his transformation into the ultimately-muscled man. His arms were several degrees above level, pushed up as they were as much by their own bulk as by the bulk of his lats, which were now completely visible from the front and assisted in keeping the pecs standing solidly at attention. He had ceased any attempt to move several minutes earlier, but I could tell he enjoyed this state. I moved in toward him and simply stroked my hands over the hard round mountains of muscle that covered him.
Moaning at the extra sensory input, I tried to grab handfuls of his muscle and squeeze it but to no avail. It was simply too solidly toned. I settled for as much of massage as I could give him, his cock rising with my careful ministrations. As it reached full size, I pushed it back toward his chest. Although he rippled slightly at the thought of another self fuck, his new bulk would not even separate enough to allow entry, much less allow him the movement necessary to do this again. I gathered his lubricant and oiled him well and set about jacking him off myself. No permission was needed, as his moans and smile informed me this was what he wanted—to get off on himself at this immense size. Although he was large, any doubt I had as to my ability to stimulate him was soon quelled by his innate excitement toward himself.
As in a wet dream, the slightest touch could bring about orgasm due to the excited state of the body. It didn't take long and soon he was showing the signs of another orgasmic explosion. I hoped the ceiling plaster would hold. Several long grunts were replaced by a look of surprise in his eyes. I quickly realized that in his excitement, he had tried to lean back and was now ready to fall over. Good thing I was in front of him, because he fell back into the mattress with a the slow motion of a giant tree being felled. Moaning all the way his fall was inter-spliced with several loads spraying up over his head. The ceiling and wall behind the bed were now dripping in the product of his excitement. Feeling that it was time to pause myself, I climbed onto him and renewed my explorations of his mass. Although I could tell he enjoyed this, I could also see that he wanted to be able to move at will once more. I set about making the corrections when I fell asleep on top of his chest.
I awoke later too groggy to check the time and too comfortable to care. I had apparently made some of the necessary adjustments to Joe while sleeping. I was laying on my side with my head on his chest and my arm cuddling his semi-erect cock beside me. A few languorous strokes down the shaft corrected this as it once again stiffened and arched upward, bringing my arm with it. Down below, my bottom leg was between his two thighs and the other thrown over the opposite leg. I didn't have a blanket, but the warmth of his body was more than enough to keep me cozy. I looked further down to make out his feet, but couldn't see them.
His knees were bent over the end of the bed. I then looked up and saw that the top of his head was pressing against the headboard. Instead of decreasing his muscle size, I had made him taller, thereby allowing him to keep the bulk he had gained in our last session. “Welcome to the land of the living … and apparently the living large as well.” He smiled as he surveyed yet another new body fantasy. Without a word he straightened both of his arms to the side and brought them forward and up as if to do a bench press. My head rose several inches as I rode this muscle wave toward its peak.
He seemed pleased with the results as well. “Of course, I'd be happier if I could actually reach the ceiling.” I looked up from my muscle pillow and saw that his hands were only a couple of feet under the level of the ceiling.
“Holy Shit, Joe, what have I done.”
“Don't worry about it. Besides, from what I can tell, you don't mind at all,” he said, referring to the pressure my own erection was placing on his abs. “As long as I don't need to stand up, we're OK. I would like to know just how big I am, though.” I felt his abs tense, and I braced myself for what came next. My body slid down his cock as my feet reached the ground between his thighs. A couple of seconds later, I regained my balance and stared up at my personal trainer—the musclegod himself. His head was about a foot above mine, even in a sitting position. I did some quick math and reported that he was probably close to 10 feet tall. He nodded appreciatively and stroked his cock hard several times.
“Ya know, I feel like I'm having all the fun here,” he said, “why don't you give me a try on for size.” He then reached both of his mammoth arms around me giving me the largest hug I had ever received. My excitement was growing.
“Not too fast,” he said, “Let's save it for a better time.” With that he moved me into a position straddling his cock. I had no worry that he would try to stand so I just went down with him as he laid himself back onto the bed. “How would you like to be the one to chest fuck me now?” he asked. With that he reached for more lubricant, oiling his chest liberally as well as my back. I took up my position with one hand on each of his pecs. I could feel his erection crawling along my spine, which explained the lube there. My hams would have the job of massaging his cock as I did push-ups on his chest while thrusting myself into his pecs.
“See now, you're getting along fine,” he reported. It was my turn to take up the gauntlet and I applied myself whole heartily and bodily into the task, squeezing with my thighs, pushing harder and deeper with my arms. He simply laid his head back and adjusted to the movement of my body on his. Groaning in pleasure as my thrusts deepened and the weight increased.
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