From: braun1@concentric.net (JB)
Subject: Repost by Request - "The G" - M/M Muscle
Date: Sat, 18 Jan 1997 01:58:12 GMT
Organization: Concentric Internet Services

This is a new fantasy story that a friend of mine and a great writer asked me to
post on his behalf as he wishes to remain anonymus.  Any constructive comments
may be forwarded to me and I will make sure he receives them.  Comments to:
Braun1@concentric.net

Standard disclaimers apply.

If you are under legal age in your part of the world or find man to man sex
offensive, leave, delete or just plain go away.  You are not welcome.  If
however you enjoy total fantasy stories of muscular supermen and are a "legal"
adult, what are you reading this for? 


The G
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.


The G
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.


The G
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.