Short stories, big muscles

by RoidTeen   

An ever-growing collection of short muscle growth stories, told from different angles in different settings, exploring what it means to be big, gigantic, or even immobile.

When the alarm clock rang at 4 a.m., I sighed lightly and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. It was still dark outside and as comfortable and cozy as the bed was—I had to get up. With a now much louder sigh I heaved myself out of bed and despite the early hour, I was already looking forward to the day. My master had promised me a surprise. It was a rarity and I was more than excited to see what it would be. My master was a good master and treated me well and gave me so much—I could hardly believe my luck.

With a grin on my lips, I went into my small bathroom. Like my room, it was also functionally furnished without too much luxury and comfort. A toilet, a small shower and a sink were the familiar standard and the man-high mirror and the electronic scale were already more than others of my class had. My master was good to me. But the small bathroom was dominated by my beauty products. I always wanted to look good, so that my master would not be ashamed of me or I would offend him in public.

Like every morning, I showered and cleaned up, then went for a scrutinizing look in the mirror. I was 22 years old and one of the taller employees at just under 6’5. My body was defined and packed with muscles—my master wanted it that way. The scales told me that I weighed 294 pounds with a body fat of 8%. When I began my service in his house, I was a little boy-toy. Just 5’8” at just under 170 pounds. The augmentations my master performed on me showed his status, wealth and were considered socially necessary to be respected and continue to rise. My eyes fell on my privates, as the master called them. My testicles were the size of grapefruits and my penis, thanks to genetic modifications, could no longer be defined as human. It was only 11 inches long, but had the circumference of a 2-liter cola bottle. My master was very dominant and said that I should not be able to make another gentleman happy with my cock. Although the 6 pounds between my legs were sometimes disturbing, but I wanted to make my master happy. I accepted it and enjoyed it.

After my blond hair was styled, my excess body hair removed, and my youthful, masculine striking features highlighted, I put on my service uniform. A pair of underpants made especially for me of stretchy material. Some sort of pocket was sewn into the crotch so I could position my penis there. Extra straps I put around my massive shoulders so I could better distribute the weight of my manhood. One last look in the mirror made me proud and satisfied. My youthful face sat on a wide neck. This ended in round, defined shoulders whose end I could not make out in my peripheral vision. My pecs were free of any hair and shone in their bulging form as they pushed the straps of my pants outward. My nipples were pierced at my Master’s request and pointed almost purposefully downward toward my 8-pack. Thanks to the alterations, I was able to maintain a slim 34-inch waist. The view was then dominated by my gigantic penis in its fiery red underpants. My legs and calves were wide and provided stabilization for my nearly 300 pounds. I hadn’t seen my ass in a long time, but I was confirmed it was full and round.

First I did the laundry, made sure the kitchen was clean, the salon tidy and cleaned up everything from last night. Then at 6:30 I started breakfast and made two fried eggs, fresh orange juice, three slices of bacon and two slices of toast. Everything beautifully arranged on a tray, I went to my master’s bedchambers. Quietly I entered and heard my master breathing quietly. I quietly set the tray down and as best I could with my bulk, I climbed onto the bed. I knelt down and lightly removed my master’s blanket.

Like every morning, my heart beat faster at the sight of him. He was about 40 years old (I didn’t know and it didn’t behoove me to ask). He was trained and unlike me he seemed almost small and was very hairy. His whitening full beard twisted into an implied yawn and my gaze continued to fall on the slowly growing penis in front of me. My master had no augmentation, as this was only important for his staff. We had to carry heavy things, walk long distances and keep our masters happy. The 7 inches were now hard in front of me and professionally and hungrily I put my lips around the cockhead. I slowly began to suck, lick and massage the testicles with my hand. The breathing of my master became louder until he came into my mouth with a loud moan. I swallowed everything and stood up almost immediately.

With his breathing still accelerated, my master put his hands over his face. “That was fantastic today. Someone seems excited about what I have planned for you.”

I set the breakfast tray down and nodded. “Yes sir. I am very excited,” I replied, trying not to sound quite so excited.

My master began to eat and pointed to a chair in the room. “Entertain me please,” he prompted and my eyes grew wide.

This too was a rarity and I could hardly believe my luck. I waited only a moment, but then took the chair and placed it in front of my master’s bed. I took off my underpants and sat down wide-legged on the chair. I seemed to hesitate, because again I was asked and immediately nodded. Slowly my muscular fingers began to run over my body. My 8-pack, my strong legs. I kneaded my chest muscles and played with my nipples and piercing. I tensed my biceps and with ease I was able to lick the bulging ball. All this provided my own excitement and my penis became hard. Whereby this was almost no longer visible. It became heavier, which only I could feel, and Pre slowly emerged from the tip. I took my monster with both hands and was again surprised that despite my large hands I could not completely enclose it. With strong movements that made my muscle tits jiggle and pumped my biceps, I moved the thick foreskin. My own cockhead looked laughably small in this bloated environment of my fat coke bottle like cock. It didn’t take long for me to come all over myself. The white liquid hit my hair, my face, and much of it ran between my pecs toward my abs.

“Clean up and dress for a walk into town,” my master then ordered, looking very pleased. I nodded and was already about to clean up the mess I had made when he prompted me again. “Someone else will take care of that. Go. We’re on a tight schedule.”

Hurriedly—if that could be called hurriedly at 330 pounds, I went my little room and showered again. A walk into town meant that I had to cover up. It was not permitted for persons in my rank to present themselves as they did at home. It was only for the eyes of the master and his guests. I regretted this very much, as I was very proud of my master and wanted to show all the world the generosity of him. But I obeyed and put on my spandex. The stretchy material in black color covered my whole body and only my head looked out. I put on shoes and again the feeling of my body being covered disgusted me. Excited, I went back to the main hall. There I waited only briefly until my lord and master also entered. He was dressed in a fine suit and eyed me. He then asked me to follow him and we walked to his car.

His driver was already waiting for both of us and we got into the limousine. It was a little struggle for me, which brought a smile to my master’s lips. Excitedly, I sat across from him in the spacious car and directed my gaze downward. “Soon this will be even more problematic for you...” he started a direct conversation with me. I looked up questioningly and my master explained: “Lord Airington was showing off his new valet at one of the balls two days ago. I can’t let something like that sit on me. After all, I control more lands and rights than he does. So I have to make an example that no one is superior to me. I have an appointment for new augmentations.”

Waiting, I looked at him and the gentleman seemed happy and satisfied. “I will be unchallenged for a long time and you need to train your flexibility. A new trainer will follow.” Slowly, my master leaned forward, grasped my chin, and looked me in the eye. “I see your question. You’re wondering how much. Are you?” A sheepish nod was the only answer. “Lord Airington said his servant was 34 pounds. I’m going to beat that and have spent a fortune. 410 is your goal.”

My eyes widened and I looked down at my already impossibly bulky body. This was wonderful. My master was a good man.

Mr. Brown looked at his watch and locked the screen of his computer. It was time for the next injection of Subject MG-23, the best candidate yet to respond to the drug. Unfortunately, the young man’s attitude changed as the project progressed, and each of the sessions became more complicated—and not just because of his mass. But the human geneticist had no choice, as investors were breathing down his neck and wanted to see results.

He opened the safe via fingerprint and voice recognition to get out the new NASA miracle drug. There were still 4 syringes in the small box after Doc took out one of the sealed vials. He placed them in an acrylic box and headed to treatment room 2.

As he approached, he could already hear the grumbling of their test subject. “No! Untie me! You fuckers! I don’t want this anymore!” The voice was bass-heavy and very deep which was a side effect of the altered larynx situation. As he opened the door, Prof. Dr. Brown sighed.

Test subject MG-23—or Mason, as he used to be called—immediately began a hate tirade. “You fucking assholes! That’s not what we talked about! Get off me!” The young man was in pure rage and could only be brought to the lab sedated. Fortunately, the behemoth was restrained. The treatment table resembled a cross, with the individual elements that supported the limbs movable. This allowed during the morph phase that the body could move semi-free.

The professor put down the small acrylic box and flipped a switch on a console—to the constant complaints of MG-23. The integrated scales indicated that the subject was within the predicted parameters at 320 pounds and 8% body fat. A look at the muscle monster was always fascinating even for the geneticist. The 22 years only showed the youthful facial features. The alert eyes, the fine lips, and although the chin was masculinely prominent and broad, he looked like a male model.

But there any comparison with a model ceased. The man’s bull neck was now already wider than the actual head and the traps would surely grow beyond the ears after the next injection. The man’s range of motion in the head area was already limited, and Mr. Brown estimated that complete immobilization could not be averted. Even lying down, the larger-than-average pectoral muscles were almost permanently touching the man’s chin and the nipples were barely visible due to the outward bulging belly—a point that still had to be negated.

The so-called roidgut was higher than the pectoral muscles when lying down and although the shadows of 8 abdominal muscles could be seen on it, this would cause problems when used later. The arms, fixed at 90°, were each dominated by gigantic biceps, the size of a honeydew melon, and showed strong vascularity. The man’s hands kept clenching into fists to get out of the titanium alloy restraints. Unfortunately, a new necessity, as even with the security personnel in place, no one could put a stop to the man. But he couldn’t really leave. His legs were already making for a waddling walk as the quadriceps muscles were above the norm. After all, they had to stabilize the 300 pounds and were challenged every day. The calves were so immensely trained that the man’s feet only fit into the leg cuffs with great difficulty. After this injection, they certainly had to be extended.

“You stupid idiots!”

The professor was brought back by the subject’s statement, and a sigh made it clear how weary he was of the subject. “Mr. Davids. I hate to repeat myself, but you signed a contract. You knew all the risks and what this project was for: To prevent the degeneration of astronauts’ muscles during year-long missions in space. From the very beginning you were aware of this and also that it was a clinical test. That an overdose is deliberately applied to detect possible risks.”

The sound of bending metal combined with the young man’s rage made the entire staff take a startled step backward. He roared in a low voice, “And isn’t that enough? I’m a muscle freak. A monster! I can’t tie my shoes anymore because of my roidgut. My 7XL shirt is a crop top. I can’t turn my head all the way to the side anymore and I always waddle to the side when someone talks to me. I can’t get through doorways with my broad shoulders anymore and it’s getting harder and harder to get sideways because of my muscle tits. Another dose? Then soon I won’t be able to do anything! So untie me! I want to get out of here! Fucking shit! I can’t even jerk off anymore!”

He shook the gurney again. It was still holding.

A look of the doctor at the man and his penis confirmed this problem. The penis did not grow with him and the testicles also remained at their previous size. No one needed male astronauts in a confined space with too much testosterone in their bloodstream. The problem with MG-23 was that because of the extra mass, however, the penis almost completely disappeared between his legs. Despite this, the doctor could see that the small erection (under normal circumstances, he would probably be considered normally endowed) was already trembling and pre was protruding from the tip.

“MG-23,” he said sternly. “Your words are one thing. But I think on a deep level, you want nothing more than to become an immobile muscle freak. That’s what the psychological evaluation told us, and that’s why you were selected.”

With that, the doctor walked up to the defenseless man and opened the small flap of the access that had already been placed. “Just accept it. You are in no position contractually to negotiate either way.” With that, he pushed the contents of the syringe into the man’s bloodstream.

MG-23 began twitching almost immediately and the access was immediately connected to a nutrient pump. 23,000 kcal were pumped into the man within the next hour to provide optimal support for muscle growth. The pulsation became stronger and the veins all over the body stood out. The integrated scale jumped from 320 to 321. After a short time 341. Then 352. The chin slowly disappeared in the gap of the two gigantic pectoral muscles. The joints of the gurney continued to move outward as pound after pound was packed onto the body.

The doctor turned to Ms. Peabody. “When he’s done, sedate with etomidate and back to the storage cell. Please play the new data directly to my pad. I need to talk to the investors. Thank you.” With that, he left the room, leaving behind the muscle blop that kept growing.

“A very good evening, gentlemen. We did another injection on subject MG-23 today with promising results. His initial weight was 143.4 pounds and 22% body fat and now we are at 612.85 pounds and 5% body fat. We are currently simulating the results in zero gravity at a period of 5 years. The test person on Earth has thus also reached immobility. He is not able to walk without help and due to the muscle growth he is dependent on artificial nutrition, because his arms cannot be bent enough. His aggression has subsided since—” A sigh followed. “—since we allowed him to have a penis pump. The psychologists advised us to do so, and it is indeed helpful.”

“So the subject is more cooperative?”

“Yes. That’s the assessment of the psychology team.”

“All right. We’d like to see another dose with this subject.”

“Mr. Board Chair, I would advise against that from a medical standpoint. We have already simulated this and estimate that with another dose he will weigh a little over 1000 pounds.”

“Mr. Brown. I have not phrased this as a suggestion or a request. If you want more grant money, we would like another injection.”

“Yes, sir.”

How I became like this? I was always like this. I was dominant. I knew what I wanted. I knew how to get it. That my muscles grew without doing much and I had a huge cock were just the cherry on top. I was a born alpha. Others wanted nothing more than me dominating them. That I allowed them to look at me. To touch me. To caress my gigantic mountains of muscle. To lick my gigantic muscle tits. The highest honor was given to them when they were allowed to try to take my cock in their little hands. When they started to gag and just the tip of my monster was in their mouth. When they had tears in their eyes and screamed in pain and pleasure when I penetrated them without mercy. That was my life. I was an alpha.

My day was structured quite simply. My bull’s balls needed emptying 4-5x a day, which is why I went to college. I was enrolled, but my OnlyFans provided enough cash so I could afford everything. When the alarm clock rang, my cock had usually already grown to its wonderful 13 inches and pulsated in time with my heartbeat. Even with my big hands, there were sometimes problems to grasp him completely. With strong, firm movements, it wasn’t long before I came for the first time that day. The sperm flowed over my now pumped pecs and flooded the abs delta with the white liquid. A large part got stuck in the hair of my chest and my beard also got some. Thanks to all that testosterone, I looked like a grizzly, even though I was only 23. Hairy chest, hairy belly, hairy legs and there was also a huge bush around my dick. I got up and went into the bathroom and squeezed into the shower. My shoulders were too broad, my chest too bulky and everything too small. My old man would have to urgently buy me a new bath. I paid for it, but he had to organize it.

Freshly showered with wet hair and glistening body, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was a god. I was pure man. I was pure sex. My image alone made me horny again, but I had to get going slowly. I put on a pair of pants that were way too tight, bringing my cock obscenely to the forefront and being pulled down slightly by the sheer weight of it. There was a large gap between my flat 10-pack and the waistband of my pants. You could see my pubic hair and also guess the wide base of my cock. As a top I wore a torn shirt. Nothing fit me properly for a long time and since I had cracked the 350-pound-mark, it would have been a custom job either way. Today’s white shirt was torn across the chest, the armholes hanging in tatters and only further stretched by my monster biceps. My gigantic chest made sure you could see the last two rows of my abs. It just wasn’t long enough. My lats were also stretching whatever material was still intact.

One last, checking look in the mirror. Sex on legs. I ran a hand through my thick full beard and headed downstairs.

My old man had already prepared my breakfast and I wolfed it down. He avoided eye contact, as always. If he does everything right today, he’ll get tomorrow afternoon off. He knows that and needs it. But he has to be a sweet daddy and take care of his son. I just downed the food and left the kitchen in a mess and without another word.

In college, I was used to the looks. Fear. Love. Sex. Everyone wanted me. Everyone was afraid of me. Everyone wondered who would be my chosen one today. I only fucked boys. Because only other cock-wearers knew how to work my dick properly and would appreciate the size difference. My professors no longer controlled my attendance. Grades no longer interested me. I was just here to get fuck material and kill time. Today it was the turn of two guys studying sports medicine. Trained little men. No competition to me at all, but they had stamina. While one of them filmed everything with my phone for later upload, I took the other firmly through. I pressed his head hard against the tiles of the small bathroom and penetrated him. The screams were music to my ears and my rhythm got faster and faster. My bull balls got so much momentum that they kept mercilessly hitting the back of fuck-boy’s thighs. He’ll have bruises tomorrow…. After he had come three times and I had cum, it was No. 2’s turn. He was also taken to the heaven of sex and masculinity and the camera work was a real disaster. But I had material for a video. In addition, there was still the training.

Without a close look at the clock, I went into the studio. It was an old warehouse and here you could hear the grunting from afar and smelled the testosterone and sweat. The fitness equipment was partly improvised and everyone who trained here weighed at least 250 pounds. Tiny compared to me and it became all the more obvious when I entered the room. There was a brief silence and people nodded respectfully at me. The pack knew when the alpha was there. I took off all my clothes and stood stark naked in the gym. The first dicks of the others were already getting hard, but none said anything. Everyone was watching me as I went to the bench press and put on plate after plate. I laid my back on the bench and pumped out rep after rep. My chest exploded with power and mass as my body produced heat and sweat. My presence and workout alone made some come. My cock dripped slightly, but was nowhere near hard. Pre spread around the gym as I went through the equipment and all of those present wondered who was doing the honors.

After 2 hours of pumping my muscles and walking wide-legged through the gym, I was hard enough. My boner was there for everyone to see and I pointed to a group of three guys. How old they were? It didn’t matter to me. They had pretty abs and their mouths were open. Maybe they were new? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. What did I give to others. I ordered them to come along and they followed. Those open mouths needed to be plugged. In the shower they were allowed to worship me. My muscles. My mass. My cock. Just the thought of these three lightweights together weighing as much as I did alone made me come and bathe one of them in my cum.

They licked, they caressed, they sucked, they stroked. It was dark when I came several times, leaving three very exhausted, sticky but satisfied boys.

Dressed only in my pants—stupid rules of society—I went home. My old man had made enough food for a soccer team and I stuffed it all in. I had given so much, now I had to fill it all up again. After 3 hours I was done with food and my belly was a huge roid-gut. You could still see the ten-pack, but it was all heavily bulging. Luckily that was gone tomorrow when a new day started for me as an alpha. Life was good.

When the Djinn appeared in front of me really fulfilled every cliché known from stories and Hollywood. Tall, muscular, sexy, blue and the legs were replaced by some kind of mist. The genie then explained to me that he actually had no physical form and was using the images of my mind. We chatted for a moment about the mythological meaning, but then it got serious. Three wishes had to be formulated. I asked for time and it took a week before I knew what I wanted. Since I was never particularly tall, particularly strong, particularly pretty or particularly popular, I wanted to change that now with my three wishes. I was around 6 foot tall, weighed 145 pounds and looked just... normal. The men I always wanted didn’t want me. The ones who wanted me, I didn’t want. I wanted to take this chance and change it. Money and happiness may be quite nice, but in the end, it’s not everything. So I decided, since it was the end of February, that I wanted a Beachbody for this year. However, since I’ve always been into these muscle-growth stories, I wanted to see it all come to fruition. So my three wishes were:

From March to July, 5 months, I wanted to gain 20 pounds of pure muscle mass every month. That would bring in the swimsuit season to over 245 pounds of pure muscle.

Wish #2 was—of course—my penis. I was never well endowed and made it hard just to 4 inches. So I also wanted to gain 1 inch every month.

Wish #3 was my security: it wouldn’t seem strange to anyone that I would gain so much so quickly. It would simply be accepted.

The first month was dominated by shopping. I bought XL, XXL, XXXL and M and XS. Croptops. Hotpants, jockstraps and everything my salary allowed me. The first 20 pounds were not really visible, nor noticeable. I seemed more defined and just had more strength and energy. I ate... no... gulped everything down that was around to support my growth somehow. Still, a slight 4-pack was starting to show on my belly.

The second month was more pleasant in terms of clothing. My dick was now a hard 6 inches and even flaccid it filled out my underwear nicely. I signed up at the gym and already felt very confident. I had nice definition, shirts fit tight where it was nice and my chest was starting to show underneath.

The third month, now 60 pounds heavier brought various changes. I docked with my now broader shoulders on many things. My XL shirts no longer fit me on my arms, which were slowly dominated by veins. My underpants were bulging and I had my first one-night stands. And for the first time, it wasn’t me who approached the guys, but they approached me. Looking in the mirror, I also noticed a few changes in my face. Due to the training and the increased muscle mass, my testosterone probably increased as well. My beard seemed thicker, my chin broader, my cheekbones more dominant, my eyebrows bushier.

In the fourth and penultimate month, I regretted a little not having wished for more. The feeling of a fully loaded, powerhouse body was just terrific. My spandex pants stuck to my bubble butt, my pecs were well displayed by my tops, and my when I did cardio now, my dick bobbed along nicely in my underpants. The month was also the one where I got Speedos. One pair to be socially okay and then... well. Also a thong or other, exotic variants. The one-night stands became more and even if you’re looking for someone for life, of course, all these adventures are definitely more fun. The last day of the last month. The calendar would switch to August tomorrow and I was standing in my bathroom. My dick was 9 inches long and hard as a steel pipe. That was because I had just weighed myself. Through my own training combined with the wish, I was now at 268 pounds of pure muscle. I had broad shoulders, thick and round pecs. A defined 6pack, was nicely hairy in all the right places and my face looked like a model’s. I put on my speedo and my hard on could be seen very clearly. I had a date with two other guys at the beach. We wanted to swim, sunbathe, then eat something and we all knew that we would end up in bed with a threesome afterwards. I grinned at myself in the mirror, packed my bag and left the house. Everything was perfect…

Everything was perfect...

Until April of the next year. Like every morning, I put on my workout shirt—I had gotten so used to working out and wanted to keep my body—when it just ripped. I laughed to myself and congratulated myself on my new gains. Unsuspecting that in three more weeks, nothing would fit me at all. And also my cock felt bigger in my hand. It should last until April, until I stood naked in front of my mirror and the numbers of my scale had burned into my head. I weighed exactly 10 pounds more. I was now at 310 pounds. With trembling hands I took my tape measure and put it on my hard cock. Exactly 2 inches more. 11 inches of manhood. A “fuck” sounded so loud that all the neighbors surely heard it and I was again amazed at my voice being so deep. I had expressed my wish. But never limited it in time. So I would gain 20 pounds each March, April, May, June, July and 1 inch of cock. So at the end of this season I would weigh around 374 with 12 inch cock. Next year 485 pounds with 16 inches. The next year 595, then 705, then 815 and on and on. Right? On and on like that? Surely my body would have an automatic stop on its own at some point? Or? Or? Panic spread through me and I thought about how I could somehow solve this. The only way was for me to seek the Djinn again. I had to somehow correct my desires again. But I was running out of time…

Of course, I did not immediately find the lamp and everything became good again. On the contrary. I thought at 370 pounds already that I actually only wobble through the area and can no longer really run. Clothing was also such a thing. I bought in stores for fat people, because there was relatively much here from 5XL upwards. What I lacked in belly, my pecs made up for. Of course, no comments came about my appearance—my third wish took care of that. My requests for help were all waved away with a friendly smile and confirmed that I look good after all and a few kilos more would certainly not be a problem.

As I approached 600 pounds, I was wearing almost exclusively spandex. There were still 10XL clothes for me, but my dick was now almost 20 inches long, fat as a coke bottle and due to the wiggling of my body while running I was almost permanently hard and pre just flowed out of me. During this time I met a nice man who at first just wanted to climb me—the “mountain”, my nickname at the gym, before I quit. But we got along well and so that actually became my first relationship. Sleeping with each other became more and more of a challenge, because at some point my boyfriend’s dick wasn’t long enough to reach trough my gigantic muscular ass. And I definitely couldn’t fuck it. I would come out the top through his mouth again.... But I had someone to tell about my wishes and the problem. He listened attentively and promised me to look for it, since my mobility was decreasing day by day.

Unfortunately, a lot of time was to pass before my friend came home with the lamp. I was immobile in the meantime. 1005 pounds of pure, immobile muscle power. My pecs were permanently colliding with my impossibly wide chin. My arms were splayed at a permanent 90° angle by my lats. My 6-pack was a thing of the past, replaced by a gigantic roidgut resting on my gigantic thighs. Bending my legs had become an impossibility. Just like my arms which is why I wore a fancy full beard and my boyfriend fed me. My cock peeked out from under my paunch and between my legs. When it was still possible, we had weighed him and came to 17 pounds . So much for the size.

Hope sprouted in my gaze as the Djinn manifested himself before my friend and he made his three wishes before I could intervene.

He wanted a group of young bodybuilders to take care of both of us and for us to lack for nothing in life.

He wanted to gain 40 pounds of muscle mass and 2 inches of cock every year from April to July.

He wanted that no matter how big we are, we are still mobile.

The Djinn disappeared. My crushing weight became lighter, and with panic in my eyes I looked at my friend. Just at that moment 5 lightly dressed bodybuilders entered our living room and brought dinner….

Davis was at the gym, following his routine. It was late in the evening, and after a hard day at the office, he was happy to just get physical to loud music. Just not thinking for a change. Just lift weights. Just count the sets. Just the repetitions. It was a late Tuesday night and the usual suspects were in the gym. People knew each other by now and nodded politely to each other—everyone here wanted to go about their routine undisturbed. None of those present were competitive bodybuilders in any way. One had a six-pack, another had thick arms, and another had a wide back. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then, when Davis had to do 20 minutes of cardio to finish, his gaze roamed and lingered on a mismatched pair. One was maybe just in his early 20s, trained with tan. His outfit was unspectacular and gave little indication of the body underneath. Somewhat more surprising was his partner. This one was clearly much older and the silver hair was in stark contrast to his trained body and the tight spandex pants he wore. The age difference seemed strange, but when the brown haired guy started to train and the Silverfox gave him tips and corrected posture and weights, Davis suspected that this was a personal trainer. He had never seen this fine specimen before, but he was here irregularly.

The next encounter caused Davis to raise an eyebrow wide. A few days later, he found the mismatched pair in the locker room. He had showered and was drying off whereupon master and pupil must have thought they were alone. He heard only snatches of the conversation, but it seemed odd: “Look at this watch... That’s right. That’s how you do it good.... What a good boy.... You’re giving it your all again. You want to grow..... You want to get strong.” As Davis stepped out of the shower, the silver-haired coach smiled at him, nodded and walked back out with his student.

After several business trips, a vacation and a nasty cold, Davis didn’t make it back to the gym until two months later. Shouldering his gym bag, he walked into the locker room and went to a free locker. As he finished changing, the door to the locker room opened and Silverfox entered, followed closely by his protégé at the sight of which Davis’ face fell. The boy had changed radically. The brown hair was interspersed with blond strands and the tank top hung sweaty on this incredibly trained body. If Davis had to guess, he believed he had gained an easy 40 pounds. All pure muscle power. In such a short time! Like his trainer, he was now wearing spandex pants and the young man was clearly well endowed. Another quick nod followed and Davis let himself be drawn into commenting on the gains. An inane grin followed from the young man and the Silverfox smiled contentedly and thanked him.

It was with some interest that Davis now followed the development and growth of this young man. The others either didn’t notice or didn’t care, but over the course of a year, the young man underwent a radical change. His muscles seemed to keep growing, getting bigger and bigger, while the general appearance became more and more... questionable. Tank tops became tank tops with even thinner straps, with which one could see the nipples (which were probably also getting bigger and bigger). The pecs, much like the rear, seemed to take on a special focus. Then at some point he wore a crop top. The crop top was at some point printed with “Boy Toy.” “GAY AF” followed next. The hair went from blonde streaks to blonde to platinum blonde. Lips seemed fuller all at once. The spandex pants were never bought new and had more and more trouble keeping ass and dick in check. The cock must be injected with silicone? Or saline?? Davis couldn’t help but stare when he saw the muscle bull naked in the shower.

It was a Friday evening when Davis went to practice, looking forward not so much to the routine as to the mismatched pair. Secretly, he watched the workout again, the grunts of the younger and the almost lustful looks of the older. Then, as Davis stood in the shower, the door opened and they both entered as well. Furtively, Davis looked at the platinum blond man’s huge, pumped-up cock and then at the larger-than-average boner from Silverfox. “I hope you don’t mind...” Mr. Silverfox only commented as the muscular hunk sank to his knees and worked his full lips expertly and routinely on the older man’s cock. Standing still as a rock, Davis only became more confused when the muscleman spoke, “Daddy likes boytoy? Boytoy good? Boytoy loves cock. Please fuck later. Yes? Please... Pleeeeaaassseeee....” A moan escaped Davis as he came just like that in the shower. The Silverfox, whose hands kept forcing the blond mop of hair to the base of his cock, released one hand and held the wrist in Davis’ face as best he could. “You like that? You like my watch too? Look at my watch. Follow my voice....”

After that, Davis didn’t remember much. His mind was a blank. Dominated it was by: Muscles. Cocks. Thongs. Sex. Master.

The big hall in Tallahassee is well attended and at first glance there is not much difference to other fitness fairs and bodybuilder championships. Booths selling supplements. Interested, muscular visitors and at the various booths are the muscle-bound men in shorts showing off their steeled bodies. Yet there is a significant difference. This is the Teen Titans League and none of the participating bodybuilders are older than 21. But in terms of muscle mass, body fat and other criteria, these “kids” sometimes surpass professional bodybuilders by far. But how did it happen that an 18 year old, 450 pound bodybuilder has to move his immensely large thighs around each other to waddle at all? Or a 16 year old, 340-pounder-boy hasn’t seen his feet in two years due to his gigantic pectoral muscles? Let’s take some time to look back on the 10th anniversary of the event.

It was in the 2020s when superhero movies were at their peak and actors like Chris Hemsworth were a new role model for the guys of the generation. Not only in the moral sense of putting the well-being of many above his own, but also in terms of body and body cult. The dimensions of the actors became larger and larger, and a formerly CGI-animated Hulk (played at the time by Mark Ruffalo), could be portrayed in the 2033 with a “simple” body double. The muscles got bigger and bigger. The outfits smaller and smaller. Who doesn’t remember the iconic scene of Chris Evans in his “Go Big or Go Home” movie where he barely fit on a screen at nearly 400 pounds of muscle beef?

The acceptance of 280ish-pound actors became more and more. This “new reality” shaped the young generation and more and more gyms could welcome younger and younger clientele. The pharmaceutical industry recognized this trend quite early and quickly offered supplements for youngsters and teenagers. The youth could thus emulate their idols and showed an iron discipline in eating and training.

In 2038 the time had come and Rick Damien made his debut—at least he tried. The then 15-year-old boy from Chicago was the son of two bodybuilders, who of course supported him in his endeavor, unlike various leagues. No one could assign a 15-year-old boy at 315 pounds fighting weight to any league. He was either too young. Too heavy. Or too light. And what did the youth protection say about it? It was a difficult time also for Rick (or Ricky, as his friends called him). For the boy’s face had the youthful features of a teen. But the body resembled that of a competitive bodybuilder in the heavyweight class. Ricky never competed, but kept training his muscles and vowed to build a league for those who were born with dumbbells.

Rick Damien opened the small and first con of the “Teen Titans” on 03.04.2044 with 21 years and 432 pounds of muscles on his 6’2 tall body. It was a controversial event and actually had only 5 participants. Rick himself did not participate and was only available as a figurehead for the event. But as the years went on, there were more and more. More exhibitors. More fans. More participants. More muscles.

Today, 10 years later, the fair enjoys great popularity and, in addition to the classic competitions, there is even a corner for cosplay—a tribute to the origins of superheroes and muscular teens of the 20s. Son Guko’s, Thor’s, Venom’s and other characters whose physiques seemed impossible in the past are now making a show of their fandom. On the other side are the nearly 30 participants in the Teen Titans category. The league rules are simple. Between 14 and a maximum of 21 years. A minimum weight of 330 pounds is given. The upper limit is desperately sought. The two-time German champion Tim Schneider is also in the mix. He turned 18 last month and weighed in at 588 pounds. “It’s pretty gross, isn’t it,” Schneider comments, “that I weigh over a quarter of a ton at 18. Always trending upward, of course.” Schneider is a YouTube star and, despite 4.5 million followers, a down-to-earth guy. “Of course, some days it’s hard to get through the day with my mass. At school, I have extra reinforced chairs and have to sit in the back row. I need a table for me alone because of my width. But the teachers are super understanding that in the day I need five to six meal breaks and have to take my sup’s.” When we asked what his favorite subject was in school, Tim replied, “Definitely bio. I might want to study something with biology later on. The human body is fascinating and maybe I’ll find a way to grow even bigger.” With a smirk, the reigning champion added, “And sports I hate. My gym teacher hates me. I can bench his car. But I still can’t climb the rope. I’m actually assured of an E every year.”

When the show begins, Anton Polaski’s forehead is dripping with sweat and he looks at the stage construction with a tense expression. “We had to reinforce it specially. At the opening event, all 30 participants are on the stage and it has to withstand a weight of almost five tons. There are more every year and every year the kids get bigger.” But the stage holds up and the show can go on. You see mountains of muscles and flesh and you think it’s an optical illusion, because the youthful heads sitting on these titanic bodies somehow don’t look right. But the big crowd cheers and when Tim comes on stage even banners are held up. “MORE!”, “BIGGER!”, “GO BIGGER AND HOME TO ME!”

The show goes on for a total of 3 hours and during the honoring and announcement of the winners, three heavyweights are on stage, with Tim topping the second place with almost 30 pounds. The muscle teens breathe heavily after showing off, flexing and showing off their entire bodies in all their glory. With the trophy in hand, Tim waddles down from the stage. His victory was assured and on the way to the small locker room the other teen bodybuilders congratulate him. No one is upset with Tim for the victory, as this behemoth inspires the other contestants to work even harder. “At some point Tim will look like a preschooler against me,” explains and Marco S. He is 16 years old, weighs 438 pounds and has the best chance to eventually topple the king from the throne.

But how long can he defend the title? Because in the locker room, Tim’s little brother runs up to him and hugs him—if that’s even possible with this mass. The 15-year-old “little” brother now already weighs 293 pounds and the father couldn’t be prouder of his two kids. “Admittedly, the car ride here is always a bit difficult, as space and capacity of our Volvo are slowly reaching their end,” he comments with a twinkle in his eye. “But now it’s time to really dig in. I’m hungry!” announced Tim, already stuffing a first burger into his mouth. “Best. Food. Ever. I always have my cheat burger after I win.”, with an embarrassed smile he adds, “Well... it’s like 10 most of the time...”

For three days in Tallahassee’s exhibition halls, you can look at these inhuman kids and maybe pick up a tip or two. Either for yourself, or their future star at home.

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