Pumped brothers

by DNTLKDN

Matt’s dreams of size, friendship, and love come true when his company provides corporate membership to a new, immersive gym experience.

Me

My name is Matt. I was Mr average UK when I finished university and moved to Manchester: Average height—5’10” skinny at 75kg 11 stone and average to, well, small cock—2.5 inches soft, uncut, and about 5 erect with cherry-sized balls. I still have mousey brown hair and look like a geek with a pair of black-framed glasses. At 21, I had finished university and started a new job at an engineering company based in a town centre business complex. I was settling into life on my own, coming and going more or less as I pleased, a bit lonely, in a new job and with time on my hands.

At university I’d had a number of sexual partners of both sexes but had always enjoyed receiving from a hung undergraduate when I could get one rather than giving out to either sex. I think I knew I was gay but there was time to explore all of that ahead of me.

My one and only sport up to this time had been running but the job came with some benefits including subsidised gym membership. I knew that I could do with getting more fit and spending less time gaming with mates online before professional life took over, and the answer came in an email from HR announcing PUMPED 24HR GYM corporate membership. PUMPED was convenient as there was a branch at both ends of my tram ride as well as two others in Manchester, so I was in the gym on that same day the email to get signed up.

The Gym

Through the PUMPED GYM gates and the first thing that hit me was a unique and enticing, turn-on scent I’d never met before. A mixture of male studliness, musk and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Wow, masculine as hell!

However I forgot all about that as soon as I was shaking hands with the guy about to show me around. A definite gym rat of aesthetic build and excellent proportions: About 6’2” and I guessing 190 pounds, shredded and ripped with chocolate brown skin. He was making me boned by his mere presence—not that anyone would notice my wood. He was wearing a sky-blue PUMP branded tank and thick lose jersey shorts. His ample assets were on excellent display, and were those the straps of a jock I could see just below a bubble-but? I had to look from the front. “Definitely a jock strap—hot,” I said under my breath as I took in the substantial cock and satsumas down the left leg of his shorts. I’m pretty sure Gym Rat heard because he smiled before carrying on.

Gym Rat, or Barry, one of the Pump PTs, explained the gym’s highly automated approach to working out and how I would need to download an app to get the most out of my time. He explained how to scan the QR codes on the equipment for my own, personal, AI generated workout tailored to my progress and goals. He also explained the need to wear the PUMPED ear buds he’d just given me while I was in the gym, even in the lockers and showers, as my workout and post workout would be guided by the app for as long as I was in the gym.

Barry watched from behind as I loaded the app and filled in the questionnaire …. until the app froze and I had the unexpected pleasure of Barry breathing down my neck, his solid muscular pecs on my shoulder and, …… was that his heavy cock bulge on my but? I exhaled audibly shifting my left put cheek into his basket. “let me see”, Barry said, now well into my space and it was at this point I noticed the scent again, his and the gym’s scent! A clean, muscular, testosterone filled smell that combined sweat and crotch with a musky woody smell. I took a deep breath as Barry continued to fill my space with his presence, slowly completing the questionnaire to maximise his closeness. Barry gave me a friendly shoulder squeeze when I closed the app and said I was good to go. I started my PUMPED Gym adventure that evening.

I didn’t have much in the way of gym gear but managed to pack a couple of pairs of short running shorts, socks, and some T-shirts into a gym bag with a pair of trainers. I wouldn’t need a towel, shower gel, body lotion or shampoo as the gym provided these.

I arrived at the gym and there it was, right through the gates, that manly, musky, woody, testosterone-filled scent … now accompanied by an automatic reflex to breathe it in deeply. I was definitely getting off on that scent!

The place was a buzz of activity, about 98% male and mostly buff 18- to 50-something professionals silently pounding the machines, sweating, grunting sculpting their bodies. All of them tuned into their own personalised training routine coming to them from the app. This place also had mirrors on every conceivable wall even in the locker room which meant that not matter where you looked, you were always watching either yourself or someone else flexing, grunting, and growing.

I found the locker room and decided to free ball as my running shorts were lined—a good call as I was getting boned again. Out into the gym and suddenly Barry was on top of me, his meaty hand on my shoulder and right into my space. “Hey Matt, good choice of gym gear—should give excellent flexibility. Your sport running?” Barry had a soft, kind, sexy sort of a voice, slightly higher and younger than his physique would suggest, that somehow both made me feel comfortable and melted me at the same time.

“Well, not exactly,” I replied, “but I did run quite a bit at school and uni to keep a clear head.”

“Good,” he said, “so you know how your body responds to exercise at least. Okay, your programme has you starting with arms and back. Just flag one of the PTs down if you need help.”

I put my earbuds in and started the app. A soft, low, hypnotic male voice welcomed me to the gym and explained what today’s workout would consist of. “Your first exercise is lat pull downs—station 8. Scan the QR to begin,” it purred. The machine selected a suitable load based on my weight and history. “Let’s start with 12 reps at 40kg. hold each rep at full flex and connect with your lats and biceps as you exercise… Go and one, two,…squeeze and hold,” the sexy, hypnotic voice said. And so it went on until I’d done the full 12 reps. “Excellent—now at 50kg.”

My workout continued until I’d done a full upper-body workout. “Excellent work, stud,” my earbuds purred. Wait, did he say stud? “Now let’s get your weight and height. Look for station 0 by the locker room door.” 5’ 10” and 74.8kg flashed up on the app, BM index of 26%. “Okay, time to stretch those muscles,” and the app and earbuds guided me through a stretching routine.

“Grab a towel and time for some steam.” Off I went to the steam room. Wow, that gym scent was even more intense! “Time for some soothing mindfulness,” the voice said. I found a seat at the end of the bench but can’t remember much after the first 3 minutes of the steam session—something about imagining my muscles being pumped and growing? It was all so relaxing, soothing, deeply pleasant, and sort of erotic.

The earbuds woke me up after about 10 minutes and I was into the large open showers—soaping up with soap from the dispenser—even more of that intoxicating scent. I’d taken off my specs when I took my workout clothes off but I could swear that there was the odd erect cock as I navigated the showers and that everyone in the changing rooms was at least aroused—me included. I found my specs and sure enough, no one was in a hurry to dress and most of us checking each other out, openly making eye contact and lingering on what we were happiest to take in. What was happening to my inhibitions? Still, it also felt kind of normal.

I towelled off, got dressed and headed through the gym reception area and noticed a range of PUMPED GYM products for sale: shower gel, shampoo, body lotion, essential oil and also branded clothing—all cheap compared to my normal Badedas. I bought some gel and lotion before heading home on a cloud arriving at my tram stop 20 minutes later. My legs walked me straight toward the PUMPED GYM at my tram stop until I snapped out of the trance and headed toward the TESCO near my apartment building. I was ravenous, relaxed and still on the PUMPED cloud.

Getting into it

I was back into the Gym first thing every day the following week and didn’t miss a day that week, earbuds and app guiding me through legs, back, shoulders, running, cross training … always finishing in the steam or sauna, checking out a boner here, big biceps there and then out on an erotic cloud all my own. A bit solitary but bliss…. After an initial shock to the system, I began to get used to the demands the gym was making and I could feel I was becoming fit as the weights on the machines and the length of my workouts slowly increased. I was also a lot hornier, spontaneously rock-hard boned 4 or 5 times a day with the need to spunk 2, 3, or more times daily. I wasn’t sure but I was beginning to think that my cherry-sized nads were also bigger than they were before—more like hen’s eggs than cherries. Could that happen?

The earbuds were also becoming increasingly… encouraging is the wrong word, more like commanding, driving me harder; more reps more weight more sets, longer workouts. The app was also becoming increasingly sexual and erotic telling me I was being admired by the guy on the machine opposite. Wait, he was looking at me… Encouraging me to flex after I finished each machine, to tell random gym goers they looked good, to feel even grope myself, and to enjoy my developing physique. It also encouraged other members to give me the odd flex as I began to do the same for others and even to get some hands on the other guy’s muscles.

PUMPED was becoming my home away from home as I spent more and more time at the gym, spending longer in the steam, sauna, showers… And I was becoming more and more overtly open about looking at other guys who didn’t seem to mind. Displaying my bone hard dick, my libido increasing with every visit.

I made a point of looking for Barry every time I went mainly because he was such a hot inspiration but also because I’d begun to get really fond of my huge-muscled PT who was always good for a “feel that” flex of his growing muscles. I was also fond of Barry’s PT sidekick Trevor. Trevor was such a turn-on tease with his blond hair, shapely swimmers build and outrageous habits.

“I’m here to encourage the timid ones,” Trevor confided, “to bring them out of their shells and help them unleash the inner man stud lurking within. It’s a job I love!” Surprisingly for someone with such lithe and boyish body, Trevor also had one of the biggest cocks I’d ever seen. About 8 inches soft and 11 inches hard, according to Barry. The two of them were unhinged when together, one more outrageous than the other and a real laugh to be with.

I was now in the gym 2 or 3 times a day, and the gym app was always able to find some useful way for me to spend my time whether doing aerobics or resistance training, taking advantage of the protein shakes at the juice bar and or just admiring the view.

I also began to get to know some of the other clientele and began to sense that, gay, straight or in between, within the walls of PUMPED everyone was metro sexual, willing to show off, touch, get hard, flaunt, flirt, look and feel appreciatively their fellow PUMPED members.

As PUMPED became more of a home away from home and as I partook more and more of the smells, sights, and protein drinks I could feel myself becoming more focused no matter what I was doing, also more aware of my body, how it felt, more sensuous of touch, smell, taste and more attuned to my surroundings. Life was becoming more and more pleasant inside and outside the gym with each steam bath, sauna, workout and I was becoming more and more comfortable in my own skin, more tolerant of others and a lot more willing to be physical, empathic and friendly with my colleagues, and especially my fellow gym goers.

Brett

The grad intake at my company was mostly geeky males with one stand-out boy about the same size and build as me called Brett and it was at about week 5 in the gym I was paired up with him to work on a huge rail infrastructure project. We hit it off immediately and moved to adjacent hot desks. On our own together, Brett’s first comment went straight to the point: “You smell nice—do you work out at PUMPED?”

“I do indeed, hooked on the place!”

“Me too, Brett” I purred. We sat down to review some drawings together and within 5 minutes our legs were pressed together, I had my arm over his shoulder while we studied and discussed the accompanying spec and his hand was stroking my upper thigh. With my dick throbbing, and my breathing becoming heavier and the risk of us moving straight on to making out right there in the cubicle, something had to be done. “Loo break?” I blurted.

“Good idea,” Brett rasped. We tumbled into the lift lobby where the loos were and bundled into the disabled. To say we were all over each other in seconds would be an understatement. Our shirts were off and our trousers down while our lips and tongs locked before I could catch up with what was happening and I swear we would have been sucking each other off right there had there not be a noise from outside that brought us to our senses.

“Fuck—this could get us into some serious trouble,” Brett said. We came to and slowly pulled apart. The sexual tension during the rest of the day was almost unbearable. We allowed each other to touch furtively and made plans to meet after gym. Barry still lived at home to save money for a deposit on an apartment so we met at my place for a session of flip fucking, sucking, and groping that lasted ‘till the small hours. Our bodies were nearly identical in size and shape but if I was like him, which I was, I was becoming a bit of a stud. Bigger in all departments. Our mirror images we such an erotic turn on to both of us, I think we could have kept going endlessly. However, tiredness and work the next day eventually took over and we slept in each other’s arms until it was time to hit the gym again.

Out intimacy and love grew as we explored our pasts, families and found things we liked to do together like cycling and camping. We both liked the same foods and, best of all, had a love of adventuresome sex. We were as into each other as I could ever dream possible within the month.

Progress

It was while I was on the cross trainer in week 8 that I noticed in one of the ubiquitous mirrors that I was going to need to get some different gym shorts. Was my ass suddenly bigger or was it my balls or both? I watched, mesmerized, in the mirror in front of the cross trainer as my junk swung visibly back and forth in my flimsy running shorts. I was definitely growing.

Week 9 and the scales confirmed it. 80kg, and, wait, 5’11”? That had to be a mistake!

“Wow, stud,” my earbuds intoned. “Getting bigger, getting jacked! Time to get yourself measured properly and for a new workout. Speak to one of the PTs on the way out and have a complementary protein shake from the juice bar on us.”

I found my go-to PT Barry after the steam and shower and he dived into the gym’s database and confirmed the earbuds. “Hey stud, looking good! The PUMPED app suggests we should take your body measurements, get some free weights into your workout. Says you could also do with a workout buddy to push things along. You’re doing great, takes most people 20 or even more weeks of dedicated training to achieve what you’ve done in less than 10. When can you come back for measurements and so I can take you through the free weights?

“Tomorrow” I asked a bit dizzy at the progress I’d made. “Saturday—yep. You can be my last session. 4:00?” I agreed. “Don’t forget your protein shake. Turns out later that same day, Brett was given advice to transition to free weights too which meant I had the hottest and most lovely workout buddy I could have ever wished for.

Getting Bigger

Brett and me met Barry and Trevor in reception, Trev was going to input body measurements as Barry took them, and we went into the locker room so we could strip off to for the tape measure. I had no idea of my size before this so the measurements were a bit meaningless. Still Barry seemed impressed. “24 inch thighs, 17 inch calves, 28 inch waist, 24 43 inch chest, 15 ½ inch biceps,” he repeated to Trevor. Okay, on to the scales and height… or 6 feet exactly and 78 kilos, 16% body fat. “Stud! You are getting jacked,” Barry enthused. Brett came in at just about the exact same size as me.

I was dumbfounded. How could I possibly be 2 inches taller? I’ve been 5’ 10” since I took my GCSEs. That’s not possible. “Yes, it is!” said Barry. “In this place, that is definitely possible! And I can tell you something else that’s probably bigger and it’s right between your legs; only we’re not allowed to measure that, you will need to do that yourself.”

The free weights gym was a whole different world. Accessible through a door we had to scan with the QR code on the app. It had its own locker, shower, sauna, steam rooms and a mirror-lined iron-man room full of body weight exercises, ropes and rings hanging from racks, weight sledges….. Another difference was that compression tops and bottoms were provided in all sizes along with a jock strap. Barry explained that the clothing was designed to give support for what would be an intense workout. He also explained that I could exchange them for clean ones whenever I liked and advised I could put my own clothes on over them but that most guys just work out in the skins, as he called them. “Hell, a lot of guys wear them home and even sleep in them, me included,” he finished.

I stripped and put the outfit on and immediately felt a warm pump all over. Of course they smelled just like everything else in the gym but they also had a smooth and slightly lubricated feeling like too much fabric softer had been added to the wash. They were tight and accentuating and so extremely comfortable. Almost, maybe even better, than no clothes at all.

The free weight gym was full of jacked muscle studs from all ethnic backgrounds, built like smaller and even some larger versions of Barry working in pairs in a very hands-on way. Barry had me scan the dumbbell shoulder press card on the wall, picked two 30kg dumbbells and demonstrated the correct technique, slowly performing about 20 reps. He then stood up and handed me 2 20 Kilos weights. “Okay, your turn,” he said. I tried to emulate the way Barry had done it. “Wow bud, not so fast. Hold at the bottom and top, feel the flex, connect with the muscles remember.”

He put his hands on mine to demonstrate and then on my shoulders and triceps to reinforce the connection to the muscles. “Try and feel the squeeze of the muscles at full contraction. Go! 12-15 reps.” Can you feel the burn in your muscles?” His hands were back on my shoulders as he showed Brett how to support me lifts and where he should put his hands to reinforce the connection. “Try to remember to feel the burn and contraction in your muscles.” “Here, I’ll do it again and you two feel me as I go” Barry advised. His muscles swelled and pushed my hands out of the way with each flex and at this point my dick was rock hard—a condition it would stay in for the next hour and 20 min.

We made it round the gym; Barry demonstrating and me and Brett emulating with Barry giving me the hands-on treatment all the way around. It was becoming a muscle worship session as we progressed and I was boned to the point of pain. At one point, on the squat rack Barry’s hands found my boner as he pointed out the muscles involved. “Nice piece of wood—you want as much testosterone in your system as you can get so you can grow,” he exclaimed as we moved on to the last station.

“One last exercise!” His arm around my waist steering me toward a bench and free weights. “Hammer curls and reverse incline bench press.” Barry pulled a pair of 40-kilo dumbbells off the rack and demonstrated. His arms pumped almost immediately. “I did arms and back this morning so I’ll go easy on myself.”

If 80kg was easy, I’d like to see what Barry thought was hard. Barry did about 20 reps, racked the weights and then did a double biceps flex that had me bug-eyed and out of breath. “Feel ’em if you like.” Barry invited.

“Fuuuuucccccck,” was all I could say as my hands felt his bulging, melon-sized arms.

“Now you try,” Barry said, handing me a 16k set of weights.

But if Barry’s bulging biceps were jaw-dropping, his last party piece had me close to jizzing on the spot. “Okay, reverse incline bench press.” He adjusted the bench. “Lie on your back, legs each side of the bench with your head inclined below your hips.” “Here are some 18 kilo weights, hold them shoulder width and push. I’ll spot.” Suddenly Barry’s crotch was right above my eyes. His florescent pink jock strap just inches from my face cupping what had to be a good 8 inches of fat flaccid man meat as thick as his ankles. It took me a few seconds to make out the rest of his junk but when it registered that his jock strap wasn’t big enough to hold his huge balls, I nearly passed out! That plus the overwhelming scent of maleness was just too much for me!

“You okay there, buddy?” I managed 10 reps before the scent had me near fainting. Barry grabbed the weights and I sat up brushing my face and head against his junk. “Wow buddy, guess that’s enough for your first day.” He let me recover before reminding me: “Remember now to scan the QR code to save your workout. He steered me through a door at the end of the free weights gym and into the iron man room explaining that this was a room for stretching, body weight exercises and for flexing. Sure enough there was some serious kit-off muscle worship going on with blokes mostly just in jock straps admiring one another’s physics.

“Right, into the big boys locker room.” Boned as hell, Brett and I stripped and I grabbed my towel and walked into the showers, 120% hard! I don’t know where my confidence and cockiness came from as I’d have never done anything like this in the past but no one seemed to notice—in fact with everyone else equally aroused I’d have been out of place if I wasn’t rock hard. The showers, locker rooms, steam and sauna were a writhing mass of muscle, boned, shredded studs soaping each other off, applying body lotion, feeling each other and flexing fit to bust. Brett and I set to work, unsure how far we should go on the intimacy front.

We proceeded to lather up and there was that smell again coming from the shower gel, only overwhelmingly strong, even more than Barry’s jock strap! The scent was intense and I suddenly, uncontrollably blew thick streams of cum without even touching my dick. My cum splattered all over Brett’s abs only to cause him to shoot all over me. I had never had a longer-lasting or more intense orgasm in my 8 post-pubescent years. Where had that come from? I was panting as waves of pleasure pulsed through my body. I closed my eyes and let the steamy sex scent of the shower gel permeate my being, no longer carrying if anyone saw.

We must have stayed that way for 5 minutes or so when the next thing I heard was Barry beside me in the shower saying, “Hey Matt, Brett, nice pumps.”

I opened my startled eyes to the majestic glory that was Barry. 6’2” no more like 6’6” of ascetically perfect, rock-hard muscle. “Fuuuccck—look at you.” I managed to say. His uncut dick was semi erect but well over 9 inches now and equipped with the biggest set of balls and sack I’d ever seen.

“Aw this is nothing compared with the two guys who own the chain. In fact, I’m just over average for a PUMP PT. That said, I’m still growing and expect I won’t peak until I’m at least 100 pounds heavier and maybe, if I’m lucky maybe 4 or even 8 inches taller. Still I wanna stay ripped and aesthetic.”

“How, how is that even possible?” I asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure but I think it something to do with the fuck-stud jock strap smell of the soap, shampoo, towels, air freshener … they use in this place. That plus the protein shakes and bars they sell at the juice bar are defo worthy of praise on the grow-your-own front. Also, you’ll find the compression suits will allow you to hold a pump until the next visit if you keep them on till then.”

“I just love this place for what it’s done for me over the past 10 months of being a PT. I was a water polo jock all through school and swam but I wasn’t much bigger than you—well 170 pounds and 6’—when I came here as an apprentice PT at 16 earlier this year. Added bonus is my dick and balls have kept up with the rest of me. Insane.” At this point he started to do helicopter twirls with his cock by gyrating his hips and his dick lengthened to about 12 inches. I couldn’t even imagine the girth but at least two hands full around. “I love it” Barry yelled “but better not get my love muscle going or I’ll never get out of here.” This stud was max 17 years old and built like a brick wall.

With that Barry rinsed and left the shower, as did Brett and I.

We towelled each other off, dressed, watching Barry stuff his huge semi erect cock into a jock that was clearly too small and then stuff his heavy package down the left leg of a pair of baggy shorts which enhanced rather than diminish the stud’s dick and balls.

I didn’t believe a word of what he said. Still the place had a certain magic about it and I was a paid up member. I put the damp compression kit back on with my clothes on top and we headed home for food and a further 2 hours of intimacy.

Getting Huge

The next evening Brett and I hooked up for our first workout session together on our own. Still guided by our earbuds we were taken through leg day with the added fun of it being a competition the whole way. The voice egged us on to both support and outdo each other with that same hands on enthusiasm Barry had shown the day before. We groped and prodded freely, plates added as each set progressed. By the time we’d finished the first station we were pumped all over and our dicks we hard as marble. The intensity of the workout increased with each station and it was like our bodies were on fire with a hunger for size and strength.

The weights session ended and we moved into the iron man room where the real high-intensity work out began. “Time for the buddy body builder work out,” came from the earbuds which involved buddy lunges, Brett and me alternately carrying one another doing walking lunges, buddy press ups, buddy pull ups—we each managed 2 reps, leg wrestles where each of us tried to turn the other over our legs interlocked, and a bunch of other buddy body builder exercises. If we weren’t finished off by the weights, we were defiantly flagging now. The session finished with flexing—well more muscle worshiping with each of us flexing and admiring each other in turn. Both of us boned to bust we headed to the steam.

What awaited was a writhing mass of muscle boys in various states of oral and anal penetration. Brett and I fell into an embrace as he guided my dick into his waiting ass. I lunged my rock hard man meat into his hole and he let out a long moan oozing erotic pleasure. We fucked for about 10 minutes when I said “my turn” and we flipped positions. His dick was both thick and long and my hungry ass was begging to be fucked hard. I egged him on to pound me like a jackhammer and within minutes he screamed and began pumping buckets of his fervid spume into my tight hole. My ass overflowed with his hot load. We flipped again and I pounded him with my dick to his erotic delight until I too shot what felt like gallons on man juice into his enticing ass.

The locker room for the big boys had body lotion dispensers and we were encouraged via that ever-present voice in our ears to apply it liberally to each other before putting our jocks and compression outfits back on. Then, feeling soothed, refreshed and ravenous we both ordered up protein shakes—which, for big boys, came in a half litre plastic cup. We both downed them like cold beers on a hot day. “Another?” I asked. Well, the second one went down as quickly as the first.

Feeling sated in every possible way, we headed to my flat, which Brett was making plans to move into, had a huge meal of salmon, greens, and brown rice and proceeded to bed in our compression suits, across each other like a couple of puppies in a basket.

Morning broke and the muscle pump was still there, along with a raging hunger for another litre of protein and to work out. We were back in the gym by 6:30 for a chest and arms workout to bust and again in the evening and so it went on for the next several months.

By the time summer rolled around again we’d become the muscle geek twins at the office, both of us hefty 6’4” 230 pound, ripped and solid muscle gods, veins everywhere. My biceps had just broken 20” and my thigs at 30” were just under the size of my waist. I’d had to go up several sizes in my shirts and, lucky for me, my go-to trouser website offered trousers that both fit my legs and comparatively small waist. The only problem, if you can call it that, was that my dick was now a flaccid (which it almost never was) 7 inches long with the girth of a beer can and my balls were big enough to play tennis with; Brett’s too! The look in relatively skinny trousers was a turn on to both me and random lookers on and though I’d never considered myself to be a narcissist, the stares and OMGs I elicited were an unexpected bonus. People didn’t know where to look first but almost always settled on to the crotch. The attention was a welcome turn-on and encouragement to keep up the good work.

A year in now and Brett and I had made friends with a number of other PUMPED patrons and these and some of the PTs, including Barry and Trevor who was now just shy of 6’ 10”—a behemoth muscle deity by anyone’s measure—were buddies inside the gym and out. All together there were about 12 of us that hung out together from this gym making a considerable impression in every bar and night club we visited.

It was also about this time that stud muffin Trevor had left the muffin category and was more like stud wedding cake proportions. His growth spirt had come on quickly with the most substantial gain in on his chest and pecks which where were huge. He’d also shot up by at least 7 inches to a lofty 6’ 5. “Dam, none of my old tennis dresses fit me anymore. I’ve had to go on to Serena Williams’s largest size and if this keeps up, even they won’t fit me!” said Trevor.

Barry joined in. “You pump that chest any bigger and nothing’s going to fit except your PT kit.”

“Spoil sport,” Trevor complained. “Barry’s always on about balance and proportion.”

“Dude, with your dick, if you don’t pay attention, it’s going to become bigger than your legs if you don’t keep up with the legs.”

I boggled but had to ask. “So how big is your dick Trev, if it’s not impolite to ask?” I’d never seen it in the flesh.

“10 inches soft and 14 hard—my pride and joy; I’ve always been blessed in the bat and ball department.” And with that, he discretely lifted the tennis dress he was wearing and let his junk out of his jock. We all gasped in awe.

It was also at this time, that Masood, a Pharma research scientist and another PUMPED mate, began to put 2 and 2 together to figure out how it was possible for us to have gained so much size post puberty and so quickly. “That smell is, he called it, androgenic pheromones, the compression suits, soap, essential oils—basically everything are a cocktail of androgen receptors boosters and probably SARMS and the protein shakes are probably full of some sort of growth factor and other hormones.” “There’s no way we could be as big as we are and growing or as horny as we are if something wasn’t pushing into some sort of second puberty.”

We pondered what he was saying for a brief moment and then Brett let out a laugh and said, “Bring it on by the fucking bucket! If I’m a fuck stud lab rat then so long as I keep growing I don’t care.” We all fell to laughing because we all felt exactly the same way. Being a growing stud was a problem we all yearned deeply to have for as long as possible.

The PUMPED Brothers—as I called us—cohort grew whenever we met men from the other gyms and soon we had a WhatsApp with over 100 members all willing to share their gains in all departments, including pics, techniques and tips.

Life carried on with steady growth, increasing libido, insane new techniques to turn sex in to exercise—with results for glutes that had me busting out of some of my older trousers with just the barest flex or stretch. Brett, Barry, Trev, Masood, all of us continued to grow everywhere howling with joy as new personal bests, size and weight milestones were surpassed on a weekly basis.

Sex at the gym was becoming increasingly strenuous, erotic and fulfilling. My favourite end-of-workout sexercise was being fucked from behind and below me, another cock in my hungry hole from one of the other guys, my now 11 inches in the ass of another workout buddy on top of me and their dick sliding up and down my paving stone sized peck slab clevage, with a huge cock down my throat for good measure. If you’ve never played piggy in the middle like this, I promise you are in for an erotic pleasure at every level; though I will caution that a certain degree of aerobic fitness is strongly advised. The sensory overload especially when everyone comes at the same time is transport to a whole new level of sexual bliss.

It was about this time that Barry had decided to compete as a bodybuilder. Brett and I were in PUMPED early one morning as was our habit and there was Barry in a pair of silver posers that just about contained his manhood. “Hey Matt, come and watch Barry pose, Trevor suggested. I was starkers but came over to watch Barry run through is routine and it was magnificent. My cock was soon sticking strait out and up as I watched, jaw on the floor, as Barry went from pose to pose. His side poses were awe inspiring; his chest huge and obscuring his view down, then his glutes, even bigger, and then a cock bulge that rivalled his ass for size. He finished by lowering himself on his left leg, his right leg out to the side in a double biceps pose. His cock and balls slapped the floor before he hit bottom and his cock and balls exploded from his posers.

I spontaneously spunked a huge rope of cum straight to Barry’s chest while the rest of the changing room roared with approval. I thought Barry was going to be angry but instead he walked over, saying, “Give me a hug spunk boy, no one has ever spontaneously erupted over me like that before. That was wonderful, thank you!” He gave me a huge hug while I helped clean him up with my tongue. “Give me some of that,” he growled as our lips met and his huge cock began to lift me from the floor.

A day or two later, Barry made an exception for me where his giant member was concerned and I had the fuck of a lifetime from him in the steam room, Trevor’s enormous cock down my throat for good measure. The two of them had become huge and no signs of stopping. Both of them were gifted everywhere you looked, hungry for size and sex and skilled at giving absolute pleasure.

Brett and I had our own routine well established by now, able to gently manhandle one another into more and more erotic positions, to hold each other’s cocks firm in our asses, to twist, turn, rotate and flip without losing contact, in handstands, ass the grass squatting, performing press-ups and pull ups and lasting for sweat-soaked hours until our muscles gave out and orgasm was the only way it could end. We’d then kiss for hours until sleep overtook us.

As I say, this is how things progressed until Brett and I hit 6’ 8” and 290 pounds—just shy of our goal of 6’10”, 300 pounds, and 12 inches of tube steak between our legs. But what happened next was a shock to us all.

Crisis

Neither of us believed the message over the public address system until a group of PCs in yellow high vis came through the door. “Collect your belongings and vacate the building now. This gym is closed!”

“What’s going on, why is the gym closed?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you that—please vacate the building—go now, Quickly!” the PC barked. Brett and I were law-abiding and moved as fast as our muscled asses would allow leaving our names and contact details with one of the PCs at the door of the building.

“We’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you but you are free to go.” …And that was that.

We and a small group of hard-core PUMPED members gathered outside in the early morning gloom, incredulous and deflated that there would be no workout today or perhaps for several days ahead. Barry and Trev were in a complete state, panicked and afraid which was not nice to see and we would need to get them somewhere we they could calm down quickly.

My phone vibrated and there were already a dozen WhatsApp messages from PUMPED BROTHERS members of other gyms reporting the news that the whole franchise was being shut down. “What the fuck?” I muttered as I handed my phone to Brett. “We’ve got to do something!” Both Brett and I called in sick and within 10 minutes, about 15 of us had agreed to meet at Piccadilly station at 8:30 to share what we’d heard.

As the raids and gym closures were happening, the BBC began to report what was going on and it was depressing reading. Evidently the gyms were closed and the owners arrested for doping athletes with illegal substances without the consent of the individuals involved. Anyone impacted or with knowledge was asked to contact Manchester Police.

We got on a tram to central Manchester where the brothers were already gathering and hived off into a Starbucks. Barry was with us and had calmed down enough to began to provide some reassuring background. Firstly, all of us had, it turns out, signed a consent on joining via the app when we ticked “I Agree” and second, none of what we were exposed to was either illegal or illicit. All of our growth was natural and none of us would fail a drug test. That re assuring message was broadcasted to the brothers as soon as I could type it.

The question of how to deal with the sudden loss of the habit of a lifetime was a more difficult question. However, with the help of what’s app and the gnawing loss that was opening in the pits of our collective stomachs as the workouts stopped, some solutions began to appear. Our first act to salvage the situation was a series of midnight raids. Selected PTs had back door keys to each of the gyms and it was surprisingly easy to collect each of the 4 gyms stocks of protein powder, compression suits, soap, body lotion and anything else we could load to one or other of the brothers’ vans and cars. Soon the entire stock was disbursed across the brothers for safe keeping.

We quickly gathered our finances to support any PT who was temporarily out of work and then through the master stroke of a brother who was also a commercial estate agent we found a hard-core bodybuilding gym in a warehouse near one of Manchester’s many canals that had gone bust. The bank that owned the buildings had evidently been trying for months to sell or lease the site with no takers and we could have a 12 month lease with an option to purchase at a knock down price. This site even included a disused tram shed with permission for expansion.

With lawyers, doctors, scientists, including our own research pharmacologist Masood, and engineers among the brotherhood a bleak situation began to look like an opportunity. The brotherhood was going to reverse engineer PUMPED into the Junkyard. And to avoid problems, the junk yard would be a private gym for members only! Our marketing campaign to recruit more members was subtle and involved the bigger brothers of the brotherhood just hanging around in PUMPED-branded kit. It didn’t take long to sign up a critical mass of 500 founder members from the over 40,000 members of PUMPED and the Junkyard opened exactly 6 weeks after the raid with everything except the soothing voice which the more experienced members would provide and the automated machines.

If anything our little private gym was better than PUMPED because the breaks were really off. All the members knew what they wanted and what they were getting and could get involved in other ways. Masood was especially useful in helping reverse engineer the pheromones, supplements, protein, more or less everything PUMPED had been plying us with before.

The workouts we unbridled muscle lust with 4, 5 or more of us egging each other on, worshiping, pushing, topped off by Evening Worship—as we called it—which consisted of an hour of the most intensive group fuck exercising any of us could imagine. 50 or more of us would typically gather in the iron man room at around 8 p.m. One of our members, Channa, who was a tantric yoga expert, taking charge, bending and combining us into the most challenging positions depending on the muscles we chose to exercise; improving our flexibility and gracefulness along the way. Lasting a whole hour was challenging but so worth it for the intense climax and the improving musculature it gave is all. These sessions brought new meaning to the word intense. I would often completely lose myself in these sessions, time becoming meaningless as I would move from one muscle stud to the next with Channa’s guidance arriving at the other end of the session pumped, sated and then starving beyond anything I can describe.

In the meantime, it was becoming clear that the Crown Prosecution Service’s case against the PUMPED GYM founders was collapsing. It turns out that not one single PUMPED member was willing to testify to give evidence and, as luck would have it, the PUMPED Brothers’ clear-out of the gym’s stock rooms left the prosecution without much evidence either. We were lucky to have gotten away with that!

One Happy Family

In Manchester, the areas with canals are dotted with leafy neighbourhoods full of large Victorian houses, one of which me, Brett, Masood and a couple of others guys decided to buy. Formerly student accommodation, our semi-detached house conveniently backed on to the Junkyard Gym and had enough room for 12 of us. We let out the spare rooms to Barry and Trevor shared and a couple of other brothers, one of whom was a nutritionist, Greg, and chef for Cavensmith Foods.

The convenience of the house to the gym enabled those of us who had taken on more of a management role in the gym the time and flexibility to look after the gym’s affairs while holding down full-time work. Greg cooked in bulk for us all and kept us fed while the rest of us did the housework and kept things neat and tidy. We were one studly group of men in that house, not one of us under 6”6’ or under 230 pounds. We could dress in as little and whatever we wanted, rubbing along, literally, as we saw fit. The house quickly took on the PUMPED smell and this, and the proximity to the gym meant that our strength and fitness and size wen on leaps and bounds to our collective delight.

Amongst the brothers we also had a sports clothing design expert who took on our clothing needs both for gym and ordinary clothes. This was a huge boon to us all as by now absolutely nothing off the peg fit, except shoes, and even that was a challenge. Simon was an expert at fabrics and understood how to manage the overseas supply chain to get us clothing at reasonable prices. He even managed to knock out a couple of tennis dresses for Trev.

By now we were making our own Junkyard Gym products using local manufacturers, selling both in the gym and on line, and making a tidy profit on the products we sold. We hadn’t found quite the right lycra fabric for our own skins yet but it turned out that a ribbed material like old fashion thermal underwear and jock pouch material was a better choice anyway as the ribbing pushed a thinned version of body lotion into the skin better than a smooth material.

Membership in the gym was up to 4000 now and it began to become apparent that holding full time work and looking after Junkyard affairs was going to be challenging.

The knock at the Door

The knock at the door came as we were settling down to our usual huge pre- worship supper. Barry went to answer and yelped with delight at the two strangers who had come to visit. All of a sudden two of the hugest men I’d ever seen came stooping into the room—both of them pushing 8 feet and muscled beyond my wildest wet dream, their huge cocks and balls the size of melons almost visible behind the fly of their well-tailored trousers.

James and Callum Mackintosh were introduced and were soon tucking into dinner with us, Barry fussing over them like a mother hen. “These are the guys who owned PUMPED!” he said.

“Still do,” replied James, “The case was dismissed today, though the company has had to stop trading.”

Callum opened the conversation by saying, “We both owe you all and the rest of the brothers a great debt of gratitude by clearing out the gyms of stock, by not testifying and by and carrying on the in the Junkyard. We are both delighted that you’ve managed to keep things going so well and your continued physical growth is a testimony to the care and dedication given.”

Then James came straight to the point. “Thing is we didn’t get nearly as far as we wanted to with our venture before the CPS was tipped off by a jealous former employee (it turns out). We had plans for a complete lifestyle approach to physical development and the gyms in Manchester were just a start. This is where you all come in: We’d like to buy into your venture, re-open PUMPED and take the concept global with your help! We’d like you all to join and share in our reboot of PUMPED.

We spent the rest of the early evening discussing matters in greater detail, Masood with James who was also a pharmacology researcher and me and the rest of us with Callum on how the business might work. Turns out the Macintoshes had floated PUMPED before it had been shut and had over £40m in their own capital to put things on a firm footing.

Discussions ended when Barry reminded us we were due at evening worship. Would the Mackintosh brothers like to join us?

“Shit yeah” they intoned together, “Sounds like you’ve taken things even further than we’d thought! The Mackintoshes made quite an impression with the brothers at that evening’s worship. But Channa rose to the challenge of accommodating the two giants and they were soon getting very hot and bothered in the best possible way. Needless to say, the members voted yes unanimously to the merger and the new company was up and running in no time with the tram shed as the site for an office building big enough to house the reboot, as we called it.

We began to learn more and more about how PUMPED came to be, the changes our bodies were undergoing and how far our bodies could go. James’s advice was that beyond 7’ 6” in height and things become unmanageably impractical with the way the world is today. “Everything has to be custom made, public transport becomes impossible and nothing at all fits a muscular man above that height. “Also your begin to break everything you touch if you’re not very careful. Likewise a dick bigger than a 2 litre plastic Buxton water bottle (15 inches) and balls any bigger than a couple of large baking potatoes is like carrying a 20-pound turkey in your trousers and likewise impractical—I should know!”

“You’ve seen our house, our car,” James went on. “Everything from the loos to the kitchen cabinets is custom-made to work for us or we’d go nuts.”

Barry and Trev had progressed well beyond James’s ideal and it became inevitable that, for practical reasons, they should move in the James and Callum where they live today.

Two Years Later

Well, we have all of us gone from strength to strength and we are about to open our U.S. sub which will really power us forward. Brett and I are settled in our own house now and we have decided not to go beyond James’ size max—which suits us. We are directors and owners of PUMPED, working side by side on the design of equipment along with a number of other PUMPED brothers in our new office building next to the Junkyard Gym. Clothing is optional in our office which is just as well given no clothing is the most comfortable way of being when you’re our size.

Brett and I are now happily married, just two peas in a pod and just about inseparable. Just two huge muscle puppies giving back to the world. We don’t do evening worship much anymore unless it’s to help Channa preferring our own happy company to the seething mass of an ever growing group of the hottest men you’ve ever laid eyes on. We still have the occasional tumble with Barry and Trev, who have both topped out at 8’ 2” and 18 inches ( I like to keep my ass in shape for the larger studs) and with others of the original cohort but we largely keep ourselves to ourselves outside the gym and are even considering a family.

We have gyms all across Europe now, operating with tighter Ts and Cs, everyone tuned into their own optimised exercise routine, but in reality, every gym everywhere is now a PUMPED gym given our products are available just about everywhere and you can even download an interactive app for the sound effects.

Men and boys up and down the land are displaying the benefits, wearing our clothes over their bulging muscles their ample and growing junk proudly displayed. The jock strap and skimpy swimming briefs have made a serious fashion come back over the past year, (If you’ve got it, flaunt it as I like to say) and off the peg clothing is likewise growing to support and sustain the country’s bigger population. There’s no telling how big the men of the world are going to get as time marches on but one thing is certain, the population is happier and more peaceful for it. Too busy fucking to make trouble I like to think!

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