Growth by association

by Richard Jasper

When Roger Clark—improbably huge, impossibly built—shows up at Fitness World wanting to hire half a dozen personal trainers (all male) for 12 weeks, the guys don’t know what to think. But they all say YES when he quotes a price that’s about 10 times their going rate! Growth, growth, and more growth ensues, in the muscle department and down below. Plus these totally straight jocks wind up being not so straight after all!

Added: May 2020 10,404 words 5,379 views 3.3 stars (6 votes)


Sam Dunbar’s head came up.

He was manning the front desk at Fitness World, his summer job between his senior year of high school and his freshman year at ESU. Sam was 6’4 and 250 pounds of solid muscle, with wavy shoulder length brown hair and a killer smile. He always had a smile on his face and why not? He could have anyone he wanted, male or female, and he was so big and built that only an idiot or someone with a serious death wish thought about messing with him.

But now his jaw was on the floor and he was in serious danger of catching flies.

The man in front of him was an absolute mountain. For one thing, he was as tall as Sam but he must have weighed 400 pounds, maybe more (maybe a lot more!), and all of it massive, bulging, ripped to shreds muscle. Add wavy hair so dark it was almost black, piercing blue eyes, and stubble thick enough to give you rug burn and Sam’s sizeable member started dancing his pants.

I’m straight, I’m straight, I’m straight.

Actually, Sam was bisexual with a slight preference for women but any big, built guy automatically got his motor running and he’d never seen anyone bigger or better built than this guy.

“I’m here to see Drew Prescott,” the giant said, with a voice like thunder. “Point me in the right direction?”

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. The Big Man smiled. Man, what a smile. You wanted to dive right into it. Full red lips, gleaming white teeth, dimples.

“Drew Prescott?”

With an effort, Sam shook himself.

“Let me call him,” he said. “Your name, Sir?”

A hand the size of a punch bowl reached across the desk.

“Roger Clark,” he said.

Sam picked up the phone and dialed Drew’s number.

“Mr. Clark is here to see you,” he said into the phone, then looked Clark up and down. “Yep, that’s him all right!”

He hung up the phone and cleared his throat.

“Drew will be right out.”

The director of personal training, Drew Prescott, was a handsome 30-year-old, 5’11 and 240 pounds, sandy brown blond hair and baby blue eyes, and an aspiring Classic Physique competitor. It was all he could do not to gape when he saw the behemoth standing next to Sam. Shaking hands with the man was like shaking hands with an M1 battle tank.

“Come on back, Sir,” he said.

The Giant man turned and gave Sam a wink, then followed Drew. It was fortunate that Drew’s office (only the PT Director rated an office) had a bariatric chair. You know, the one designed for really large people. Because Roger Clark was really large.

Holy shit, Drew thought. This man must weigh 500 pounds.

“Good to see you have one of these,” Clark said, sitting down. “Most people don’t have chairs to accommodate a 550-pound man.”

Drew gulped.

I’m looking at 550 pounds of solid muscle, Drew said to himself. This guy is the biggest, most muscular man I’ve ever heard of, much less seen! He makes Eddie Hall look puny!

“And what can I do for you, Sir?”

It’s worth recalling that at Fitness World, like most suburban gyms, the emphasis was on informal friendliness. Young or old, male or female, staff introduced themselves by their first names and referred to their clients the same way. But Drew couldn’t bring himself to refer to Roger Clark by his first name, or even “Mr. Clark.” He was Sir, no ifs, ands, or buts, although Drew was scarcely aware that he had made this calculation or changed his mode of address. It was automatic.

“I need to hire your personal trainers for a short period, approximately three months,” Clark said.

Drew goggled.

“I am all for people hiring trainers, obviously, but, Sir, what on Earth would you need a trainer for?”

Clark chuckled, a sound less like distant thunder and more like a distant volcano getting ready to erupt.

“Oh, I have my needs, just like anyone,” Clark said, flexing a forearm that was bigger than Drew’s waist. “Different needs, but needs nonetheless.”

Must.not.stare, Drew told himself, to no avail.

“I’m sure we can hook you up with the right person…”

Clark held up a finger the size of a brick.

“I see haven’t made myself clear,” he interrupted. “I need to hire, depending on who you have available, approximately five of your trainers.”

Drew’s eyebrows made a beeline for his scalp.


A look at Clark silenced him.

“In addition, all of the trainers must be male and I need them, all of them, for four hours every morning, Monday through Saturday.”

Drew gasped.

“Before you tell me that’s not possible,” Clark continued. “Let me say that I’m willing to pay Fitness World a thousand dollars per trainer per hour for their time and assistance.”

Clark stared at Drew, whose brain was close to shorting out.

“I’m sure you can do the math,” Clark continued, but proceeded to do it for Drew. “Depending on how many trainers are involved, that’s approximately $20,000 per four-hour session. Six times a week. For 12 weeks that adds up to a bit over $1.4 million but we might as well round it up to $1.5, I think.”

Fitness World never had more than five trainers on the floor at any given time so what Clark was proposing meant that except for early mornings Drew would be unable to schedule clients for the first four hours each day. On the other hand, Clark was offering to pay 10 times the going rate.

“When would you like to get started, Sir?”

Clark smiled.

“After I meet the trainers, of course! Have the candidates here tomorrow at 8 a.m. and I will decide then which ones to use.”

The Mountain of Muscle rose to leave, then turned.

“And Drew,” he added. “Just so we’re clear: I’ll want you to be one of the five.”

Like a puppy with a new master, Drew followed Clark as he walked across the gym floor, parting the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, and out the door.

“Did that just happen?”

It was Sam.


He looked up at the big teen. Sam outweighed him by 10 pounds but Drew was five inches shorter so he looked considerably thicker. He was stronger, too, given he had an extra 10 years of lifting under his belt. But Sam was tall enough and broad enough that Drew always felt somewhat petite.

The look of awe on Sam’s face told Drew everything he needed to know.

“Now you know what it feels like!”

The next morning, Drew assembled the candidates in the conference room (no, most suburban gyms don’t have conference rooms; Fitness World wasn’t “most suburban gyms…”) In addition to himself and Sam, the other guys were:

Bryce Dunbar, Sam’s older brother. 22 years old, just out of the Marines, at 6’2 and 225 pounds of muscle, not quite as big as his baby brother. He had blond hair instead of brown, blue eyes instead of green, but otherwise it was quite clear to anyone that they were brothers.

David Patterson, 29. Like Bryce, he was 6’2 but at 205 pounds his look was rangier, probably thanks to slightly broader shoulders, longer arms, and narrower hips. With his dark chocolate skin, modified Afro, and hands that could palm a basketball, he would have looked at home in the NBA, or as he was always put it (since this comparison was pointed out to him all the time), the Shorter NBA!

Shawn Tomashevski, 25. The smallest of the five of them. At 5’10 he was as tall as Drew but he was only 180 pounds. All of it in the right places, of course, with nice wide shoulders, a good thick chest, and veiny arms. Plus he had a 29-inch waist and an eight-pack to die for.

And Rogelio “Roy” Jimenez, 27. An inch taller than Drew and Shawn, he split the difference in their weight. At 210 pounds he was more of a powerlifter than a bodybuilder, with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a 36-inch waist.

“What’s this all about?” Shawn asked.

Sam gave Drew a look.

“We have a special, very lucrative contract from a very wealthy client,” Drew said. “He wants us—and I mean all of us, if we’re up for it—to train him four hours a day, six days a week for the next three months.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“He wants US to train him?”

Drew nodded.

“Jeez, wotta concept!”

The other guys looked quizzically at Sam.

“You guys aren’t going to believe this guy until you actually see him,” Sam said. “He’s literally twice my size.”

They scoffed, of course.

“I think you need to revisit the meaning of the word ‘literally,’” his big brother said.

Drew shook his head.

“No, actually, in this case he doesn’t. He is literally twice Sam’s size. In fact, twice his size and a bit.”

Shawn, who was always quick on the uptake.

“So we’re getting paid a butt load of money to train someone who is morbidly obese? How fun!”

“I said he was twice Sam’s size,” Drew countered. “I didn’t say he was morbidly obese. He weighs 550 pounds, or so he claims, and I believe him. And as far as I can tell there’s not an ounce of fat on him.”


Drew’s statements drew hoots, guffaws, and snorts of derision from his team. Except for Sam, of course, who had seen him.

“Knock it off,” Sam barked.

That shocked the shit out of the rest of guys. Despite his intimidating size and musculature, Sam was about the nicest guy you could hope to meet. He was never sharp with people, mostly because he was so happy being handsome, huge, hung, and horny.

“You gotta see this guy to believe him,” Drew continued.

Clark arrived just then. Later on Shawn recalled that it was like watching the Queen Mary II coming into dock. Clark was neither slow nor awkward but his pace and movements were deliberate, as if long experience had taught him that sudden moves or abrupt changes in direction might destroy his surroundings. Or crush people.

“Welcome, Sir,” Drew said, standing up as Clark entered the room.

The rest of the guys, who like most guys their age had a tendency to slouch unless they were at a job interview, likewise jumped to their feet. Their expressions ranged from awe to envy to lust to, in one case, outright fear.

“Gentlemen,” Clark said, acknowledging them with a nod. “Be seated.”

They sat.

“No doubt Drew here has told you that I want to acquire your services for the next three months,” Clark continued. “But aside from the time commitment, he hasn’t told you the particulars because I haven’t shared them with him. I will do so now.”

Clark surprised Drew and the rest by pointing out that the first condition was that they be able to train with him off-site.

“This gym, suitable as it may be for its typical clientele, won’t suffice for my needs,” he said. “Fortunately, I have a fully equipped—dare I say, ‘specially’ equipped—gym at my home, which is a just a mile from here.”

Six pairs of eyebrows went up.

“Considering the nature of the contract, Sir, that should not be a problem as far as Fitness World is concerned,” Drew offered.

Clark nodded his head, as if he had known what the answer would be.

“The next point is that you won’t be training me so much as you will be training with me,” the Giant man continued. “You may find it improbable but I have been training longer than any of you have been alive. There is really nothing you can teach me. But I need people to change plates and to assist me in setting up various devices.”

The men squirmed. Helping someone, even someone as large as this man, change plates wasn’t exactly why they had become trainers.

“Keep in mind,” Clark added. “That these are specially designed plates. The smallest weighs 100 pounds and they go up in 50-pound increments from there. The largest weighs 300 pounds. Also, in order to handle the weights involved, the bar I use weighs 200 pounds.”


That’s insane, Shawn thought.

Unfuckingbelievable, Sam told himself.

I gotta see this, David muttered under his breath.

Holy Canoli! Bryce spluttered internally.

Mami! Roy quailed at the concept.

“The point of our efforts is for me to grow,” Clark said. “I am entering a competition in three months and at that point I will weigh 300 pounds more than I do now.”

This time the guys couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

“No fucking way!”

“You’ve gotta be joking!”

“That’s impossible!”

“I’ll be a goddamned motherfucking son of a bitch!”

“I think I just shit myself!”

That last was from Roy, who fled the room, and was never seen again. Literally. Not at Fitness World, not in the entire state. A few months later, Abby, the receptionist, received a post card saying that he settled at a religious retreat in New Mexico where he was taking up holy orders.

“I see that we are down to five,” Clark continued. “Fortunately, my plans are such that five of you will work as well as six.”

The men composed themselves (i.e., they levered their jaws back into the closed position.) They were sitting at the conference table like a bunch of school boys.

“As for your concerns, let me assure you that I will achieve my goals,” Clark added. “As you can see, the physique I have already achieved is already beyond what most men can comprehend. And yet I have done so. What I propose to accomplish in the next three months is completely doable.”

And with that he rolled back the right sleeve of his tent-like yet skin-tight polo shirt and flexed. No, let’s be clear. He…


It’s a wonder the ceiling didn’t gave in. Clark’s arm was gigantic (they later learned it was nearly 48 inches in circumference.) A stupendous mass of granite-hard muscle with a peak that went up and up and up, such that his ham-sized hands would have been able to finger the peak if they hadn’t been blocked by the girth of his vein-covered 40-inch forearms.

Sam, Drew, Shawn, David, and Bryce stared for a full minute. And then they spurted.

“I will take that as a yes,” Clark said. “Report to my house tomorrow at 8 a.m.”

A limo pulled up in front of Fitness World at 7:45 a.m. sharp.

“Really?” Shawn asked.

“Believe it,” Drew replied.

The guys jabbered the whole 10 minutes it took to get from the gym to 11001 Safe Harbor Drive.

“Whoah,” David said. “Look at that gate!”

The driveway was half a mile long. They later learned that Clark’s estate covered 20 acres, rather large by their suburban Midwestern standards.

“I’d hate to plow this one,” Sam observed.

And then they saw the house.

“Holy Guacamole,” Bryce exclaimed.

You know that house where the Parrs hid out in Incredibles 2? It was like that, only more so! Sleekly modern, verging on UFOesque, all glass and steel and native stone and imported hardwoods. An honest to God butler, Jenkins, met them at the limo.

“Follow me, gentlemen,” he intoned.

The five of them followed Jenkins across a vast receiving room and around a screen to a bank of elevators. They descended at least six floors, or so the lighted buttons would have had them believe, and when the doors opened…

“Wow!” Shawn exclaimed.

The space they encountered was roughly the size of a football field with a ceiling that was a good 30 feet tall. Everywhere they looked there were racks of weights and squat racks and bench stations. Except these weights started at the size of truck tires and worked their way up to tractor tires. And the racks and stations looked like they could support tanks and jet aircraft.

“Welcome gentlemen,” Clark’s deep voice filled the room.

He was standing in the middle wearing a pair of oversized Timberland boots (later on they found out they were Size 20EEEEE) and thick wooly socks. And nothing else.

“As you see,” Clark continued. “I prefer to work out in the nude. If encourage you to join me if you feel inclined to do so. But that’s entirely up to you. I know very few men your age who feel comfortable with nudity in the presence of other people, especially other men.”

The men just stared.

Not only was Clark the biggest and best built man any of them had ever seen, he was also hung like a porn star (not that anyone of them would have admitted ever having watched porn, much less porn with extra-hung guys.) Clark’s equipment was just as phenomenal as the rest of him. It was clearly soft and also clearly more than a foot in length and as thick around as a jar of pasta sauce.

Shawn, the smallest of all of them, started to pull off his shirt—then stopped when he saw his comrades staring at him in shock!

How bizarre, he thought. It’s not like all of us don’t routinely pose shirtless in the locker-room!

He stayed his hands.

Clark emitted something that sounded like a cross between a snort, a grumble, and a guffaw, but then began his instructions anew.

“Today we will just be going through the basics,” he said. “Bench press, squat, and deadlift. I will do a warm up set for each, then pyramid up to my current one rep max. I will divide you into two teams for adding and removing plates, with the fifth man—the swing man—to supervise and/or pitch in as needed.”

Clark led the guys to workout station that was clearly set up for bench press except that the stanchions looked more appropriate for an interstate highway bridge and the 10-foot steel bar perched thereon was six inches thick.

“As I said earlier,” Clark continued. “The bar weighs 200 pounds. I’ll start with a warm-up set of 1,000 pounds so, Shawn, David, I will need the two of you to add four of the one-hundred pound plates to each side.”

It took the two men about five minutes to do it. By the time they’d finished, they both felt like they’d put in a full day of working out!

“As time goes on, you will find that easier to do,” Clark said.

Then he approached the bar from behind the bench, lifted it off the bench, and curled it 10 times!


“Clean up on Aisle Insanity,” Shawn muttered.

Clark chuckled.

“Changing rooms are over there,” he said, nodding to a set of cubicles in the middle of the vast room. “I took the liberty of providing shorts, shirts, socks, and undergarments for each of you.”

When the guys returned, he pointed to Bryce, who had been designated swing man.

“Bryce, I want you to give Shawn and David a hand removing these plates. Then I’ll do my warm-up bench set.”

He nodded to Drew and Sam, the two beefiest of his attendants.

“Once the hundreds are off, I want the two of you to put four of the 200-pound plates on each end,” he said. “If need be, feel free to assist each other.”

It took the two of them 10 minutes to do the job.

“Shawn, David, be so kind as to add a hundred to each end, okay?”

Once that task was completed, Clark reclined on the extra-wide bench. Given that the man’s shoulders were 5½ feet across, the four foot span of the bench was somewhat narrow but he seemed comfortable. He put his giant hands on the bar and lifted off. Twenty perfect reps.

I just saw a human being bench a literal ton of steel for 20 reps, Shawn said to himself. Fucking A!

The other guys just stared.

“For my next set, I will have to load the bar myself,” Clark said. “To speed things up, I think we’ll have two guys unload the plates on each end. Shawn can assist Drew, David can assist Sam.”

After unloading the bar, the four were near exhaustion but they stood at attention as Clark picked up the tractor-tire-sized 300-pound plates, one in each hand, and slapped eight of them on the giant bar. Then he added a 200-pound plate on each end for good measure.

“3000 pounds,” Shawn announced.

Clark winked at him.

“I see you’re a lightning calculator, Mr. Tomashevski,” Clark said. “Good job!”

He then proceeded to crank out 10 perfect reps without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard.

“You can leave these on for now,” Clark said. “For the final set we will use the benching platform.”

Clark nodded towards the center of the room where a shiny red Ford F-150 was ascending into the room. It continued above floor level, stopping at about shoulder height. Four steel cables descended from the ceiling.

“I will need each of you to attach one of the cables to a corner of the benching platform,” Clark said. “Bryce, if you would be so kind to move the portable bench into position.”

Looking up at the underside of the platform upon which the truck rested, the guys noticed yet another 10 foot bar, twin of the 200-pound monster they had just been loading and unloading, welded to the bottom.

“The chains are to keep everything balanced,” Clark said. “While I do the lifting!”

He positioned himself on the bench, nodded toward some unseen monitor or sensor, and lifted his hands in the air. The platform slowly lowered until Clark was able to grasp the bar. Another unseen, unspoken signal and the tension was released from the chains. Clark was holding an F-150 and the platform on which it rested in the air. He slowly lowered the entire assembly to his chest, paused, and boom! Exploded upwards. Then he did it again. And again!

“The curb weight of an empty F-150 pick-up is just over 4,000 pounds,” Shawn told his fellows. “Add in the platform and the total is closer to 4,500 pounds.”

After the third rep, the chains snapped back into place and the truck ascended again above head level. Clark slid off the bench, stood, shrugged his mountainous shoulders, extended his gargantuan arms in front of him, and squeezed his ridiculous, striated pecs. Hard as rock, Clark’s fully-engorged 16-inch monster dick reached to just under the eight-inch deep cleft that separated one concrete pillow of a pec from the other.

“Seems my max on this one has gone up,” Clark told the awestruck group of men. “But I don’t have another vehicle handy to try for a 1RM. Well, not the right size, anyway. So that’s enough for today, okay? Time to eat!”

The men followed Clark to a modern, spotless, utilitarian but elegant dining space where a long white table was set with six places. An elderly, extremely elegant African man stood at one end of the table.

“This is Jean-Paul, my chef,” Clark told them. “If you have any dietary restrictions, please let him know. Otherwise I think you will find his cooking superb. And very, very nutritious.”

Clark and his “trainers” gorged themselves for an hour.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “That was a good first session. I trust you will be able to pick up the pace tomorrow. Jean-Paul’s cooking has been known to do wonders for strength and stamina. It certainly has done so for mine!”

Clark nodded and left the room, passing as he did so a svelte blonde in a charcoal gray suit with a pencil skirt, white blouse, an Hermes scarf, pumps that would set a guy back a month’s salary, and a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses.

“I’m Zoe,” the beauty said. “Mr. Clark’s personal household assistant. He asked me to escort you back to the entrance.”

Entrance, Shawn thought. I’m entranced all right!

Not a word was uttered as they followed Zoe to the porte-cochere where a different limo awaited.

“Did that really just happen?” Sam asked when they were seated.

He was rubbing the big bulge in his shorts.

“Yep, it did,” Drew said, rubbing his bulge.

“I don’t know what was in that food,” David added, fondling himself. “But it’s making me fucking horny as hell.”

“Holy frijoles,” Bryce said, sticking his hand in his shorts.

Shawn said nothing. He pulled out his engorged cock. He might have been the smallest guy in terms of weight but with a 9 x 7 cock he held his own in that department.

“Dudes,” he said. “I’ve never done this before in front of a group of guys. But I’ve gotta beat off.”

Four other cocks came out of four other pairs of shorts.

“Eww, dude,” Sam said.

“Eww, dude,” David said.

“Eww, dude,” Bryce said.

“Oh, goddamn,” Drew said.

“I’m gonna jizz,” Shawn said.

And they did.

The next day and the day after that proceeded in the same fashion, although on each successive day the guys were able to handle more weight more quickly and were quicker to recover. Clark’s lifts, needless to say, were insane. For his deadlift he used a platform that held a Hummer. For his squat, he used a John Deere tractor. A big John Deere tractor. The guys, for the most part, were busy loading and unloading the barbell Clark used for curls, overhead extensions, shoulder press, etc. His “high volume movements,” as he called them, despite the fact there was never less than a thousand pounds on the bar. And at the end of each session, there was an hour-long lunch provided by Jean-Paul. Returning to Fitness World it was all the guys could do to focus on their regular clients.

On the third day, as they were in yet another limo (as far as they could tell, they were never in the same one twice), Shawn interrupted the jabber.

“What is in Jean-Paul’s food?” he asked. “I’ve gained 22 pounds in three days. Check it out!”

He flexed an 18-inch bicep that was just over 16 inches the day of their first visit to Clark’s estate.

“Shit,” Sam said. “You’ve got me beat! I getting excited about having gained 13 pounds!”

That prompted the rest of the guys to check in:

Drew: 15 pounds

Bryce: 16 pounds

David: 19 pounds

“Fuck,” Sam grumbled. “You’re all growing faster than I am!”

Drew tapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re still bigger than all the rest of us,” he said.

But not for no long, Shawn thought to himself. Not at this rate.

A week later…

Sam and Drew were loading the 10-foot bar. Clark was doing seated shoulder press, which meant five plates on each. Five 300-pound plates, which Sam and Drew were handling with ease. Meanwhile, Bryce, David, and Shawn were now curling the 200-pound plates between sets. Clark was pleased with their progress. In 10 days:

Sam had added just over 40 pounds. He was now in the low 290s.

Drew had gained 50 pounds and now weighed as much as Sam.

Ditto, Bryce had gained a bit more than 50 pounds. At 277, he was closing in on Drew and Sam.

At 265, David was up an even 60 pounds.

But it was Shawn who had surpassed Clark’s expectations. He had put on 75 pounds of solid muscle. At 255, he was only 10 pounds lighter than David, who was four inches taller. And even though all of them had body fat percentages in the single digits, Shawn was the leanest by far. Technically speaking, he was still the smallest of the five but he looked like he could walk through a brick wall. And he was stronger than either David or Bryce.

As for Clark, like Sam he had gained just over 40 pounds.

“Within spitting distance of 600,” he told his reflection in the mirror after the guys were gone. “Exactly according to plan.”

That evening after work the guys all assembled at the house Bryce and Sam shared.

“What do you think is really going on?” Sam asked.

He was shirtless, as were all the other guys, which was often the case these days. Any more the five of them only wore shirts when they were “in public.” They had dispensed with them in Clark’s gym on the third day. They were drinking beers and eating nachos while a chick-on-chick porno played on Bryce’s 70-inch HD television.

“I don’t know,” Shawn replied. “But I fucking like it! I mean fuck, look at me!”

David reached over and rubbed Shawn’s hairy pecs. Shawn’s chest was up to 54 inches and his arms were up to 22.

“You look fucking awesome,” David said softly, flicking Shawn’s thumb-sized pierced nipples.

“Look who’s talking,” Bryce said. “Your eight-pack is turning into a ten-pack!”

David stood and did a vacuum pose.

“265 pounds and a 31-inch waist,” he said.

Drew slapped David on his bubble butt.

“Shawn’s is 29 inches, dill weed.”

Sam shook his head.

“I don’t understand how we can weigh the same and your arms are an inch bigger,” he said to Drew. Sam’s were 24 inches, Drew’s were 25.

Shawn rolled his eyes.

“He’s five inches shorter than you are,” he said.

Drew nodded.

“Which reminds me,” he said. “Is it just my imagination or are we eye-to-eye now?”

Shawn nodded.

“Apparently I’m growing up as well as out.”

David rested his big hand on Shawn’s crotch.

“Dewd,” he said. “This is getting bigger, too, am I right?”

Shawn pulled it out. It was already fully hard.

“10 x 8,” he said. “An inch longer, an inch bigger around.”

David looked Shawn in the eye. The shorter guy nodded. David dove onto Shawn’s cock. The other three pulled theirs out and started beating. The chick-on-chick porno was forgotten.

Two days later a Fitness World corporate executive swooped in and fired all five of the guys. That was the same day Sam and Drew broke 300 pounds for the first time.

“You’re clearly doing some serious PEDs,” the VP for Assholery said.

He was 5’9, 160 pounds soaking wet, with a bad haircut, and very impressed with his Ju-Jitsu yellow belt.

“Because there isn’t any way you could have grown this quickly otherwise,” the Veep continued. “It’s against company policy and, besides, you’re scaring the customers. All of you take your things and go.”

Drew called Clark.

“Sir, there’s been a complication,” he said, then explained.

Clark told Drew not to worry.

“A limo will be there to pick you up in 10 minutes,” he said. “If you need more time to gather your belongings, do so. But come here before you head home.”

At the estate, Clark welcomed the men to his study, which was 2000 square feet of marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, abstract expressionist paintings (Shawn was pretty sure one of them was a Pollock), floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and scattered throughout the modernist furniture half a dozen sculptures (was that a Giacometti?)

“It may not seem so at the moment but this is good news,” he said, without preamble. “Fitness World was keeping for itself half of what I was paying. The full amount will now go to each of you individually. After today’s session, Zoe will meet with each of you to get the pertinent information to set up direct deposit or however you prefer to receive payment.”

He continued.

“That said, in addition to the current contract, I would like to offer each of you the opportunity to add you to my cadre of personal retainers,” Clark said.

Shawn raised his hand. Clark nodded in his direction.

“Sir, excuse me, but what exactly does that entail?”

Clark studied his perfectly manicured nails.

“Mostly it involves what we are doing now, plus being available for other services as necessary,” he explained. “The services will vary in type and duration but they will be mutually agreed upon in advance and never with less than 24 hours’ notice.”

The guys looked at each other. Sounded like a sweet gig.

“The salary is $15,000 per month,” Clark added. “For as long as you remain on the payroll. In addition, healthcare, including vision and dental, is fully covered. Plus anyone who remains on the payroll for five years will be permanently vested in the retirement plan, which I think you will find very generous.”

The guys gaped. $180K was more, much more, than any of them was ever likely to earn as a personal trainer or even as a Fitness World exec like Asshole Veep. And they were Millennials. Jobs with benefits? What were those?!

“Sign me up!”


“You bet!”

“I’ll take it!”

“Sir, thank you for your confidence in us!”

And then Clark floored them with one last perk.

“The retainership also comes with free housing,” he said. “In addition to the manse, which has several vacant apartments, the estate has three empty cottages suitable for sharing. Whether you take advantage of this perk is, of course, entirely up to each of you.”

The guys just stared.

“For reals?”

“Fuck me!”

“Sweet deal!”

“I don’t believe it!”

“What’s the catch?”

The last was from Shawn, of course, the ever practical one. Clark chuckled.

“No catches,” Clark said. “On many occasions I have found it useful to have retainers on site. Whether you choose to exercise this option is entirely up to each of you.”

He looked directly at Sam.

“And I will get back to you later on that suggestion, Mr. Dunbar.” Sam Fuck me! Dunbar turned bright crimson.

Following their meeting, Clark herded the young men to the gym where he had yet another surprise.

“Today we will forego my usual routine,” he said. “Instead we will do individual assessments on each of you. Again, bench, deadlift, and squat.”

The group groaned.


“We’re not…”

“…warmed up!”

“And besides…”

“Yesterday I…”

Clark held up his shovel-sized hands. The guys immediately ceased their chatter.

“You will have plenty of time to warm up,” Clark pointed out. “And plenty of time to recuperate between each session. And Jean-Paul…” the guys perked up on hearing the chef’s name “…has prepared a special pre-workout drink for each of you.”

That’s all it took really. They benched in descending order according to size: Sam and Drew, then Bryce, David, and Shawn. The 1RM results were:

Sam: 750 pounds @ 300 pounds bodyweight.

Drew: 810 pounds @ 300 pounds bodyweight.

Bryce: 720 pounds @ 288 pounds bodyweight.

David: 720 pounds @ 278 pounds bodyweight.

And then there was Shawn:

945 pounds @ 270 pounds bodyweight.

“Fuck me!” David exclaimed when Shawn re-racked the weight.

Shawn shrugged his massive shoulders.

“Maybe later, okay?”

The guys laughed. After lunch, the guys explored the apartments and the cottages. Unsurprisingly, Bryce and Sam picked a cottage to share. Apparently the brothers couldn’t really imagine living anyway other than together. Drew picked the apartment closest to the elevator. David kept looking at the two-bedroom apartment and extolling its virtues to Shawn. Finally Shawn pulled him aside.

“You do understand that I really like you, right?” Shawn said.

David nodded, fearing where the conversation was going.

“But I think I really need my own space, man. I only just figured out—mostly thanks to you—that I’m into guys. I’m afraid I’m not ready for a boyfriend!”

David sighed, then chuckled.

“On the other hand, about that other question…”

The two bumped fists.

“Your place or mine, Big Man,” Shawn said. “I’m good to go either way!”

Not that I’ll be calling him that much longer, he thought to himself. He was within 8 pounds of David’s weight and having grown another inch taller he was within 2 inches of David’s height. Next week I’ll be bigger than he is, Shawn thought. His big kielbasa stirred in his shorts. He grabbed David’s massive arm and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I guess I misspoke,” Shawn said when they came up for air. “I meant to say: I’m good to go right now!”

“Fuck,” David exclaimed when Shawn dropped his shorts.

“Well, yes,” Shawn agreed. “I thought that was why I was dropping my shorts!”

David shook his head.

“It’s bigger,” he said, pointing at Shawn’s monster. “It’s bigger than it was two days ago.”

Shawn shrugged his massive shoulders.

“It’s about 11 x 9 now,” Shawn said.

David’s eyes bulged.

“It’s bigger than mine!”

Shawn just grinned.

“You didn’t really think you were always going to have the world’s biggest dick, did you?”

“Besides,” he added. “I’m a growing boy.”

David looked up and down at Shawn’s 270 pounds of fur-covered muscle.

“You’re a growing daddy,” he corrected.

Shawn laughed.

“You’re four years older than I am!”

David sank to his knees and looked up at the big stud.

“Age makes no difference, Daddy,” he said, then went down on Shawn’s monster. David’s howls of pleasure echoed up and down the hall that night.

“I should have picked a cottage,” Drew said, covering his ears.

Twenty days into the program…

Clark was pleased with the progress he and the retainers had been making. At 635 pounds, he was about 10 pounds heavier than he had anticipated. He had planned on 25 pounds of muscle per week and was doing a little better than that. Clearly I will need to taper off at the end, he reminded himself. It would not do to exceed the limit.

As for the guys…They were all within 20 pounds of each other, which was somewhat remarkable given that when they started Sam was 250 pounds and Shawn 180 pounds, a spread of 70 pounds. Now, though…

David, Bryce, and Sam, the tall guys, were 325, 330, and 335 pounds respectively. All of them had chests over 60 inches, all of them had arms over 26 inches. All of them were benching over 1,000 pounds for reps. Sam was still complaining about being the slowest growing of the five, or he was until Clark pulled him aside and explained that it was owing to his youth. “Unlike the others,” he pointed out. “You’re still an adolescent. When your muscles mature you are likely to outstrip all the others. Be patient.” Which is all it took, of course. “Sir, thank you, I will be patient!”

It was the shorter guys, Drew and Shawn, who were winning the growth sweepstakes, once again demonstrating that shorter guys have some built in advantages in that department. Drew was now the shortest of the five but he now packed 345 pounds of solid muscle on his 5’11 frame.

As for Shawn, once again his gains were spectacular. He was now 6 ft. tall, two inches taller than when they had commenced the program. And he was now 350 pounds, making him the heaviest of the five. In 20 days he gained 170 pounds of muscular mass, nearly doubling his size. Likewise, he was far and away the strongest of them, now routinely benching 1,500 pounds, more than four times his body weight, for reps. His 35-inch waist looked tiny compared to his 70-inch chest and 38-inch quads. His grainy, veiny 30-inch arms were surely the largest the world had ever seen—aside from Clark’s, that is. Shawn could step on any bodybuilding stage on the planet and blow away the competition just standing there. When he flexed…

It was typical for the guys to pose after a particularly arduous workout but Clark put a stop to that when the sight of Shawn’s engorged 30-inch monster arms pushed all four of his companions over the edge. The fact that Shawn’s 11 x 9 weapon was fully hard the whole time didn’t help matters. Even Clark himself was fully aroused by the sight, although unlike his retainers he did not lose control. It did not go unnoticed by Shawn, whose gaze was focused solely on Clark’s massive erection throughout the entirety of his posing routine.

Otherwise, the routine that had been established continued apace. Mornings consisted of assisting Clark with his impossible workouts, followed by one of Jean-Paul’s impossibly delicious / nutritious lunches and supplemented throughout with shakes, smoothies, energy boosters, and so forth. Afternoons were devoted to guys’ workouts, each one heavier, more intense and more phenomenal than the day before. They worked out together and separately, constantly shifting the pattern in ways that were intuitive and effective without being in any way predictable or repeatable. All of which was followed by another meal, often with Zoe and/or other members of Clark’s household staff joining them. And then the guys would retreat to the pool or the hot tub or the sauna or the steam room or the massage tables, always coming together—somewhere—as a group for an hour at the end before retiring for the evening.

It was then that the bed-hopping began. The night after Shawn fucked David the first time, David fucked Drew, and Shawn spent the night with Bryce and Sam, who fucked each other (the brothers were very close indeed, it appeared!) before Shawn fucked each of them in turn. Then it was Shawn’s turn with Drew, David’s turn with Sam and Bryce, followed by Drew’s, and about once a week they wouldn’t even last and just had a collective gang-bang around the pool. (As it turned out, Sam, the youngest, was the one who always got fucked, Shawn was the one who never got fucked, and the rest were versatile.)

“Why won’t you let any of us fuck you?” Drew said one night as Shawn held him up against a wall with one hand and ravaged his nips, pits, and neck.

“Mmm’sav’m’sef,” Shawn muttered.

Drew put his big hands on Shawn’s mountainous traps.

“Say again?”

Shawn pulled himself away from Drew’s oh-so-delicious nips, smacked his lips, and repeated himself.

“I’m saving myself,” he said, then blushed.

Drew looked at the young hunk.

“You mean…?”

Shawn just gave him a look.

Drew’s mouth made a perfect O.

He nodded.

“If anyone goes there,” he said. “It will be you.”

Six weeks into Clark’s program it was clear that Shawn’s wasn’t the only dick that was growing. David and Bryce had each added two inches to theirs, which were now up to 12 and 10 inches respectively. Ditto, Drew and Sam’s had grown 1½ inches in length apiece and were now 9½ and 10½ inches long. As for Shawn, his 13-incher was four inches longer (and quite a bit thicker) than it was before he and the others came under Clark’s sway.

Of course, the dick growth was nothing compared to muscle growth. All of the guys were now over 400 pounds of solid muscle and Shawn, the outlier as usual, had just passed 500. He was also up to 6’2” tall, which made him four inches taller than when they had started. Ditto, Drew had reached 6 ft., just an inch taller than he had been but satisfying nonetheless.

In descending order of weight, they were now:

Shawn: 510 pounds @ 6’2” tall.

David: 455 pounds @ 6’2” tall.

Drew: 450 pounds @ 6 ft. tall.

Bryce: 440 pounds @ 6’2” tall.

Sam: 425 pounds @ 6’4” tall.

Clark, meanwhile, was up to 725 pounds. His chest was 12 feet in circumference and his shoulders were 7 feet across, which made him wider than he was tall. And yet he remained perfectly proportioned.

“I’m not sure how that works,” Shawn muttered to himself and having been asked to measure.

Clark chuckled.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Of the five retainers, Sam, who had been the biggest, had grown the least, gaining “only” (as he was apt to complain) 175 pounds. Which, interestingly enough, was exactly the same amount as Clark, who he seemed to be pacing pound for pound. Drew and Bryce had nearly doubled in size, gaining 210 and 215 pounds respectively, which put them at 450 and 440 pounds. They were now smaller than David who weighed in at 455 pounds, more than double his starting weight of 205 pounds. And Shawn, at 510 pounds, had nearly tripled in size, having gained 330 pounds total. Sam, his complaints notwithstanding, was completely turned on by his and Shawn’s reversal of fortunes.

“I used to outweigh you by 70 pounds,” he said. “Now you outweigh ME by 90 pounds. That’s so fucking hot!”

Considering Sam had his arms wrapped around Shawn’s 40-inch neck and his legs wrapped around Shawn’s marble-carved torso while Shawn was air-fucking him with 13 x 10 power tool it was a wonder Sam was capable of thought much less human speech.

The boy really does talk too much, Shawn thought.

“You make me feel like a little girl,” Sam continued.

“A little girl who can bench 3000 pounds for reps,” Shawn grunted.

“About half what you can do,” Sam purred.

Shawn picked up the tempo. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head and Shawn came at last. Then he threw the 425-pound teen stud over his shoulder and carried him back to his brother, who was busily fucking David.

“Make sure he eats when he wakes up,” he called over his shoulder as he headed out to the gym. He and Drew had a date with a Hummer.

Twelve weeks after embarking on what he thought of as his program, Clark surveyed the 1½ tons (and a little more) of man meat seated around his common room table.

The five men had exceeded his expectations in every possible way. Every single one of them was as big or bigger, not to mention stronger, than he had been on the day he met them. Clark himself had achieved his stated goal. At 6’4 and 850 pounds, he was far and away the largest, most muscular man this world had ever seen. And he was three times stronger than he had been three months ago, now benching the functional equivalent of 12,000 pounds. The only thing about him that hadn’t changed was his dick. At 16 x 10 it was still the stuff that porn stars dream of. But the guys were catching up. Like Clark, each of them was capable of benching at least 10 times his own weight. Ditto, each of them had a porn star dick more than 10 inches in length.

At 6’4, Sam was still the tallest but at 550 pounds he was the smallest—and yet he was exactly the same size Clark had been when he encountered him that summer day three months previously. He could bench the equivalent of 6,000 pounds and his dick was now 12 x 8, three inches longer and two inches bigger around than it had been that August day.

Drew, at 6 ft., was now the shortest but at 600 he outweighed Sam by 50 pounds. He wasn’t too chuffed that at 11 x 7 his was the smallest dick inasmuch as he could bench 7,500 pounds.

Bryce, at 6’2, weighed the same as Drew but he wasn’t quite as strong, benching only 7,000 pounds. On the other hand, he continually reminded himself, I have the bigger dick. It was 12 x 7, the same length as Sam’s although not quite as thick.

David was deliriously happy with his gains. At 650 pounds, he had more than tripled his starting weight, which made him 100 pounds heavier than Sir had been, and he could bench 8,000 pounds, about double Sir’s 1RM back in the beginning. And his 14x10 dick was bigger than anyone’s (except Shawn’s, of course!)

Shawn was quite simply phenomenal. Having grown to 6’2” in height, he now weighed 750 pounds, only 100 pounds less than Clark, who was two inches taller. He now exceeded his mentor in two measures, strength and dick-size. The latter was 16x12, the same length as Clark’s but two inches bigger around. And Shawn could bench 15,000 pounds, which was 25% more than Clark could manage. It was also 20 times his own body weight.

Clark stood and addressed his retainers.

“It is time. You have done well. Remove your clothes and follow me.”

Clark led the men to the manse’s freight elevator.

Each of them had used it a time or two, usually when taking delivery of some new piece of equipment for the gym. As such, it was quite large, being able to accommodate vehicles the size of a Hummer (for larger vehicles, there was a series of ramps and tunnels that led from the surface to the underground facility.) Each of them, moreover, had puzzled over the buttons on the panel. In addition to the three levels of the house itself and six more buttons for the various sublevels, there was one marked “OL” at the very bottom. Shawn, for one had always assumed that “OL” was really “0L”—for Zero Level—and he wasn’t beyond pushing it just to see where it might take him. But the button never lit up.

Now, however, Clark pushed the button and they began to…In point of fact, it was very hard to tell what was going on! At first they seemed to being going up rather than down. Then it seemed like they were moving sideways. Then very quickly forward, followed by a slower retreat. Then they were clearly spinning, although none of them felt the need to hold onto anything. And at one point it felt like they had been turned inside out although at that point the lights had cut out so there was no visual evidence to corroborate or disprove the sensation. Finally, after what seemed like hours but they later determined was about 4½ minutes, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

They were looking across an oval athletic track, the track itself composed of exquisitely manicured white sand, surrounding an equally manicured lawn of green grass. There were two classically constructed marble buildings at each end of the track, marble stadium seating climbing up a hill overlooking the track, a stone-paved walkway lined with cypress trees leading down from the track. Craggy mountain peaks dominated the skyline. It was brilliantly sunny, pleasantly warm without being hot, and not the least bit humid. It was a stunning vista, especially after such an unexpected passage from the manse.

Shawn was the first to recover.

“Where are we?”

Clark smiled and spread wide his huge arms, encompassing the field, the mountains, all of it.

“Olympia,” he said. “Welcome home.”

The stadium’s seating began to fill up with people, men and women, all of them beautiful, all of them dressed in what Shawn recognized as classical attire. At the same time, two groups of people entered the stadium, one group exiting from each of the “temples” at either end. It was only when they entered that Shawn realized that the “temples” were twice the height necessary for normal human beings. So either the people entering the stadium, even though they appeared to be perfectly proportioned, were midgets, or the people in the seating were…

“Giants!” he breathed.

Clark chuckled.

“Well, no,” he corrected. “Giants are quite a bit taller. The gentle folk in the seats are half again or twice as tall as the likes of you and me but Giants, no, they are not.”

Shawn turned and looked Roger Clark up and down.

“Who are you—really?”

Clark squeezed his young friend’s shoulder.

“Be patient,” he said. “All will become clear shortly.”

The other two groups joined Clark’s in the middle of the field. Unlike Clark’s, they were mixed male and female. Giving first one group and the other his full attention, Shawn noticed:

The group on the left was led by a short hairy man with extremely well-developed legs. The eight or 10 men and women in his group, also nude, were…Well, how to describe them? The women were voluptuous. Very pretty, yes, but mostly you noticed that their secondary sexual characteristics—boobs, hips, ass—were all highly exaggerated. The variations from one to the other were skin color, hair color, eye color, face shape. From the neck down they were all human avatars of sexuality.

Same thing with the men. Handsome enough but what you really noticed was that they were all hung like donkeys. Their balls were likewise overdeveloped. Unlike the women, there was a bit more variation with respect to their bodies. Tall and lean, short and thick, smooth or hairy, they were all indisputably male. Looking at the hairy man for the fourth or fifth time, Shawn finally noticed that his massive hairy legs ended in hooves, not feet, and that small horns nestled in the curls on his head!

The group on the right was led by what appeared to be an extremely young man, really barely more than a boy. Tall and well-proportioned but clearly still retaining some adolescent baby fat. He was blond, blue-eyed, pink-skinned, and—truly? Really?—wore a pair of diaphanous wings. Except that he wasn’t really wearing them—they growing out of his shoulders! The men and women who comprised his group were much more varied in size, shape, and appearance, except for one thing: All of them were drop dead gorgeous! Any single one of them could enter the world’s most rarefied beauty contest and win hands down against any opponents, male or female.

Shawn turned his attention back to the seating. A truly magnificent man, extremely well-built and clearly twice as tall as Clark, with a man of silver hair pulled back into a queue and a glorious beard that hung to his magnificent chest, stood in a pavilion in the middle of the seats.

“Pan! Cupid! Hercules! What have brought before us?”

His voice filled not just the stadium, but the whole valley. It echoed off the mountain peaks.


Clark winked at Shawn, then turned his attention back to the giant man.

“Father Zeus,” the hairy man replied. “I bring you the most voluptuous human beings on Earth. No one can match them in giving and receiving pleasure.”

Father Zeus nodded his head.

“Pan,” he said. “You have done well.”

Next the youth spoke.

“Father Zeus,” he said. “I bring you the most beautiful human beings on Earth. No one can look upon them without being entranced by their beauty.”

Father Zeus nodded his head again, a sly smile crossing his lips.

“Cupid,” he said. “You and your brother Pan have found the best of the best.”

Next he gave Hercules a stern look.

“And you, my son?”

Hercules gave his charges a glance before turning back to his father.

“Great Zeus,” he said. “I bring you average men who have become the strongest, most muscular men on Earth.”

At an unspoken signal from Clark, the men spread out.

Zeus descended from the seating and walked among them. The Father of the Gods was, at least in this incarnation, approximately 12 feet tall and weighed close to a ton. It was a lot like being examined by an elephant. He spent the longest time in front of Shawn. Without prompting, Shawn went into a classic bodybuilding posing routine, displaying every aspect of his insane musculature. Zeus appeared to be muttering under his breath (and counting on his fingers?) Zeus returned to the pavilion.

“Pan, Cupid, you have brought the best of the best,” he said. “And for that I am grateful. But the laurel wreath must go to Hercules for he has made the best of the best, and shown that the best can, in fact, be made.”

The giant people in the stadium stood and applauded. Pan and Cupid and their charges bowed and then departed, as did Zeus and the other—what?—Gods and Goddesses? Only Hercules and his men were left on the field. Only Shawn had the courage to speak.

“Now what?” he asked. “And what do we call you, Sir?”

Hercules chuckled.

“You may dispense with the ‘Sir,’ and call me ‘Ercole,’ the one of my names I most prefer.”

The men gathered round him.

“As for what happens next,” he said. “You have two choices. First, return whence we came but in doing so return to what you were before I met you—with no memory of what has happened since then.”

“Second, stay here with me in Olympia. I can only promise you freedom, luxury, and the potential to grow beyond your wildest imaginings—provided you are willing to do the work.”

Shawn spoke for all of them.

“As big as Father Zeus?” he dared to ask.

Ercole smiled.

“You noticed his examination, did you not? He is well aware that if you—all of you—were his height you would ‘blow him away,’ as you so colorfully put it. And, yes, I fully expect you to reach his height—or more—if you decide to stay.”

At his words, all six men—Ercole included—were hard as rocks.

“And will we get to have sex with you?”

Ercole grinned. A great, big, totally human grin!

“I thought you would never ask!”

Then he kissed each one of them, starting with Sam and ending with Shawn, in turn. A great, big, totally mind-blowing kiss.

Shawn spoke for the rest:

“That settles it,” he said. “We’re staying!”

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