The muscle machine

by Richard Jasper

When Max Hardesty returns to Emory after summer break, his freshman roommate, Ralphie Peters, is in for a big surprise! And it just keeps getting bigger!

Ralph Peters looked up at the big jock who sat down across from him at Emory University’s Cox Hall.

“Uh, I’m sorry…?” Ralph began.

He didn’t know any big blond muscle jocks and those he might have known weren’t likely to join him for lunch unless they had plans to, ya know, beat the shit out of him or something. At 5’10” and 135 pounds sopping wet, Ralph thought of himself as the classic nerd boy, although in fact he had a graceful dancer’s body and a beautiful face, a bit too beautiful to be manly, in fact, which is why he hid behind the glasses that he didn’t really need.

“Relax, Ralphie, it’s me,” the deep voice replied.

Ralph’s eyes flew open.

“Max?! Is that you?!”

Four months earlier Max Hardesty had gone home to Pensacola to spend the summer after his freshman year. His blond hair and blue eyes were handsome enough but at 5’11” and 150 pounds he didn’t have a muscle in his body, thanks largely to his jock dad’s bullying and harassment.

That’s gonna change now, Max thought.

His dad had absconded to Belize with some ditzy redhead, leaving Max and his mom to fend for themselves. Thankfully, Helen Hardesty was a successful physician who had years previously realized that her philandering husband would someday come to a bad end; she’d long ago achieved complete financial independence and a complete separation of their assets.

Rhett’s absence meant that Max had his dad’s vaunted weight-room (a converted two-car garage with all the best equipment and a wall of mirrors) to himself. Max ate, lifted, ate again, jacked off, and slept, in roughly that order, all day long, every day, for the entire summer. The results were, well, spectacular…

“Oh my God!” Ralphie exclaimed, looking his freshman year roommate up and down. “Yer fucking huge!”

Max leaned back in his seat, raised his arms, and gave Ralphie a quick double bi, his softball size biceps swelling to 19½ inches, and they weren’t even pumped!

In the four months since Ralph had last seen him, Max had grown another inch in height and added 70 pounds of solid muscle to his frame. Before he had been shapeless and nondescript; now he was huge and ripped and looked ready to go head to head with any other bodybuilder in his age group. Even Max’s face looked different. It was always nice enough but, now, shit, he looked fucking great, the extra weight causing his face to fill out in a way that would have made Brad Pitt jealous.

“You like it?” Max asked. Ralphie tried not to choke on his Cheetos. “Like it?!” he croaked. “Are you kidding?! You’re a fucking stud!” Max reached down and rested his hand on his crotch. Ralphie was such a fucking little cutie. The glasses and the nerd act didn’t fool Max a bit. “I’m not entirely certain,” Max pointed out. “But I don’t think my muscles are the only thing that grew.”

Ralphie squirmed in his seat. He had lusted after Max’s big, 8½ inch dick, their entire freshman year together. Unfortunately, neither of them had the balls to make a move on the other. Now, though… “I think you need to come check out my apartment,” Max said. “Don’t you?” Ralphie gulped but nodded his head. He didn’t know what was more surprising, Max’s new body—or his new assertiveness!

Max put his arm around Ralphie’s skinny shoulders as they walked out of Cox. “I think you’re enjoying the new Max, aren’t you?” Ralphie just snorted. “I think you’re enjoying him, too!” Ralphie replied.

You bet your fuckable sweet ass, Max thought. My time is now!

“Jesus,” Ralphie said, as Max was fucking him for the fifth time that evening. “You’re a fucking machine!”

Max grinned but didn’t slow down, continuing to pump Ralphie’s fine ass with his thick 9½ dick. It had been the first thing they’d measured when they got back to Max’s off campus apartment.

“Good lord,” Ralph had exclaimed. “I’ve heard of guys growing an inch over the summer when they were 19 but not an inch down there, too!”

Max gave it a good shake. It been hard since before they walked in the door.

“Wanna take a ride on my pony, little boy?”

Ralph had climbed on and stayed on.

Occasionally, they’d stop long enough to measure another body part. In addition to the 19½ inch biceps, Max had a 50 inch chest, which was pretty phenomenal paired with his 30 inch waist and 27 inch quads. Every time they measured, Ralphie got hard and watching Ralphie get hard made Max hard and so they started again.

“Mmm,” Max said between thrusts. “I, mmf, like, mmf, that! Fucking, mmf, muscle machine!”

It was clear to Ralphie that Max was about the muscle as much as the fucking. As for Ralphie…

I never took myself for a muscle slut, he said to himself, but I’m converted.

Then Ralph’s eyes rolled back in his head, they both shot at the same time, and they passed out.

Eight hours later…

Max pulled himself out of bed to go take a piss. When his feet hit the floor, Max felt something was different but he put it down to cobwebs and the after effects of sex. Hey! He thought. I’m not a virgin any more, woo fucking hoo! It figured that it would be Ralphie. He’d had a hard on for that cute little fucker since the day they’d met.

In the bathroom, Max lifted the lid of the john and put his hand on his dick…

?!?!

His eyes flew open. It seemed to Max like his dick was visibly bigger than it was the night before! That can’t be, he thought, then hurried back to the bedroom. “Ralphie, wake up,” he said, shaking his best friend. “I want you to measure something.”

Ralphie sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Wow,” he said, when he looked at Max. Max straightened up. “It’s bigger, isn’t it?” he asked. “I didn’t think you’d be able to tell without measuring.” Ralphie sat their open-mouthed, then shook himself like a dog. “What do you mean, it’s bigger? Everything is bigger!”

Max looked in the mirror.

“Wow!”

Ralph climbed out of bed and looked at his best friend and lover. He gulped!

“Uh, Max…”

Max was too busy flexing to listen. Biceps, chest, forearms, quads, traps, everything was bigger. Yesterday he looked like a novice competitor; this morning he looked like a veteran! Ralphie put two fingers in the corner of his mouth and whistled. Max turned and looked…down.

“Max, I don’t know what happened to you, dude, but we gotta take some measurements. You’re bigger and you’re taller!”

Max blinked.

“What?!”

Ralph put his hands on Max’s shoulders, which were at least two inches wider than they had been the night before. “How tall were you yesterday?” Ralph asked. “Six feet even,” Max replied. Ralph shook his head. “Not any more, you’re not!” They took all the measurements:

Height: 6’1, up an inch.
Weight: 240, up 20 pounds.
Arms: 21½, up 2 inches.
Chest: 54 inches, up 4 inches.
Waist: 30 inches, no change.
Quads: 30 inches, up 3 inches.
Dick: 10½ inches

“Shit,” Ralph said when they were done. “That’s fucking amazing!” Max was beaming. “What are you talking about? It’s fucking awesome!” He was fully hard again. Ralphie licked his lips. “What do you suppose made it happen?” Max leered and wrapped his massive arms around Ralph, lifting his best bud off the ground and heading towards the bedroom.

“I don’t know but I’ve got an idea we’re going to find out!”

“Are you ready for round six?” Max asked.

Ralph groaned. “Are you out of your fucking mind? No, I’m not ready for round six! Ask me in January!” Max frowned. He loomed over Ralph, his massive arms on either side of Ralph’s lithe, dancer’s bod. Max flexed.

“I could make you,” he said.

Ralph’s dark eyes flashed. “Max, look at me,” he said. “No means NO, I don’t care how big you are.” Max blushed. “Uh, well, yeah, I know that,” he said. “Sorry, I was just…” Ralph grabbed Max’s 10½ inch poker and playfully twisted it. “Yeeow!!” Max exclaimed. “What did you do that for?” Ralph laughed, then nudged Max’s wrists so the big man fell right on him. “Just so you’ll remember,” Ralph said, sticking his tongue down Max’s throat. “That bigger isn’t always better.”

They did it a sixth time after all, Ralph’s hole finding it suddenly easier than before, and then they slept.

The next morning…

“Crap,” Max said, standing in front of the john.

It was clear that he hadn’t grown, not a lick. Still just as studly and awesome as he had been the night before but no sensational overnight growth. Max was so broad that he couldn’t see Ralph come in the bathroom behind him. He nearly jumped out of his pumped up skin when he heard someone say:

“Check it out, dude!”

Max whirled and… “Shit, Ralph! Look at you!” This time Ralph was the one who had grown overnight. He looked slightly taller and, holy fuck, he had muscles! Not huge ones, mind, but definitely muscles.

“Good God Almighty,” Max said. “Yer built.” Ralph snorted. “Oh, gimme a break, Big Man,” he said. “I still look like a fucking piece of spaghetti next to you!” Which was true, Max realized, but made no difference. “You look good enough to eat!” Ralph’s stomach growled. “Speaking of which,” he said. “But let’s measure first.”

And so they did. It was the same story as with Max the day before: An inch taller, 20 pounds heavier, all muscle, an extra inch on Ralph’s dick. At 5’11” and 155 pounds, he looked like a gymnast or a competitive swimmer. Looking at Ralph’s enhanced hotness brought Max’s big meat to full mast.

“Whoah, Big Fella,” Ralph said. “We need to think this through.”

Over breakfast at Cox Hall, they talked about. “The first fuck-a-thon, you grew,” Ralph pointed out. “And the second fuck-a-thon, I didn’t,” Max agreed. “But you did. What’s that all about?” Ralph looked at his big boyfriend.

Boyfriend? He thought. Hmmm.

“Maybe we need to try it the other way?” Ralph said. “Maybe I should fuck you?” Max grimaced. “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” he admitted. Ralph gave him the look. “Oh, okay, I get it,” he said. “It’s okay for me to have your baseball bat up my butt but not okay for you to have mine up yours?!” Max blushed profusely. For all his mega hotness, he looked like a little boy who’d just been caught pulling the cat’s tail.

“Uh, well, I…”

Ralph snorted.

“It’s okay,” Ralph said. “I think we need a different strategy.” Max just gaped. It occurred to him that Ralph really was trying to figure out what was going on. “I don’t know,” Max said. “I don’t care. I just want to fuck. And grow more muscles!” Ralph stared off into space for a full minute, then snapped his fingers, and beamed. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Curtis Perkins!”

Max just stared.

“The fat guy with the pimples?”

Ralph nodded.

“Biggest bottom at Emory,” he said. “If anybody can take your big tool, it’s Curtis!”

“I can’t believe you’re coming on to me,” Curtis said over dinner that evening.

Ralph and Max looked at each other. “Well, here’s the thing, Curt,” Ralph said. Curtis raised an eyebrow. “Max is too big for me,” Ralph continued. Curtis’ mouth dropped open. “Too big?” he muttered. “For you?”

Max gave Ralph a glance. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder how Ralphie had become such an enthusiastic bottom.

“Just how big is it?” Curtis demanded. Max blushed. Ralph told him. Curtis’ eyes got big. “And that’s just length,” Ralph added. “He’s also…” And he told Curtis how big around Max was when fully hard.

Curtis looked like he might pass out. Of course, Curtis often looked like he might pass out. At 5’10, their fellow sophomore was well over 250 pounds, and unlike Max, it wasn’t all muscle. In fact, there wasn’t any muscle at all.

“But why me?” Curtis asked. “It’s not like I’m Mister Universe or something, like Max here!” Max’s expression was desperate. “Curt, dude,” he said. “This is the deal: I gotta fuck! That’s all there is to it. I need somebody who can handle it, somebody who can appreciate it.”

Curtis sat up straighter, squared his narrow shoulders, and lifted his sagging chins.

“Max, my man, you’ve found your bottom.”

A few hours later, Max and Ralph were walking back to their apartment.

When did that happen? Max wondered.

“You know,” Ralph said. “Curtis is really actually quite a handsome guy…” Max, surprisingly, nodded. “Big green eyes, long dark lashes, pouty lips,” he agreed. “What’s not to like?” They looked at each other. “Well,” Ralph said. “There’s the 250 pounds of blubber.” Max sighed. “And the pimples,” he agreed. “Although those might go away if he didn’t eat so much damn much junk food.”

Ralph nodded.

“Do you think it worked?” he asked.

Max put his massive arm around his lover’s neck.

“Hard to know, right? I certainly fucked the hell out of him, and let me tell you, that boy really does have one fucking hot hole.” Ralph stiffened a bit in Max’s embrace. “Although not remotely as hot as yours,” Max continued. Ralph sighed and relaxed.

“We’ll know in the morning, eh?”

Max nodded.

In the morning, he thought.

This time Max knew before he got out of bed.

He knew before he sat up. Just lying there next to Ralph, he knew that he had grown. He reached up and felt his pecs. “Jesus,” he muttered. He reached down and felt his dick. “Holy crap,” he moaned.

Ralphie woke up.

“Damn, boy,” he said. “You grew all right!”

They got out of bed. Max looked at himself and smiled. “Woof!” he said. “I’m big!” Then he looked at Ralph, whose mouth was hanging open.

“Holy fuck,” Ralph said. “You’re not big—you’re huge!”

They measured again. Max was two inches taller and 50 pounds heavier. At 6’3” and 290 pounds, his chest was up to 60 inches and his biceps were 25 inches. His waist had grown to 32 inches but his quads had exploded—they now measured 35 inches even. By the time they finished, Max had a raging erection, the big meat swinging back and forth, bobbing up and down. Ralph grabbed it—he couldn’t get his fingers all the way around!

“Twelve inches long,” he called out. “Nine inches around.”

Max licked his lips. “Wanna fuck?” Ralph just laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Big Man, but I know my limits!” Max pouted. “Maybe,” Ralph continued. “You could, like, ya know, go fuck a storm drain or something?”

Max grinned.

Just then, Ralph’s cell phone rang. “Curtis,” Ralph said. “Curtis. Curtis. Calm down.” Ralph listened for a minute or two, holding the phone out from his ear a few inches, Curtis was talking that loud. “Okay,” Ralph said. “Okay, okay. Yes. We’ll be over in 10 minutes.”

Max looked at Ralph. What?

Ralph shook his head. “He lost 30 pounds overnight. He wants to know what the hell is going on!” Max blinked. “What are we going to tell him?” Ralph threw a loose t-shirt and pair of baggy sweats at Max. Well, they’d been loose and baggy the day before; right then they looked like they were painted on!

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” Ralph admitted. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

“What did you do to me?” Curt said before they got in the door good. Then he looked up at Max. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” he said. “What did you do to yourself?” It was all Curtis could do not to drool.

“Damn, Curtis,” Ralph said. “You look good enough to eat!”

It was true. Not only had Curtis lost 30 pounds of blubber, what remained actually had shape and definition. Before Curtis looked like he was turning into Jabba the Hut. Now he looked like he was turning into a pocket-sized NFL lineman! Definitely not ripped but solid and strong looking.

“You,” Curtis said to Ralph, lifting Ralph off the ground with two hands. “You did this to me!”

From behind, Max lifted Curtis (still holding Ralph) off the ground. Ralph tried to do the math: how much was Max holding at arm’s length? 350, 400 pounds? “Yo, buddy,” Max said. “I think you need to settle down!” Curtis dropped Ralph to the floor and swept him up in a big bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed. Then he turned to Max, wrapped his arms around Max’s beer-keg neck, and started bawling.

Max looked at Ralph, arched an eyebrow. Ralph shrugged.

What ya gonna do?

They got Curtis calmed down eventually. They told him the whole story, mostly because if they hadn’t Curtis might have impaled himself on Max’s huge log right there. Even after he’d heard the details and agreed that the results weren’t likely to be repeated, he wanted to go at it again, but Ralph fended him off.

“Not yet, Big Sexy,” Ralph told Curtis. “We need to explore some more.”

Curtis looked at Max with undisguised lust.

“The only question is,” Ralph said. “Who’s next? I mean look at that thing. Who’s gonna take that?”

An evil grin came over Curtis’ face and he let out a chuckle. “Norman,” he said, as if that explained everything. Ralph and Max looked at each other. “Norman who?” Curtis rolled his eyes. “Norman Persons, of course,” he continued, as if addressing small, not terribly bright boys.

Max and Ralph gaped.

“The Dean of Students?!”

Curtis nodded.

“Just so,” he said. “Just so.”

“My goodness,” Norman Persons said, after inviting Max, Ralph, and Curtis into the living room of his Candler Park home. “You really are quite large! Curt told me you were a big boy but…”

Max smiled and shrugged his mountainous traps. This was going to be easier than he thought! “You are very kind to say so, sir,” Max replied. “And might I add that you are a very handsome gentleman! I have seen you around campus a time or two but I had no idea you were Dean Persons!”

Persons smiled warmly at the huge young man. It was true—he did look quite a bit younger than his 52 years. Like Max, he was tall, a good 6’4”, but with a long, lean tennis player’s build.

“Well, Curt, now that we’re settled, why don’t you tell me why you boys wanted to meet with me?”

Curtis cleared his throat. “Well, sir,” he replied. “It’s like this—Max has a problem and we’re guessing only you can deal with it.” An expression of concern came over Persons’ face as he looked Max up and down. He placed a strong, bronzed hand on Max’s knee. “What is it, son?” Persons asked. “Girl trouble?”

Max smiled. “Not quite,” Max said. “Although I suppose you could consider it a related issue.” Persons was all sympathy. “It’s like this,” Max said. “I need to get laid.”

Persons blinked.

“And how am I supposed to help you with that?” he asked, in a chilly tone.

Curtis laughed out loud.

“Oh, c’mon, Norm, knock it off,” he said. “You know what he wants. And you can help him the same way you helped me.”

Persons blushed.

“And just what does young Max have to offer?” he sniffed. “The huge muscles are certainly nice but…” Max stood up and quickly dropped his pants, his 12-inch python nearly hitting Persons in the face. “They tell me you can handle this, Dean Persons,” Max said, a tone of quiet desperation in his voice. “And it really needs to be handled.”

Persons licked his lips. “Well, uh, I say,” the Dean continued. “That’s quite an impressive specimen you have there, Max.” Curtis snickered but shut up when Ralph elbowed him in the ribs. “Dean Persons, sir,” Max said. “I need your ass.” Persons came to a decision. He stood and headed toward the stairs, pausing long enough to look over his shoulder. “Well, then,” he said. “Come along!”

Max followed the Dean, his huge form casting a shadow on the living room floor.

“Now what?” Ralphie said when they were gone.

Curtis shrugged his shoulders.

“We could go,” he said. “Or we could stay.”

Ralph arched an eyebrow.

“And do what?”

Curtis grinned again.

“Norm has a fucking fabulous porn collection,” he observed. “Want to check it out?”

A few hours later…

Max came down the stairs, tucking in his shirt. He found Ralph and Curtis dozing on the Dean’s sofa, a pile of wadded up tissues on the authentic Isamu Noguchi coffee table. The two started awake when Max tromped in, his size 16 feet causing the bungalow’s refinished hardwood floors to bounce.

“Did you fuck him to death?” Curtis asked.

Max smirked.

“He’s an amazingly, uh, talented man,” Max said. “Especially for an old guy!”

Curtis sniffed.

“If you’d been fucked as many times as he has in the past 40 years, your hole would be stretched out, too! It’s a wonder he doesn’t need…”

Ralph punched Curtis in the shoulder.

“Just saying…”

“Enough saying,” Ralph countered. “It’s time to get our beast home and into bed!”

8 a.m. the next day

Ralph woke up on the floor, his legs twisted in sheets and the comforter, his neck sore from (apparently!) having used the base of his floor lamp as a pillow.

“Unnnnnnrrrrrggggg…”

The groan sounded like Curtis, and it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the bed. Still struggling with the sheets, Ralph crawled, scooted, and rolled around the bed, visually confirming his suspicion. Finally pulling free of the sheets, he stood up. “Oh my God!” Ralph blurted He and Curt were on the floor for a very good reason, namely:

Max was so big he took up the entire fucking bed!

Ralph’s exclamation caused Max to wake and sit up. It was like watching Atlantis rise up out of the ocean, he was that vast!

“Jeez, Ralph,” Max muttered, his voice like thunder. “Can’t you let a guy get some shut eye?”

And then he fell back on the bed.

Max stood up and stretched. Ralph and Curtis looked up—and up and up!—at him.

“My God,” Ralph said.

“You’re huge,” Curtis added.

“Massive,” Ralph continued.

“Mountainous,” Curtis concurred.

Max flexed his boulder-sized biceps.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m the goddamned Hulk!”

They measured. Max was four inches taller than he’d been the night before, which put him at 6’6. He broke the bathroom scale, which only went up to 350 pounds. “I’m guessing 400,” he said. Ralph and Curtis nodded. “We’ll go to the gym and check it out.”

Max’s biceps were 32 inches. His chest was 80 inches! His waist was up to 38 inches but his quads were up to 44 inches! “Boom!” Max said, hitting a most muscular. Ralph and Curtis both orgasmed without touching themselves.

“Goddammit,” Ralph said, falling back on the bed.

“Oooooohhhhhh,” Curtis moaned, leaning over like he was about to pass out.

Max grinned. “And check this out!” His dick was big before. “Jesus,” Ralph said. “You’ve got a career in porn ahead of you if you want it,” Curtis agreed.

15 inches long. 10 inches around.

“Uh, Max,” Ralph said. “You realize…” Curt interrupted him. “It’s clear that first times do something to you,” Curtis pointed out, then glanced at Ralph. “And follow ups don’t.”

Max glanced at the much smaller man. “So…?” he asked. Curtis crossed his arms and tried to look stern. “So no more fucking newbies,” Curtis said, wagging his finger. “You’ve got to grow us—and if your dick gets any bigger, we won’t be able to take it!”

Ralph’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head but Max’s grin just got bigger. He wrapped his massive paw around his monster dick.

“Who wants to go first?”

Three hours later…

“No mas,” Ralph said, exhausted. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Curtis was snoring on the floor. He had been fucked by Max five times to Ralph’s three but he had passed out midway through the last fuck. Max had picked Curtis—all 250 pounds of him—up like he weighed nothing and stretched him out on the floor, while he and Ralph did their final round.

Curtis’ cell phone rang. Ralph answered. “Hello?” The blast of sound from the phone made Ralph hold it far away from his ear.

“What did you do to me?!!” It was Dean Persons. “Uh, Max had sex with you,” Ralph replied, reasonably. “At least, I think he did. Curtis and I watched vids in your living room.” Ralph listened, nodded, grunted, nodded, tried to interrupt, shook his head, grunted again. “Okay, then,” he said, finally. “Send us a post card, will ya?”

Ralph clicked off the phone. Max looked at him.

“What was that all about?”

Ralph rolled his eyes. “You fucked him,” Ralph said. “And he grew. Two inches taller. 50 pounds heavier.” Max whistled. “And apparently he looks about 20 years younger,” Ralph added.

Max raised an eyebrow. “This is a problem?” Ralph just shook his head. “You gotta wonder,” he said. “But the President didn’t like it. Said she didn’t know what kinda hormone replacement therapy Norm was doing but it just wasn’t dignified. She canned his ass.”

Max’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding!” Ralph gave Max the look. “Okay,” Max said. “You’re not kidding. Where’s Norm going?” Ralph snorted. “Off to Denver, apparently. He’s gonna try out for the Broncos!” Max gaped, Ralph yawned. “We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Ralph said. “I gotta sleep.” Then he passed out.

Max, on the other hand, was still raring to go.

I gotta fuck, he thought to himself. I gotta fuck bad!

Four hundred pounds wasn’t enough. Six feet six wasn’t enough. The 15 inch dick wasn’t enough.

But who the hell? He wondered.

Unbidden, the name popped into his head.

Sidney! Sidney Chastain! The biggest, strongest guy on Emory’s football team!

Sidney Chastain’s eyes widened as the big white guy walked into Emory’s Woodruff PE Center.

Holy fuck, Sidney thought. That guy’s bigger than I am!

There were, in fact, guys bigger than Big Sid, as his friends called him, but very few of them had his intense degree of size and muscularity. At 6’6” and 350 pounds of solid muscle, Sidney was as big as the biggest pro bodybuilders only with an aspiring NFL pro’s moves, quickness, and reflexes.

The big guy walked right up to him and stuck out his hand. “Max Hardesty,” the big man said. “You’re Sid Chastain, right?”

Sid was sitting at the end of the bench where, unassisted, he’d been cranking out close grip reps with 585 pounds. “Yeah, that would be me,” Sid said. Chastain wasn’t known for having a lot of patience with fans but…

Damn, Sid thought. This guy is fucking amazing.

“Mind if I work in with you?” Max asked.

Sid was about to get shirty, then he noticed the bulge in Max’s pants. His mouth dropped open. Taking that as a yes, Max smirked and began to pull off his ginormous hoodie. “Holy fuck,” Sid exclaimed when Max’s upper body was revealed. “Why the hell aren’t you on the football team?”

Max just chuckled. “Ya know, I never even thought about it,” Max said, sliding into Sid’s place on the bench. “I’ve just always wanted to get big.” Max lifted the bar off the stanchions and churned out 20 perfect reps, fast! Sid’s eyes bulged almost as much as Max’s pecs, delts, and bis. “That was just a warm up weight, right?” Max asked. “Put on a couple of 45s for me?”

Sid, who’d never changed a plate for another guy since graduating from high school, found himself adding a 45-pound plate to each end. Max jumped up and added two more.

“Sorry!” Max said. “I didn’t make myself clear. I meant 2 more on each end.” With 765 pounds on the bar, Max cranked out 20 more reps, albeit a bit slower than he did the first time. Chastain just gaped. “Two more please?” Max asked sweetly. “Each end, I mean!”

Chastain complied, then had the presence of mind to ask. “Uh, need a spot?”

Max winked at him. “Maybe next set,” he said, then put out another 10 reps, no sweat, 945 pounds going up and down like it was a beginner’s weight.

Chastain looked at Max. “You want more, Big Man?” Chastain asked.

Max nodded. “But let’s cut to the chase, okay? Let’s put three more on each end, okay?” Max took one side while Sid took the other; Max wasn’t sure what was more amusing, seeing Sid’s notoriously huge 13-incher distending his blue and gold track pants or knowing that Sid was totally oblivious to his own erection! “And, yeah,” Max said, settling back down on the bench. “A spot would be good.”

It occurred to Sid that he didn’t know how exactly he was going to spot someone benching 1215 pounds but he just nodded. He moved into position at the head of the bench, only to have Max clear his throat.

“Uh, Big Man,” Max said. “You’re gonna hafta back up just a bit. Or I’m gonna be benching your pecker!” Sid looked down and realized his meat was sticking so far out he couldn’t see Max’s face. He wasn’t sure whether he was going to die of shame or spurt right there. “On three,” Max said, and then he cranked out six reps easy, worked for the next two, and had Sid screaming in his face for the last two. Max re-racked the huge weight, and sat up breathing hard. Much to his surprise, Sid was breathing just as hard, sweat running down his magnificently handsome ebony face.

“Thanks, man,” Max said, giving Sid a hug. When they went to let go, Sid held on.

“Fuck, Big Man,” Sid whispered in his ear. “I gotta have you!”

Max put his giant hands on Sid’s mountainous traps and squeezed, gently.

“Are you sure about that, Sid? I thought you were straight.”

Sid ripped off his track pants, exposing himself to the entire weight room.

“I gotta have it, I gotta have you now!”

Max pulled his pants down, the 15 inch monster rising up towards his pecs.

“You think you can handle this, Big Man?” Max said.

Sid looked feverish. He’d never seen a dick bigger than his own, certainly not on a white boy.

“Give it to me, Big Man,” Sid begged. “Give it to me now.”

And so Max did, right there in the weight room. Most people fled, some people stayed and cheered, one or two girls called campus security, but Sid’s fellow teammates blocked the doors and didn’t let them in.

“It’s just a little bench press competition, officers, nothing to get upset about,” they told the officers. The footballers outweighed the security guys by about 70-80 pounds apiece, so the officers weren’t overly interested in disagreeing with them. “Just promise us no one’s getting hurt, okay?” The big guys were solemn as judges. “Believe us, officers, no one is getting hurt!”

After half an hour, Max dragged Sid off the bench and herded him into the Men’s Locker Room, which had been likewise vacated and sealed off where they continued for another hour. Eventually, Max walked back into the weight room, to find Sid’s buds waiting patiently.

“Did you kill him?” one of him asked.

Max put his giant hand on the massive shoulder of the 300-pound tackle.

Herb, he thought. That’s his name, Herb Thompson.

“Herb, he’s fine, man, he’s just kinda, like, ya know, tired out,” Max said.

Herb nodded and headed toward to the locker room with Sid’s other friends.

“Take care of him, okay?” Max called out.

He turned to find Lance Johnson, Emory’s star quarterback, all 6’2” and 250 pounds of him, standing there whimpering like a lost puppy.

“Hey, little man, it’s okay,” Max said. “Did you lose something?”

Lance was trembling, his eyes fastened on the massive bulge in Max’s sweats.

“Or do you need some of what Sid just had?” Max said, reaching down to adjust himself. “I’m still ready to go, ya know!”

Lance let out a little yelp and then literally ran to the locker room.

Too bad he doesn’t run that fast on the field, Max thought to himself.

He headed home to find Ralphie and Curt.

Why is the ceiling so far away?

Max was flat on his back, his eyes were open, and…

“Why am I in the living room?” he asked, no one in particular. A huge form loomed over Max but his eyes refused to focus. “Well, Big Man, there’s a good reason for that,” a deep voice rumbled. Confusion swept across Max’s handsome face. “Sid, is that you?” he asked, innocently. The resulting cackle caused Max’s eyes to fly open. Only one person on Earth had that particular laugh!

“Ralph?”

It was Ralph, in fact, only a new super-sized Ralphie who looked every bit as big as Sid Chastain! Ralph reached down a muscular paw to help Max sit up. “Jesus,” Curtis said entering from the bedroom. “I knew you were gonna be big but…” Curt was as big as Ralphie! Max shook his head. “So why the fuck am I sleeping on the floor in the living room?” Ralph and Curtis gave each other guilty glances.

“Uh, well, two reasons, Big Man,” Ralphie began. “The first is, the three of us don’t all fit in the bed…” Curtis snorted. “That’s not the real reason,” he observed. “When you came home last night you tossed us out of the bed!” Ralph giggled. “But when you got IN the bed, it collapsed,” Curtis continued.

Max looked from one to the other.

“So you think this is funny, do you?”

Curtis held up his hands as if to ward Max off.

“Hey, look, you’re the one who said fuck it and came out here to sleep in the living room,” he pointed out, reasonably enough. Ralph was laughing his head off. “Got something to add to that?” Max asked, gruffly. Ralphie wiped his eyes. “Oh, no, not really,” he said. “Only that we did fuck it, all night long.”

Max stood up. And up. And up. He realized he was looking a long way down at Ralphie and Curt. “Damn,” Max said. “Just how big am I?” Curtis cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of measuring while you were asleep,” he said. “Naturally, these numbers are incomplete.”

Max glared at him.

“You can knock of the mad scientist routine,” he said. “Just give it to me.”

Curtis blushed.

“Well, first of all, you’re now 7 feet tall,” Curt said. “Which I think is an increase of six inches.”

Max blinked. Seven feet! Shit!

“Of course, I couldn’t measure around, so I can only guess when it comes to chest and things like that,” Curt added. “But your shoulders are 84 inches across.” Max thought about that. “My shoulders are seven feet across?!” he asked. Ralphie nodded. “Yep, Big Man, that’s the about the size of it,” he observed. “You’re as wide as you are tall.”

Curtis continued eagerly, the prize math student with a blue ribbon:

“My guess is that based on your shoulder width and height and that your chest measurement is going to be about 160 inches,” he declared proudly. “Oh, yeah, and flat on your back it looks like you’re about four feet thick.”

Max felt a stirring in his loins.

“And this,” he said, reaching down. “Lemme guess—you got it hard, right, then you measured it, too?”

Curtis blushed furiously.

“Well, ya know, in the name of science,” he said.

Max clenched his boulder-sized fists.

“21 inches,” Ralphie interjected. “And 14 inches around at the thickest point.”

Max reached out and took each of them in one of his hands, then lifted him up to his eye level. The two of them were light as feathers.

“And what about you guys?” he asked.

“Six-four, 350,” Ralphie managed to choke out.

“Six-five, 375,” Curtis bleated.

Max put them two of them back down.

“And me?” he asked.

Curtis rubbed his beer-keg sized neck. “Hard to know, Boss,” he said. “Until we get you over to the animal scale at the vet school.” Ralphie nodded. “But it’s a good bet you weigh more than both of us combined,” Curtis added. “I’m guessing you’re right about 800 pounds.”

Whoaaa, Max thought. I’m the biggest, most muscular man who ever lived!

The thought made his giant anaconda twitch. Max suddenly realized that Ralph and Curt hadn’t taken their eyes off it since it had gotten hard. “And just what the hell am I going to do with this?” he growled.

Once Max was standing up, Ralphie and Curt got serious about measuring:

As predicted, Max’s chest was 160 inches around (they had to string three different 60-inch tape measures together.)

His waist was 80 inches but it was perfectly proportioned and tiny compared to his giant chest and his stupendous quads, which measured 90 inches apiece. Each of his eight abs was the size of a large granite boulder.

His arms, well, they were works of art, flexed but unpumped his upper arms measured 64 inches, his forearms 50 inches.

“I feel like I could bench press a Hummer,” Max said when they were done.

The stats had had a stimulating effect on Max’s huge member, which itself had a mesmerizing effect on Ralph and Curtis, who were staring at it as if it were a very realistic prop from Anaconda.

“I gotta fuck,” Max said.

Ralph gulped, Curtis squeaked.

“Unh uh,” Ralph said.

“Not me,” Curt echoed.

In a lightning fast move, Max reached out and casually hoisted his best friends to eye level.

“And what are you going to do about if I say otherwise?” he asked, politely.

Ralphie rolled his eyes. Curt tsk, tsked. “You want to grow, don’t you?” the latter asked.

Oh, yeah, Max thought. He dropped the two massive yet-oh-so-small hunks to the floor.

“Remember?” Ralph said. “It doesn’t work a second time.”

Max sighed. “So what am I gonna do?”

Curtis cleared his throat. “Well, as it happens, I know a horse doctor…” he began.

Max glared at him.

“Now wait just a minute, Curtis Perkins, if you think…”

Ralph interrupted before Max could get any more steamed up.

“What I think—what I know—Curt is saying is that Dr. Piscatelli knows some people with some very odd tastes.”

Max thought about that.

“Really?”

The two nodded.

“Well, then,” Max said. “What are we waiting for?”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“What the hell?” Max growled.

Someone was pounding the shit out of his apartment door. In two easy steps he crossed to it and yanked it open. Right off its hinges in fact.

“Oops!” Max said.

Outside his door was Sid Chastain, a new, bigger Sid Chastain.

“Hardesty,” Chastain asked. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Damn he’s big, Max thought. He opened his mouth…

“Yeah,” Lance Johnson, that cute little quarterback, said, interrupting the Big Man. “Just what the hell did you do to him?”

Max gurgled. He’d never really had the hots for anyone like he had the hots for Lance Johnson. He’s so fucking cute, Max thought. I could…

“Looks like he made you even bigger, Big Man,” Ralph said, doing his best James Earl Jones imitation. “Just like he made us bigger,” Curtis added, giving a Barry White a run for his money.

Sid’s eye widened. Two more white boys as big as or bigger than he was! Well, as big as I was yesterday, he amended.

“Looks like Max has done growed you pretty good, too,” Ralphie said.

Curtis nodded.

“You’re what, now? About 6’8”, maybe? Pushing 500 pounds?”

Lance piped up. “Five-Oh-Seven,” he said. “We went by the Vet School.” Lance suddenly felt like he was back in 9th grade, huddled with the high school seniors. The smallest of the four men surrounding him outweighed him by 100 pounds. Sid was literally twice his size and Hardesty was at least half again as big as Sid.

Fuck, he thought. I’m a fucking dwarf.

“So what are you complaining about?” Curt asked.

Sid’s giant shoulders slumped. “Nothing,” he replied. “I’m not complaining about anything. It’s just…” Lance crossed his arms and tried to look tough. “He wants more,” Lance said. “And I want it, too!”

The three geek giants laughed.

“Fellas, I hate to disappoint you,” Max said. “But I don’t have a fucking clue how this works.”

Ralph nodded. “But it is clear that it only works the first time he fucks someone,” he observed. “So you’re out of luck, Sid,” Curt added. The three of them turned to Lance. “You, on the other hand…” Ralph said. “Would have to deal with that,” said Curt, pointing to Max’s anaconda.

Lance gave it a glance, and nodded. “There’s something you need to know about Lance,” Sid intoned. The three geeks looked at Lance, who blushed. “He’s Dr. Piscatelli’s lab assistant for a reason,” Sid added. Ralphie and Curt moved in on Sid, each taking one of his giant arms. “Ya know,” Curt said. “There’s an aspect of this that still needs to be explored.”

Lance moved towards Max as if he were on an invisible wire.

“Let’s say we blow this popsicle stand,” Ralph added. “And check it out while Max and Lance, uh, get to know each other?”

Max’s giant hand closed on Lance’s rock-solid 32 inch waist. He couldn’t quite circle it whole but close enough. He lifted the hot jock to eye level as Sid, Ralph, and Curtis exited the apartment.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Slowly, gingerly, with complete control, Max lowered Lance onto his gigantic dick.

Lance held onto Max’s enormously muscled arms, each of them bigger around than Lance’s shoulders, and at 6’2” and 250 pounds of solid muscle Lance was by no means small. Lance’s eyes never left Max’s, his expression registering every inch of penetration by Max’s gargantuan phallus.

He’s taking it, Max thought, amazed. He’s liking it!

Lance’s expression bore no trace of pain, no hint of discomfort, only the barest indication of struggle. It’s the look of triumph, Max thought. Of conquest, perhaps.

It was exactly the same look Lance saw in Max’s eyes.

As the final, 21st inch was shoved up Lance’s ass, as Lance’s marble-hard, capable of squatting 750 pounds for reps, football glutes rested Max’s pubes, the expression on both their faces changed again, this time…

Ecstasy. Bliss. Union.

Grow for me, Max thought.

Let me grow for you, Lance replied.

And so they did. With every thrust of Max’s dick, they grew a little taller, they grew a little heavier, their dicks grew a bit longer. With every moan of pleasure, Lance tightened his ass’s grip on Max’s mammoth member; every thrust became an opportunity for Lance’s hole to caress, to flex, to contort the giant invader. Every moan made Max that much harder, that much stronger, that much more powerful.

I’m a God, he thought.

A Fucking God, Lance replied.

Deus ex fucking muscle machina!

They never heard the door open; they never saw Sid and Ralph and Curt, now bonded for life, enter the room and kneel in a circle around them. They never noticed the three huge men jacking their huge cocks while watching Max and Lance fuck and grow. They never heard the cries of bliss as each in turn shot his load on the giant muscle gods in their midst. They were unaware of the sleeping forms surrounding them when at last the two of them came to climax. When at last they pulled apart, the two men were nearly the same size, Lance just a few inches shorter than Max, nearly as broad, nearly as thick.

“You make them look like dwarves,” Max said, finally noticing their fellow muscle monsters.

“You make me look like a dwarf,” Lance replied, even now. And then he flexed his 60-inch bicep. “Show me, Big Man,” Lance said.

Max complied.

Boom!

Just the flex alone shook the room.

“I’d say that was herculean,” Lance pointed out. “But it’s too inadequate a word.” Ninety-inches of rippling, vascular, rock hard muscle. “It’s like a mountain range attached to your shoulders,” Lance observed. “And your shoulders are the fucking Himalayas.”

Max looked down at Lance’s monster cock, all 23 inches of it.

“Fuck me,” Max said. “I want you to fuck me.”

Lance wrapped his massive paw around Max’s 29-inch battering ram.

“Are you ready for this, Big Man?” Lance asked. “They told me you’ve never been fucked before.”

Max pulled Lance’s face to his own, his manly stubble tickling Lance’s cheeks as he gave him a gentle kiss.

“Let the worlds collide,” Max said.

No one ever came up with a credible explanation for what was eventually called the freak experience at Emory that September.

No one could explain the disappearance of star quarterback Lance Johnson or sophomore student Max Hardesty or the virtual trashing (unhinged doors, broken walls, etc.) of Max’s off-campus apartment. Nor could anyone make a credible suggestion regarding the abrupt enlargement of Emory’s other star football player, Sid Chastain, who was suddenly found to be bigger than any player in the NFL, much less college football.

And then there were the two Emory walk-ons, Ralph Peters and Curtis Perkins, who were both as big as Chastain had been (or bigger!) Their addition—and Sid’s greatly enhanced size—more than made up for Johnson’s departure. Thanks to their (huge!) presence, Emory literally crushed its competition in the SEC that year and for two years afterwards. Much to everyone’s surprise, Peters and Perkins both turned down NFL bids, instead accepting bids from the medical schools of Harvard and Stanford, respectively.

Sid was welcomed with open arms by Denver Broncos star Norman Persons; the two were paired off as roommates and soon enough came out, not only as gay, but as a couple, the first openly gay couple in the NFL.

Of course, there were six people—Max, Lance, Sid, Norm, Ralph, and Curt—who knew the whole story: That Max and Lance decided to go into hiding rather than live their lives in the public eye as a couple of real-life hulks.

With Norm providing the funds and the logistics, they hired a custom-fitted tractor / trailer rig to haul the two giant men from Atlanta to a remote area of the Colorado Rockies where they have lived in seclusion ever since.

When they left Emory:

Lance carried 1000 pounds of solid muscle on his 7 ft. tall frame. His chest measured a bit more than 18 feet in circumference and his shoulders were 10 feet across. At 7 feet 6 inches, Max was only half a foot taller than Lance but he was 50% heavier. At 1500 pounds his chest was 25 feet around and his shoulders 15 feet across, making him exactly twice as wide as tall.

Since that time, the six have routinely gathered at The Hideout, as they call the deluxe mountain compound, to share each other’s company. As six of the biggest men in the world, connecting with normal-sized men has proven to be a challenge, and so they have stuck together as a matter of course.

All of them agreed that getting fucked by Max is what made them huge and that, for whatever reason, it wasn’t contagious. At one point or another, the other five (Norm, Sid, Lance, Ralph, Curt) all fucked each other. At one point or another, for that matter, they all fucked Max. Max, though, gave up fucking anyone other than Lance. None of the others have been willing to give his 30-inch monster a go.

But why did it make them huge? Could it be repeated?

Ralphie and Curt, the first gay couple to jointly win a Nobel prize in biochemistry, have spent their careers trying to answer those questions, to no avail.

In the meantime…

They keep on fucking!

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