Miller’s Miracle Grow-All

By RdyRoger  Email
2 parts
More Like This

• Latest update: 17 October. Next update: 31 October. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest from BRK: “Return of the cocksucking fleshsock”, Part 2.

Part 1

I’m Daniel.

The powder, I found it in the old shed behind the barn when I cut through the abandoned Miller’s farm. The roof was caving in, but the rain hadn’t reached the storage shelves. I saw some cans—the old tin cans, with paint can type lids you pry up with a screwdriver, so you know my curiosity got the better of me. There was a can on the second shelf, a bit out of the weather, that looked pretty new. The label was red with white lettering. I could barely read it, in the archaic script they used—God, it must be a hundred years ago.

“Miller’s Miracle Grow-All. Grows anything with just one application! Guaranteed effective and satisfying.” On the back were directions—”Apply a light dusting to the plant or animal you wish to grow. Effect is localised so you control what you want to grow! Simply wet the plant or animal and Miller’s Miracle Grow-All will be absorbed through the skin! Guaranteed to restore Vim and Vigor and put a youthful kick in your step!”

Jesus. How corny. But you know I took the quart tin can because it was funny and free and I did have a garden. Actually, my Mom had the garden, but I did the digging and watering.

So I took the can home, and read a bit more of the instructions. Most of it didn’t make sense, it was talking in circles about manliness and growing more virile etc. But it was like they were embarrassed what they were talking about, so they kinda had to talk around it. That was like… Victorian-era crap. Anyways I heard the Victorians were all strait laced and proper and then had orgies and went swimming naked! Guess you gotta let out steam somewhere, right?

The original pool parties. Yeah, I was gay, but not out. Not in Farmington West—well, never mind where I live. Oh, yeah, the Grow-All was manufactured in Hoboken, NJ. So you know it had to be quality, right? Hah. Everything about this was so old fashioned.

I was in the garage—and our garage was the typical my parents never throw away anything garage stacked full of overfull cardboard boxes, so I cleared a couple off the workbench and actually found a screwdriver—yay! and I pried up the lid. A little thooomp sound was made as the can opened. Still airtight. Great. There was the smallest bit of reddish dust hanging in the air, the particles lit by the sunlight. Well, I looked in and there was a full can of reddish white powder. Hmmm. I looked around a bit and found what I remembered seeing—it was this aluminium salt shaker, with a handle, but like the kind fast food restaurants use for salting French fries. My mom bought it at a rummage sale, washed it, realised the holes were way too big in the lid for anything but salting fries, and put it out in her treasure trove. Her midden, I would tell her.

So I unscrewed the lid, took a convenient I left my cereal spoon on the workbench spoon, and scooped a bunch carefully into the shaker. It was very powdery and flowed like sand.

So I went to the garden for my grand experiment. We had a row of tomato plants, and they were about 6 to 12 inches tall. I sprayed the leaves with the garden sprayer, so they were soaking wet, and shook some of the powder onto the first plant. The cloud of dust kinda flew everywhere and I got some up my nose—I had a cute upturned gay boy twink nose, and I rubbed my nose vigorously, almost sneezed, but then not, and I didn’t worry about it. Then I thought about it, went into the garage, and took a paper towel and blew my nose. There was a bit of red in the white paper fibres. Not much. I just thought you know what’s in this stuff?

So I go back outside to continue working when I see it. The giant tomato plant. I mean, it was about 3 feet tall, big and lush and healthy looking, and I swear I could see it slowly growing while I watched. Yup. About 30 min later it’s 4 feet tall. That’s a huge tomato plant. I mean, I’m 5’4” and it wasn’t much shorter than me. I thought about it, I got the hose and sprayed down the plant thoroughly, and the water was dyed red from the powder, but it washed right off. There was a last spurt of growth as the water dissolved the remaining powder. But then it stopped.

Hmm. I discovered it worked on goldfish pretty well. My two-inch-long goldfish Goldy was now five inches long. I scooped the goldfish into the pond and dumped the red tinted water down the drain.

This was really powerful stuff. I had a shaker about one-sixths full, so I went into the bathroom and got a bottle of my mom’s body powder. It was sorta floral scented but not horrible or anything. I poured a bunch of the body powder into the shaker, and mixed it up. Carefully, using the I left my used chopsticks on the workbench bamboo stirrer stick. It mixed up really fast. So then I went upstairs to bed. If Goldy was okay in the pond tomorrow, and the tomato plant was okay, then I was gonna have some fun.

I woke the next morning and when I was in the bathroom I looked in the mirror for the first time since yesterday. Damn I looked pretty good. Even my cute little nose was now more masculine and virile and what the fuck? My nose was bigger. Not in a bad way, thank God, but in a teen man growing up into a virile man sorta way. The bone inside my nose was longer, enough to make the difference. Wow.

I have a pretty good memory. Not perfect, but good enough to remember locker room lock combinations. I got to school early, and snuck into the locker room, which was empty, and I opened up my four best friend’s lockers and shook some red powder into their jockstraps. Then I thought about perfect Theo, as I thought of him, and I took his gym clothes and turned them inside out and powdered the shirt and his basketball shorts. He wasn’t tall, but he wore big long shorts, probably because he was nothing special physically, or package wise. Overcompensating I guess. Wear shorts like Jordan and you’re hung like Jordan? Ha. I mean, he was special to me, and he was 5’9” tall, but anyways I made sure to not overdo it too much. Besides, these guys—Theo, Freddy, George, and Larry were not likely to break a sweat in gym class. They were nerds like me. I didn’t do anything to myself. I know that seems unfair, or like I was chicken, and yes, I was chicken.

Isn’t it funny how your best plans always get screwed up? The coach announced we were running track today. It was a hot day. Everyone groaned. Two-mile run. That was gonna kill us, I mean, not the jocks, but us nerds… We started running and after the first lap I looked over and saw Freddy was already drenched in sweat. I was, myself. My junk, modest as it was, was all sweaty and moist. I realised the others must be also. And that red powder was water activated. So instead of a little bit, who knows how much they were gonna be exposed to? Then I reminded myself that I’d diluted it by like a factor of 10. Well, 5. But that was a lot.

So we ran and I wheezed and sweated and finally we finished the two miles and broke for the shower. Normally I hated the shower, although I did like scoping out the guys, being careful to not stare, but that day it was gonna be great after the run. I was really sopping wet. What like the coach was gonna make us athletes? Ha.

So I stripped and I was standing by my locker and I heard a voice. Justin’s voice. That asshole. “What’s this? Your girly shower powder?” He was fat and muscled under the fat and a bully.

I turned around. He had already unscrewed the lid. He sniffed. “Oh, God, it’s got perfume in it! Daniel wears perfume!”

I reached out to take the powder, and he was screwing the lid back on, but he saw me so the jerk reflexively threw-shook the can at me, and I think he was only gonna put a sprinkle of powder on me, but he had done a lousy job of screwing on the lid, and the lid flew off, and powder flew out in an arc, starting with my legs and my junk, and up my abs, blasted onto my pecs and arms, and flew up in the air over my head, and I felt it raining down on my back and shoulders, and even some of the powder hit my ass and the back of my legs. Everyone jumped back, because the smell of the body powder was perfume, and guys don’t wear perfume.

Justin laughed his ass off. I took my terry cloth towel and tried to dust the powder off of my junk and my body and my ass and oh God my feet and hands… it was everywhere and I pushed it around and just made it worse. I was still so hot I was still perspiring. Not good. I grabbed the shaker and the lid—I was counting seconds in my mind, and I threw them in the locker, locked the door, and ran for the showers. All six of the shower sprayers were taken. I felt a weird tingling and itching all over myself, and then I thought, the sports jacuzzi! Which was across the locker room so that was more time. I started to feel super tingly all over. My junk. Even my butt crack. My biceps were on fire, it felt like, I guess I’d rubbed more powder into the skin on my arms—including triceps and forearms, I was so damned thorough at being an idiot. I ran. But it was the end of class, a bunch of guys were in the way, and I got yelled at by coach for running, which took a minute, and then I ran into the sports medicine room and the jacuzzi was bubbling and I jumped in and submerged myself. The itching and tingling exploded on my skin as I hit the water. I held my breath and stayed under, hoping the jacuzzi would wash me clean, and after a few minutes it did. Still felt tingly but not like that burning!

I surfaced and saw Troy in the jacuzzi, submerged all the way up to his chin. I looked. The bubbles seemed white. So I relaxed. I sat down, submerged like Troy, and said, “Hey Troy!”

Troy was tall—6’6” if he was an inch, a blond Nordic muscle God, and if he bothered in about three months he could be a competition bodybuilder. Super nice guy, kept to himself, and don’t you just hate him already?

“Hey Daniel!” said Troy, which is the most he’d ever said to me. I was surprised he knew my name. “I pulled a trapezius muscle playing football in practice. You know.” No I had no idea about football practice.

But I said, “Yeah I was running and pulled a muscle. In my leg.”

“So the way you jumped into the spa had nothing to do with being covered with red paint?”

“Was it that bad?”

“Head to toe!” said Troy.

“Justin dumped some body powder on me.”

“Justin is an asshole.”

“Yeah, I’m glad someone else noticed, I thought it was just me!”

“Everyone noticed that. Although I gotta say, you were pretty good at hiding your giant cock!”


“Hey man you got lucky. Nothing to be ashamed about. But I could see it even under all that paint all over you flying around!”

“Oh, sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be sorry,” said Troy, “I enjoyed the show.”

My brain did that scrunchy owey thing it does when reality changes. Troy was gay? Troy Steele was gay? Of course he was gay his name is fucking Troy Steele! That’s the gayest football name ever! Troy was staring at my reaction. He knew. I knew he knew. He knew I knew he knew.

“Happy to oblige!” I said.

“Are you?” Troy asked a bit seriously.

“Well, yeah, I mean, you know…”

And Troy stood up. “I feel a lot better!” he said. “And this water is super tingly weird huh? Must be that powder. Gotta run Gotta class see you later?”

“Sure, see you later Troy!”


Now I was distracted as Troy stood up, this all happened pretty darned fast, and he was really built. I mean he used to be jock body and now he was heavyweight bodybuilder shoulders and pecs and arms.

“You’ve put on some muscle!” I said to Troy. He looked down, surprised, flexed his bicep, looked more surprise.

“Yeah must be the pump from my workout!” Then he looked me over. “It’s not like you haven’t been hit with the hot guy muscle stick!”

He splashed out of the water and his junk was really big. I mean, I knew how big it was, from the locker room, and it was big, but now he was really big.

I sat in the spa for about 5 more minutes. Thinking about Troy. That was a bad idea. But I didn’t know it. I climbed out of the spa, grabbed my towel and started drying myself off. My junk, my back, my face, my neck, my chest, my abs, my shoulders and my surprisingly big arms, and then my thighs and lower legs and feet. And then I felt the burning. All over my body I had just wiped down… and rubbed red grow-all all over me again! My towel was loaded with it! I jumped into the spa again. I was still holding the towel, it floated away and I went underwater and again I felt a huge surge of tingling when the water hit me. I went under and held my breath. This time the tingling continued. I felt it especially on my pecs and thighs and really tingly on my junk!

I opened my eyes and looked. The towel had loaded up the spa with grow-all. Oh my God Troy was surprised he was so big because… he wasn’t this morning! When I jumped into the spa I dosed him!!! Holy Fuck. Then I realised I was submerged in grow-all. A lot of it. The water was now tinted red. I stood up and lost my balance and fell. Three times until I stopped trying to stand and just pulled myself out of the spa.

Now it being a sports medicine room of course there was a big viewing mirror on the wall for the absolutely not gay athletes to flex and admire themselves.

I had no idea who it was in the mirror. I still felt tingly all over and I knew I was still changing. Even as I watched my cock unrolled another inch, it looked like. Which was great, except it was now 11” long soft. And fat. And my balls were huge. No wonder they’d been burning.

I was a lot bigger and taller. I was 6’10” tall. I’d grown… almost 18 inches. No wonder I couldn’t stand up I couldn’t balance. And then I slid skyward another inch. And my cock swelled longer and bloated up thick and fat.

My pecs were huge as were my deltoids, no surprise with the amount of powder on my shoulders. My Traps were huge. My abs were giant and my arms were thick with muscle… especially my upper arms; I tried a flex and my biceps bulged and then—just stayed that big. I tried it again and it happened again!

Also my quadriceps were just huge. Giant freaky muscle. And my ass; a muscled bubble butt to die for. And my feet and hands were a lot bigger. My lats kept flexing and relaxing and flexing and relaxing. I turned sideways. My lats were huge and headed into hugerer territory.

I felt weirdly detached, you know. By now it was way after school and I was still growing and changing. I went to my locker, nothing would fit me. Then I remembered Theo’s basketball shorts. I opened his locker and pulled on his shorts and baggy shirt. It was gross from the sweat but better than naked. I packed up everything into my backpack, including the grow-all. Then I used the hose to flood the floor and wash away the red powder.

I headed for home. I felt so weird. I still felt like I was all tingly, even more when I got outside, and I found myself running home. I was working up a good sweat, and it was kinda embarrassing free-balling, but I wasn’t gonna wear Theo’s contaminated jock! In fact, I should go early and replace them. Or just wash them there was a dryer. Early morning for me I guess.

It took me 15 or 20 minutes to run home, but I liked the feeling of the wind and my body felt amazing. I still felt the tingling everywhere especially my junk, but I told myself it was my imagination. I ran upstairs three steps at a time and went into my room and shut the door and sat down. I was a bit tired, not winded, still feeling tingly, even more now I was sitting in a quiet room in an empty house, but I knew that was just me freaking out. I sat down at a desk chair and just thought. I chilled the fuck out, you know, and even the sweat started to dry and I felt sticky so I stripped off the shirt overhead, which ripped, and I looked in the mirror, the shorts were bunched up tight riding a bit high on my wow are those mine muscled quads, and I watched as a trickle of red tinted sweat ran down from my crotch to my legs where my quads started tingling madly. And then I remembered. I had been so freaked out that I’d used the clothes Theo had worn. I remembered dusting the jockstraps but I forgot what I’d done to Theo’s clothing. I’d powdered it. With more than I’d like to admit, because as I stood there looking at myself in horror, my pecs and upper arms, my deltoids, my quadriceps, they all swelled bigger; I was still painted with the grow-all from Theo’s clothes. I pulled down my shorts—Theo’s shorts, and a heavier weight flopped forward. What the f am I gonna do with 14 inches soft? I was so hung my cock looked like a loaf of baguette bread or whatever.

I continued downward and with a tearing sound so did my balls. Jesus they were huge. They descended in my giant scrotum, and even as I watched, grow-all dripped out of my now huge pubic bush and onto my cock and balls. They tingled madly. And pulsed and veins stood out in sharp relief and then were subsumed as my cock unrolled a few more inches and bloated an inch thicker in diameter. Oh, Fuck. I couldn’t stand under the shower without ducking (a lot) but I managed to rinse off the Grow-All. I mean, I was standing there, in the shower, tingling madly as the red juice ran down my calves and pooled about my huge hairy tingling feet. My pecs and arms finally stopped tingling as I rinsed my triceps, and then I washed myself, surprised to find hair on my arms and legs and abs and all across my chest. Fucking hot. Or I could shave. Wow.

I didn’t look like the little teen boy-man twink anymore, not by a longshot. I went downstairs and told Mom I’d have an unexpected growth spurt. She handed me the credit card for new clothes. I mean, wow. At least my Mom still saw me as me even as this giant muscled dude. I stopped suddenly. I was bigger than Troy I was pretty sure. In fact I knew I was. No wonder he’d been looking at me with his muscle and size queen fetish eyes. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I went to Target. Hey, we’re not rich, but I bought new underwear, and socks, and shoes, and jeans and slacks and cargo shorts and muscle t’s and tee shirts and a couple button down shirts. And a jacket for cold evenings. Damn I looked good. I mean, I just did. super healthy happy giant muscle super tall huge hung high school junior.

I went home carrying my purchases and when I got to my house Troy was waiting. He was waiting for me. Wow. He helped me carry the bags upstairs, but that was an excuse for him to get upstairs. I had to give the card back to Mom but she said keep it and go to the mall tomorrow. I introduced her to Troy, and we went upstairs to do homework.

He just about jumped me, but he asked so it was cool.

“Can I hold you?”

“Can I kiss you?”

After that it wasn’t full on intercourse but I discovered how hung he was while I discovered how hung I was. Troy was super happy.

This was so weird. Was I gonna date a jock? What about Theo? I wondered uneasily what the changes to him might have been. I knew what had happened to me, but Theo had been running on that track for an hour.

But then Troy kissed me and I suddenly had a raging hard on. Which is quite a thing to see, about 13.5 inches growing to 18 inches. Especially because my cock became so very full and hard and firm and thick when I got hard. I know some guys, who are hung, they don’t get too hard. Not me, you will have no trouble recognizing my hard hard on.

Troy had always been hung, but then this afternoon in the spa had made him grow again. So maybe he’d been 5” soft, but then he grew to 9.5” soft. Almost double. Which he loved. He just couldn’t get over his big penis, and especially he couldn’t get over my bigger penis. We were both hyper sexed now. I mean, we got turned on at the drop of a hat, and we both had fantastic bodies.

Here’s the thing. Troy wasn’t stupid. Far from it. He knew that I’d been covered in red paint and that I had grown, and that being in the same spa water had made him grow.

So we fucked around and came about 100 times it seemed. It wasn’t 100. Maybe 30 times, each of us.

And then Troy got dressed, and damn he looked good. And he headed to the high school, broke into the locker room, broke the lock on the sports medicine room, and sat in that spa for an hour. Maybe longer. It didn’t matter—he didn’t get out until he was as big as he wanted to be, even bigger than me. Which kinda stung my pride, you know? But seriously, he was just stupid big hung. I didn’t know this until later, see?

Part 2

I went to school in the morning, washed and dried my friend’s jocks, figured out how to drain the spa, hung a “Closed for repairs” sign on the wall by it. And then went to school. And I saw my friends. First of all, they were all obviously huge hung. Theo the biggest but I had put an extra shake of powder onto his jockstrap. Which had obviously leaked through onto his shorts and then onto me. Wow.

In the locker room, Theo was swinging 10” easy, very thick. He’d also had a huge growth spurt from 5’8” to over 6’5”. Theo had had grow juice in his shirt and his long shorts. Freddy, George and Larry had grown 3 or 4 inches taller each, they were swinging 8”, 8.5”, and 9” soft respectively. Their legs had grown considerably bigger and more muscled, and they all had a hot ass to die for now. But I didn’t see much growth in their upper bodies or arms. Sure they looked stronger but… Had I cheated them unfairly?

Justin took one look at me, popped a boner, and ran to the showers! I never would have pegged him as gay. The other guys all made exclamations over my growth, and how they’d seen it for weeks (right) but they were sweet as pie and I think gay. Which I never would have thought but when three different guys say they want to suck you off or have you fuck their ass, I think that is a clue.

Troy came in from football practice. That’s when I saw him. He looked so big and tall in his pads and uniform. And then I realised something was wrong. I walked up to him, he looked down at me from a half a head taller in height, and said, “Hi, Shorty!”

He didn’t mean it meanly but I took it badly. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what had happened. When he stripped for the showers, his cock was bigger than mine by a couple of inches. I flushed red. I have no idea. I guess I thought perfect Troy was now gonna turn back into too good for me Troy and that would be that. He was saying something about getting together for after school shopping, but I just wasn’t even listening. My mind was fixated on that red grow-all powder.

After class I headed home. I knew what I was doing was stupid, but I told myself, just a bit, just a bit bigger than Troy. I went and got the shaker, it was almost empty, but I went to the garage, with the door closed and I took the miracle grow-all can and scooped a bunch of powder into the shaker. I screwed it on firmly, took a towel from the laundry, blocked the shaker holes with it, and shook it up. This was a lot stronger than what we’d used yesterday, but my Mom was in her bath and I didn’t want to wait. So this would have to do. I’d just use less of it. I got in the shower, and thank goodness we had a water pic shower hose with attachment so I didn’t have to duck under the shower head. I wet myself thoroughly and completely. I took the shaker into the shower stall and sprinkled a light dusting, or so I told myself, on my shoulders, lats, my ass, a bit more on my pectorals… a fetish of mine, I will admit. and onto my well-defined abs but what the heck, right? Then I put a good shake on my dick, lifted my dick up, and hit each of my balls with a shake. My quads I gave a good shake onto, and my hamstrings, and calves, then did my arms, top to bottom, with an extra shake on the triceps and biceps. I ended up using a lot more than I thought I would, you know? Well, I took an old damp washcloth and used it like a paintbrush, wetting and painting the grow-all powder so it was all wet and stuck to my skin. I worked quickly, in the same order I’d applied the powder. I could feel the tingling burn, stronger today, especially where I’d used more powder—my pecs were on fire, and so were my abs. and my glutes were sore and tingling and then started burning like a sunburn… And my legs and arms were seriously on fire, and a second or two later my lats and shoulders went from tingle to burning tingle. My junk was on fire. I realised I’d overdone it. I was walking across the room to the shower when the lights went dark, and I tried the shower. No water.

“Mom!” I shouted a bit too loudly, “the water is off!”

“Yes they have a planned power outage to switch some electrical lines,” she yelled up the stairs. “You’ll have to wait an hour to finish your shower. I think you’ll survive!”

An hour? An hour? I couldn’t wait an hour, not a minute. I could feel changes rippling through my body as the powder burned and tingled.

We lived on a poor block—no swimming pools—but I was only a three or five minute run from the ocean. So I took off, I had a towel in my hands but I just ran fully out as fast and hard as I could to get to the ocean. I was barefoot and naked and I didn’t care. I did hear horns honking and catcalls but no one was trying to stop me, so I just ran flat out. I think that exercise provoked a strong growth adaptation. I was running, and my whole body was burning, but I didn’t have any shortness of breath, or fatigue. I didn’t have time to even glance at myself. I ran into a street, leaped over a car, and kept going. I realised I wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. But I could see the beach ahead, the sparkle of the water off the waves, and I redoubled my efforts. It seemed I couldn’t tire myself out. I ran a bit more carefully across the ocean frontage road, leaped down what I later realised was a 20 ft cliff, and my feet hit the sand, I stopped for an instant, looking at myself. The sweat—my red sweat, was running down my body everywhere. I glanced down at my junk. It was huge. Like a loaf of bread, and my balls were swollen to the size of cantaloupes to my terrified eyes.

I heard the splash of the ocean waves, I was running, I leaped about 30 feet and dove through an oncoming wave. As my body hit the water there was a burning shock all over. I think it was the salt water. It wasn’t like the spa or the shower. But I struck out swimming strongly as the red sweat was washed from my skin. How long had that been? Definitely more than three minutes. Maybe six minutes. Oh fuck, what had I done? after about two minutes I stopped swimming. I felt clean. I mean, like no tingling. So I started to swim back to shore, a bit more leisurely. I walked up out of the surf stark naked on a non-nudist beach, and a guy on the shore looked me up and down like I was a museum statue and said, “Oh my God, your cock is huge.”

Yes, yes it is. I asked the guy if he had an extra towel or swimwear and he said, “Nothing I wear is gonna fit you, you’re too huge.” But he ran up to his car and grabbed a large beach towel and said I could keep it. He was so nice I got his name and memorized his phone number and called him later to thank him, and we are still friends to this day. He has the most fun pool parties.

But that day I walked home, barefoot, and the soles of my feet didn’t feel the hot pavement. I mean, it didn’t hurt. About thirty minutes later I walk into the house through my too small front door, climb the protesting stairs, and right when I got back to the bathroom the lights came on and the shower started spraying. We were on a well-pressurised electric pump, you see.

“Daniel, you can finish your shower now!” My mom yelled.

“Thanks Mom!” I called out in a surprisingly virile and masculine voice. I mean, I surprised myself.

“Daniel?” my Mom called.

“Sorry my voice is cracking. Part of my growth spurt I guess.”

Well, she didn’t say anything until Dad was home at dinner and then it was recounting the dubious history of really tall people in my family. I let them fill in the gaps and explanations and my Dad gave me a heart to heart and I’d grown up so much so fast and he wanted to go camping or fishing or something; we compromised on a day at the museum; where I did scare a lady who thought I was a statue. I was standing still contemplating a painting and when I moved she shrieked. I super apologised and then Dad and I laughed through lunch, and I suddenly said to him, “Dad, I’m gay.”

“Yeah, we know. It’s cool. You know we don’t care if you’re straight or gay or purple, you’re our son and we want you to be happy.”

I had the best Dad in the whole world. So after the museum we went home and Dad called out, “Margie, Daniel came out today while we were having lunch at the museum,” and Mom came in and hugged me and she was small in my massive arms, you know? but she said, “Thank you for trusting us and telling us.” Then she reached up and I let her pull my head down so she could give me a kiss, right on top of my head, like she’s done my whole life.

Well, all in all, a pretty good day. Even if I had to duck under doorframes for the rest of my life.

But the thing was this—after I came out, I wondered about so much in my life. Who was Troy, really? I didn’t even know him. And now I had to tell my friends I was gay, but I thought that might not be so bad.

Troy? Troy who’d vanished finally called on the phone a week later and asked to come over to talk. I said sure. He arrived and looked up at me and blinked. Then he got this slow smile across his face. He told me he was sorry he’d gotten bigger and he knew I’d been upset and he realised he screwed up because he wanted me to be the big guy but he didn’t realise it until he saw me and could I ever forgive him for being a jerk. And he said he was gonna come out to his parents. And he did the next week, although I guess his brother freaked a bit about it all. I guess when your kid brother who has wanted to grow up to be you realises you’re gay and he’s not, that kinda can sprain a kid’s brain. But maybe it was for the best. His brother started to live his own life instead of following in Troy’s footsteps.

After it all calmed down, a few weeks later, I snuck into the lockers early and dusted my friend’s shirts and shorts with Grow-all. Because I mean, it turned out okay for me, right?

Would you hate me if I told you I waited until I knew the coach was gonna make everyone run that day? I’d forgotten that the powder wasn’t as dilute as before, so my friends were tearing out of their shirts and shorts and jockstraps on the field. Hey, what can I say, I have a selective memory, okay?

So I’m jogging around the track, and I see Larry and George and Theo and Freddy were running around the track. And I do have to say I was absent minded whenever it was convenient to my fetishes. My subconscious was just going nuts I guess. See, I totally forgot that morning that I’d already previously dosed Theo’s shirt and shorts and overdosed his jockstrap before. So it’s early morning, and I’m there in the locker room, worried about being caught, and it’s easier to be caught when you’re well over 7 feet tall…. and so in my nervous agitation, I powdered the clothes turned inside out, with an extra dosing on pecs and arms and lats… oh, hell, I loaded up those shirts and shorts. When I came to the jockstraps I paused. I really did, but then I thought, a little more, completely forgetting that a little of the concentrated stuff was 4 times as strong as the dilute stuff before—at least!

So I powdered the front of the jockstraps where their dicks would be jammed in, and I powdered up even more on the bottom back of the pouch where their balls would be crammed tight. Remember I already grew these guys.

So we go out for a run that afternoon and I’m in “the zone” where you just run and get high on endorphins. After about 20 minutes I notice my friends kinda stumble a bit, and reach down and kinda arrange their junk a bit. Then the coach is yelling at them for stalling and to get running and etc. So they do. I’m kinda lapping them because, well, I am kind of an athletic marvel.

Well I see Theo as I come up behind him. His ass is pumping and I want to pump that ass. wow. And I can see that his shirt is super tight, but his shirts are always tight. No big deal. He is definitely taller as I lap him. Like 5 inches taller. Hot! And I glance over and see his junk bouncing in his straining jockstrap; and he’s drenched in red sweat, you would scarcely notice it but… it’s running down his forearms,and from his super tight getting tighter running shorts and spreading all over his quads and his calves and … well, he was cooking. So the others are in similar but not so dire straights yet. Freddy (from India) was growing like a weed and Larry (he’s one of those smooth super ripped muscle black guys whose definition is incredible) wasn’t far behind Freddy. Both those guys were definitely dealing with changes but they were pounding out the footsteps. The next lap was the last and I was glad for those guys, they crossed the finish line, and they sorta collapsed on the grass, gasping, and they rested for a minute, and I guess maybe it was the rest that triggered it? because I hear tearing fabric and cursing and look over and Theo is sitting up and his shirt is ripping off of him so he just tears it off. There he sits, covered in reddish sweat, his massive muscle pecs heaving, and suddenly he just expands. His legs blow up, his pecs on his chest swell massively and his torso and arms… he grows huge everywhere—and taller, you can see just sitting in the grass he’s taller. And his shorts rip off of him in about 10 seconds flat and he’s only wearing a grossly overstuffed jockstrap, reddish white drenched in sweat, and even as I watch reddish drops of sweat run down his chest and drip onto his jockstrap pouch, leaving reddish blobs on the cotton fabric—which then just get absorbed into the fabric completely, reaching the skin on his cock just under it in mere seconds. Oh my God, not only was he growing from the powder in his jock, but all the excess on his shoulders, pec, and abs were dripping into his jock which was acting like a sponge.

I sat there and saw his junk just expand, and then expand again, the whole tightly stretched mass of his junk just shuddered and swelled. and stayed bigger. and then it shook and shuddered grew again… the mesh fabric on his jock strap now approaching see through. And as I watched, his giant new pecs heaved and swelled, and red sweat rolled from his neck and traps to his shoulder delts, and then rolled like a rivulet of muscle power down his pecs, some dripping from his nipples, which were enlarging, and some rolling down his abdominals, now well past cobblestones into masonry brick territory 8 pack abs, and then right down into his jockstrap, splashing and running in a tiny stream of red sweat, which made the white fabric stain reddish for a few seconds as it was absorbed. And then as I watched in helpless fascination, his junk shuddered and jerked and spasmed larger, fighting the mesh fabric of the pouch. Of course that just wrung out more sweat onto his expanding meat. Next thing he kinda shifted his legs and rolled back a bit on his muscled ass (still on his torn shorts with the red grow-all powder) and his junk rolled forward and up. It was his balls. His fucking massive testicles were so big that he’d been practically sitting on them. Now they were shifted forward and he had a couple of XL oranges in there under his massively growing cucumber.

But I was distracted by Larry suddenly crying out, and although he was already much larger, his shoulders seemed to be bothering him until they suddenly popped six inches wider. As he straightened up, stretching, his pecs expanded enormously, and his shirt just ripped across his chest and up the seams of the arms and exploded. His entire torso grew longer as his body grew taller, and his legs, shiny with sweat that glistened red under the hot sun, expanded hugely and lengthened 6 inches or more in just a few seconds. His quads were gonna rival mine if he kept growing!

But I’d learned my lesson on that, but what I hadn’t remembered was how that tomato plant grew from one foot to 4 feet tall in about 30 minutes in my garden. Larry leaned forward, still just a bit dizzy from the changes wracking his body, and I watched in amazement as his lats grew wider and inches thicker and then wider and thicker again and then wider and thicker again. God, he had a Mr Olympia back on him, his smooth beautiful black skin was keeping up with the muscle growth but I don’t know how. He didn’t have a blemish on his ebony body… I saw that he was wiping his face with his sweat covered hands, as I suddenly realised the others were doing as well, and his face changed a bit, perfecting, becoming masculine beauty personified.

Freddy had been mostly silent, just gasping or moaning a bit, laying on his back, his knees stuck up into the sky and his arms folded across his torso. He also was rubbing his face, scrubbing his scalp, and rubbing grow-all on every last remaining bit of his body. But his clothes were still intact. Maybe, I thought, he wasn’t overdosed like the other men. Couldn’t think of them as teens any longer looking like they did. But Freddy kept gasping and sucking in huge lungfuls of air, and then I noticed his shirt and shorts were really, really tight. His basket, his junk, was making a huge rounded bulge in the front of his formerly baggy gym shorts, and then I heard fabric tearing and saw his shirt and shorts tear off of him in just a few seconds. He remained on his back, and I realised guiltily his back and ass were still sitting on the fabric dosed with grow-all. In just a few minutes I watched as his torso inflated into a massive muscular barrel chest, with humongous hairy pecs sagging from their own weight until they filled with more muscle fibre and firmed up tight as a drum. His knees were sticking up another 6 inches into the sky, and his calves were huge. His quadriceps were magnificent diamond cut masses of gigantic muscle. When he finally did sit up, a few minutes later, his lats, which had been on the fabric of his shirt, were enormous. His delts were bigger than cannonballs, almost as big as mine, and his traps were giant thick swathes of muscle bulging powerfully from his neck and shoulders. He sat there, trembling, and then I saw his pecs swell again with another massive growth spurt.

His abs were a phenomenal ten pack, and swollen with muscle size, wrestling for space in his abdomen.

George was turned into a young super heavyweight bodybuilder. And he was now 6’9” tall. So you can imagine how huge he was proportioned like a bodybuilder at that height!

“Hey guys, let’s hit the shower!” said I. They all grumbling agreed, got up on their feet, and we staggered into the locker room, the teen men just wearing their overstuffed overstressed jockstraps. We made it to the showers and right then I noticed Freddy’s hands were covered with red sweat. He pulled down his strap, and rubbed his sore cock and balls, dosing his junk heavily again with that red powder from his sweaty hands. He stretched for a minute or two before going into the shower, and in that two minutes I saw his junk hang lower, and bigger, and lower, and bigger again. But finally they were rinsed clean of the grow-all.

They were still changing, but much more slowly. I loaned them extra gym clothes that I had. Larry could still fit into the largest sizes at the student store, but Freddy and Theo were too large. Not as big as I was, but definitely in the same range. George fit nicely in a pair of my gym shorts and a muscle tee—which was too small, but hey, no one complained about George the surfer dude volleyball bodybuilder stud walking around bulging out of his muscle shirt.

I realised I’d changed up my friends a lot more than I’d planned. I felt bad, but why did I have a raging half hard-on when I looked at these studs? I know Freddy was gay, as was Theo. Larry was bisexual, or so he claimed. George I was pretty sure gay. I mean, he hadn’t come out, but you know. I guess we all gravitated to each other from the nerds. I mean, it’s hard to be enthusiastic about Lara Croft all day long when your straight friends are drooling on their monitors but she does nothing at all for you. To each their own. Hmm. I wonder how long it would’ve taken for us to come out without the grow-all? What a stupid world that it even matters.

Site content © 2020 Brian Ramirez Kyle. Authors retain copyright to any stories posted on Metabods.
Submission Guidelines Disclaimers Privacy Policy Site Map