Description A short story about a muscle growth author who meets a fan who can fulfill his fantasies.
|Updated||16 Mar 2019|
I looked up from my laptop and nearly came then and there. The dude standing on the other side of the table was… a living muscle fantasy.
Now, I’m the first to admit that I should not have been doing what I was doing, but I was horny. And maybe I was thinking with my dick instead of my brain but, c’mon, are you gonna tell me you’ve never been somewhere public and gotten a hard-on because your head went somewhere that your cock wanted to take it?
Anyway, I was reading some hot muscle growth porn in a coffee shop, but to be fair I was sitting in a back corner minding my own business (or so I assumed) and not doing anyone else any harm.
And I’m telling you all this so you understand about the part that came next, which is… well, we’ll get to the good part soon enough.
So, yeah, I was reading porn in a coffee shop, and when I read porn my body reacts more or less like yours, seeing as how you’re reading this right now. Can you feel it starting? Down there? In your jeans? Unless you’re already holding your dick in your hand and stroking yourself. Good for you, buddy! I haven’t even gotten started and you’re already set up for it!
So, let’s get back to the action, since that’s what you really want.
This dude? So, I look up and my mouth drops open and I’m, like, staring at him because this dude? This dude was a walking wet dream. This dude was a hard-on in blue jeans. This dude was… .
He’s looking down at me and he’s smiling. He’s wearing a shirt that’s like two sizes too small for his bulk and every thick bulge of muscle is shoving against the material, it’s basically suctioned onto his body, know what I mean? So every bulging muscle, and every deep valley between every bulging muscle, is clearly visible. Why even wear a shirt, other than the fact that he looks fucking hot and he fucking knows it.
How do I know he knows it? Because if I allow my gaze to go lower on his body I can see—as clear as day—the length of his fat cock outlined in his jeans. Like, I mean I can see everything. I swear I can see the veins that climb along what looks like a nine-inch meaty prick with the clear ridge of the helmet and the drool-inducing head of his monster all clearly outlined by the blue denim.
Not only that, but I swear this dude has his pants made special just to showcase that monster cock, because it’s like the material’s shades of blue are helping me see it. Either that or the dude rubs himself so much that he’s worn away the dye around his beast. It’s fucking insane.
He clears his throat and I look up again at his face, which is absurdly handsome. Not pretty, but rugged and manly. Square jaw, noble brow, prominent nose, the whole nine yards. Like, almost a daddy, right? So it’s like he wants me to know that he knows what he’s doing when it comes to fucking. He’s got the skills and the know-how from fucking years of fucking.
He smiles and I gasp because I feel this, like, broadcast from his features that announces clearly and without a doubt that I am looking at one of the best fucks on the planet.
“What are you writing?” he asks me, his head tilting slightly.
“I… nothing,” I lie.
“Nothing? What sort of nothing makes a dude’s prick swell like yours?”
I feel a rush of blood to my face and my cock twitches. He’s been watching me, but how did I not see this dude before now? I mean, this dude is… very noticeable. I bet when this dude walks into a place everyone in there springs a boner. How can they help it? I know I can’t.
But he’s not lying about what I’m writing. See, I write… well, I’m not gonna lie, the shit I write is fucking nasty. Dudes fucking each other, naked in public, but also? My fetish is muscle growth. Dudes who start swelling up with power as they fuck, or because they fuck. And maybe it’s their cum that does it, or maybe they’re just so fucking horned up that something in their bodies starts pumping too much testosterone, too much man juice, and all they can do is grow bigger and stronger.
And when I’m writing this shit, I get horned up. I mean, why would I write porn if I wasn’t turned on myself? Right? So that’s what I was doing, because I was kind of bored and very horny and sitting here in this little coffee shop with my mug of hot Joe typing up a fucking dirty story about dudes into dudes and how those dudes start getting bigger and bigger.
“Mind if I take a look?” he asks me. He lifts one leg—I watch his huge cock shift and move in his jeans—and moves his butt into the chair next to me. Now I can smell him, smell his pits and his ass and his balls. It’s like a wave of fucking hot sex washes over me and coats me in his overwhelming power. He’s oozing sex out of every pore, he’s sweating sex and he’s drooling sex. The man is fucking made of sex.
I want to say no, but I turn my screen towards him and he smiles at me and pulls my laptop closer and shifts his dark-eyed gaze to the words I’ve been typing as my dick throbs and leaks. His biceps are huge fat balls of hard power, straining the sleeves of his shirt. I can see the cables of muscle that make up his pecs, and the two fat nipples poking against the material that want me to play with them and tease them and send electric shocks of erotic power to that 10-inch length of cock caged in his jeans.
I watch him with curiosity and interest as he reads my story, his eyes shifting back and forth and a smile growing on his full, soft, warm lips. “Fucking hot,” he says quietly, and he moves his hand to the touchpad to scroll the screen and keep reading.
Suddenly I feel his hand on my leg. His grip is firm and warm, and he squeezes me slightly and then rubs my thigh as he keeps reading. I swallow hard and open my mouth and suck in a deep breath as if I have forgotten to breath.
His hand moves up my thigh, inching towards my crotch, and then he’s rubbing my dick with his hand, resting the warm palm of his grip over my shaft and rubbing his thumb on the head. I feel myself swelling beneath his hand, and he rubs and squeezes me, but his eyes never leave the words on my laptop.
He’s still reading my unfinished story when he asks me, “Do you fuck as good as you write?”
“Probably not,” I admit. My stories are fantasies. I know that.
But he shifts his gaze towards me and says, “Are you sure?” Then his hand squeezes me again and I swell a whole fucking inch longer, swear to fucking god.
“Well, I mean, I… .”
“Anyone who write like this,” he says, pushing my laptop back towards me, “has to be an amazing fucker.” He shifts his chair closer to mine, his hand still massaging and stroking my growing hard-on. “You ever try to live out your fantasies?”
He nods. “Make them real? Make them… come true?”
“They’re just stories,” I say.
“Are they?” He squeezes me again and my cock twitches and throbs. “You want to see something cool?”
“Something I can do?”
“I… guess so.”
He smiles and leans back slightly, then he shifts his gaze down to his chest and my eyes follow. I hear him kind of sigh or groan or something in-between the two, a sound of pleasure that comes from deep inside him, and then he takes a breath and… no, he’s not taking a breath.
His chest is swelling. I can see it clearly. I can watch it happen. His chest is growing bigger as he just sits there, the two already massive hemispheres of muscle are expanding wider and thicker, his nipples moving farther from each other and pushed downwards under the swelling shelf of expanding strength.
He lifts the hand that’s not still massaging my dick under the table and moves it over the swelling globes of power. He sighs again and closes his eyes and stretches his neck as he caresses the expanding muscle, gently loving the growth and teasing his nipples as they move under the tight cloth of his shirt. “Watch this.”
He starts to play with his nipple, rubbing and pinching it, and the growth takes off! I mean, holy fuck! Now the muscle is swelling so fast that no one could possibly miss that this is actually happening. He inhales deeply and sighs and his chest is inflating with power, swelling so big it looks more like he’s got tits attached to him, but it’s his pecs, solid and muscular and fucking amazing.
He teases and tortures his nipples, moving his fingers from one to the other, until his chest is so big it swells forward like two bowling balls on his chest, huge fat globes of swollen, beautiful muscle!
Then it stops. He’s massive! At least… his chest is. It’s now an outsized swollen display of awesome power, thick bands of brawn extending across each fat globe and he opens his eyes and lifts his chin and looks at me, his free hand continuing to lovingly caress himself and his newly developed muscle tits. “Well?”
“Did you like that?” I nod. Of course I liked that! “Wanna see more?” I nod again.
He settles back, the two newly grown mounds of his chest pushing forward several inches now, and he looks downward again and this time he bends his arm to make his biceps more prominent. Then he looks up smiles at me, his eyes now focused on my face and my mesmerized expression, and I notice that his upper arm is now swelling, too. “Watch,” he whispers.
Fuck! Fuck! How is this happening? Who is this god? The vein that crosses over his already impressive biceps starts to throb and swell and then the muscles are expanding under his skin. I can see the actual fibers of strength multiplying and he… does whatever it is he’s capable of doing and causes his upper arms to grow larger and larger.
This is actually happening! This is for real? This dude can make himself grow!
His other arm is doing it too, and as I look at each growing collection of brawn he grips my dick under the table and strokes me and squeezes me and I’m growing painfully hard, now.
It’s like watching balloons inflate, but balloons made of muscle. They’re just growing! He flexes his free arm and the growth accelerates dramatically! “Bigger?” he asks. I can only nod mutely. I’ve forgotten where we are or what time it is. My eyes are glued on this dude’s swelling biceps as they expand with strength and power, adding inches onto each arm.
“Hmm,” he says, looking down. “Kind of getting out of balance, huh?” I look at his face and he’s smiling. “Guess I have to do something about that.”
I’m looking at his face and then I realize that his head is… rising. He’s growing taller! Holy fuck! And suddenly… everything is growing bigger! His shoulders are widening and rising, his neck is getting thicker, he’s now using his talented hand under the table to undo my pants, to unzip my fly and push his fingers inside my boxers and extract my cock and he’s stroking me and squeezing me and rubbing me as my unbelieving eyes sit there in this coffee shop and watch this strange handsome man growing bigger and bigger.
I can hear his clothes starting to tear. I look for signs of him hulking out and the seams at his shoulders are pulling themselves apart, and his sleeves’ grip on his upper arms is beginning to indent the muscle. He watched me watching him and shifts his gaze to his sleeves and then he says, “Huh,” and he flexes and rips clean through them. “Time for a new shirt, I guess,” he says. “Funny how that keeps happening.”
“How… ?” is all I can manage to ask, looking at his handsome face.
“Does it matter? Maybe I took a wonder drug and it worked too well. Maybe I opened up an ancient box, or I inhaled some weird mushroom spores. Maybe I’m part of an experiment, like Captain America. Maybe I met some aliens from outer space and their idea of a good time is manipulating human anatomy. Maybe I was born this way, and it’s just something I can do for interested parties.” He smiled that fucking handsome smile. “Like you.”
“Magic,” he answered, mysteriously. I must have looked skeptical. “Don’t you believe in magic?”
“Not until now,” I tell him. “Can you… ?”
“Can I what?” His hand strokes me under the table and his thumb roughly rubs over the weeping mouth of my prick, gathering my pre on his skin and rubbing it all over the head. I tense involuntarily and he tells me, “Relax. Enjoy it. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Want it to feel even better?” He’s still slowly growing. I hear his shirt tearing across his widening back and under his arms. His head continues to slowly rise higher and higher as his whole body gains inches in height. The chair under him groans as his weight increases, as he keeps adding pounds of heavy, hard muscle to his frame.
“Yes,” I say, barely capable of speech.
His hand around my hard-on tightens and something else happens, something inside me, something deep and intense. It feels like his hand is hot, at first, and then my whole cock is tingling and throbbing and a sudden, hard eruption of pure sexual bliss shakes my whole body. It starts there where he’s holding me, but it spreads like fire, pushing itself inside me and exploding like a volcano.
I gasp! I swoon! I suddenly inhale and my heart is thudding and my balls are on fire and I feel like I’m cumming, I feel like I’m pumping a fat load of cream all over his hand and the underside of the table and all over the floor but there is no cum, there is no explosion, it’s only the sensation of orgasm that shakes me.
I look at him in awe and wonder and he smiles back at me, saying, “Yeah, dude, so fucking hot. You’re amazing, dude. I knew you would be.” He strokes me slowly, moving his grip along my dick, and asks, “More?”
A fresh explosion of raw sex fills me up again.
He leaned in close. Heat was pouring off his body, fueled by his growth. His scent was strong and pungent, like a fog of sex that surrounded us. “I want to fuck you,” he told me. “I want to fuck you bigger. I want to fuck you as we both swell with muscle and power.” He leaned back and sent another huge shockwave of pure bliss through my dick. “Wanna fuck?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, because I did.
He took his hand from my dick and set his grip to his shirt and fucking tore it off his body like paper. I gasped again, seeing now his naked torso and the insane muscular definition and size he was still packing onto his frame. Now I could see it all happening for real, not just under that poor tiny shirt.
Muscle was still swelling everywhere. He had a hairy chest and huge pink nipples and his scent was now even stronger, nearly overwhelming. He leaned towards me and I knew he was going to kiss me. He put his hand behind my neck—I could feel his hand growing!—and he pulled my mouth to his with hunger and pushed his lips against mine. His mouth was hot and wet and his tongue was long and talented, and he pushed himself against me and nearly fucked my mouth with his tongue.
There were more ripping sounds now, and I realized his growth had accelerated and he was swelling out of his jeans. He was shredding them to pieces and growing at a phenomenal rate, adding inches to his height and pounds to his muscle.
He pulled his mouth from mine and stood up, naked now, and still growing. Fuck, his cock was huge! It was a heavy, thick stalk of sex hanging probably a foot long and growing like the rest of his body. He had gained at least a foot in height and dozens of pounds of raw, rock hard muscle and he was still going.
I looked up at him and at that magnificent and massive shank of sex that was only going to get bigger and my heart flipped in my chest. That thing would tear my ass apart! No way was that going to fit!
But he set his hand behind my head again and started pulling my face towards his crotch. I looked up at him, at that handsome smiling face, and he read my expression of desire mixed with fear. “If you want me to fuck you,” he said, “my advice is to lock your lips on my cock and suck it until I start pumping cum down your throat.” His hand on my head rubbed my scalp with a kind of tenderness. “You want to feel this big cock inside you? You want to feel the hot wet sensation of my huge load filling up your guts?” I nodded. “Then start sucking, dude.”
I looked at his cock as it throbbed to erection in front of me. It was gorgeous and huge, and I leaned in and kissed it. He was hot and hard and I could feel it swelling against my mouth. So before it grew even bigger, I grabbed his cock and opened my mouth and swallowed as much as I could manage.
He filled up my mouth. I licked and sucked and gagged on him and he started shifting his hips and pushing himself down my throat. “Breathe through your nose,” he advised. “Swallow it. Swallow every drop.”
My eyes were watering and I tried not to gag on him. I could feel him growing inside my mouth, forcing my jaw wider as he nudged the spongey head against the back of my throat. “That’s it,” he said, gently. Then, “here it comes.”
A huge explosion of warm wetness shot down my throat and I began swallowing like he told me too. It felt like he was releasing a non-stop fountain of cum inside me, so much cream that it squirted from the corners of my mouth and dripped onto my chest and he kept coming and coming and coming.
I started feeling full, like my belly was going to start extending just to manage everything he was delivering.
And then another feeling started. Like a stiffness in my arms and legs, and a heat in my chest and belly. It was sudden and overwhelming and irresistible. I was afraid for a minute and then fear was replaced with lust. With desire. With hunger. As quickly as it started, I was just as quickly overtaken with an insatiable hunger for his cum. I wanted more of it. I wanted all of it.
I grabbed his swelling dick in both hands and urged him on, stroking and sucking and closing my eyes as this feeling of emptiness overtook everything else. I needed his cum, it was everything to me, and I couldn’t get enough of it.
He started slowly fucking my face and I felt his dick as it moved in and out of my throat, but with every inward stroke he was pushing in deeper and deeper as his cock extended. We got into a rhythm with an ease and naturalism that would have shocked me—the feeling that we belonged together, that we fit—had it not been for that hunger that overwhelmed everything else.
I drank his cum like a parched man in the desert. It was delicious and powerful. I don’t even know how long I was swallowing his seemingly unending load when I realized that I was now growing as well.
Nothing else mattered but this. Nothing and no one. Were we still in a coffee shop? Didn’t anyone care that this naked man, growing bigger by the minute, had pushed his hard cock inside me and I was gulping down cum like a starving man? Even if they did care, I didn’t.
So I drank and drank and drank, feeling like I would never get enough of his powerful cum, and I reached around and grabbed his ass and pulled him into me, feeling his swelling prick growing thicker and longer inside me.
“Yes,” he moaned. “Yeah, feels so good, doesn’t it? Feels better than almost anything.”
I couldn’t answer him, of course, but he was right. Nothing ever felt like this did. I always loved sucking on a big dick, but this was much more than that. This was heaven. This was nirvana. This was so much more than a blowjob it was on another level.
And when I say nothing else mattered, I mean that sincerely. Nothing did except him and me and this. I wasn’t wondering how it was happening or why or where he came from or how he did what he did, it was all too overwhelming. Someone could’ve dropped a fucking bomb and I wouldn’t have stopped. It all felt too fucking good.
At some point—minutes? Hours? Weeks?—he stopped pumping his magic load inside me and he grasped my head in his strong, large hands and pulled himself out of my throat. I didn’t want him to and I sucked on him as I felt his cock leave me, still wanting to swallow every single drop.
“Stand up,” he said. I looked up and his head was brushing the ceiling. His chest was still huge and jutted out from his body but the rest of him had caught up so it didn’t look so outsized anymore. His belly was a cobblestone street and he shoulders were like mountains, even from below. His dick was still hard, even after pumping that load inside me, and slick and wet with my spit.
I stood up, feeling dizzy and high, and looked him in the eye.
We were the same height!
I looked down. I had been transformed, totally and utterly. Everything looked so small and my clothes were now lying in tattered shreds around my feet. We were both naked and we were both hard and we were both gods. “Holy fuck,” I said.
“In a manner of speaking,” he agreed. One of his hands reached down to my butt and squeezed, while the other circled around my muscled neck and pulled our mouths together again. He pushed his tongue inside and tasted his cum in my mouth, kissing me with a passion and desire I could feel on the Richter scale. His fingers were working their way between the muscular mounds of my newly-developed ass and he was nudging and teasing and rubbing the lips of my hole.
He pulled his lips from my mouth and we looked at each other. I was so in love with him that I felt like I was going to explode.
“Now,” he said, “about that fuck.”
“Sure,” I answered, “but who’s fucking who?”