The master

By Also Known As 
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• Latest update: 22 February. Next update: 7 March. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest from BRK: “The elevator ride”; “Shadow and flame”, Parts 6‑7.

 

As I usually create chapters-long rambling messes that rarely have an ending, I’ve decided to make this one a one-off that I won’t expand beyond this.


“Well, down the hatch!”

I drank the thick, bitter liquid in one gulp, hoping to avoid tasting the brew on my tongue. It burned on my throat and down my gullet all the way to my belly, where its heat grew ever stronger as the minutes passed. “How quickly does it work?”

The immense man before me, all muscle and six-and-a-half feet tall, grinned as he crossed his meaty and impressive arms across his gargantuan chest. I wondered if his nipples felt the thick fur that lined his limbs through the thin t-shirt he wore which left nothing at all to the imagination as to his true dimensions. The seams were practically ripping apart as the massive mountains shifted beneath.

“You’ll feel it beginning already. It starts here,” he said, lowering his grip and grabbing hold of his ample basket. The bulge in his pants stretched the denim tight, the buttons of his fly peeking from beneath their fabric shield, ready to burst with the load. “Then it works its way out,” he rumbled, grinning, “and up.”

He raised his arm and the collection of brawn there swelled into power, making the skin grow thin and shiny against the mass of muscle and network of thick veins. His shoulder arched high and the shirt was starting to lose its battle, a thin tear appearing at his hairy pit.

I thought about how I had ended up here, now, standing before this behemoth, this monument to masculine beauty and power, about to join him in his male perfection. What I had promised, what I had given up, and what I had been given in exchange. Every dream comes with a cost, it’s simply a matter of deciding if the cost is too high.

And for this, I was willing to give until it hurt.

My mind snapped back to the issue at hand, because suddenly I could feel it, just like he said, in my groin. A heat and a thickness and a feeling of weight that seemed to envelop my cock and balls. It felt as though they were swelling, my nuts dropping lower in their hairy sack, pushing against each other for space. My dick started to throb and fatten, swell and expand by the inch. I could feel the head blossom, the shaft lengthen, the whole of my equipment was changing suddenly, growing bigger with each pulse of blood.

It felt amazing, like my masculine essence was swelling along with my dick.

“Fuck,” I said softly, feeling suddenly very horny, and I had to reach inside my jeans and adjust myself. My cock felt hot, moist, firm, and it seemed to swell at my touch, sending a quick rush of sexual excitement through me. I wanted to whip it out and show it to him, to rub my thumb over the tip and squeeze out a food of precum, slickening up the helmet as it grew hard and red and shiny.

His smile broadened. His cock, I could see, was swelling in harmony with mine as my growth began to take off, and his own excitement grew as well. He licked his lips and one of his broad, rough fingers brushed across his chest as he started to tease his nipple to erection. I sucked a cooling breath into my lungs and my chest did not seem to shrink back down. The breath inflated my body, or so it seemed to me at the time.

I was starting to sweat as the heat grew stronger everywhere. The feeling of my muscles developing and my body expanding to allow for that growth began to manifest as a sort of heavy pressure, as if I was being pumped up from inside like a balloon—which wasn’t far from the truth. The silence in the room was broken only by my breathing and the subtle sound of my clothing stretching to accommodate my new musculature.

“Now you’re feeling it,” he said, his deep baritone soaked with erotic power.

And it was true. I was feeling it. God, my cock hurt. It wanted out badly, wanted to be free of its cage. It pushed and growled and swelled with power, fatter and longer by the second. My balls ached, too. Swollen, growing fatter, only beginning their ultimate metamorphosis. I looked down and could see my groin swelling, the crotch of my jeans pushing forward. I noticed the hem of my shirt slowly moving upward, separating itself from the waist of my jeans. I gulped into a dry throat and raised my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh.

The movement brought my right arm into view, and I saw that the bicep was noticeably larger, with one fat vein across its length. I stared at my upper arm as I grew larger and stronger, my muscle there a reflection of what was happening everywhere under my clothing.

The muscle pushed higher under the skin, every fiber clearly delineated. The whole of my arm was broadening by inches as I watched it. I felt a tightness across my chest and back as my shirt struggled to hold itself together. How much larger was I now? How much taller? How much heavier? How much stronger?

“Should have worn a larger shirt,” I heard him say. There was humor in his words and I looked at him, met his eyes, watched as my height approached his. He stood no more than two feet away, he was all muscle and sex and furry masculine power. His skin was ruddy, his blue eyes clear, his lips full and inviting.

I huffed out a laugh. “I guess so,” I said, and felt my voice rumble in my chest. My vocal cords stretched along with everything else, dropping my voice an octave or two already. Would my tones be as deep and erotic as his? Or even more so?

The collar was growing uncomfortable and I reached up to pull it out, stretch it a bit, and the shoulder split wide open as I did so. The rip seemed loud in the room, and surprised me. My cock pulsed and shoved hard against my jeans, thrilled at the power in that small action. It was still growing, and so was I.

“Shit, man,” he said, “looks like you’re gonna surpass me.” I looked at him and realized it was true. I was looking down at him now. I smiled and felt a surge of power through me, and I flexed my pecs involuntarily and could see my chest expand outward.

Bigger still. Saturated with masculine power. Broader. Stronger. Sexier than fuck.

I reached up and put my hands to my collar. The sleeves split, the other shoulder ripped wide, and I grabbed the cotton and pulled it apart.

He gasped. It sounded odd and unnatural, a man that strong and beautiful gasping like a teenage girl.

My cock hurt. My balls ached. The seams on my jeans began to separate, the muscles of my legs shoving them apart. I dropped the remnants of my shirt to the ground and posed for him, deliberately taunting him now as he had done to me only moments before.

Still growing. When would I stop? How big could I get?


I had to be at least 6’ 9” now, heading toward seven feet of manly brawn. My body was expanding now at a steady, amazing rate. Every muscle developing, my skin drawn tight and perfect across its dimensions. Something popped or snapped, my joints maybe, or my bones. Something adjusted itself to allow for more muscle, more height and width and weight. I repositioned my feet to make room for my thighs. The seams finally gave way on my upper legs and the bulging masses of muscle there, like fat wedges fighting for room, shoved through and forced the ripped holes wider.

“Fuck,” he said. I looked up at him, drawn away from watching myself grow, and realized how much larger I was than him, now. He reached out toward me, placing his hand on my left pectoral, his thumb reaching to pluck at the fat tip of my nipple. His fingers reached into the deepening forest of curls that grew across my chest and his touch there shook me, the playful rub at my nipple causing an electric shock of erotic bliss rocket south to my crotch and suddenly my cock would stand no more of its cage and it finally managed to literally rip it sway from my jeans, spilling forward and arching upward, ten glorious fat inches of prick that was still swelling.

I looked down at my cock and thrilled at its size and girth. It responded by swelling with sudden growth, the surface snaking with veins. God, it was beautiful, and huge. I pulled my pants open with my hands and let my balls out, pulling them from the sweaty dank musk of my crotch into the open.

No one else had a cock and a set of balls like mine. No one in the world. Perfect, fat, long, thick, with a pair of low-hangers that would put a horse to shame.

His hand moved off my chest to my dick and when he grabbed me, hard, it seemed to shake something loose and I growled like an animal as everything on my body swelled another size larger.

“Yeah,” I moaned. “Fuck, yeah.” My voice was an earth tremor, deep and powerful.

Seven feet high. Still growing.

He dropped to his knees before me and leaned forward, kissing the glistening tip of my majestic prick. He roughly grabbed the base, unable to encompass me entirely in his fist, and licked the shaft up to the head before sucking the head into his hot, wet mouth.

Oh, God, he felt so good. He sucked on my cock as I grew, perhaps realizing I might soon be too big to fit into his mouth. My dick was coated with his spit and my precum, a drizzling coat of natural lube he used to good advantage.

My whole body shook with erotic delight as he stroked and sucked my growing cock. I tensed my muscles and they bulged into relief across my frame, shredded to the max. Every muscle, muscle on muscle, bulging and flexing.

This was what I had wanted, all I had ever wanted. To be huge. Muscular beyond belief. Stronger than anyone. Practically dripping testosterone and masculinity from every inch of my perfectly developed, super-sexualized body.

He was sucking the cum from my balls. I could feel my load building in my balls, actually feel my flood of cum swelling and wanted release. Like the rest of me, it was growing bigger and bigger and he wanted it.

I tightened my asshole against cumming too soon and ending his devotional worshiping. Both his hands worked the shaft as his expert mouth and tongue worked all over my swollen plum-sized head. I wanted to shove my river of cum up the thick inches and flood his guts with my cum.

He moaned in delight and lust and our eyes me. I looked down at him over the bulging masses of my chest and abs, every massive muscle shaded with the dark fur that crawled between them. My cock was twelve or thirteen inches now, and every squeeze of his fists made me harder. I was made of molten steel, covered with silky skin and damp, musky curls.

“You want me to cum in your mouth,” I asked, my voice like thunder, “or you want me to fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked with a fourteen-inch cock?”

He was tearing his clothes off his gorgeous body—the one I had been willing to worship only minutes ago, but which now seemed small to me—and I grabbed him roughly and spun him around. My cock was dripping wet, so I simply spit into my hand to open him up for me.

Would I even fit inside him? Would I split him wide open? Was I even done growing?

His ass opened to my touch and I got a whiff of him. He smelled like sex. His own cock, a nine-incher, was arched and hard and his balls hung down in their hairy sack, churning with his own load.

I pushed my cockhead against his hole. My cock was so hot that his ass felt cool against me. I pried his hole open with my hands and started to shove myself into him, slowly at first. He tensed against me, and it made me want him more. My load hurt, it wanted out, and every touch on my cock made it build thicker in my balls. Inch by inch I worked my fat prick inside his hot hole. His muscled back arched and flexed and I heard him groan and felt his body shudder against me.

I slowly worked my way out and shoved in deeper. I flexed my cock inside him and he moaned, “Fuck me, oh God, fuck me hard.”

I grinned. Did he know hat he asked? I was barely into him. Maybe five or six inches. Not even the thickest part of me. I was still getting bigger. I could see my cock growing, the shaft widening as it thickened. I pushed another three inches into him.

“Oh, God, yes,” he whispered, and he pushed his ass against me, pulling my prick deeper into him. I started to slowly fuck him, every thrust moving in deeper until I got the rhythm going and felt the thrill of orgasm building to release.

I enveloped his body with mine, leaning down over him, wrapping him in my muscled arms as I finally came. I shoved in all the way and felt the flood of my load washing into his guts, surrounding my fat prick and gushing out of his ass. I fucked him as I came, and I kept on cumming and cumming and fucking and fucking.

He kept shoving against me as I pushed into him. Fourteen inches of fat prick fountaining a stream of hot, sticky cream and I was driven over the edge. My new body was capable of so much perfect physical bliss but my mind hadn’t caught up to that reality. I pulled free and emptied more cum over his back. He spun and caught my spouting cock in his mouth and sucked more of my load inside his body, with his ass already dripping with cum.

I kept cumming. I kept growing. His eyes showed me my beauty, my unsurpassed masculine perfection. I could see what I had become from the worship in his gaze.

How big was I now? When would this end?

Somehow I kept unloading into him until his belly was swollen with it and I still came. I pulled myself from his greedy mouth and splashed more of my load all over his muscled chest and stomach. I shoved shot after thick shot from my mammoth cock, holding myself in both hands, until at last the first load from my new body was finished and dripping off him like frosting off a cinnamon bun.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, holding my cock as it slowly grew limp. It remained fat and long in my hand and hung along my muscled thighs nearly to my knees.

I straightened my new body and closed my eyes. Was I still growing? Was I getting even stronger, more powerful yet?

I couldn’t tell. Everything was buzzing as if electrified. I felt heavy and strong and massive beyond any dream I had possessed. I reached up to cup my pec in my hand to see if it was swelling, still. I wondered if I could tell, if both my hand and my chest was still growing, could I still tell?

I heard a door open and I looked toward the sound. “Hello,” I said. My voice kept surprising me. I suppose I would get used to its timbre in time and with use. But it sounded absurdly deep. “Am I done?”

“Interesting way of putting it,” the man said. “As if we’ve been cooking you.”

“And are you satisfied with your dish?” I straightened to my full height, towering over the man, and lifted my arms and spread my legs and struck a muscular pose. My body felt tight and hard as rock as every muscle swelled massively. I was a God.

“Very.” I felt his touch running along my muscles. He inspected me as if searching for imperfections, like I was something he was going to buy.

Even though he already owned me.

“Excellent. Simply amazing.” He stood before me once again, gazing at my spent load all over the other man and the floor of the room. “Do you think you’ll be able to repeat this performance?”

I grinned. “I’m sure of it.”

He grinned back. “Welcome to the stable.”

My new body. My new life. I gazed down at this new body, at the swollen muscles and hypersensitive skin and my huge cock and the balls capable of producing a flood of cum over and over and over. I stood nearly eight feet tall. I would look like this for years and years to come. And I would have sex with thousands of men. All I had to give up was everything.

“Thank you, Master.”


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