I PROMISE that I'll be posting more nut bursting fiction here soon, but thought some of you might enjoy a tale of pure muscular power. :)
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A Big Day
Based on a Muscle Growth Fantasy story by an unknown author
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The Next Big Thing
"Lookin' BIG, Hunk!"
Hank "Hunk" Harris was big. Hell, he was fucking HUGE! At just 5'9", he weighed a monstrous 328 pounds of pure muscle, the result of years of incredibly heavy and intense bodybuilding. The handsome dark-haired stud had been training 7 days a week for half of his young life, and his efforts clearly showed. He was gifted with extraordinary genetics, abnormal strength, and a body that seemed immune to any sticking point in growth. Now at a mere 20 years old, he outsized and outclassed everyone at his gym...and likely just about every professional bodybuilder in the whole country!
“Thanks man! Up to 26 inches now,” Hank said to his admirer, raising his massive right arm and contracting its colossal bicep. It rolled up to about the size of a honeydew melon. As it peaked, a web of veins writhed and bulged just beneath the smooth skin. His other arm lay muscle bound on his impossibly wide and thick lat. The rubbery slabs of relaxed muscle rubbed over each other, while the thin skin between them seemed stuck together.
Last year, Hank had competed in his first national contest. He had to drop a lot of weight to get cut, too much weight in the end. He had expected to come in ripped at 255 pounds, but he had to drop all the way down to a ‘measly’ 230. Dropping 85 pounds (from a thick and beefy 325 down to a lean 230) cost him a lot of muscle mass and the contest. Though he placed third in his weight class, and created a huge buzz about his future potential, Hunk was extremely disappointed. He promised himself he wouldn't do that to himself again.
Hunk dropped his mighty arm to his side. He moved over to the free-weight rack, his upper body twisting one way, his lower body the other. Under his t-shirt, huge thunderous pecs bounced about, stretching and pulling the cotton mercilessly, while his lean and muscular 8-pack of abs rippled and bulged clearly through the thin material.
After the contest, Hunk decided he wouldn't gain back the weight all at once. He'd bulk back up slowly for quality muscle. A couple of pounds a week, that's all. No junk food, no empty calories. This would be the year of dedication. As a result, his body fat had not exceeded 4% at any point since the contest a year ago, and his extraordinary physique was always in peak contest condition, each and every massive muscle swollen beyond belief, freakishly defined, and mercilessly ripped.
And now, a year later, he’d not only regained the 85 pounds he’d lost prior to the competition, he’d managed to pack on a couple more pounds, and was still growing!
Hank wrapped his thick fingers around a 150-pound dumbbell. Even his hands were freaky. The meat around his thumb alone was as big as a racquetball, while his thick palm flared out in a semi-circle from his fist to his pinky. He clawed the other 150 pounder and took two quick steps back, then looked in the mirror.
It had been hard to control his post-contest appetite at first. Even though he was steadily gaining weight and putting on a pound of top quality muscle mass every two or three days, he always felt hungry. "When are we going to see the old Hunk, Hank?" the gym rats would tease him. "He's comin'!" he'd shout back.
Up... Down. Up... Down. Gritting his teeth, Hank curled one massive dumbbell, then the other. Slowly he'd move it up, then the weight of it would try to jerk his arm down. He fought gravity every step of the way before repeating the process with the other arm. The arteries in his massively muscular neck bulged like two thick marine ropes.
His training schedule was insane. He'd get to the gym at 5 a.m. and work lower body for a couple of hours. Then he'd come back around noon and do his pull routine - bis and back. In the evening he'd finish up with his push routine - chest, tris, and shoulders. Every day. No day off. For anyone else, training without a break would be counterproductive, but Hank’s body responded to the relentless beating by continually growing larger and thicker and stronger, apparently healing and growing in a few hours where it normally took others several days to adequately recover.
Exhausted for the moment, he dropped the weights to the floor and threw his handsome head back. He massaged his biceps to let the blood race in.
"Lookin' BIG Hunk!"
"37 inches," Hank pointed his foot out and smiled broadly as he contracted the enormous quad.
"Holy SHIT!!! You could grate cheese on those striations!"
"Thanks man!” Hank replied with a smile and a wave. He straightened up, flapping his massive arms to rest comfortably on his huge lats. He inhaled deeply as he looked in the mirror, inspecting his unreal body.
Slow, steady gaining had been a great strategy. He'd brought his body fat under 2% while growing to his biggest size ever. His shoulders spread almost three times the width of his narrow, muscular waist. Hell, his ARMS were almost as big as his waist. His relatively tiny joints made him look almost impossibly built - imagine 22-inch forearms tapering to 7-inch wrists, 23-inch calves to 11-inch ankles. The young man was built like a true muscle god, a super hero come to life.
The gym rat hadn't walked away. "Hey Hunk, have you talked to that Monster Mass distributor?"
"Monster Mass?” Hunk turned his head back to the guy, the cables of his thick neck bulging as he twisted to face the man. "Never heard of it."
"They're looking for bodybuilders, the biggest guys they can find, to test out some new supplement they've come up with."
Hunk looked back in the mirror, inflating his chest even larger. "Everybody's got a new supplement. I’ve never used any. Never needed to. I've got genetics.” He crunched his arms together in a truly spectacular most muscular pose.
The gym rat had to swallow a couple of times before saying, “You should check it out man. You’re just the kind of guy they’re looking for. Besides, they'd probably pay you.”
Hunk thought about that for a moment, and realized it couldn’t hurt to call. Heaven knew that he spent a small fortune each month on the food needed to fuel his extraordinary physique, so an added source of income sure couldn’t hurt…
The Call
"Monster Mass Inc.," the voice said over the cell phone.
A deep and resonant voice said, "I heard you're looking for bodybuilders to try out a new product."
"Let me connect you to John Paglio,” the voice said shortly.
Music faded in and out of the phone for a few minutes. Hunk was about to hang up.
"Paglio."
"I heard you’re looking for bodybuilders to try out a new product."
"Yes we are." He was chewing on something. "We've got this new amino acid bar that generates deeper and longer pumps. We'd like to get some testimonials for our new ads. Have I heard of you?"
"Maybe. I competed for the first time about a year ago, and am getting ready for my second show. You may not have heard of me, but I'm huge."
"Define huge."
"5’9” tall, 330 pounds, 26-inch bis, 65-inch chest, but my waist is only 30."
"You’re puttin' me on."
"No, I'm a monster.” Hank chuckled.
"Well, we like monsters." Paglio said, brushing it off. "Why don't you come down to our offices on La Cienega for a visit."
The Visit
"Hank Harris is here to see you," the receptionist said through the intercom.
Hunk looked around the office. He really hadn't heard of Monster Mass before this, but from the pictures on the wall it looked like some pretty massive guys endorsed their products. Familiar faces of the big boys of bodybuilding smiled back at him from the varied photos. Boy, it would be awesome to get some kind of sponsorship out of this.
"Jesus, you're for real! And you’re exactly the kind of guy we’re looking for," Paglio said as he entered the room, his eyes open wide to look the stunningly handsome young muscle god up and down. "I'm John Paglio," he said, offering a handshake. John watched in awe as his hand was engulfed by the shorter man’s massive paw, and for a moment he went weak in the knees at the electric touch of the huge stud.
"Hank. Nice to meet you."
John quickly recovered his composure, and remembered that he was carrying a plain corrugated box under his other arm. "Here it is.” He held out the box to Hank. "We don't know what we're going to call the product in the market yet, so were just calling them X-pumps right now."
"X-Pumps?"
"Don't like that name, do you? I don't either."
"No, I mean what do I do with it."
"Oh, sorry, open up the box.” Hunk did. "They're just like protein bars. Eat them before or during a workout."
"Hmph," Hunk nodded.
"So… give `em a try and let me know what you think. It was nice meeting you."
"OK."
They shook hands again. That was it.
The Big Day
Hunk went back to the gym for his noon workout. As usual, he paid little to no attention to the rubber neckers as he dressed in the locker room. He seemed to get more attention here than anywhere else, as the other men openly gawked at Hunk’s naked physique, revealed in all of its glory. Many men also ended up staring at Hank’s crotch, for the huge muscle man was also genetically blessed when it came to his sexual endowment. His flaccid cock hung down long and frighteningly thick, at least 9 inches in length even in its most shrunken state and dangling halfway to his knees. The massive, foreskin-covered cock head was nearly the size of an apple, and looked like a wrecking ball hanging at the end of a baseball bat. Hunk’s gargantuan balls were equally as impressive as his cock, two massive lumps of man meat the size of a normal man’s fist that hung impossibly low in their thick, hairy scrotum, which had no doubt been stretched to its great length by the awesome weight of the two orbs encased within. Even with the size of Hank’s massive, muscular physique, his enormous cock and balls looked monstrous and freakishly outsized.
"Lookin' BIG Hunk!"
Hunk just nodded as he struggled to get his tank top over his chest. He thought about the meeting earlier that morning. Frankly, it had been a little disappointing. He thought that there would be more to the product, or at least talk of a potential endorsement. Hank pulled on his oversized jock and his gym shorts, put on his shoes, and then reached in his bag and got out one of the bars. He then exited sideways through the locker room door and out onto the gym floor.
As he stood by the lat pull down bar, Hank tore open the plain white wrapper and took a bite. Not bad, he thought, but a little sweet. In a couple of bites he finished it. That left him thirsty. He made his way over the fountain and drank. And drank. And drank! MAN, he was suddenly very thirsty. He stopped for a breath and then drank some more. The line behind him was getting long, but no one was going to say anything to a guy that large.
He walked back to the lat machine, his body an image of both extraordinary power and almost supernatural male beauty. Heedless of the effect his presence had on those around him, Hank reached up for the bar and plunked down on the seat in the same motion. Stretch, squeeze… stretch, squeeze. He counted in his head… 10, 11, 12. He was getting a HELL of a good pump.
After three sets, he was thirsty again. He stood up and threw his arms back, but his mighty lats obstructed them. He took a deep breath as he lifted his huge arms behind his head. He slowly lowered them to his side. They landed and spread out on his pumped and engorged lats, stuck at 45 degrees.
"Lookin' HUGE Hunk!"
Hunk smiled, put his fists on his obliques, and stretched out a front lat spread. RIIIIPPP!! He let the pose go immediately. What was going on here? The shirt was tight, but not THAT tight. He still needed some water, so he worked his way over to the fountain. He had never felt a pump like this before. He bent over the fountain and drank for what must have been close to two minutes, barely slacking his thirst.
Hunk lumbered back the weights. His back felt like it had thickened and tightened after just that one set. He heard the tank top slowly rip down his back as he walked back to the weights. His body felt uncomfortable, like it was wrapped in plastic wrap.
Time for biceps. And time for another one of those X-pump bars.
The 150 pounders felt good in his hand, and he felt like he had more control over the weight than usual. He carried them to stand on a mat near the fountain so he could drink between sets. As he began to curl the massive weights, his biceps swelled quickly, bulging to even more freakishly huge dimensions than Hank had ever seen before.
"Lookin' fuckin’ ENORMOUS Hunk!!"
"Thanks! Hey, do me a favor, dude, and get me a tape measure.”
The onlooker's mouth dropped. He was a just a smallish college student who worked the front desk to help pay his way through school, a young and handsome blond kid who was probably all of 5’8” and 160 pounds. And he was stunned that a guy as massive and as masculine as Hunk would even be talking to a little guy like him. "W-where?" he stammered.
"Check the office.” The kid scurried away.
Hank rubbed one of his biceps. It was hard. Rock hard. He couldn't massage it like he usually did. It was flushed pink with blood and the veins were throbbing.
"Here it is." The young kid was back.
"Thanks man. I need you to measure this for me.” He raised one of his giant arms and tried to contract it, but it wouldn't go past 90 degrees. The kid stared blankly at the massive thing with the tape in his hands. "Go ahead,” Hank chuckled with a disarming smile on his handsome face. “It's not going to bite you.”
That snapped the kid out of it. With trembling hands, he wrapped the cloth tape over Hank’s massive, cannonball arm.
"Over the peak. Over the peak.” Hunk's face strained as he tried to hold it. "What does it say?"
“28!"
“Wow!! Thanks man.” Hunk stared at the big thing, now two inches bigger than it was at yesterday’s maximum pump. He could even see some fresh stretch marks, particularly near the double peak of the huge muscles.
"No problem.” The obviously frazzled and furiously blushing kid started to walk away.
"Hey can you hang for a few minutes? I want to see how fat these'll get."
"Sure," the lad said with some surprise and a great deal of eagerness, his blue eyes lighting up at the prospect of helping out the gym’s resident Alpha Male.
Hunk swallowed a third bar and gulped down some more water. He clenched the cable pushdown bar. He hadn't worked bis together with tris for a year, but now he wanted to see what he could do. Push… Release. Push… Release. The plates clanked together. The kid sat on a bench and gawked at Hunk's swelling arms. 15 minutes. He pumped for 15 straight minutes, non-stop, using heavier and heavier weights, finally maxing out the weight stack and still feeling like he could press more.
Hunk finally let the bar go with a loud BANG!! "OK lets have a look.” His arms swung freely from his shoulder, seemingly paralyzed at the elbow. But he poked out his lower lip and managed to raise one up. The tape was thrown over it. The kid pinched it together at the bottom.
"What's it say G?” The kid was quiet, and he checked the tape for slack. “C’mon kid, what’s it say?"
The kid stammered, "31 inches..."
Hank’s thick brows shot up at the number, and he examined his arm, trying to see the swollen tricep hanging massive and meaty on the bottom side.
"You want to do the other one?" the kid asked with anticipation.
"Sure, what the fuck!”
He raised the other arm now. It actually felt even tighter than the first one. Even more blood must have rushed in while he was having the first one measured. The kid placed both of his hands on the swollen mass of arm muscle, obviously touching Hank more than he had to in order to take the measurement, but Hank didn’t mind - he was used to attention like that.
"This one is 31 and 5/8 inches."
"So much for symmetry," Hunk chuckled. "Hey, what's your name G?"
“K-Kyle,” the cute young guy said with a beaming smile, incredibly flattered that Hank the Hunk had even asked him.
"Thanks Kyle. Thanks a bunch."
Hunk got his cell phone out of his bag to call Paglio. But his frighteningly engorged arms wouldn't let him put his hands together to punch the numbers. "Hey Kyle, would you dial this for me?” The kid took the phone from Hank and punched the numbers as the huge muscle tank called them out. Hunk took back the phone and tried to put it up to his ear. Too pumped. The kid took it back without being asked and held it up to Hunk's ear.
"John, this is Hank Harris, I was at Monster Mass this morning."
"Hello Hunk, what can I do for you."
"Well, I just tested your bars, and damn if they don't work amazingly well! I just pumped my arms up 5 inches!"
"What?!? That’s impossible!! How many bars did you eat?!" asked the incredulous doctor.
"Three, I think."
"Christ, you're not supposed to eat them like that!!!” said the doctor, clearly panicked and worried. “Did you drink any water?"
"Gallons."
"Drink more! And get some food in you! Right away!"
"OK."
"Don’t eat any more X-Punp bars today. And call me first thing in the morning." The doctor then hung up.
Hunk was a little bit scared now. What was IN those bars? Were they dangerous? He headed for the locker room and tried changing back into his street clothes, but his arms were just too big, so he gave up. His shirt had torn to the point of uselessness, so he just ripped the shredded fragments off and walked out of the locker room in just his shorts and shoes. As he headed out of the gym shirtless, attracting more stares than ever before, he smiled and thought to himself, “Screw the diet, I'm fucking hungry.”
The Day After
The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., like it always did. Hank felt groggy, but rested. The extraordinary pump had finally left his arms and back, so they felt right again. He got out of bed and stood nude in front of the mirror, admiring his awesome physique. Good, the distended belly he had the night before from all the water he’d had to drink and the mountain of food he’d guzzled down was washboard flat again. He flexed one of his massive arms. Hmmm. That looks bigger, he thought to himself. A LOT bigger! He spread his legs and did a front double bicep pose. "Hmph.” He took a couple of steps back so he could see his entire body in the mirror and struck the pose again.
"Definitely bigger," he said out loud.
He got a cloth tape measure out of his top dresser drawer and draped it over his arm. Fumbling with the ends, he pulled it taught. 28 inches. Holy shit, his arms had grown two inches in just one day! He could see that he’d had similar growth in his back and lats. Now he couldn't wait to get to the gym. He filled up a couple of empty milk jugs with water and dropped a handful of X-pumps into his bag.
Back at the gym, Hunk crouched underneath the bar of the Smith machine, eight plates on both ends. Up and down… Up and down… He grunted with every rep.
BANG!! Rest for another set.
"Lookin' MASSIVE Hunk!"
Hunk flexed his quad and it jumped violently.
"Oh my GOD! What are you on man?"
Hunk just smiled and showed off the other one.
After an hour of total bombing, Hunk's legs had ballooned. His shorts rode up nearly to his waist. His glutes had bubbled out so big, it looked like he was wearing a thong. His legs were trembling, so he found the end of a bench and slumped down. He threw out one leg, then the other, resting them on the heels of his feet. The bowling ball calves nearly touched the floor. He surveyed his giant-sized mass. Looking up, he spied the kid again.
"Hey G!" He yelled across the floor. "It's tape time again."
The handsome young college kid eagerly hurried over to the office and came out with the tape. He cupped it in his hand, holding it out in front of him like he was carrying water in it. Hunk sat, spread-eagled, waiting.
"I need to see how big these trunks are.” Hunk motioned with his head toward his thigh. The kid wove the tape behind the knee and slid the tape up the leg. "Higher… nothing to get nervous about.” The kid gulped and obliged, crossing the tape at the end of the bench and over the thickest part of Hunk’s columnar thigh, almost painfully aware of how close the back of his hand was to Hank’s bulging crotch.
"What you got?" Hunk asked.
"44 inches. No, wait a minute." The kid was doing math in his head, subtracting the overlap of the tape. “Wait, sorry, that’s 48 inches, not 44."
Hunk was psyched. He leaned back on the bench and grinned. "Thanks Kyle!” Kyle grinned like a puppy, so pleased was he that Hank the Hunk had remembered his name.
A New World
It had been over a year since Hunk had eaten his first X-pump bar, and the results had been spectacular.
In that time, the now 21-year-old Hunk had grown beyond all previous human possibility. He had gained 8 inches in height and was now standing a full 6’5”, with an incredibly strong, sturdy, and broad frame to match. His entire bone structure had grown heavier and thicker to handle the muscle man’s new extraordinary weight, yet he still maintained a terrible and beautiful symmetry and aesthetic, his nearly four-foot-wide cannonball shoulders still tapering down to a relatively tiny, minuscule waist.
It was clear that his body simply HAD to grow in height and width in order to accommodate the almost 200 POUNDS of muscle he had gained that year, averaging close to four pounds of rock hard muscle per week. He'd put two buffet restaurants out of business in the process. Hunk now topped the scales at 516 pounds of cut, chiseled, rippling muscle, making him well over 100 pounds heavier than the next biggest off-season bodybuilder in the professional circuit. That figure was even more impressive considering Hunk had maintained a bodyfat level of under 2%, so this was his competition weight.
It seemed that EVERYTHING about Hank had grown, including his already prodigious endowment. His huge horse cock, which used to hang an awesome 9 inches from his crotch, now stretched the tape measure to over 13 mammoth inches…when fully soft!! There was no doubt that Hank the Hunk’s cock was now the biggest on the planet. Hunk’s balls must have also shared that same distinction, for they were now so huge and bloated as to not even appear human. His two spheres of masculine power now resembled two good-sized melons, and were so heavy that they hung down more than 6 inches from the base of his cock. Hunk had to have jock straps and shorts specially made to accommodate his great genital bulk. And though he felt most comfortable when naked, he had to be careful to not let his gargantuan, low-swinging nuts get trapped between his monstrous thighs, or he could crush those big, beefy, hairy orbs between the iron-hard columns of his gigantic legs.
Hunk had adopted Kyle as his unofficial personal assistant, doing all the things he could no longer do for himself. In a full-blown pump, Hunk couldn't move too well. Work arms, and he couldn’t wipe the sweat off his forehead. Work back, he couldn't reach his belt to tighten it. At these times, the kid had to help him; dressing and undressing, eating and drinking, and just about everything else. Kyle even sewed Hank’s tank top together out of three T-shirts he picked up at Venice Beach. Three XXXL T-shirts, and Hunk could see in the mirror that some of the seams were already splitting. He was as big as a house with still no end in sight.
"Really Hunk, when you've got a full blown pump goin', your muscles are practically twice the size they are when they were cold."
Kyle was talking to Hunk's back. Hunk was seated on a bench doing shoulder presses with a pair of 300 pounders as his warm-up weight. He was at the top of the motion where his enormous shoulders were touching together, pushing his face down into the crack between his massive, ultra thick pecs. He lowered the weight and said to Kyle. "That makes no sense to me. You taped my arms at 35 cold yesterday, and 45 just before I quit for the day. That's not double."
"Not in circumference, but in volume it is." Kyle continued, as Hunk pushed the dumbbells up again. "Okay look. You take 35 inches and divide it by pi, and you get the diameter… that's about, say, 11 inches.” Hunk had lowered the weight and was watching the handsome kid in the mirror. "Now the volume is half the diameter squared times pie… that's uh… what… about 95 square inches.” Hunk raised the dumbbells again. "Now take the 45 inches. Then your lookin' at… maybe… over 14 inches in diameter." Hunk lowered the weight again. "That's uh… let's see… 50 times pi… say 160 square inches.” Hunk pushed up again. In just those few reps his shoulders had puffed up dramatically and they now flattened against one another has he fully extended. "That's about two-thirds bigger!" Kyle exclaimed proudly.
Still with his arms outstretched, Hunk turned his face to speak. With his lips smushed against his left pec, he told Kyle, "Like I said, that's not double." He lowered the weight, releasing his head, "And so what man? That was a great pump, but I bet I only kept an inch of that size.” He dropped the weights on the floor and laid his fat forearms on his lap. It looked like someone had implanted watermelons in his deltoids.
"So what?!? What are you talking about?!? Have you ever met anyone who even CLAIMED to gain that much muscle in one workout? But you do every damn day! And one inch MORE?! That's almost 10% more mass! And look at yourself, it's piling up!"
Hunk was quiet. He never liked math, but the kid had a point.
"Hey Hunk, you corner the market on Synthol or something?” someone from a group of rubber neckers looking on said. They were braver in numbers.
Hunk looked up, "Does this look like Synthol to you?” He tensed his arm, turning the watermelon into what looked like rows of copper tubing and wire. His tricep flew out from beneath his arm, forming a boulder-sized protrusion that was even bigger than his deltoid. He glared at them.
"You've gotten too big Hunk."
"Huh?" Hunk spun around. It was John Paglio. Hunk hadn’t seen him in months, not since the man’s labs had run whole batteries of tests on Hunk, determining in the end that the muscle god’s response to the X-pump bars was unique due to his singular genetics. The energy bars were deemed a failure from a mass marketing perspective, but Paglio had made sure that all of the remaining X-pump bars – crates and crates of them – were given to Hunk.
"I said you've gotten too big Hunk,” Paglio repeated.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not going to be able to compete again. You're just too huge. You get up on a stage somewhere and there are going to be a lot a questions, a lot of rumors. Nobody is going to let you win, it could ruin the sport."
Hunk hadn't thought about competing in a long time. He really didn't like competing. Before, that meant dieting away all that hard earned size and power to look good for one day, and then spending 6 months getting back to where you were. Now, Hunk was in contest-ready shape 24/7, but the thought of contests, especially where he so clearly out-massed and out-classed everyone else on the planet, just no longer appealed to him. "Maybe I'll just go into power lifting," Hunk said.
"Same problem there. They'd find a way to disqualify you, or just not count your lift for technical execution."
Hunk clenched his eyebrows in displeasure. "Well fuck 'em. This I do for me.” He picked up 400 pounders this time and started pumping again.
"Well, it's good to hear you say that big guy,” Paglio placed the box he was carrying under his arm on the end of Hunk's bench. "I just wanted to come down here and see the famous ‘Hunk’ in action."
"What do you see."
"The biggest mother fucker in the world!"
Hunk laughed and dropped the weights by his side.
"I’ve got a proposition for you, Hunk. I’ve been working with several international consortiums, and based on the results of all that testing we did of you months ago, I’ve determined that there’s a huge untapped market out there for your sperm. Your genetic make up is unique, Hunk, and I and my investment partners believe that there will be thousands of parents out there who will want to have a ‘super baby’ fathered by you. Who knows, there might even be government contracts out there. We want you to be our poster boy, Hunk. We'll pay all your expenses, anything you need, to grow as big as you can. All we need from you is for you to milk your huge balls of their heavy load a couple of times a week. Oh, yeah, and a photo shoot every once in a while."
"That's what I've been waiting to hear, man.” Hank stood up and they shook hands.
"You seem taller to me." Paglio said as they released each other’s hands.
Hunk just laughed and shook his handsome head.
Another World
"Kyle, I need some water"
The kid had the gallon jug ready. Hunk was shirtless and sitting on the end of a reinforced steel bench, which Monster Mass had had specially made just for him, along with all of the other exercise equipment in the stud’s own exclusive and private gym. Kyle placed one hand on his pec and reached over to reach his mouth. Hunk rocked back gently, taking the kid along with him. The kid balanced himself as he poured the water down Hunk's mouth.
Glug….glug….glug
Gulp… gulp… gulp
The jug was empty now. Hunk opened his eyes and rocked forward slowly. He set Kyle back on the work out floor like a dad putting down a two year old. The kid straightened up and went back to the fountain to fill up again.
Hunk was working his pecs today. Sitting slumped over, it looked like someone had hung a couple of steel drums from around his neck. They arced above his collarbone, looped over, and lay on top of his huge quads. His abs were somewhere beneath the mammoth flesh.
Without warning, Hunk snapped back his arms. A whoosh was audible. He rolled one shoulder, then the other. He turned his neck side to side with a loud crack as he bounced up and down on his massive ass. In another instant he was under the bar. Monster Mass had this bar specially made out of titanium. It was longer and fatter in the middle so it could hold more plates. The bar sat on spokes that were likewise reinforced to carry far more weight than a normal rack could contain. He looked up at the bar and counted the weight. "Let's put a few more on."
The kid picked up a 45-pound plate with two hands. "How much you got on there now?"
"I counted 42 plates. What's that?"
"45 times 42, plus the weight of the bar… Let's say 1980. Two more plates and you'll be well over a ton."
"Whew!! Let's make it 6 more plates. I feel strong. What would that be?"
"About 2250!”
Kyle put the plates on. The handsome young college kid had quit the gym to work for Monster Mass as Hank’s full time assistant. Kyle was inseparable from the gigantic muscle man, helping the impossibly big dude with everything…including the multiple sperm deposits that Hunk made to meet the growing demand for his super human seed. Kyle considered himself an extraordinarily luck man, and he loved every day of his job…just as he not-so-secretly loved Hank.
Hunk’s hands were on the bar and he took a few deep breaths. “HUHNNNN!!” The bar was off the rests. It dropped down slowly, just below his pecs, then he pushed it up, brushing the bar against them. 25 rhythmic reps followed. Hunk carefully placed the bar back, then dropped his arms to the floor. "Damn that burns," he winced. "Need an X-pump."
Kyle walked behind the bench as he tore the wrapper off. Still laying on his back, Hunk tried to reach it with his hand. But his pec blocked his arm, so he let it fall back to the floor. He smiled up at the handsome kid standing over him, and Kyle hand fed the mighty muscle bull. The light from the skylight glistened off of Hunk’s heaving foot-think pecs. Blood was rushing to them now and they continued to grow right before Kyle’s amazed eyes. Kyle put his two hands up to his face and pantomimed blowing air into balloon. Hank’s eyes rolled back to look at him and he chuckled. His chest continued to swell, the shadow it cast lengthening and gradually covered his face.
After a couple of minutes Hunk sat up, rolling the huge pec monsters out. They hung heavy and pulsing. He arched his back, bouncing them up to his chin. His nipples were stretched across the bottom of them, easily a foot across. "Kyle, better rub some vitamin E oil on me again. This is a fuckin' awesome pump today, and I don’t want my stretch marks to get stretch marks. Oh, and speaking of pumps, why doncha wheel over that cock pumper. I’ve got another big load I want to dump into that machine for the doc.” He pulled his shoulders back, stretching out the thick cords of muscle fibers, while eagerly Kyle went off to get the machine, marveling that Hunk was already randy to pump out his sixth load of the morning.
"Lookin' FREAKED Hunk!" Said a lab technician who had been watching the whole time.
Hunk lifted his monstrous arm. His shoulder rose above his head. The mountainous peak of his bicep rose almost to his fist. “38 inches!” he proudly said.
“Cold!?!?”
Hunk looked back at his arm "Yup! I had it pumped to 48 inches the other day."
"50 inches," Kyle corrected him.
"50," Hunk repeated. He rose to his feet. He absolutely towered over Kyle, both in height and in mass. Hunk shifted into a double bicep pose. His giant shoulders pulled his pecs up almost to his cheeks and pinned back his ears.
“W-w-what you weigh now, Hunk?” asked the stammering technician.
"Kyle, what I weigh now?"
"Best guess… he's over 550 pounds now," Kyle answered back.
"How big you want to get?"
Hunk lowered his arms to his lats. He puffed up his chest, paused for a moment, then inflated it even bigger with a deep breath through his nose. His arms were forced outward. His upper legs looked welded together, pushing each other out into a semi-circle and forcing the massive bulge of his barely-contained crotch to thrust forward like it was the crown jewels on display. "Just another 50 pounds, man, or maybe 100.” He turned toward Kyle, "Let's blow up these tris next. I want these arms to be over 40 inches cold when I wake up tomorrow.”
Love it! What will happen to Hunk's huge JUNK?
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked the story! Sorry again that there's no ball busting in this one. Though if you have any suggestions for what you'd LIKE to see done to Hunk's massive junk, then let me know... ;)
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