Teen Transform: The College Years 3
by AKA
September
It was a very large building, probably a warehouse once but now it was nothing at all. Just a big building with a very large sign hanging on it that didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Because now the building was empty and abandoned, with locks on the doors and windows filled with darkness.
Tim stood outside looking up at the facade. There was no one else around in this area of town. The only thing in the parking lot was weeds poking up through the asphalt cracks, and a warm, late summer wind. He could hear a train whistle somewhere, but otherwise everything was quiet.
It was hot outside. He was sweating. His pent-up libido was screaming at him, and his prick and balls felt like they weighed a ton. He licked his lips and wiped his brow, smelling his own masculine ripeness. He wondered if the other guys smelled him the same way, or did he smell different to them? He shaded his eyes and looked up.
The sign mounted on this side of the building said TRANSFORM GYM in large, sturdy letters. They looked like military type, or something on the back of a collegiate letterman jacket. Everyone had come to call it simply T Gym. Or even The T. He’d never seen one before, but he knew there was one here and he determined to himself that he’d pay it a visit, the very first thing, even if there was no one there to greet his arrival.
This was his first stop after exiting the bus. He’d get to college soon enough, and face everything that little challenge would be providing, but for now he was sating a deep curiosity about himself and what was happening to his body, and whether or not there were any answers inside - even if there were no trumans around to offer them.
They seemed to have disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. They were seemingly everywhere for a time, making videos, appearing at gym openings, parading their impossible bodies around in impossibly revealing clothing, even marketing it to men who wanted to belong to their gyms and their lifestyles, whatever they were.
Even though a lot was known about them, probably just as much was unknown - and chiefly, where did they go? Rumors ran rampant, of course, but then like anything else, from wars to injustices to financial collapse, people simply grew bored with them and moved on to the next awful celebrity meltdown. You could still find pictures of them online, though a lot of them had been removed or disappeared just as mysteriously as the trumans themselves. Maybe it was because the trumans became very protective of their images and likenesses, and maybe someone was still out there, filtering their history and presence out of the world.
That was weird, too.
At first, it seemed like you couldn’t turn on a TV or open a magazine or visit a web site without a mention or a new picture or video that contained another impossibly beautiful man with an impossibly developed set of muscles and an impossibly overburdened pair of shorts trying hard to contain what was obviously a very prodigious and impressive set of sexual equipment. They seemed to be trying as hard as they could to test the social boundaries of male exposure. Always shirtless - and often pantsless - the trumans flaunted their physical properties with all the modesty of porn stars.
Then, suddenly, nothing. Gyms shut down. Truman magazines gone. Truman videos wiped. It was like a dream that you couldn’t quite remember.
Except for Tim and his fellow Muscle Club members, of course, whose own sudden, accelerated and massive muscular development had to be related to whatever made a truman a truman.
He stood at the gym’s twin doors and looked at the thick chains and padlock, twisting his lips into a grimace as he considered his options. Probably, by now, there was nothing inside anyway. But then, why the locks? And the chains? He lifted them into one hand. They were heavy, and very thick. Not the sort of things one puts on a door unless one means business.
Setting his duffel bag down, he placed both hands on the iron and pulled. As usual, his own strength surprised and shocked him, as his arms swelled with brawn and he pulled the links open as if they were made of bread dough. The chains fell apart and clattered to the concrete, and Tim jumped back automatically to avoid the mass of metal from hitting his feet, clad only in rubber flip-flops.
Reaching forward, he turned the handle and pushed the doors open.
A subtle smell erupted from the huge, empty building. Dust, certainly, and rust, possibly, but also something funkier and more… human. A smell that made his nostrils flare and his balls tingle and his cock throb.
The smell of men. Strong, thick, earthy and masculine. Like a fog made of testosterone and sweat. He closed his eyes and sucked it into his lungs and let it bathe his skin. It reminded him strongly of the unique and powerful smell that lived in the Muscle Club schoolroom, but even deeper and curiously penetrating. How long had the building been unoccupied, now - and still that scent lingered.
“Fuck,” he said, meaningfully and with surprise. He had not expected this. The surviving afterglow of what had been happening inside the building was still existent, and quite apparent. His body started reacting to it almost immediately, and in a most agreeable fashion. Swallowing into a dry throat, he retrieved his bag and pushed both doors open, stepping inside this deserted church of muscle and man.
The room before him stretched out like a football field - possibly two. The gym equipment, consisting of the usual machines and pulleys and free weights, were all still here but were oddly pushed to the periphery, leaving the majority of the floor empty and open. There were rubber mats covering every inch of the space, some of them pushed about and others still connected.
The windows mounted high up around the whole building were closed, but sunlight poured down in angles creating squares of light on the floor. A kind of catwalk clung to the walls, probably a remnant of whatever the building had previously been, and a sort of enclosed office was high up the wall on the opposite side.
Walking further inside, Tim called out a tentative, “Hello!” just in case someone was still in here after all. There was no answer except his own deep and resounding echo in the cavernous space. He walked to the center of the floor and stood there, absorbing a weird kind of energy that seemed to live in the huge room, though it was probably just his imagination. The smell grew stronger here, perhaps captured and contained into the center like some invisible bubble.
He sucked the scent deeply inside, and his whole body heated up like a sexual lightbulb whose socket had been turned on, making the hairs on his flesh tingle and his skin feel suddenly hot. He closed his eyes and his secondary cock pushed for emergence with anxious need, though he had determined not to let the twins out if he could help it. Still, he was all alone here, so he allowed himself some leeway and, after undoing the button fly on his jeans and pulling his meat free, he allowed the other prick to push forward and bloom to its full stature, standing within the center of this strange and awesome power and feeling it to pour over and energize him.
With his thickly muscled arms hanging at his side and his hands balled into fists, his cocks throbbed and plumped and drooled with conspicuous pleasure. They stretched their long necks into swollen, vein-covered stalks and raised their plump heads, rising higher and higher, charmed by the energy held inside this place. He could feel his balls churn and swell with cream, and a warm trail of precum, like honey, erupted from each eye and travelled down the thick inches of each shaft.
Tim licked his lips and opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath of the oddly scented air, his chest expanding as he filled his lungs with its essential power. His whole body grew hotter, still, and his cocks swelled to ultimate glorious tumescence with immediate eager bliss. He swooned with lust and felt his knees go weak. With a suddenness and power that nearly staggered him, he came hard, throwing back his head, pushing his chest forward, shoving thick ropes of cream from both cannons that arched high overhead and splattered against the rubber mats in thick puddles.
It felt incredibly satisfying and significant, as if he were somehow blessing the area or offering his own essence as a way of joining the invisible, absent brotherhood. He roared his pleasure and opened his eyes and watched his massive cocks spitting hot cream in long ropey cascades, shoving the pent-up abundance of his over-productive balls across the gym in thick, audible streams.
Fuck, it felt good. It felt perfect. Could he really curtail this sensation? Back home, he was sure his fellow Club members were all fucking each other right now, shoving their stiff cocks into warm, tight, muscular butts. Here, in his new home, he had no fellowship of similarly gifted men to share with. But he’d managed a 6-hour-plus bus trip without even touching himself, and now that he was allowing his twins to spit their load all over the floor inside this edifice to men and muscle, it just felt good.
Tim moved his hands before his twin founts, splattering messy loads into his cupped palms and bringing delicious mouthfuls of cream to his lips, sucking them inside. He moaned with pleasure, a deep and feral sound, because nothing was as satisfying as this was to him now. He wanted the moment to linger on and on, creaming freely and swallowing his warm power, but he had places to go and things to do - neither of which were likely to take what he was doing right now in stride.
With resignation and more than a little disappointment, he slowed the fountains of cum and forced his happy and eager pricks to deflate, pulling one of the twins inside his magical body and shoving the other one back inside his jeans, allowing it to shrink to a more manageable, though still abundant, eight inches. The smell of his copious flow joined with the earthy tang in the room, as if he had participated in whatever had happened here before him. It smelled right, somehow - not competing or overwhelming the masculine scent, but augmenting and mingling with it. He loved that smell, and hoped it would stay lodged in his nostrils after he left.
Pulling in a cooling breath and sighing it out, he observed the copious flood of his production and clicked his tongue. “Fuck,” he said again, marveling at the volume and power of his shots, splattered before him in thick puddles of creamy cum. He must’ve gone off like a rocket - no, twin rockets. It sure felt like it!
Shaking his head in wonder, still unaccustomed and surprised by his body’s abilities, he looked up at the catwalk and the office suspended above the floor. If there were going to be any clues about what they had been doing here and where they had gone, it was likely to be up there.
Looking around, he saw that the stairway leading upwards had collapsed or broken. There were no steps at the ground, only the upper stairs remained, probably 20 feet above him. Walking closer, he stood beneath them and tilted his head. “Gotta be taller,” he said to himself. Then he smiled and began to strip his clothing off, so that his body could assume its natural size and bring him closer to the stairs.
This felt good, too. Growing and allowing himself to unshackle his frame and his muscles so that they could bloom to their full size and enormity. His head moved upwards as his body expanded in all directions, gaining inches of thick brawn all over as his skeleton stretched and lengthened. It took only seconds, and anyone observing the feat would have been flabbergasted to witness the young man’s metamorphosis from mere bodybuilder to godlike being.
Tim stood at his full height, towering eight and a half feet tall. He was still growing. He grew a little more every day - every hour - every minute. He could hide it to some degree, but when he could remove his self-imposed restraints and swell to his actual size, he was an impossible being to behold.
He squatted and then pushed his weight from the floor as hard as he could, reaching over his head to grab the broken stairway - and then shocked and amazed himself as his powerful legs pushed him well beyond the 20-foot height and he was in mid-air, high above the floor, peddling his legs like a swimming dog. He pivoted his giant, powerful form and made a grab for the railing, just catching it with his fingers and making the whole catwalk shake and shudder under his weight. He felt giddy and a little turned on at his own power, realizing he hadn’t ever actually jumped since joining Muscle Club, at least, not with full velocity.
He pulled himself up easily and looked down. He was very high up, but he had managed to jump even higher than this. How high had he jumped, and just from a standing start? 40 feet high? 50? He was aiming for the stairway, so how high could he have gone if he had been aiming for the roof?
His head was dizzy at the prospect. Just how strong was he? He knew the legs and glutes were the biggest muscles on anyone’s body, and now he had an idea of how powerful his were. “Fuck,” he said softly. Then he shook his head and shrugged before heading along the catwalk toward the office.
The huge, naked, muscle-bound man approached walked along the side of the building. The scent of men was less noticeable up here, but it was also hotter and his skin was quickly glazed in a glistening coat of sweat. He looked like some superhuman metal sculpture come to life, striding like a colossus in the sky.
He stood at the door - locked, of course - and realized he was too big to fit through it. He didn’t want to shrink himself back down, he was really enjoying being so huge and feeling so powerful, but business is business. He assumed his less miraculous dimensions, shrinking back to a height of just under six-and-a-half feet, and turned the locked handle.
The metal twisted and collapsed in his powerful grip, but it certainly did the trick. The door opened and he went into the darkened room.
It was mostly empty, too. A couple of desks with drawers half-opened, some chairs, a filing cabinet. The usual office things arranged against the four walls with another locked door against the opposite side of the room. There were no papers with elaborate goodbyes from the trumans, no envelope with his name mysteriously printed on it, nothing at all that would yield any more information about the disappearance of the race of supermen.
He walked across the office to the other door and forced it open as well, thinking “that’s three charges of breaking and entering so far - plus whatever I’d be charged with for the cum shower downstairs. Malicious creaming?” He smiled at his lame joke as he entered the next room.
It was dark. Very dark. Unlike the office space, this room had no windows and did not front the huge gym floor.
The scent in here was quite strong, but different as well. Not the mingled smell of hundreds of men, but the concentrated scent of just one. How he knew the difference he couldn’t say, but he was sure of it. This office had been occupied by a single man - or a single truman - and his scent was still here, and quite engaging.
Tim closed his eyes and breathed the man inside. Jesus, he smelled good. He’d never smelled anyone like him before, even amongst his brothers in the Club or Mr. Titus. It smelled of power and strength and domination and command.
He could not name each of the scents that made up the man’s unique smell. Leather, maybe. Loam and burning cedar. Ozone. Sweat. Jockstrap. Ball sack. Ass. Muscle. Power.
It was the pure scent of masculine supremacy, the most potent Alpha Dog of all. It left him feeling slightly dazed and immensely horny. His cock was swelling toward its fullness again as if the owner were still here, stroking and licking and sucking on his prick, pulling him quickly to the edge of an explosion. The scent of the man was like a drug, a narcotic, a stimulant that bathed him in the owner’s powerful ascendancy. It was a fog of pure masculine perfection, distilled within the walls of the room like perfume in a bottle.
His cock was leaking copiously as he stepped into the darkness. A soft, deep moan escaped his throat. He wanted to drink that scent into his massive, powerful form. He wanted to feel it flow over his skin, wind around his balls, lick the hole of his tight, muscled ass.
Whose room was this? Who had been in here? How could their scent have lingered so strongly - or was this only a whisper of whatever the man actually smelled like? Was this just a taste of his full, gorgeous power?
And where the fuck was he now?
Tim tested the light switch but the power was dead. “Hello?” he said, tentatively, his own deep bass filling the silence. But no one answered back. There was no one here, and nothing but the powerfully aromatic aftermath of the owner’s occupancy.
He breathed it in. Sucking the magnificent splendor of pure male sex inside his lungs, feeling it on his skin like a thick fog, tasting on his tongue like musk and smoke. He could almost feel the other man’s power, as if they were standing chest to chest, cock to cock, rubbing against each other’s hyper masculine forms.
He came again. He came because he couldn’t help it. He came because he wanted to. His cock rose up and the head bloomed and the shaft turned glassy and red and a fat, full stream of rich, powerful cream erupted from the eye and sailed into the darkness. He heard it splatter and he came again and again, shoving a form of reverence for the owner’s unbridled masculine power into the absent man’s lair.
He raised his arm beside his head and breathed in his own heavy musk. He pushed his tongue against the firm, round surface of his arm and licked his own biceps. He groaned and came and let his hands explore the muscled contours of his own body, his cobblestone abs, his massive, ponderous pectorals, his full, round, beautiful ass, worshiping himself as he would worship the man who had been here, worshiping masculine beauty and muscular strength and perfect, virile dominion.
He emptied his copious balls and stood there, his erection throbbing and dripping, staring into the darkness. “I… My name is Tim Balmer,” he announced to no one. “I want to talk to you. I want to meet you. I...I’ll be at the local college. I don’t know what’s happening to me, or how big I’ll get. I don’t even know….” His voice trailed off. He suddenly felt absurd talking to the darkness. He gathered up the pearly drop of cum clinging to the tip of his raging hard-on and sucked it off his finger, feeling it coat his tongue with its salty tang. It melted into him, like it always did, and warmed his muscles.
“I’m Tim,” he said again.
There was no answer.
Tim pivoted around and walked back through the main office, pausing outside the door and looking across the cavernous space. He could see his footprints in the dust below, and the splattered wetness of his first fountain of cum, resulting just from being within the lingering masculine power of the place. He could still smell the occupant from the back room on his skin, like a cologne of muscle and male energy suffusing his flesh. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It made his deflating prick throb eagerly and his asshole tingled as if licked.
Whatever had happened inside these walls, the effects lingered even months later. And whomever had occupied that dark space back there, his power was so strong and overwhelming that it could make a man come just by opening the door on an empty room.
Tim sighed and hopped over the railing, dropping 30 feet to the ground and rolling to a stop, his flawless, sun-kissed skin coated in dust. He rose to his feet, brushed himself off, and walked toward the pile of his clothing near the broken stairway, a beautiful god striding the halls of Valhalla in all his naked perfection.
He didn’t want to get dressed. He liked being naked. His body liked it. But one couldn’t just wander onto campus in the altogether, could one? He was certain his presence would be noticed one way or another. He was kind of hard to ignore.
He hiked the jeans up his muscled legs and squeezed his prick along his hip. After fastening the buttons against his bulging crotch, he pulled the Polo shirt over his head and wrestled his shoulders and arms into the sleeves before pulling the cotton across his mammoth pectoral shelf. His nipples sent shocks of bliss toward his groin as the material dragged across their sensitive caps, and then he stepped into his flip-flops and heaved his nylon duffel over one shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said to no one in general. “I needed that.”
He took a last look around and pulled in a long, satisfying inhalation of the scent that permeated everything in the huge space. The scent of men. The scent of power. Then he headed for the exit.
Standing outside again, he shouted, “Sorry about the locks!” to no one, and closed the doors.
The interior space fell silent and still. Tim’s copious load was splattered in a fan across the floor. More of it lacquered the walls of a darkened room upstairs.
In a far corner of the space, a slight shimmering occurred as if the wall of brick were turning insubstantial or melting. The shimmering coalesced and solidified into a recognizable shape. A shape with two arms and two legs. A shape towering nearly eighteen feet high, and eight feet across.
A face formed, a man’s face, inhumanly handsome, godlike in fact.
The figure stepped free of the wall and became flesh, a towering man of impossible proportions, with muscle swelling outward in thick folds and hard bulges. A carpet of dark fur crawled across his chest, broken only by two fat nipples like chocolate kisses on his pectoral globes. More fur lined his legs and arm, less dense and perfectly arranged, and a thick forest of pubes erupted above the twin monsters hanging in lush abundance between his monstrous thigh.
His full, moist lips pursed into a kind of pout. His green eyes, shadowed under a heavy brow, sparkled like gems. He was completely naked - absolutely naked - awesomely naked.
He strode toward the pools of Tim’s cooling cream and bent down, placing a huge hand into the sticky goo and watching his skin absorb it completely. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if listening to something. After he had pulled every drop of the smaller god’s essence inside him, he looked at his palm and rubbed his fingers together, feeling an odd tingling there, and an uncustomary sensation of cooling warmth, like mint inside his mouth.
“Different,” he said softly, though his size and power augmented and amplified his voice in the space. He stood again, a towering god, and looked toward the double doors, one eyebrow arched and a sideways grin on his sexy mouth.