Transform: Muscle City 3
by AKA
Back at home, those left behind by Muscle Club’s mass exodus were not having an easy time of things. Not at all.
Shawn Dorset was a 16-year-old sophomore at Central Valley. He knew he wanted to be in Muscle Club the minute he saw a few of the hyper-masculine members standing around near their makeshift ‘classroom’ in what used to be the school’s auditorium, laughing with rumbling, deep voices and hanging all over each other in a manner suggesting that they were on more than friendly terms with each other.
It was the sort of display that he dreamed about, and fantasized about, and beat off to. Handsome, musclebound jocks in clothing so tight that every bulge, every contour, every thick and meaty inch of their massive muscular frames was keenly defined. They might as well have been naked for all the good that wrapping up their masses of perfectly developed brawn was doing.
They noticed him and nodded a greeting, whispering among themselves as they watched him watching them. One of them - he’d later know (very intimately) as Darren - walked towards him, separating himself from the huddle and striding across the quad with so much raw sexuality and self confidence that it was nearly radiating outwards from him. “Hey,” he said, “I’m Darren.”
His voice was deep and resonant and reached directly towards Shawn’s dick and squeezed it. “I’m Shawn,” he replied, with a crack in his changing voice.
“Did you want to come over there, Shawn?” Darren asked. “We noticed you looking at us. Are you...curious? About Muscle Club?”
Shawn nodded. “Sort of,” he admitted, attempting to hide his excitement.
Darren smiled, and it made Shawn’s balls tingle. “Nothing to be scared of, Shawn. We’re all nice guys. Why don’t you come on over and introduce yourself to my friends?”
“I don’t think I’d fit in.”
Darren shrugged. It made a seam along his shoulders fray and allowed Darren a glimpse of hidden skin. His cock throbbed happily. “Like I said, we’re all nice guys. And if you have any questions or anything, I’d be happy….”
“How does it work?” Shawn interrupted.
Darren’s smile brightened. “I’d be happy to show you,” he offered. “Do you want to come inside and see?”
“See what?”
Darren winked as he grabbed his ample package. “Everything.”
Darren later confessed that he could see Shawn’s intense interest in him and his friends from a mile away. He knew he wouldn’t have to push very hard to get Shawn into the Club. “Some guys...they look at me like you do. Those are the guys that want to be in Muscle Club. Fuck, those guys are already halfway in. Other guys look at me with, like, anger or fear or something. Guys like you, you only want to be with us.”
“Us?”
“Okay. Me,” Darren said, then he kissed Shawn’s hungry mouth and moved his hand around the curve of his ass cheek and rubbed the pad of his finger against Shawn’s hot, wet hole. They were naked and glorious, enjoying the sort of open, anxious, steamy sexuality that Muscle Club members always enjoyed with each other, hanging out together and enjoying amazing non-stop sex. “Again?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Shawn answered.
Now Darren was gone. They were all gone - or nearly all of them - and those they left behind them, the ones who couldn’t leave or didn’t want to, they were trying to re-adjust back into normal high school society, and regretting every moment of it.
In his home bathroom, Dan Morgan was looking at himself in the mirror. He looked good, there was no denying it. His skin, as dark as chocolate and smooth as silk, seemed to glow with a kind of unnatural health. When he moved, even the slightest bit, the muscles underneath all that beautiful, sensuous flesh would bulge and twist and flex, highlighting every fiber of its overwhelming power. A thick vein wound over the fat hump of his biceps. The two massive globes of his chest pushed outward be several inches, and pressed against each other for space on his already huge frame. The crevasse between his pecs was deep enough to lose several pencils inside - or someone else’s fat and lengthy dick.
He closed his eyes and imagined Geoffrey’s cock sliding in-between his chest plates. He would squeeze them together and attempt to crush his friend’s length of hard cock, but always to no avail. Geoff’s prick was made of steel, and so hot there that it felt like he had just pulled it from the furnace, freshly forged from raw metal. He’d open his mouth and hear Geoff gasp and groan and a splattering eruption of cum would fill his open mouth.
Now Geoff was gone, and Dan stood alone in his bathroom, his naked body warmed by the steam escaping the shower and making his reflection dim behind clouds. He opened his eyes and looked down the massive bulges of muscle that stood out starkly along every swollen inch of his body and watched his erections manifest, pushing forward farther and farther from his body with hard, heavy throbs before his twin cocks, grown as if by magic and each as perfect and beautiful and sensitive as the other, began to rise up towards where other men’s cocks had been, seeking to bury themselves between the thick hard plates of his mighty pectoral globes.
He sighed as the sensation of sex filled him up. It was always there, sleeping, only to be roused to action by the merest thought of another man, or even his own reflection, like now. His own intense beauty and power there in the mirror before him.
He reached forward to wipe the gathered condensation away and reveal that man, again. He was only 16, but he looked...25? 28? He was a man, now, with a man’s face and a man’s body. He smiled and a shock of desire went through him, because he had only been indoctrinated to Muscle Club for a day before they all left him, and he was left looking like this, and feeling like this, the owner of a body too powerful to control and cocks too hungry to ever adequately feed.
His cocks were huge. So much bigger than he ever thought anyone’s cocks could be. They rose up towards him and kept growing. Their twin heads bloomed and bulged, so thick he doubted he could encompass them in his mouth - but he could. And he did. Because this is what he craved, now, and the only thing that made him feel complete.
“Fuck,” he whispered, watching himself manifest into his pure, true form. Bigger and bigger, allowing himself to display himself to himself. He watched his body spread outwards and upwards, and watched the muscle bloom thicker and harder, pushing itself against his dark skin, unfolding and growing like magic.
His cocks began to drool. A heavy, constant flow of lubrication he could produce without thinking, a clear, warm honey perfumed with his own scent, something he could only faintly discern but which Geoff had told him could drive another man - another Muscle Club member - insane with desire.
He grabbed his cocks in his hands and ran his grips up the inches of each pole. They were hard and hot and heavy, and they rewarded his strokes with forceful sensual pulses - extraordinary sensations of perfect sexual bliss that originated in each prick and spread into every cell of his majestic body.
“Gonna cum.” he whispered to no one. “Gonna cum so fuckin’ hard.” His new voice was as powerful as his body. A low, masculine growl that could raise the short hairs on his friends’ swollen ball sacks and make them need him and what he could do for them. “Gonna cum.”
He grinned as he released the constraints and allowed his dam to burst. His twin cannons exploded, shoving ropes of cum towards the ceiling where it splattered overhead and rained down on his massive muscular form. He felt his fountains splatter against his skin and then he pulled the heads of his monsters inside his mouth and sucked hard, swallowing down every heavy pump with an insatiable hunger.
He came a torrent and gulped every drop. He peered up at the bathroom ceiling where a spackle of cream was clinging, and he reached up and scraped it into his dark palm and watched his magic body drink it inside, soaking up every drop that it could because it had to.
He came harder, enjoying the sensation of filling his mouth with his own potency, and the feeling of each rushing surge traveling up the thick inches of both rock-hard cocks. It was perfect.
Somewhere else in town and at the same time, Jim Stephens sat naked before his computer, one cock in his left hand as his right steered the cursor around his screen. He shook his head to fling the strawberry blonde fringe of gleaming hair from his blue-green gaze before reaching towards his handsome face to kill an itch that lingered under the heavy red-gold beard that traversed his chin and cheeks. He sighed and suppressed his swelling load of cream, grown to painful pressure in his massive balls as he edged himself mercilessly toward the his biggest explosion of cum, yet.
He missed his friends, and online porn was a poor substitute. How could any of those men hope to compare with his real-life friends? He had been loading up the tabs of his web browser with image after image of naked men, alone and in pairs and groups, staring back at him with their gym-trained bodies and their pornstar cocks, engorged to their fullest extents but still only pale imitations of what he owned himself. Unsatisfied that these fantasies could not live up to his reality.
Now he was left with porn comics that approached what he had grown accustomed to, particularly the art of Patrick Fillion, whose naked superheroes began to approximate his own physique. Beautiful fantasy men gifted with perfect muscular bodies and cocks down to their knees, dripping with cum and staring back at him with desire and companionship.
He stroked and adjusted his ass in the little chair as his body swelled larger with muscle. He was getting nearer and nearer to the point where he would be unable to hold himself back for one more second. His balls were filled, and now he could feel the cum start to tingle and surge even inside the massive swollen shaft of his prick.
He was looking at an image of a sort of cat-man lying on some lab table with a green-skinned alien doctor standing over him. The doctor held a laser-pointer thing in one hand, and was grasping the cat-man’s massive cock in his other. Small probes had been inserted into the cat-man’s balls and nipples and biceps, and the cat-man was looking up to the alien while a drop df sweat clung to his face.
The cat-man’s body was swollen with muscle. In a way, it looked like Jim’s own body, only not as big. The cat-man’s skin was colored like a cat’s, while Jim’s was bronzed and tanned. The cat-man had short, dark hair and green eyes. Jim had reddish-blonde hair, long and thick, and blue eyes.
But Jim imagined himself to be like the cat-man on the table, the victim or the willing participant of some experiment to create the prefect man, with a cock so big it might as well be a third leg, and muscles swollen to perfection along every inch of his body, and a face as handsome as some superhero.
The surges and tingles of sexual power were growing into a constant cascade of overwhelming bliss. The spark of his desire was a red-hot furnace. He gulped and gasped and breathed hard, his massive chest inflating and contracting as his cock grew suddenly thicker and redder and lengthened by several inches.
He pulled his monster’s helmet inside his hot, wet mouth and was instantly rewarded with an explosion of cream that shot directly down his throat and into his guts, like lava from a cannon. His eyes rolled into his head from the sheer intensity of the orgasmic release that he could no longer control. Tears came to his eyes and he felt his body grow warm and powerful as he loosed a hydrant of cum into his own guts.
It took three whole minutes to unleash the flood of cum inside his balls, He kept pumping and cumming and swallowing his load until his belly bulged with the cream before his body began to pull its power back into his muscles, and he could feel the power build higher and higher. His muscles tightened and bulged, swelling beneath his tanned skin as veins pulsed and grew over every swollen ball of brawn.
He swelled with power and size, feeding himself the essence of power like a circuit, creating and consuming to satiate his hunger.
When he was done, his body was pulsing with hard throbs of strength and he felt like he could have lifted his entire house onto his gigantic shoulders and done squats with it. He felt his heart pumping hard and every muscle was pushed to its absolute potential.
Now, it was time for school.
Later that day, at another school, Doug Goldstein and Tom Root stood next to each other at the back of Mr. Jamison’s P.E. class. They were so much taller than their classmates that standing at the rear was the only way to allow the others to easily see what was going on. Doug was stifling a laugh because Tom had his hand underneath his friend’s shorts and directly onto Doug’s bulbous, muscular butt cheek and was squeezing and kneading his friend’s powerful ass with the strength of ten ordinary men. It made Doug’s cock twitch and sent a constant thrill of sex into Doug’s nearly-naked body.
P.E. was the only time the remaining Muscle Club members could get close to their preferred method of dress. They had been allowed to go shirtless because they kept ripping through whatever they tried to pull over their massive torsos during the exercise routines, and they wore extra-large jockstraps under their tight cotton shorts in an attempt to corral the amount of thick sex meat they were gifted with and that somehow refused ever to grow fully limp.
“Cut it out, dude,” Doug whispered out of the side of his mouth. Doug was a hirsute bear of a man, with a thick forest of dark curls swimming across his massive chest. The fur swam down his torso, outlining each muscle of his eight-pack abs until it erupted again into a thick carpet just at the edge of his waistband, promising a thick public bush under his shorts. He had dark brown eyes under a heavy brow, a crooked, handsome nose and very thick lips that were surrounded by heavy, dark whiskers. At the moment, and no doubt due in large part to his friend’s attentions, his very large cock was pushing forward so intently that it threatened to rip its way out of the cage he had been instructed to place it in. Doug was fifteen years old.
His friend Tom was less furry, with a nice, soft, even distribution of auburn curls over his chest, leaving his belly and the rest of his exposed torso bare. Sweat trickled along the deep crevasses that separated one massively developed muscle group from another, lending his pale skin a silky glow. He had dark blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes, and his head was nearly bare, shaven to a stubble of gold like his hero, Carl Stanton, the Club member who had welcomed him into the fold, though at the moment a backwards-facing baseball cap hid the fact. He stood head-to-head with Doug, topping out at eight inches past six feet, and the massive shank of sex folded into the jock at his loins pushed his basket forward with an obscene and obvious capability. Tom was also fifteen years old. “What?” he asked with feigned innocence.
“Quit fucking around, Tom.”
“This isn’t fucking around,” he explained, squeezing his friend’s left ass cheek hard. Then he moved his fingers toward Doug’s hot crack and pushed in toward his hungry hole, moving his deft touch onto the wet, warm center and rubbing it with obvious glee. “But I’m getting closer.”
“Dude!”
“Gentlemen! Is this activity something you’d care to share with the class?”
Every face turned around and looked at the two unusually tall, unusually wide, unusually muscular and unusually well-endowed teenagers. Doug’s massive erection was tenting his shorts so much that his dick was pushing the waistband open and away from his body. Tom’s hand was still on Doug’s butt when they had been caught. Tom smiled and said, “Did you want an honest answer to that question, Mr. Jamison?” Some of the other young men made faces or voiced disgust at the innuendo, much to Tom’s amusement. Doug, who was less amused, slapped his friend’s hand away from his happy butthole.
“It was rhetorical, Mr. Root.”
“Understood, Mr. Jamison.”
“Were you paying attention at all?”
“Of course, Mr. Jamison.”
“Then perhaps you’d care to demonstrate the correct form for us all.”
He pulled his hand out of his friend’s shorts and said, “Only too happy to oblige, Mr. Jamison.” Then he strode down the middle of the gathered class of much smaller high school sophomores and approached the pull-up bars. “How many would you like me to do?” he asked, rubbing his large paws together. It made the muscles along his arms and gathered on his chest bunch and flex with obvious power.
“Ten should be sufficient.”
Tom performed a mock bow and placed his hands on the bar, then he bent his knees, hooked one ankle over the other and hung from the pole. He was so tall that there was barely enough room in the space for his body to fit. His lats flared out like wings from his awesomely tapered torso and a strong whiff of his very potent masculine scent washed over the gathering.
The hyper-muscular teen then started to pull his heavy body up and down with obvious ease, grinning from ear to ear.
“Show off,” Doug said, under his breath. He could still feel his friend’s fingers pushing inside him, and he missed the sensation more than he wanted to admit. He could smell Tom in the air he was breathing, pulling the other teen’s testosterone-fueled pheromones inside him with every deep, satisfying inhalation.
Everyone watched Tom perform ten flawless pull-ups, and everyone watched also as his body seemed to grow bigger and more muscular with every one.
One pull-up, and muscle was magically growing along his already impressive shoulders. Another pull-up, and they could see the cables of strength that wrapped his chest multiple and split and push outwards. A third pull-up, and his neck bulged and his lats bloomed.
Even the muscles he wasn’t using - those on his legs and belly - were swelling with every successive pull, as if the simple action of moving up and down was literally pumping the young man bigger and bigger. Tom counted off each pull-up as he performed them. “Four,” he said, grinning, and his arms swelled before their eyes. “Five,” he said, and they all watched him grow bigger everywhere, inflating with strength and size and power.
Of course, the other thing growing bigger was a manifestation of incredible and quite obvious growth occurring within his shorts. His cock was lengthening by the inch, and growing thicker with every pull-up. “Six.” It was like a coiled snake escaping its hole, pushing against the basket of his shorts until it sagged under the weight of so much heavy prick and balls. “Seven.”
Veins pushed against his skin, and his muscles grew. “Eight.” His grin was a smile of intense pleasure, and he winked at his friend. “Nine.” His knees brushed the ground now. He was gaining inches in height as well as pounds of muscle. “Ten.”
By the end, when he let go of the bar and stood up again, his body had grown massive with muscle. It bulged so thickly that it appeared to be threatening to burst from his paper-thin skin. He wasn’t even breathing had, but the short round of exercise had somehow made him appear to grow several dozen pounds heavier - and it was all muscle. The tiny shorts on his huge body were even smaller and tighter, clinging to him and easily showcasing the foot-long, wrist-thick coiled up length of dick that filled up his straining jockstrap. “Was that good, Mr. Jamison?” He tilted his handsome face and smiled.
“Adequate, Mr. Root,” the teacher responded drily.
“I can do some more if anyone here didn’t see how to do what I did,” he offered. A look of feigned innocence again crossed his features. “Does...anyone want lessons?”
“I think we are all suitably impressed, Mr. Root, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Tom said as he strode back through the group, taller now and even more outsized, towards the back where Doug was shaking his head with mock consternation. “Like what you saw?” Tom asked him.
“You didn’t have to grow,” Doug said.
Tom shrugged. “I figured that a display of the benefits of exercise would be helpful.”
Doug raised an eyebrow and cast his glance towards Tom’s heavy bulge. “And down there?”
“The most important benefit of all,” he said, grinning as he grabbed his straining basket and hefted the load inside it.
“You might have at least make it look a bit challenging.”
He shrugged. “Why should I? I could do pull-ups until the end of the world and none of these guys would ever learn anything.”
Doug smirked but he had to agree. What possible difference did any of this make to either of them? Mr. Jamison’s voice rose about his thoughts as he said, “Hit the track!”
Tom elbowed his now smaller friend and smiled. “Here comes my favorite part of gym,” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows, “watching all the fine asses.”
“Horndog.”
“Exactly.”
At the same moment across town, Jason Hickox was leaning against the building, his wide back stretching for miles along the wall with one foot planted against it and the other on the ground. He was killing time between classes, his backpack at his side with an open book in his large hands. He no longer needed the glasses he had been wearing since third grade, because along with all the other physical changes that Muscle Club membership had granted, he now had perfect vision.
He was flipping the pages fairly quickly without realizing it, drinking in the words with a speed that would have surprised him if he were cognizant of it, but he was finding the text too interesting and thought-provoking to be conscious of his reading pace and accelerated level of comprehension.
Another young man of sixteen was watching him from across the yard, his brow wrinkled in curiosity and doubt. Jason was dressed in a stark white Polo shirt and dark indigo jeans. His feet were bare. The clothes he wore clung to him like a second skin, and every aspect of his magnificent body was quite easy to recognize, from the fat nups of his nipple poking intently against his shirt, to the egg carton of abs that lined his otherwise flat stomach, to the length of dick that was shoved along one thigh - nearly to his knee. The fabric created wrinkles and stretched itself to its limits to try to encompass all that Jason was underneath, but otherwise the guy might as well have been naked for all the good it did to hide anything.
Jason looked up and his eyes zeroed in directly on the other teenager’s face. He smiled and winked, then went back to his book.
The other young man, Terrance Broderick, turned a deep shade of red and felt his entire body heat up with embarrassment. He’d been caught staring, again, and he swallowed drily as fear and shame filled him up.
Jason paused in his reading and said softly to himself, “Dick move, Hickox.” He shook his shaggy blonde head slightly and closed the book, smirking to himself before he raised his handsome face and looked at Terrance again. “C’mere!” he said, loudly.
Terrance swallowed again. “What?”
“Come here,” Jason repeated, more distinctly. “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m not supposed to.”
“I can’t hear you,” Jason lied.
Terrance considered his options. He could just walk away. That would be weird, but at least he wouldn’t get into trouble. Or he could go over there, if the jelly in his legs would solidify and allow him to walk anywhere. Or he could… but by then it was too late, because Jason Hickox had grabbed his backpack in his free hand, with his textbook in the other, and he was walking towards where Terrance was sitting.
Jason Hickox was not the sort of person it was easy to ignore. He was huge. He was beautiful. He had a smile that could melt the iciest heart and a voice that sounded like music. He had a head of gold that slid across his handsome face and hid those blue eyes of his, until he would shake his head with that way of his and you could see everything, from his soft, pillowy lips to his perfect nose to his squared-off jawline.
Jason was perfect.
“Hey,” he said, as he approached, “you’re...Clarence?” His beauty and size and power was growing bigger the closer he came.
“Terrance,” he managed to squeak.
Jason paused and stood before the much smaller student. Even though both were sixteen, Jason looked like he was closer to 25, while Terrance could have passed for 14. He had soft, immature features and large, wet eyes behind his glasses. He was hiding his boner under a stack of books, and his heart was pumping very fast. “Hi, Terrance. I’m Jason.”
“I know.”
The blonde teenaged muscle god smiled. “I can’t help but notice that you were staring at me.” He said.
“I...I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind. I kind of like it.” He looked down at the edge of the planter where Terrance was sitting and gestured. “Can I sit down?”
Terrance shrugged. “It’s a free country.”
“You’d be surprised,” he answered enigmatically. “So, Terrance, what can I do for you?”
“Pardon me?”
“What did you want to see? You seem intent on staring at me, so I wanted to oblige.” Jason’s hand rested on his famous bulge and he said, “Like I said, I kind of like it. Being looked at.”
“I’m not sure I should….”
“And lately, I haven’t had many opportunities to be looked at like I like being looked at.”
“I don’t…”
“With my clothes off.”
“But….”
“Is there somewhere we could go? Just you and me?”
“Go?”
“So I can offer you a better look.”
“You and me?”
“Do you want to see me naked, Terrance?”
“No.”
“Really?” Jason’s hand moved from his crotch and started to pull his shirt from the waist of his jeans. “You don’t?” He pulled the tight white woven cotton up and revealed a treasure trail of gold leading up to his navel, and a set of perfect abdominals bulging hard and tight under his beautiful, silky skin.
Terrance looked down and felt his mouth go dry. “I’m not supposed to.”
“You said that before,” Jason said softly. “What aren’t you supposed to do?” He took Terrance’s hand in his own and placed it against his stomach.
Terrance had never felt anything like that. Jason’s body was warm, his skin was soft and supple, and his abs were like rocks. He could feel Jason breathing, feel his muscles expand and contract. It was such a simple thing, but it felt intensely intimate, like he could feel inside the huge teen’s beautiful body. “My parents said….”
“I don’t see your parents around at the moment, Terrance. Did they tell you not to be friendly?” Terrance shook his head. “Did they say you should’t make friends?” Again, he slowly indicated that they didn’t. “Well, there you are, then. I just want to be friends with you, Terrance. Do you want to be my friend?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to feel my chest?”
He nodded again.
“Move your hand up my body, Terrance. It’s just a few inches. Move it up my body and feel my chest.” The other boy’s small hand moved tentatively up, under the tight shirt, brushing against the meaty nub of one of Jason’s large, sensitive nipples. The huge teen stifled a gasp of pleasure and felt his new friend’s hand move across the massive globe of his right pectoral. “That feels nice, Terrance. Do you like how I feel?”
Another silent nod.
“Do you want to feel all of me?”
Nod, nod.
“Where can we go, Terrance? I used to have someplace where my friends and I could go but I don’t anymore. Do you know of someplace we could go?”
He looked into Jason’s handsome face. “My bedroom?”
“Your bedroom? Are you sure, Terrance? Do you want to take me to your bedroom?”
He nodded, open-mouthed.
Jason’s beautiful smile lit his features. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”
“We can’t…do...anything,” Terrance explained.
“I don’t want to do anything,” Jason replied. “I don’t have to do anything at all. I’ll just strip naked for you, and just for you, and you can do whatever you want to with me. Or to me. You can explore every inch of this body, Terrance. With any part of your body you want to. Your eyes. Your hands. Your mouth. Or any other parts. Anything and anywhere. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“But...what about class?”
“That feels nice, Terrance. Do it again.”
“What?”
“Rub your thumb against my nipple.”
“Your nipple?”
“Yeah. Rub it. See what happens.”
Terrance did. He moved his thumb against the firm pencil eraser of Jason’s thick nipple and rubbed it gently. Jason smiled and glanced down at his crotch, and as Terrance followed Jason’s gaze, he could’t help but notice that the huge teen’s cock was growing. He could see it pushing down the guy’s leg, and swelling thicker as it grew.
Jason spoke softly. “See what you can do to me? See how easy it is? Don’t you want to see what else you can do? What your hands on my body can make happen to me?”
“Yes,” Terrance admitted, his eyes glued on the swelling pole under Jason’s dark jeans.
“You can do whatever you want to.”
Terrance asked, “But...why me?”
“Because you want to, Terrance. And I want you to. I want to feel your eyes on my naked skin. I want your hands all over me. On my chest. On my arms. On my legs. On my butt. On my cock. I want you to touch me, and stroke me, and squeeze me, and stroke me. I want you to feel every inch of this body - and watch what happens as a result.”
“What will happen?” Terrance asked, looking up into the young man’s handsome face.
Jason’s beautiful smile was still there. “Magic.”
At a different high school, Andy MacKluskey stood in the showers, washing his body of the sweat and pheromones he was producing at a steady pace. The sweat was because he’d just been in P.E. and had been playing football, using his massive muscular frame like a battering ram, preventing any and all opponents from coming within an inch of his quarterback.
The pheromones were because he’d been initiated into Muscle Club a few months ago and he could’t help it - it was what this new body was built to do. He could only vaguely smell himself, the funky, earthy tang that smelled a bit like dirty sweat and a bit like ball sack and a bit like ass crack and a bit like...but when he thought about that, his cock would rise and his other cock would push free from wherever it went when he shrank it away and he’d have to start stroking them both until they spit their load of cream all over the fucking place.
He closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing the closed lids with his fingers to try to shut the vision of cock and balls and ass out of his imagination.
“Dude,” a voice said, loudly, “you were amazing today!”
He didn’t turn around. He recognized the voice immediately. Jon-Marc Calvin, the handsome black quarterback with the lithe, beautiful body and the intense dark gaze. “Thanks,” Andy replied, dropping his hand from his closed eyes and gritting his teeth hard. Sex. Sex was everywhere. He could...smell it. Sense it. Feel it. Like heat. Heat hotter than the water splattering against his naked body.
Jon-Marc slapped him on the ass. “Great game, Andy. You really saved my ass out there.”
Ass.
His ass.
“No sweat, JM,” he replied. “Just doing my job.”
“You okay, bro? You seem...tense lately.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be okay.” Hw used to have his friends around to diffuse situations like this. He used to be able to take all the good-natured and friendly gym talk and shit that happens between guys in the shower, and channel all that nice, dirty, sexy energy into fucking his friends.
But his friends were gone, and now he only had himself until school was out and he could find another abandoned Clubber. And that was four more hours away.
Jon-Marc stood next to him in the showers. He’d be naked, for sure. Of course he would be. Naked and wet and smiling at him, because he liked Andy, because they were teammates, and Andy was a huge dude who would always keep the other team away.
“Really, dude?” JM asked, setting his hand on Andy’s thick shoulder, because they were friends, and JM was nice, and he was concerned about Andy. “You can talk to me, you know that right? I mean, I know you’re gay and whatever, but you can talk to me about shit whenever.” The hand lifted off his shoulder and left a tingling throb of warm sex behind.
Andy leaned forward, putting his hands against the tile, and kept his eyes shut. “That’s cool,” he said. “But I’m okay.”
“Okay, dude, whatever you say.” Then JM, happy, carefree, well-adjusted JM, started humming something with that honey-sweet voice, moving up and down his register. JM could sing like a fucking angel. JM could dance his fucking ass off. JM was sexy as all fuck and JM knew it.
Andy sighed and turned off the water, standing in the sudden cold air for a moment and trying really hard to control his raging libido.
JM’s hand was there again, on his arm. “Seriously dude, what’s wrong?”
Oh, god, that touch. Another man’s touch. How much he longed for that every second of every day. How he missed having it around him, hands on his body, his hands on someone else’s body, pressing his lips to someone else’s, and feeling his cock pushing into a tight, warm, wet hole like sliding home. “I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” Andy could feel the heat from the other young man’s body against his, sense him standing there, naked and warm and wet.
Andy opened his eyes and looked over at the quarterback.
His cock pulsed and throbbed and heated up with a sudden infusion of blood. Water clung to the small dark curls of hair that dusted JM’s tight pectoral plates. It drained down his body, over his flat belly and down the supple length of his black, uncut dick. He was looking at Andy with those big beautiful eyes and a look of concern on his face. “Oh, fuck,” he said softly.
JM seemed to recognize the look that Andy was giving him, and certainly could’t miss the way the other teen was scanning his entire naked body like a hungry tiger viewing a meal. “Dude,” he said.
“Sorry,” Andy offered. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, dude. I just...I never thought...like, me? Really?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.”
Their eyes met. “Dude,” JM said again. “You know I’m not gay.”
“I know,” Andy said.
JM looked around the empty showers. “But, like, is there anything I could, like, do?”
“Do?”
He nodded. “I don’t like it when you’re like this. All sad and shit. I like it when you’re happy - the way you used to be. So...how could I help you be...happy?”
“Wow,” Andy said, genuinely surprised. “I mean, I don’t know what...I mean, me and my friends, like, I mean….”
“Dude, no way we’re fucking. I didn’t mean that. But like...a kiss? Or something?”
Andy looked down his quarterback’s tight, muscular body and asked, “Can I suck your dick?”
“Seriously?” Andy nodded, looking hopeful. “Dude! Yeah! You can totally suck my dick! Anyone who wants to can suck my dick. I’m kinda...surprised is all.”
“Surprised?”
“You don’t think that’s kind of...I dunno...insulting?”
“Insulting?”
“That you have to suck my dick and I don’t do anything for you?”
Andy nearly laughed out loud. “Dude. I fucking love sucking cock. Sometimes, I think that’s what I was born to do in life.” He looked down and licked his lips. “Fuck dude. Thank you. Thank you. Oh, fuck, thank you.”
He dropped to his knees in worship, running his touch down the long, thin cock and slurped it inside his mouth, moving his hands behind his quarterback’s body and grasping his ass, hard.
“Dude!” Jon-Marc said, startled. And then, moments later, he couldn’t say anything at all. This certainly wasn’t the first time the young stud had gotten his joint blown, but nothing could have prepared him for the intensity and attention and worship that a Muscle Club member would pay to his cock.
Andy sucked on him like he needed to. He sucked and slurped and licked and kissed his cock and swallowed him whole, pulling his entire length inside his mouth and throat and doing things he didn’t think were possible, or could even imagine how his friend was doing it.
He could feel his load building and he was going to start pumping cream when Andy seemed to sense his friend’s impending explosion and he...did something. Something marvelous and incredible and unbelievable. He did something that made Jon-Marc feel like he was cumming a fat blast of cream but he wasn’t. Instead, it just made him harder and hornier and he started to face-fuck the muscular teen sucking on him.
Andy started to tug on JM before he knew he was doing it, sending vibrations of pure sex into his friend’s head and making him hold back his explosion until Andy wanted it. He pushed the sensation of perfect bliss into Jon-Marc’s brain and sucked on his hard cock with renewed gusto, moaning with pleasure.
They were alone together in the steamy showers for 10 or 15 minutes before Andy allowed JM’s prick to finally deliver a thick, warm, salty dose of cream that the Clubber swallowed down greedily. It wasn’t the same as receiving a fellow Muscle Club member’s sweet, delicious, satisfying cum, but it was enough to make Andy feel happy again.
He sucked every drop out of his friend’s balls and then released him from his mouth, stroking his long wet prick as it slowly grew limp in his hand.
He looked up at JM’s face and the other teenager looked down. “Whoa, dude. That was fucking amazing.”
Andy smiled a lopsided grin. “It’s not my first time.”
“No shit, bro. I mean, that was...that was...holy fuck.”
“Thanks,” Andy regained his feet and towered over the smaller man. “I mean it, JM. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Andy. And I mean that, too! Holy fuck!”
Shawn Dorset was sitting in English class of his junior year, absently toying with his left nipple and enjoying the constant, surging thrill of sexual pleasure erupting from his simple manipulation - thinking about Darren pushing his fat, hard prick so deeply inside him that he could practically taste his friend’s copious flood when he came - when he heard his name being called. “I’m sorry?” he answered, sitting up a bit straighter in his small chair and trying to adjust his massively muscled bulk to fit between the plastic seat and the L-shaped desk.
“Daydreaming again, Shawn?” the teacher asked with a note of resignation in his voice.
Shawn smiled sideways and huffed out a soft laugh. “Sorry, Mr. Cox.” ‘Cocks,’ he thought, and sighed.
“Do I need to send you to the office to have another talk with the councilor, Mr. Dorset?”
“No, Mr. Cox,” he answered. His voice was much lower than the teacher’s, and among the young teens in the classroom he stood out like a sore thumb. A huge, muscular, bearded, well-hung, constantly horny sore thumb. “I apologize.”
“Did you read the assignment, Shawn?”
“Yes,” he answered. He’d read it in a day. It used to take him weeks just to get through a chapter, but lately it seemed like he could devour books as easily as he used to swallow Darren’s massive prick. His own cock surged and throbbed as a sudden image of his old lover’s body flashed in his head.
“Then perhaps you could regale us all with a short description of the protagonist’s dilemma?”
Shawn straightened, cleared his throat, and began a dissertation of the trials and tribulations that Charles Darnay suffered at the hands of John Barsad and Roger Cly, with copious notes regarding the deviltry of Madame Dafarge as his teacher stood dumbfounded and open-mouthed at the head of the classroom. Shawn’s explanation and discussion lasted longer than he intended, but he had enjoyed the novel and even spent time in the library and online researching more about The French Revolution, informing his breakdown with tidbits he had unearthed.
At the end, the room was absolutely silent until the bell rang quite loudly and Shawn, as the assembled students and their teacher watched, rose to his six-and-a-half-foot height, picked up his small backpack, swung it over his massive shoulder and left.
“It was awesome,” he later told his friend, Matthew, who was not in Muscle Club but had reacted to Shawn in much the same way that Shawn reacted to Darren some months back. “Cox was all like, ‘would you care to enlighten the class, Mr. Dorset?’ and I was all like, fuck yeah I would, and then I told them, like, the whole Cliff’s Notes version of A Tale of Two Titties and shut him the fuck up.”
Matthew was still laughing at Shawn’s description. “Man, I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“It was awesome,” Shawn repeated. “I...uh…”
“I know. Time to flog the log,” Matthew said, glancing down at the throbbing erection that was threatening to split open Shawn’s tight jeans.
Shawn grinned. “You can stay and watch, if you want to,” he suggested, again. “It’s pretty amazing to watch these things go off.”
“Both of them?”
Shawn nodded. “I think I need to let the twins out for some air. They’ve been cooped up for far too long.” He rubbed his palm over the bulge. “You...ever seen two dicks before?”
“Yeah, only not on the same body.”
“You’re not curious?”
“I’ll let you be alone with your pets,” Matthew said, grinning. “Looks like they’re as anxious as you are.” He stood up off his friend’s bed and started to gather his things.
“I’ll never understand you,” Shawn said, also standing. He towered over his friend, more than a foot taller, and he was already shirtless. The flawless collection of muscle spanning his torso was mind-boggling, but he hated to wear clothing and had stripped off his shirt the second he was inside his room. “It’s so easy to just….”
“No offense,” Matthew said, keeping his back to Shawn, “but I’ve seen what happens to you guys. I like you, Shawn. I do. But….”
“Whatever,” Shawn growled, unzipping his fly and shoving his skin-tight jeans down his legs. His body was already swelling with more power as he stripped himself naked, allowing his true size to manifest like magic. His head approached the ceiling as his entire frame swelled larger and larger with his mind-blowing array of perfect muscular development. He stretched himself around as he looked at his smaller friend, feeling his muscles stretch and sing and throb with power.
“Gimme a call?”
“Of course,” Shawn answered with a sigh, standing now nearly eight feet high and as wide as two men. Then he looked down as he released his other cock and watched it inflate to the size of its brother, and the two of them rose to full power and started to drool his ample supply of lubricating honey. The scent of sex rose in the small bedroom like a thick, masculine perfume. “See you later, Matt.”
“Matthew,” his friend corrected. It was a joke they shared. “See you, Shawn.”
Shawn watched the door to his small bedroom close and listened to his friend walking down the hallway as he took one of his majestic, ever-ready pricks in each hand and started to stroke himself towards another colossal explosion of thick, warm, sweet, sticky cream. He looked at the small mouths of each cock and watched the unending stream of his copious pre-cum pump out and drain along their steel-hard shanks, liquid sex he could produce at will and for as long as he wanted to. He bent his head and stuck out his long, talented tongue and lapped up some of that warm honey, feeling it spread through his mouth with its tingling sensation, like something alive and powerful.
He gulped down the stream and closed his eyes to luxuriate in the unyielding, incredible, rapturous spasms of fiery sexual bliss that were erupting throughout every fiber of his huge and beautiful body. His balls swelled with cream, urged on by his ravenous need. Shawn was shoving fat gouts of his unending flood inside his own mouth from the twin barrels of sex and gulping the sweet seed down with a hunger that defied any attempt to satiate it.
He used to do this several times a day with all his friends, pumping into their tight chutes and feeling their warm lips wrapped around his thick hugeness, sucking down every drop he could give them and only wanting more. He sucked on himself, now, and swallowed his own torrent, feeling the familiar sense of well-being and potent satisfaction that only this could now provide him.
The creamy fundament of masculine potency. Sweet, delicious, copious surges of male essence from the bulbous spongey heads of all the cocks of all his friends.
He tried to ignore what Matthew had said, though the words hung in the room like dark clouds. “I’ve seen what happens to you guys.”
Shawn’s parents had forbidden him to associate with the other left-behind Clubbers, leaving the 16-year-old really only the one friend, since everyone else acted scared or...something...around him. Was it his size? His muscles? His looks? Maybe it was that fat, prominent bulge in his trousers, the ever-present and ever-ready wealth of dick that he could hardly control now that there were so few opportunities to really allow himself to be himself.
Matthew opened the front door with a backwards glance. He liked Shawn. A lot. And in a way - in a thousand ways - he wanted to turn around and head back into that room and strip naked, too, and gaze on his friend’s beauty and power and….
And end up like him. Alone, and lonely, and a freak.