It's Inevitable
by Londonboy
I have always dreamed of being big. Actually, I have dreamed of being huge – even before I understood it was possible – but I’m getting ahead of myself. I guess it started in high school. I watched how all the football players in my small southern town got special treatment by their peers or even adults in the community, and I knew I wanted the same thing. They were like gods to other people – well, a new variety of gods. During my junior year I was introduced to Muscle and Fitness magazine at the newly opened fancy supermarket downtown and my interest in getting big deepened in a couple of important ways. First, I realized being a bulky teenaged football player was nothing – there were men out in the world that were as big as mountains, at least that’s how it seemed to me, and that’s what I now desired. I no longer wanted to be a school weight room hefty dude, no – I wanted to be a muscle-packing giant bodybuilder who made the earth shake when he walked. I wanted people to stare at me in awe – or even in a little fear – whenever my massive body completely filled their view. The first time I saw a picture of a guy with arms bigger than the sides of beef hanging at old man Dormer’s butcher shop I became obsessed. I wanted to be so big that I could pick up one of our town’s football players with one hand and watch his eyes pop out as he gazed at my tremendous biceps barely straining from his weight.
Damn, just the memory of what I dreamed about during that time in my life gets my motor running and my hefty cock starts to stiffen. You see, that’s the second thing I noticed the day I opened up that magazine in the store – there was nothing that could get my jizz boiling more than the idea of my body getting bigger than two prize-winning bulls put together. Looking at pictures of super heavyweight bodybuilders and imagining what it would feel like to be that big made me spurt so hard that day in aisle thirteen of Lucky’s Market that I fell to my knees and cried out like I had been punched in the stomach. Poor Mrs. Thompson thought I was having some kind of seizure until she noticed the seeping stain at my crotch and told me to ‘hurry on home’ with a knowing smile. I’m sure she saw what magazine I had been perusing and figured out things mighty fast. I’m also pretty sure I saw a glimmer of appreciation in her eyes for the guy on the cover, too. Mrs. Thompson had a thing for huge men. I’m sure of it, now. That’s probably one of the reasons she married the local blacksmith.
Anyway, that’s the day I got hooked – on the idea of getting bigger and on busting wads right and left as I daydreamed about being huge. I’m pretty sure it was the positive energy that was released into my body – some people call it endorphins – every time I would visualize myself some massive dude with muscles popping out all over that helped me the most. I went home that evening and pulled my brother’s unused weight set out of the attic and set it up in my room. No one in my family seemed to notice or care one bit. I had no idea what I was doing the first few weeks I started working out, but I figured I was doing something right because I was so sore I could barely get out of bed the third morning. It was toward the end of the school year, so I was doubly excited when summer started because I was able to focus on training almost all day. The words ‘obsessive compulsive’ don’t even come close to describing me. I started buying the magazines at the supermarket and devoured them like a monk studying the Bible. I learned about anatomy and nutrition, helping me to find out what exercises made my body respond the quickest and produced the best results. By the end of summer I went from a small shirt to an extra large. My mother constantly talked about my growth spurt and complained I was eating her out of house and home.
As fate would have it, I bumped into Mrs. Thompson again when I was shopping for back-to-school clothes at the end of summer. She barely recognized me and went on for a good while about how I was becoming such a huge boy. Each time she said something about how big I was I got a rush of sexual electricity to my groin area and I finally asked the elder lady if she’d like to feel my biceps. Her face lit up like a city skyline at night and she didn’t miss a beat before saying ‘yes, please.’ The earth moved for both of us as soon as she placed her delicate hand on my hard bulging gun. Her eyes grew wide with shock as soon as I flexed, but as her skin met my granite the woman actually had an orgasm. I kid you not. Her legs got all wobbly right there and then and she moaned like someone had just slowly slid a humongous sausage into her warm, wet hole. I watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her other hand went straight to her face, she slid her forefinger and second finger into her mouth, and she started sucking on them involuntarily. It was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced up to that point in my limited sex life. Mrs. Thompson certainly didn’t turn me on - since I had already realized my attraction for men – but I was, however, overwhelmingly stimulated by her reaction to my muscles. This revelation was as powerful as my earlier experience at Lucky’s Supermarket with the magazine – I fully realized I had a strong innate need to flaunt my muscles for people. And this time the new knowledge ignited my desire to get bigger – it was kicked into a higher gear than ever before. Mrs. Thompson cooed and moaned for a good ten minutes as she tried desperately to grab hold of my knotty baseball-sized biceps – my hard skin easily preventing her fingers from gripping anything. I finally told her I had to finish shopping and I lowered my arm, but her hand stayed in the air and she remained in some kind of trance. I walked away, knowing that neither of our lives would ever be the same.
That entire school year I simply went to class, ate multiple meals all day, and worked out hard. When I wasn’t working out I was either reading about weight training or I was whacking off hard dreaming about being so big that I’d have to turn sideways to walk through doorways. By Christmas I was up to a double extra large shirt and there wasn’t anyone at my high school that hadn’t noticed the changes to my body. Even Coach Benton – the gruff and ornery head of the athletics department – seemed to kind of cower to the other side of the hall when we passed each other. I had girls say they named their vibrators in honor of me and I often caught some of the macho football players checking me out in the locker room. That usually caused me to get so excited that I had to disappear into one of the bathroom stalls until I calmed down. I was by no means the massive bodybuilder I wanted to be, but I was certainly growing. In January, everything changed again when a new teacher started at the school. He became my most intense inspiration to date – and even more, but that’s getting ahead of myself again.
My English teacher, Mrs. McCoy, went out on maternity leave and Mr. Michael Miles stepped in mid-year. I remember clearly walking into class on his first day and he was standing at the chalkboard near the door. When he turned to notice what had blocked so much light from the hallway I saw his face light up even more than Mrs. Thompson’s had that day in the clothing store. My eyes were then immediately drawn to the dramatic twitching that began in his crotch area. The poor guy obviously had no time to avoid his body’s automatic response to the muscle-hugging bright red polo shirt I was wearing. His cock sprang to life before he could process what he might have normally thought was an inappropriate response. Mr. Miles clearly saw that my eyes were glued to now harder-than-hell dick and his face shot beet red as he jumped behind the podium in the front of the class. I froze just inside the classroom door, blocking the way for anyone else to enter.
My body had thrilled countless peers in my school and even intimidated some. My flexed biceps had caused Mrs. Thompson to cream in her panties as soon as she touched it. All of this had given me great pleasure. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the euphoric rush that would come from causing an intense sexual reaction in an older man. It was difficult to explain how natural and comfortable it instantly felt to make Mr. Miles shoot super hard – it was like putting on a well-worn sweater or sliding into a familiar bed. It was as if I was coming home after being away for a very long time. I wasn’t ready, though, for how my own body would respond. Every muscle in my bulky frame tensed up tight, causing veins and striations to be highlighted through my shirt – actually causing the man to get even more aroused. My own rod rocketed to full mast and my crotch area bulged like the rest of me. I couldn’t move – simply because it would have made me bust a major wad. Smaller students were blocked from entering the room, but no one dared to say a word. They just waited for me to finally move. I used all of my will power to make my legs shuffle forward and, somehow, I avoided exploding. When I slid into my desk my stone-like shaft banged against the top and I had to grab the thing with my hand to bend it down so I could fit in. Mr. Miles watched me the entire time – it was as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of my huge tensed body. We locked eyes and both of us almost surrendered to our building orgasm. He fell forward because his knees kind of gave out – slamming his crotch into the podium. It was clear he liked how it felt. I felt a spurt of pre escape my dick slit and my balls tightened up harder than walnuts. It was a miracle that neither of us moaned out loud or ended up with sticky crotches.
I have no recollection of one thing Mr. Miles said that day. I was too busy trying to keep his attention on me. I knew it was hard for him to focus on anything else, but when he succeeded in looking away I would immediately do something to draw his attention back. I did it instinctively. I wasn’t trying to distract him on purpose – it’s just that my muscles craved his adoration. I kid you not. I found myself placing my elbows on my desk and flexing my biceps hard so they’d bulge out the sleeves of my shirt to what seemed like near ripping point. My teacher’s gaze would immediately turn back to me and he’d fumble for words because of how my guns thrilled him. He was finally able to avoid gazing at me for a long time so I simply cupped my hands behind my head and acted like I was stretching from a deep yawn. I, of course, flexed at the same time and seeing the mounds pop up in the air like that made Mr. Miles completely forget what he was saying and everyone began to get a little antsy as the silence lingered. I saw a pleading in the man’s eyes that had not been there before, so I lowered my arms. I was beginning to feel sorry for the guy, but I could not get rid of my need to turn him on with my body. I pretty much left him alone after that and as soon as the bell rang he was the first person out the door. I think he needed to go and release some stress in the bathroom. I thought about following him – just so I could hear him moan while he beat off – but it was against school rules for students to go into the faculty bathrooms.
My cock did not settle down for the rest of the day. I was so cranked up about turning on Mr. Miles that I worked out for four hours straight after school. I also ate enough food for five people that night at dinner. I went to bed around ten and couldn’t sleep so I got up and worked out some more. I also finally spewed a major load thinking about how my body had wrecked a grown man earlier that day. I finally slept like a baby and dreamed about Mr. Miles groping my muscles for hours. The next morning I was so refreshed that I got a quick session with the weights in before I left for school. I wanted to look especially pumped for my new teacher. To add a little more intensity to the situation I wore one of my tightest t-shirts – knowing it showed off my bulges in a special way. I also chose it because across the chest it said ‘SWOLE.’ As soon as the bell rang at the end of first period I made a beeline to Mr. Miles’ room so I’d be the first to arrive. I loved how the crowded hallways always parted when I came through, making it easy for me to make my grand entrance when only my teacher was in the room. The guy’s reaction to that day’s attire was exactly what I had hoped. The hard cock was a given – it probably was stiff before I even arrived since he anticipated my hugeness – but it was the gaping mouth and the wide-as-hell eyes that electrified me the most. And when a slight moan escaped his throat without him even realizing it I was in muscle building heaven. I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the guy as I walked slowly to my desk – making sure my tensed body wrecked him even more as it sauntered to the back of the room. When I sat down I knew I had only a few seconds before someone else entered so I quickly brought my arms up into a quick, mind-blowing double biceps pose to see if I could actually make the astounded man start to drool. I smiled when a big gob of saliva escaped the corner of his mouth, sliding down his chin, and then finally falling to the floor below with a loud smack.
It was that moment I realized the little man had become my muse. I got the feeling that my gains would be momentous over the coming months because of his intense adoration. I knew it wasn’t actually possible, but I felt larger than the day before. I’m sure it was just a weird internal awareness, but it didn’t matter – I felt heavier, bigger, and more powerful than ever. I had a need to go and work out right then. I knew I’d be able to lift more and last longer than ever before. Unfortunately, other students entered the room and both Mr. Miles and I had to abandon our overwhelming desires of the moment – neither of us, however, lost our throbbing hard-ons. During that second class with my new teacher I took stock of our differences – knowing that our lust for my hugeness was the only similarity that mattered. I figured that Mr. Miles was about twenty years older than me – between thirty-seven and thirty-nine.
It was clear that the years he had on me had not been used to grow. I probably outweighed him by over a hundred and twenty-five pounds. If you had gazed at us from behind – standing side by side – you would have assumed the dude was my little brother by about fifteen years. His shoulders sloped down and were kind of bony underneath his shirt, while mine flared out super wide and thick – maybe triple the size of his. It was clear he had some muscle in his arms – but compared to mine they seemed like toothpicks. My biceps and triceps bulged out in the shape of hard watermelons while Mr. Miles’ arms were more like small, squishy oranges. My teacher’s button down shirt and tie hung straight down his thin body. There was no chest to speak of and so it almost looked like the article of clothing was merely on a wire hanger. My shirt bulged out in front – so thick that it almost looked like I had thick stone-like slabs strapped to my torso. My back was thick, too, and heavy muscles rippled any time I moved my arms or breathed heavily. I was especially proud of my mountainous traps and was amazed to see that Mr. Miles’ neck sloped right into his shoulders without even the slightest bump. I tensed my neck and shoulders just to feel the thick muscles expand upward – showing off how lifting what equaled the weight of three or four big dudes put together had made my traps so beautiful.
My arms were pushed out from my sides by lats that were massive, hard, and full of muscle. His hung straight down and his torso was that of someone that only pleasure swam for exercise. My body was almost twice as wide as his. I was sure I could wrap one of my big arms around him and easily lift him off the ground – without even bending my knees. I believe my neck was actually as thick as his waist, but it could have been just because Mr. Miles seemed so small. The only place my teacher had me beat in growth was when it came to facial hair. My face was as smooth as a baby’s behind, but his was covered in gorgeous thick stubble and he sported a neatly trimmed bushy mustache that made him look almost macho. I found myself wanting to pick up the little guy and cuddle him like a little puppy. I wanted to interlock my giant hand with his and marvel at how his tiny fingers were engulfed by mine. I could see his delicate nipples pressing against his shirt and I realized that even my nubs were monstrous in comparison. I then suddenly awakened to the fact that I was on the cusp of an explosion more intense than ever before in my life and I was sitting in the middle of a classroom at school. I forced myself to close my eyes and stop thinking about Mr. Miles’ smaller body next to mine. At that moment it dawned on me like a bolt of lighting that our size difference turned me on in a very exciting way. It was yet another revelation in my lust for growth. I wanted nothing more right then and there than to find a wall-sized mirror to carry the little guy in front of and plop him down so I could gaze at how enormous I was next to him. But more importantly, I wanted to watch his face as he gazed at our size difference. I wanted to hear him whimper as I peeled off my shirt right beside him and he got his first gulp-inducing glance at just how freakishly small a seventeen year old could make him feel.
I instinctively knew that Mr. Miles would love every second of it – getting harder than shit as he took in how much I had pumped up my body. The thought of him being intimidated to hell, but being turned on beyond his wildest dreams, was so incredible to me. My rod became even harder – something I didn’t think was possible – and the head started pressing painfully into the bottom side of my desktop. I was a little afraid that I would force the wood to split in half. I opened my eyes and ran my tongue across my lips when I gazed at the backside of my teacher, who was now writing something on the board. His back was miniscule compared to the wide as a double-door fridge muscled slab I had built through hard work. I knew if I stepped between the guy and the rest of the class he would have been completely blocked from everyone’s view – even for the two farthest rows on both sides of the room. Damn, I had not fully realized just how huge I had grown – but I did fully realize that this man was going to help me grow even larger.
It took every ounce of strength in my bulging muscles to make it through that class. I so wanted to jump up beside Mr. Miles, rip off my shirt, and start flexing wildly. Sure, it would be cool to hear the class ooh and ah, but it was really the lustful reaction of my teacher that I was most eager to see. I watched the little man try to steady his shaking hand as he wrote on the board and I knew he was thinking of me. My tight t-shirt was wrecking the man and he wasn’t even looking at me – it was just the memory of me flexing hard when we were the only two in the classroom. I suddenly was shaken out of my daydreaming when I heard the classroom erupt in giggles. One of the girls in the front row corrected Mr. Miles, who had accidently said that such-and-such writer had been born in “Biceps” Massachusetts, instead of Boston. This made the teacher turn red with embarrassment and I broke out into a big smile. When Mr. Miles glanced in my direction I winked – just to let him know I understood what was distracting him. The rest of class was mostly made up of the distraught man trying to remain focused on the subject he was teaching and me thinking of ways I could emphasize how much more immense I was compared to him – both of us flexing our biceps beside the other, me lifting his body overhead, dwarfing his thigh by placing my enormous gun next to it, and showing him my forearm was thicker than his upper arm. Before I knew it the bell was ringing and students were exiting. Unfortunately, some girl stopped to ask Mr. Miles a question so he didn’t get to escape as quickly as the day before. I took my time coming up the aisle and made a fist with my right hand so my forearm muscle would bulge out even more. I glanced back and forth from my arm to the teacher’s face and loved how he was trying desperately to focus on the student’s question. It was no use, though. I was just too big for him – especially when I was so close. I simply gazed into his eyes and dropped a folded piece of paper on the podium between us. I heard the girl trying to get Mr. Miles’ attention as I left the room. I wish I could have been there when he read the note – to see his face – but it might have been too much for both of us to handle. My imagination would have to do. I was certain, however, that my short statement made his cock shoot harder, his mouth drop open wider, and his heart start beating faster. I had merely written:
�You�re helping me grow bigger. I�ll keep you posted on my gains.�
That night I was so jazzed by my size comparison fantasies with Mr. Miles that I was able to bench double the weight I normally did – impossible, as it seemed. I was only able to do it for three reps, but it was still damn impressive. I had gotten so worked up during the day that I felt like I could lift an SUV when I got home. The weight wasn’t near that heavy, but I knew no one else at my school – or maybe even anyone at the gyms or fitness clubs in town – were lifting what I pumped out that night. I instantly felt my muscles bulging more when I finished lifting five hours later. I looked like someone had doused me with a fire hose I was sweating so much and I stank so much that it actually smelled good, real good. I smelled like the huge man I was and I thought about not showering – going to school with an aroma so pungent with testosterone that Mr. Miles would spurt when I was still halfway down the hall – but I decided against it. I didn’t want to start a riot at school and I knew half the place would be clawing each other to get at me – both the men and the women, staff included. I took a long shower and busted a major wad fantasizing about how much larger my feet were compared to those of Mr. Miles – go figure. Again, I slept like a baby and was so amazingly refreshed the next morning that I repeated three presses of my new heaviest weight – still amazed that my muse had empowered me to double the amount in one sitting. I ate a dozen eggs, downed a gallon of milk, devoured three chicken breasts and then headed off to sexually terrorize Mr. Miles without even talking to him.
When I got to my new favorite teacher’s classroom I instantly realized something was different. The little man didn’t turn to look at me as soon as he became aware that something huge had entered the room. I could tell he knew I was there – again I had rushed there to be the first one to arrive – but Mr. Miles clearly had gained some control of himself and I didn’t dominate him completely with just my presence. At first I couldn’t figure out what suddenly gave the guy so much self-control but when I reached my desk I saw that there was a folded piece of paper lying in the seat. I quickly reached down and opened the note. Nothing could have prepared me fully for what I read or for my uncontrollable reaction. The note simply said:
�I believe there is no such thing as too big. I�m happy to help you grow. Please keep me posted.�
My knees instantly began to wobble as all of my blood rushed to my cock. I looked up and found Mr. Miles staring at me. My teacher merely smiled and winked. Everything proved too much for me to handle at one time. I suddenly felt a tsunami -like surge in my balls and I knew I needed to get to a bathroom immediately. I wasted not even a millisecond. I don’t even remember running down the hall, but I believe I knocked down a few big jocks without even realizing it. By the time I got into the little stall I was so jacked and ready to explode that I was barely able to get my zipper down. As soon as my hard cock was freed it started spewing like a volcano. Gobs of my thick white warm cum splattered against the cement behind the toilet and the newly painted walls of the stall. I let out a loud groan that made it obvious to anyone within twenty feet of the bathroom what was going on inside. My balls somehow churned out enough hot man-juice that it seemed to equal all the cum I’d ever shot before. Spooge seemed to be dripping down from every possible spot in the tiny stall. I knew the cleaning guy was going to get a hard-on just from thinking about the powerful dude that had released such a huge load.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Miles writing that there was no such thing as too big. He had wrecked my world with his short note since it clearly summed up the ultimate definition of muscle worship. My little muse was the best in the world – that was now perfectly obvious. No wonder he had been a little surer of himself when I entered the classroom – he fully knew his words would cause me to erupt in a major way. It now dawned on me that Mr. Miles truly was exactly like me. His lust for my growth equaled mine – it may have even been more than mine. It’s hard to explain what it means to have a small devoted disciple who’s every breath is a plea for your body to grow. Seeing the mixture of lust and begging in Mr. Miles’ face sent shivers throughout my entire body – and I’m sure those same vibrations were also the impetus for my intensified growth. I could certainly get bigger on my own, but there was just something about my muscles causing a grown man to lose control of bodily functions – like speech, movement, or orgasms – that caused testosterone to churn out something major in every fiber of my being. His adoration fueled me like some kind of super-powered juice. I became more masculine simply from being near the little muse. And all of this made me crave his attention like some kind of addictive drug. I needed him to stop in mid-sentence just because he noticed the veins on my forearm. I wanted his heart to beat faster just because he realized I couldn’t snap the top two buttons of my shirt closed because of my huge pecs. I desperately yearned for the crotch area of his pants to tighten to near ripping point because he was so hard merely because I bent my arms and my guns briefly popped super thick. Having this kind of control over the man was almost too much for me to handle – and I was the one who was enormous!