It's Inevitable 3
by Londonboy
Four years later.
I loved my motorcycle. Of course, I had to get the largest one made and it had to be reinforced, but it was worth it. Feeling the breeze hitting my body was awesome – feeling how the wind had to go around something so heavy and unmoving was even better. I also loved how people stared at me, since I wasn’t hidden like someone might be in a car. I actually think no car could have hidden me, though. I didn’t wear a helmet and I have never been stopped. I think it’s either because I scare the hell out of the police or they figure that anything I hit is going to be damaged a lot more than me. Sometimes, it’s hard for traffic to go around me because I really take up more than one lane. No one has ever honked, though. I think they worry I’d destroy their vehicle if they did. Even sixteen wheelers wait patiently behind me if I am driving too slowly – I think they sometimes mistake me for a small car.
It was graduation day and I was heading back to my hometown. I had done the required ceremonial walk – even though my graduation gown looked like a sports jacket, since it was so small. I had ordered the largest one the company offered. I had also scared the piss out of the president of the university when I came up on the stage. I didn’t mean to, it just happens sometimes. The guy wasn’t prepared for me – or for the way the stage creaked loudly as I walked across. He couldn’t even hold up his hand for the perfunctory shake or hand me my diploma. He just stood there in shock so I grabbed his hand, squeezed a little harder than I should have, and then winked at him. I also bounced my pecs at the same time and the thin material of the gown actually ripped in two places. That’s when the guy lost controll and simply peed in his pants – he was that scared. I felt sorry for him, but I also quickly walked away, ripped off my gown and cap, tossed them in a nearby trashcan and headed straight to my bike. I had a very important date with an old teacher and nothing was going to keep me from that – and I meant nothing.
For four straight years I had been a slave to the gym. I had stayed at the university even during the summer so I could finish my six-year program early and even more so I could grow as big as possible. The word huge didn’t come close to describing me. Guys at the gym called me Mr. Enormous or Mr. Colossal, but even those didn’t seem adequate. I had been approached many times – when I was smaller - by sponsors hoping I’d go pro in bodybuilding, but I simply told them I wasn’t interested in cutting or shredding. I just wanted to get bigger. And that’s exactly what I did. I lifted constantly and when I wasn’t lifting, I was eating. And when I wasn’t eating I was either going to class or sleeping – so I could let my growing muscles rest. I had only one goal in sight – to grow – and it was for one man in particular. That’s why I didn’t deviate from my plan – thoughts of Mr. Miles carried me through the years and made them fly by. I had beat-off to the picture he gave to me so many times that I had his face memorized. I even crushed the frame by accident twice because I had gotten too excited. I realized early on that I would easily surpass his and my dreams of how big I could become and when I finally returned to my hometown I would probably freak the man completely out just from stepping into the same room as him. I couldn’t believe the day was now here. I was riding home with just a thin, muscle-hugging tank top on and loved how the cool breeze made my exposed nipples poke out huge and hard. My cock had been like stone since the moment I woke up because I knew I’d see my little muse that afternoon. School was still in session in my hometown and I figured I’d arrive in time to drop by his classroom as everyone left for the day. Having to duck and turn sideways to enter his room would make both of us even more excited – that was a given.
Driving through town was priceless – mouths dropped open wide, crotches tightened, and heads whipped around to follow my huge body as it went by. My giant-sized bike actually looked more like a scooter when I was on it, so I’m sure that caused some people to gawk, too. I had twice topped four hundred and fifty pounds. Presently, I was only four twenty-three, but that was because I had been studying a lot for finals and hadn’t eaten the cafeteria out of food like I normally did. My father often complained that the food bill each month was more than tuition, but I would always remind him I was on scholarship. I knew I looked inhuman to some people, but I didn’t care. There was a tiny teacher at my old school that was going to be so amazed by my size that I’m sure he was going to probably pass out from the excitement. I had loved growing. It had been incredible to feel the gains each month and even more wonderful to see my development through the shocked faces of other people at my university. I was unbelievably popular even though I didn’t really socialize with anyone. I got to know a few guys at my gym, but that was only because I needed a couple of big men to help satisfy the need for release created by all the testosterone pumping through my body. Most of the time, though, beating off to Mr. Miles’ picture brought me much more pleasure than rubbing my hard cock against some other big guy. The dudes usually complained I was too big and my muscles hurt when they smashed into them, something I knew Mr. Miles would never say. I felt my rod getting harder and longer due to the vibrations of the bike, but mostly because I was thinking about my little muse.
It was at that point that I noticed Mrs. Thompson, the muscle loving woman who I had made cream in her pants by flexing my gun when I was in high school, getting into her car at the Piggly Wiggly store. Every fiber of my body craved Mr. Miles, but I decided it would be good to give this woman a thrill beyond her wildest dreams. I had actually made good time that day and I knew school wasn’t over yet, so that encouraged me even more. How could I not share with her all the changes that had happened to my body? I knew she loved muscle and she wouldn’t ever meet anyone more packed with it than me. I brought my bike to a stop near her car as she shut the back door after loading her groceries. I noticed how my ride moaned in relief as my big body slid off the seat. I stood behind Mrs. Thompson and marveled at how my shadow not only completely covered her, but most of her large car, as well. I’m sure she thought a big cloud was merely passing across the sun. Well, something big was blocking the sun, that’s for sure. I told her hello as she turned around and I could tell – even in the midst of her shocked reaction – that she instantly recognized me. A loud gasp escaped her mouth and she fell back against her car. I quickly saw that she was sliding to the ground so I reached out and grabbed her tiny shoulders – lifting her back up straight. That’s when her mumbling began. I was a little nervous I was causing her to have some kind of seizure and then I recognized words like “too big” and “so huge.” I knew she was actually in her own little muscle fantasy world. She had glanced at my face briefly, but her eyes then moved to my monstrous chest and stayed locked there. My torso completely blocked her view of anything behind me.
I made small chitchat, telling her about graduation and growing while at the university, but I knew she wasn’t listening to a thing I was saying. She just stared at my monstrous pecs and actually salivated at the mouth. I remembered how feeling my biceps had made her orgasm back in high school and decided that I could give her an even more intense thrill today since I was ten times bigger and a hell of a lot harder. I steadied her on the ground, reached down and grabbed her hands, and brought them up to my big pecs. I slid them underneath my tight tank and pressed them against my protruding nipples. I then tensed my chest and made it sprout gloriously with striations, veins, and bulging muscle. The woman let out a loud low moan – like she was turning into some kind of wild animal. She went up on her toes and then he body started to convulse like she was some kind of belly dancer. I knew she was having the most intense orgasm she had experienced in a long time – maybe even ever – and it was clear the pleasure was mind blowing. I thought about reaching under her arms and lifting her up off the ground to see if we could give her multiple orgasms, but then I thought it might be too much for her. I simply let her small delicate hands try to press into my chest as she buckled from the thrill. Finally, the poor woman simply passed out. I was just too much for her. Her body went completely limp – after being stiff as iron during her orgasm. I held her up by raising her hands and then wrapped my arm around her body so I could carry her to the driver’s door. Once she was in the car seat I cracked the window so she wouldn’t get too hot. I knew when she woke up there’d be a few minutes of confusion and she’d probably think she dreamed the entire thing, but then she’d feel the tremendous tingling still happening below in her panties and she’d realize the giant had been real. I loved knowing this elder woman was a freak about muscle – just like Mr. Miles and me. The truth is that most people are muscle-loving whores, but they can’t let their inner desires be completely released. Mrs. Thompson obviously had no problem embracing that part of herself. I had a feeling her poor big husband was never going to be adequate after meeting me in the parking lot that day. She had felt a true muscle freak now and nothing was going to come close to matching that.
Thoughts of my little teacher muse filled my head as I got back on my bike. Pleasing Mrs. Thompson was nice, but it wasn’t the same as thrilling Mr. Miles. It didn’t make my balls ache in the same way as when the little man gazed at my body. It didn’t make my humongous chest pound as heavy as a major thunderstorm like when I imagined my teacher’s lips pressing against my flexed gun for the first time. I had become a gigantic muscle slave to Mr. Miles without even realizing it. During my four years of college thoughts of him dominated my mind during the day and at night. There were many weeks when I had to wash my sheets every singe morning because I would explode like a fire hose turned on full force after my dreams about the guy. I lived and grew for one thing only – my muse. Somehow, and I’m not quite sure why, I knew Mr. Miles understood this – even though there were many miles between us. I also realized he was probably having the same problems at his own home. It would not have surprised me at all if I were to find out he squirted uncontrollably at night just because he dreamed of me – even at his older age I bet I caused him to have massive wet dreams. All of these thoughts now made me much harder than I had been when giving Mrs. Thompson her orgasm. Thrilling her was like a pathetic appetizer before the ten-course meal of making Mr. Miles blow multiple wads before we even touched each other.
I knew the man was going to blast a hard one as soon as he saw me. How could he not? He imagined me growing to the size of some amateur bodybuilder. There was no way – even with my frequent updates via email – that he could ever be prepared for just how monstrous I had truly grown. Even the biggest guys at my gym were dwarfed by me and many of them were a little afraid, too. I had actually worn out some of the machines because I had surpassed what little resistance even their heaviest weight had to offer . The owner forgave me because he knew I drew a lot of attention to his gym and that was free publicity. He merely replaced the equipment and begged me to only use his mega weights that had actually been reinforced just for me.
Sometimes, to give myself a little thrill, I’d stand behind some big guy staring at himself in the mirror while he flexed. I’d do the same pose as him just to make whatever muscle he was highlighting look small compared to mine. My favorite was pumping my big guns behind someone else’s arm and both of us being amazed at how much thicker and larger mine was. I sometimes simply forgot that I had grown so much. It was only when I compared myself to someone else that I truly understood how enormous I had become. Most of the time my big peak would tower over the other guy’s biceps – like comparing a mountain to a rolling hill. I’d usually see a mixture of lust and disappointment in the man’s face – knowing he wanted to touch my big gun, but also realizing that the size difference made him feel like he hadn’t made any gains. I’d usually tell the fellow not to compare himself to me – since I was just bigger than everyone, but it rarely made him stop. I’d watch as they walked away with a mixture of awe for my size and much displeasure at their own gains. My desire to simply grow big made me not worry about being symmetrical or cut – I merely wanted to become thicker and thicker. And that’s exactly what happened. I became covered in hard muscled beef everywhere and then just kept packing it on even though I’d think I had already reached my limit.
One of my most favorite erotic dreams was of me lying on top of Mr. Miles in bed and covering his body completely. I knew, by now, I was twice the size – maybe even more - of the little man and I loved the idea that his entire body would disappear beneath me. It was like some kind of bizarre magic trick – now you see him and now you don’t. I knew, instinctively, that my teacher would get off on this act just as much as I did. The man would love being smothered in muscle – even during those brief few moments of not being able to breathe right before I’d lift my huge frame off of him. I was slowly coming to fully grasp that, while I truly loved being magnificently enormous, my size didn’t matter without Mr. Miles. I grew in order to please him and that, in turn, pleased me. Squishing his body against the wall and pinning him with his feet off the floor excited me beyond belief, but it was how much it would exhilarate the little guy that got me hard as stone. Snatching his head between my bulging forearm and Hulk-like biceps would surely make my ass clench up with delight, but knowing he’d love having his face smashed brutally against my non-denting gun is what really revved my engines. I realized there was no muscle-related demonstration I could come up with that would not make my teacher’s crank tighten up harder and harder. His thirst for my body was as limitless as my ability to show it off. This thought had fueled me for almost five years and it was certainly now causing me to want to get to my old school as soon as possible – even though the final class still had some time. I wanted to see my little man, but, more importantly, I wanted him to see me.
All of this intense stimulation to my cock caused my grip to be a little too heavy on the fuel to my bike. I was flying about thirty miles above the speed limit for only a short while before I suddenly heard a siren and noticed flashing lights in my mirrors. You’d think I would have been upset by the delay, but since I was still early and because the thought of giving some butch policeman a muscle thrill turned me on, I pulled over to the side of the road and let a slightly evil grin creep across my face. I waited patiently as the officer called in my license number, got out of his car, and came up behind me. While he was a few feet away he told me to please get off the bike and turn towards him. I had watched him in my mirror the entire time so I could tell he wasn’t really paying attention to me as he did all these things. That was perfectly fine with me – since it would make my size even more of a shock when I faced him.
Whenever I was trying to get someone’s attention or waiting for someone look at me for the first time I’d get a jolt of euphoria since I knew their face was going to light up like the New York skyline with a barrage of different emotions when they finally took in my immense size. I’m sure it was like seeing one of the wonders of the world for the first time or maybe even more like the initial shock when you bungee jump or skydive. Nevertheless, I loved the moment right before the light bulb shot completely on and the person was confused about what they were seeing – as if it were a mirage or some kind of trick. I slid off the bike and turned around, ecstatic to see that the cop was still looking down at the electronic box he used to create tickets. He was asking me if I knew why I had been stopped and then he finally looked up. The guy’s reaction was priceless - when he actually really looked at me for the first time. He immediately dropped his machine and one hand went automatically to his gun – something he learned during training, I’m sure. His other hand, however, went directly, and uncontrollably, to his crotch. It was the cutest thing ever – the poor guy had to instantaneously feel his hardening cock as he gazed at my hugeness. I don’t think there would have been any way for him to prevent that natural reaction. My own cock twitched a little as I watched the cops eyes – waiting to see if they registered lust or inferiority – and was rewarded with a look similar to that of Mr. Miles. This hefty, mustached, macho officer was into muscle and he had hit the jackpot.
Earlier thoughts of Mr. Miles had made me pretty frisky, so I answered the cop’s question with the kind of cocky attitude I knew he’d like. I simply said that I figured he had stopped me because he wanted to get a better look at my enormous body. I also smiled in a way that made it clear I understood how turned on he was. It was cool to see the hand on his gun immediately move away, but the one on his cock continued to move up and down without any embarrassment. I decided this guy could easily be another quick appetizer before I reached the delicious full meal at my old school. I also had a feeling that my confidence was getting jacked up even higher than it already was just so I could blow the socks off of Mr. Miles when I presented him with my colossal body. I was going to be so full of testosterone by the time I got to the school that my little ol’ muse was going to bust a nut when I was still twenty feet down the hallway. He was going to be able to smell how freaking huge I had become before I even showed him. His cum was still going to be hot and thick when I squeezed my hulking frame through his door and he was going to immediately shoot an even heavier load when his eyes gazed on what his nose had already told him. I was unbelievable. And that was just two of the senses – there were going to be many more ejaculations as we moved through the others, especially taste and feel.
The poor cop was unable to say anything. He just stared at me – his eyes roaming all over my mountainous muscles in a way that made it clear he thought he was hallucinating. I asked if he was feeling okay and all he could do was mumble a bunch of different sounds, but I definitely heard ‘so big’ repeated a few times. It reminded me of my earlier encounter at Piggly Wiggly. I quickly noticed the guy had a very impressive cock to go with his husky body. It was now fully hard and I could tell it was thick and long. He had shot hard quicker than a supersonic jet and that pleased me very much – as well as egged me on even more. He continued to stroke himself through his pants and I suddenly realized his gaze had finally landed on my right biceps. So the cop was an arm man - that was good to know. He didn’t excite me anything near the way Mr. Miles did, but knowing this big guy found my freakish size appealing was going to help get my juices warmed up for my rendezvous at the school. I could tell the cop was ripe for a little muscle worship and I had more than enough to please him and many others. His polyester pants already had a wet spot at the end of his visibly pulsating cock. I was pretty sure if I popped my big guns into a double biceps pose and bellowed ‘bam’ at the same time the dude would have shot off like a rocket and passed out from muscle overload at the same time. It would have been like poor Mrs. Thompson all over again. I decided on a different tactic, however – one that would help get me a little more stimulated for my date with Mr. Miles.
I tensed my forearm and twisted it at the same time – causing my giant biceps to bulge a little more than its already humongous resting size. The guy’s eyes widened huge in perfect unison to the widening of my arm. I was merely tensing the gun, mind you, and he was already gawking like it was something alien. I hadn’t even begun to flex. I was now worried that pumping the mound up into a thick muscled peak was going to make the dude explode. I forced myself not to rush – for fear of him having a heart attack, but also because I loved how my arm was hypnotizing the man. I brought my fist upward a little to make the vein covered mountain grow to the size of a large watermelon, which was still nothing close to how big I could blast it. The guy’s mumbling got faster and his husky voice went up about three octaves, making him sound like one of those cartoonish chipmunks. The hand rubbing his cock sped up to match the rhythm of his gibberish. I had a little fun by relaxing the gun, which caused his voice to go deep again, and then tensing it so the pitch would go higher. I don’t think it even registered in the guy’s head that my massive package of muscle was controlling him that way. He was just reacting to the fact that my slightly flexed arm made even his pretty good-sized quad look like a popsicle stick. That was one thing I knew I’d never get used to – outsizing grown men by so much. I knew I made Mr. Miles look like an elementary school kid and that thought could make my cock stand at attention faster and longer than anything, but it was when big guys – men that most people considered super masculine and intimidating – looked scrawny beside me that I truly started to understand how much freakish muscle my little muse had enabled me to acquire.
This older cop – a guy that was probably more than twice my age – kind of looked sickly when compared to me. I’m sure he was in what all his buddies considered great shape and I bet he even played a lot of sports – maybe even rubbing it in when he beat other guys. But standing there – maybe about eight inches shorter than my six seven and a good two hundred pounds lighter – it seemed like I would be able to squash him with one hand. I could feel that the dude comprehended all of this – just by the way he stared at my bulging bazooka expanding and relaxing in his face. I didn’t need to prove how big or strong I was – the guy just sensed it, the same way a cat knows now to land on its feet when it falls from furniture. Any drop of cockiness that might have existed in the cop before he met me was immediately drained from his body as he gazed at my mind-blowing size. It probably escaped mixed in with the saliva that was now dripping from the side of his mouth. I had a feeling the man would have oozed from every opening in his body if it had been possible. His entire demeanor made it clear that he had submitted his entire being to the big alpha stud standing in front of him. I didn’t need to do a thing to dominate him – it was simply an automatic reaction he had to my size.
I flexed my big gun a little harder, making the entire thing poke out thicker and higher, and the dude started a low guttural moan at the same time he was squealing in a high pitch tone. I had no idea how both sounds came out of his mouth at the same time, but – then again – neither did he. The cop was so entranced by my muscle I doubted he’d remember much from our encounter – except how huge I was. I looked at my big arm, too, remembering that I had promised myself never to measure it. I would leave that honor to Mr. Miles. I had never measured any part of my body. I just knew, without even asking him, that my teacher would want the pleasure of trying to hold the tiny tape in his trembling hands as he draped it around different parts of me. I was sure my guns had blasted beyond twenty-five inches, but I didn’t know how much farther they’d gone. Looking at how they – even un-flexed – swelled bigger than most of this cop’s body made me realize I took my immensity for granted. It really didn’t dawn on me anymore that furniture didn’t groan out loud when most people sat down. I was so used to having to find double-door entrances to most buildings that I thought it was the norm for everyone. It was now just a habit for me to have to reach down and pick people up who bumped into me by accident and were sent flying to the ground because my big frame didn’t give at all. And like famous movie stars getting used to paparazzi, I had grown immune to the way people stared, gasped, or stood there stunned beyond belief when I entered a room. From the moment I had opened those bodybuilding magazines at the store back in high school I knew I would be gigantic. It was just a given. I had not anticipated the growth being accelerated by one of my teachers, but that had simply made my gargantuan size seem that more normal. Because Mr. Miles wanted me to be huge I would be huge – it was that simple.
Now, however, as this macho cop stood on the precipice of a cum explosion beyond his wildest dreams I began to acknowledge all the dedicated work I had put into my body over the last four years. I had no actual proof of my next thought, but I was suddenly pretty sure I was the largest man on earth. And an adorable dweebish teacher in a small town school had made it possible. I easily outsized every guy at my gym and my university, but it had not dawned on me until that moment that I probably outsized everyone. I couldn’t fit into most medium sized cars or anything smaller. Unless a dress shirt was tailor-made I could find none that would fit me and the same thing was true for pants. I normally only wore sweats and even those had to be specially made. People refused to sit behind me at theatres or sporting events – because they couldn’t see over me or even around me, since I was just too wide for them to lean over to watch. The few times I had flown somewhere the airlines gave me an entire row of seats – but only made me pay for one. I couldn’t tell if they were frightened, and so did me the favor, of it they were just so turned on by my size that they did it as a gift. Either way, I appreciated it. I did, however, have a terrible time trying to make it down the tiny aisle and there was no way I could even begin to fit in the miniature bathrooms. Showers were also a huge problem. At school, I had to actually take mine at the gym – in the one with ten shower heads - because there was no way my body would fit into the tiny one at my dorm room. And then there was the problem of other people not seeing the world from my point of view. I’d forget this all the time. I was once trying to buy a new fridge for my apartment, which I got my sophomore year so I could have a bigger shower, and I kept telling the salesman that I wanted to see the big appliances – not the ones built for smaller kitchens. It took him a while to make me understand that I was standing in front of the largest ones they made – they just looked tiny next to me.
All of these thoughts, as well as the anticipation of seeing Mr. Miles, made me horny beyond belief. And when I was horny I had to flex. Pumping up my muscles was almost as good as having sex – even though I didn’t really know since my escapades had been limited to a few childish encounters with big men from the gym. I just had a feeling that when I finally got to do things to Mr. Miles and he did things to me it was going to feel as hot and as amazing as when I made my muscles swell up from tensing and flexing. I basically forgot about the little cop in front of me. I was so caught up in my lust for Mr. Miles that I threw my arms into a double biceps pose and tensed so hard that it seemed like I was trying to squeeze water out of my guns. I didn’t think about what my sudden action would do to the cop. He was just an innocent bystander that got caught up in my need to pump my muscles with monstrous intensity. I growled out loud as I blasted my peaks to full height and they swelled almost double their normal size. Normally, I just flexed hard for a good five to ten minutes and the horniness I felt would either pass or I’d bust out a few major gobs of my juice. Today, however, I was distracted immediately when I heard the cop’s voice slide up into an ear-piercing squeal and I glanced down to see his body go rigid like a two-by-four. As quickly as the sound had started it ended and the dude fell backwards to the ground – still as stiff as before, like a marble statue falling over. I immediately noticed that he was breathing, making me very thankful that he had not had a stroke. He was definitely unconscious, though, and there was a big smile across his face. I realized my bulging arms had been too much for the man. He had never seen guns rocket to anything near my size. I had not thought about how my need to flex would impact the little man. I could tell he was happy, by the look on his face and because of the now lake-sized wet stain covering his pants and the bottom of his shirt. I immediately recognized an aroma I connected to my muscles – the smell of cum. This was due to the fact that most men usually squirted uncontrollably when I flexed near them. They gym owner had actually asked me to check out my growth progress only when I went into the locker room. He felt the wet crotches and stench were more appropriate there and he also figured people could clean themselves up faster, being so close to the showers.
I didn’t realize I was still flexing until I felt something blocking the sun from the side of my face and I noticed my giant peak bulging upward. I relaxed my arms, noting the flexing had actually not reduced any of my horniness – but then I figured it was fine to save it up for Mr. Miles, as if meeting the guy after four years I’d have any trouble being excited as hell. I looked down at the smiling cop and realized I couldn’t leave him on the side of the road – no matter how comfortable and happy he looked. I reached down and scooped his body into my arms – realizing that the guy was going to be disappointed that he didn’t get to feel my huge guns touching him and also being amazed at how light the big dude was. I carried him to his car, cracked the window like I had for Mrs. Thompson, and then locked him inside so no one would bother him. I chuckled a little when the dude finally relaxed his body, moved into the fetal position on the seat, and actually started sucking his thumb. I guess he really did feel tiny next to me.
As I hopped on my bike and tore off even faster than I had been going when I got stopped, I realized that my excitement about seeing Mr. Miles was now off the charts. I felt like I could have taken on a stampede of raging buffalos easily or ripped apart a tank. I was about to reunite with the little muse that had caused me to grow into a hulking beast. I was finally going to be able to show off for him and make sure he understood – completely – that I was his muscle servant for life. I was going to have him getting his rocks off for hours as he worshipped my body. I wanted to please him more than anything in the world. I wanted him to see that I had surpassed our wildest dreams about how big I would become.