There were some gaps in his memory, and his attitude, his feelings were so different, now. He didn’t really understand what or why, but he surprised himself by how he’d felt before and how he felt now. He was so aware of how different he felt walking with this altered physique, tall, lanky, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. In his mind he could clearly see how he had looked in the mirror, the tiny posing brief riding his high butt muscles and diving so low in front, making his package so much in center focus, just enough material covering him to hold the bulge of his stuff, but not enough to cover all his pubes. That was nothing new, showing some pubes, but in this tiny poser, it felt radically more daring. And right now, he was liking feeling daring. But he still didn't know why he felt this way.

They found a space on the crowded beach to lay their towels, and as Russ rubbed on tanning lotion, he found himself feeling more strange, in the same good way. He had a different sense of his body, the muscle under his hands, the cuts, the ridges, curves, veins, every little contour. He noticed people watching him as he rubbed himself, and he liked being watched. He also had odd sensations all through his body that mirrored his attitude. He'd felt more muscular before this weird growth thing made him lanky, but somehow, his muscle felt solid on his frame. He felt his tight abs as he rubbed the lotion slowly all the way down to the top of the posers, realizing with a sharp, clear awareness, that he was being watched as his fingers rubbed into the exposed pubic hair, and then the hair on his legs, as he worked it down his quads. What was this? Why did he feel so turned on by something that should be embarrassing him. Or why, he thought, as he stood up again, giving a final smoothing to his pecs, seeing the looks he was getting, should he be embarrassed? He was a good looking guy, an athlete, now even taller and with an impressive V shape. So he was wearing a little bikini kind of thing? What was wrong with that? His uncle Jake and Jake's buddy Brent seemed cool with it all. Several other guys on this beach were in similar trunks. Well, maybe not quite so brief, but a lot of built guys in Speedos or bikini trunks seemed to come here, and many were giving him the once over.

He was, he realized to his own continuing surprise, actually pretty much liking the looks. The extra inches of height and the major V shape must make a bigger difference in his appearance than he realized. He would have stood there rubbing in the lotion a little longer, but suddenly he felt dizzy and achy, almost like when he'd been sick. He got so dizzy, he had to sit on his towel before he fell down.

"Here Russ," Jake said, "let me rub some of that on your back."

Russ' head spun as he handed over the lotion. His whole body felt stoned, if that was possible. His uncle's hands rubbing the lotion on his back had a certain grounding effect. In fact, it felt incredibly good, the hands on his back, but he was getting more buzzed by the moment. He didn't know whether he needed to lie down or get up and run down the beach. He was wired to the max, even gritting his teeth now, but he thought if he tried to get up, he'd fall over for sure, or at least stagger like a drunk.

"That dose is hitting him hard," Brent, the doctor, said.

Dose? What the f...? What was he talking about?

"Looks like it," Jake said. "Look at his eyes. Hey, Russ, maybe you better just lie back and ride it out. You'll get past the rush in a while."

Yeah, he thought, that was a good idea. Just lie down. But . . .

"Yeah," Brent said, "just lie back, MUSCLEBOY, and let the medicine work."

Muscleboy. The instant he heard Brent call him muscleboy, it came back to him. The medicine. Oh, yeah. The shot. Oh, fuck yeah, Jake and Brent were . . . they had . . . he was . . . The spinning felt both out of control and incredibly good now. They were making him into their huge muscle guy. Oh, yeah, big hot muscle dude, and they were making him their . . . He couldn't even pull his thoughts together. But he could feel his body, as he lay there in the hot sun, he could feel every muscle and bone and vein, he could feel everything, his cock and balls in the poser they gave him to wear, so fucking hot. God, he was so wired he felt like he could combust, just bust into flames right there in front of all those hot muscle guys. Oh, fuck, yeah, now he got it. It was a gay beach. Did they know what was happening to him? Were they all just looking at him because he was handsome and hot and tall and lanky and so cut up and defined? He didn't even care. They were looking. He loved that. He loved being looked at that way by all those queers. Oh, man, he was so fucking stoned, and he loved how he felt. If they wanted a big hulked out muscle fag, he was their guy. He couldn't imagine anything hotter. Fuck, yeah, make me a freaky musclebound faggot, man, and let 'em all have a piece of my hot body.

Jake and Brent talked about him like he wasn't even there.

"Jesus, Brent. That activator must be really strong. Look at him."

"Yeah, it is. It'll mellow out though. I have him a huge dose, like we talked about. You still want to, don't you?"

"Fuck yeah, man. Can't back out now. Look at all those guys, man, they're practically drooling."

Russ knew they must be talking about the guys on the beach that were staring at him. Were they in on this? He felt like he was in a dream. What activator, what did that mean? Must be the medicine. None of it made him nervous though, or afraid. He didn't care, if it had to do with making him their big hulked out muscleboy. He was so wired, so stoned they could do anything to him. He was getting turned on by the thoughts in his head. Even by Jake and Brent talking about him like that.

"Hey, Jake," a new voice, standing above him said, "is this the muscleboy? The guy you were talking about? He's fucking gorgeous man."

"Yeah, this is our muscleboy."

Russ opened his eyes. Every time he heard the word muscleboy, he got more turned on by it, by being called that, by the picture it put in his head. The guy standing above him was one of the good looking bodybuilders wearing skimpy briefs, grinning down at him.

"What's his name?"

"What does it matter," Jake said. "Just call him muscleboy. He likes that, don't ya, muscleboy?"

"Yeah," Russ answered. He was compelled to answer. His voice came involuntarily, and it sounded deep and husky to him. He tried clearing his throat. "Yeah, I like it," he said. His voice was still deep, husky, smoky.

Sounded good.

"Can the muscleboy stand up?" This was another of the muscular guys from nearby.

"Sure he can," Brent said. "Might be a little unsteady on his feet, but he can stand. Stand up muscleboy, be polite."

Now Russ stood as ordered, as if his body was responding directly to the command without his mind having any say in the matter at all. He felt the earth tip, throw him off balance, but he caught himself, laughed at his unsteadiness, and stuck a solid stance, as if he were on a pitching boat deck.

"Fuck, man. This is your nephew?" one of the guys asked. "He's so fucking gorgeous he almost makes you look plain, man."

Russ felt strange being talked about that way, but he was loving it in an odd way. And he knew Jake was anything but plain. He made his living from his incredible good looks. Being called even more gorgeous was seriously turning him on. The attention was turning him on.

"So," one of the guys said, "how long before, you know, how fast is that stuff gonna work?"

"Hard to say, exactly," this was Brent, "but it's already started. I'm guessing this afternoon, probably twenty, twenty-five pounds. His pecs have started to widen out some, don't you think, Jake?"

"Definitely. Legs don't look so skinny, either. You feel it, muscleboy?"

Now that they said it, he did feel it. The thickness of the muscle on his legs was making him take the wide stance, not just his balance. He looked down at himself, at his body. His pecs were wider. Thicker too, he could swear. And his lats. Or was it his triceps that felt thicker against his back as they rested at his sides? Whatever it was, he was suddenly more muscular and he loved the feeling.

He looked up to answer Jake, grinning. "Yeah, I feel it."

"What do you feel, muscleboy?"

"I feel fuckin' hot, man. You're making me grow muscle. That medicine is making me grow muscle."

"Yeah," Jake said, "It sure is. Bet it makes you want to flex, doesn't it? Go ahead, muscleboy. That's what a muscleboy does. Flex for everyone. Show us your guns."

Russ grinned. The more the called him muscleboy, the hotter he felt. He lifted his arms and squeezed all the opposing muscles as hard as he could, and he felt his whole inner self changing with the swell of the muscle he saw bulge on his arm. He wasn't huge yet, but he would be, and it was starting, he could feel the swell and nothing had ever turned him on so strongly in his life. He was a muscleboy.

Suddenly guys were applauding him. He was loving this, so stoned, so wired, so hot, and getting muscle out here on the beach, guys watching him. He loved to be watched. He loved his body. He was so glad they were making him their muscleboy.

"Might be time to take him in for a while," Jake said. The voices still seemed to be coming at him in a dream state, disconnected but with the power of complete control. "Looks like he's going into overdrive now. That poser isn't gonna hold that snake much longer."

He was boning up, right there in front of everyone, getting so stiff he could feel his cock about to pop out of his trunks. He wouldn't care if it did. He'd like to just get naked, now. He was in love with his body, very much including his cock, and he was as submissive to its power over him as he was to the voices of the guys. God, he needed sex, now. He at least had to jack off. He had to. But he could only stand there, watching it grow hard and big and thick while they talked about it, grinning at them all as they watched him bone up.

"Yeah," Brent said. "It's really starting to show now. We'd better get him in. Look at these arms." He felt one of Russ' arms. "Look at these fuckin' pecs. Man. Gotta mess with the muscleboy, guys. He needs it, don't you, you little musclefuck?"

"Fuck yeah, man. I need it bad."

Russ found himself inside the apartment, and there were eight or ten guys there, all talking about him, how he looked, how he was growing such beautiful muscle, all the while making him flex for them to feel, sucking his cock, fucking him, god, fucking him over and over, sometimes making him suck one of them while another was ramming his ass. They used his body as he knew deep inside he needed it used, a total toy for their pleasure, and his. He felt himself getting more muscular, bigger, thicker. The more mass he felt himself grow, the more deeply cut he saw himself getting, the more he felt his muscles grow, so masculine, so hot, so purely sexual, the hotter he felt. From time to time, they'd have him flex in front of the mirror, and he'd get so hot looking at his body, his muscles, his big, thick beautiful cock, and feeling all that, he would have to cum. It seemed there was no limit to how many times he could cum and still stay hard as a rock. It was all about sex. His body was all about sex. Being their muscleboy was all about sex. Muscle was sex. Muscle was masculinity, masculinity was the ultimate turn-on, it was sex, all sex, and he felt so good growing for them, flexing, his pecs getting thick, his arms, his legs. He had no idea how long it went on. Finally, Brent had him get on a scale, said it seemed to have stopped, this dose had done its work, and he'd put on twenty-eight pounds of muscle while they'd pounded his ass.

"Fuckin' beautiful," one of the guys said as they all left Russ alone with Jake and Brent.

"Let's go back out, have a swim, cool off. Show this muscleboy off a little while we're at it. Here," Jake said, handing Russ another poser, "get dressed."

Russ put it on. At Brent's suggestion, he looked at himself in the mirror again before the went out. Yeah. That V shape was filling it. He wasn't huge yet, but he could hold his own in any crowd of muscle guys, and he was amazingly symmetrical, the muscle thick and hard and so defined that the veins and striations showed everywhere, with every movement. He was a sculpture. A work of art, built like a young god and so handsome he could hardly pull his eyes from his face. The poser seemed to ride even lower now. His package was fuller. Everything about his eighteen year old manhood was growing. He wished he could fuck himself, he was so beautiful in his extreme masculinity. The only thing better would be more muscle, and that was going to happen, he knew it was. Aww, fuck, man. They were making him into a muscleboy god.

They went back out, laid down their towels, ran into the surf, and when they stood up, after diving through the waves, their tiny trunks clinging wet and falling lower from the water, and Jake told Russ to stand there, right there in the surf, with everyone watching, looking so gorgeous, and hit a double bi, show his masculine beauty to the world.

Russ did. He felt magnificent.

Jake grinned, winked at Brent, and said, "Beautiful . . . RUSSELL."

The name, Russell, rang in Russ' ears and snapped him out of wherever he'd been in his reverie. In full pose, he suddenly had no idea how he'd got there. They'd been lying on the sand, he'd become all dizzy and stoned, then . . . what?

He dropped his arms. They collided with the new mass of his lats and pecs. He looked down at himself. Oh, yeah. He'd grown. He had muscles. Now he remembered how he'd felt rubbing on the lotion, the looks he'd got. He looked up to see everyone looking at him again. Whatever they were doing to him was weird. This was like a science fiction movie. But in some very odd way, he was, at that moment, very happy to have the starring role.

Whatever this was Jake and the doctor guy were doing, he knew he had to go along. He had no choice. They were in complete control. That thought made him start to get hard. He knew what he looked like, standing there in the surf. •