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|Russ woke up to the feeling of a needle jabbed into his butt muscle. It was three days now since he'd come to live with his Uncle Jake. This was the second day Jake woke him up with a stab in his butt. Like the day before, he'd slept so soundly it was like he'd been drugged. Maybe he had. He wouldn't put it past them, Jake and his buddy, Brent, the doctor, or mad scientist, as they jokingly called him. Yeah, he even had a vague memory of them teasing about his sleeping dose. Yeah, Brent had given him a shot while Jake was sucking his cock, and he remembered getting unbelievably stoned, so stoned with that feeling that he thought he was going to pass out, and at the same time having an orgasm so powerful he thought he would explode. The last thing he remembered was cumming and cumming, so hard he felt like he was shooting his brains out of his cock, and then nothing, until now, until the jab of the needle.
He woke with the memories of the day before coming into focus like a dream remembered. Or a nightmare. He was their guinea pig, medicated, brain washed with drugs, forced to behave in a way that shocked him as the pictures flooded his brain. Flexing his muscles on the beach in front of a crowd of hungry muscle fags, flexing and loving the attention. Being used for all kinds of gay sexual games he could barely imagine, but vividly saw, himself not just participating, but encouraging, teasing, acting like a total whore, sucking uncountable cocks, offering up his ass for use like no slut could ever think about, two cocks at a time, two cocks and a dildo, two huge dildos at the same time, pushing them into his own asshole, giving a show, fucking himself to the cheers of the crowd of naked muscle men. And all the time, growing, his muscles and his cock and his balls growing thicker, bigger, everyone calling him muscleboy, and flexing, flexing, flexing.
His focus came up sharp, then, as he felt the medicine empty into his butt muscle. In the few seconds that took, as he remembered everything, he wanted to throw up, wanted to cry. He knew the medicine would take over before long, and the guy he was would be submerged by the muscle faggot they were turning him into. He had a flash-memory of himself coming to the coast, cute jock boy, ball cap, baggy tank, loose cargo shorts hanging low, grazing his legs below the knee, a regular guy, handsome, cool, full of expectation about college and the beach in Southern California. Now all that was already in his past. Yesterday he was a muscle guy. Already, in just two days, he was bigger than just a workout dude. He looked like a young bodybuilder.
Even as he came into full wakefulness, he felt that muscle. Just lying there, he felt the mass of his biceps where his arm curled under his head and the thick muscle of his pecs pushed together. He felt the thickness of one thigh lying on the other, and the weight of his meat as he shifted in response to the shot in his ass. His cock and balls were so much bigger already, and he thought, like he had yesterday, how weird to have a dick and balls getting so big they bulged beyond obvious when he dressed.
He experienced a wave of powerful regret, of shame and sadness and indignation over the loss of who he was, and helplessness against what they were making him become.
"Come on, muscleboy, get up." Jake smacked his ass.
Russ sat up. Jake was standing over the bed, naked, obviously excited by giving Russ that shot of the medicine. Russ had forgotten, until he looked at him now, that Jake and Brent had taken some too, and how their already pumped and juiced up muscle had thickened and ripped up while they were having sex, and how it had turned him on.
Just sitting up was strange. His new height was taking some getting used to, and the weight of the muscle, the change of balance as parts of his body clashed and collided, arms with pecs and lats, everything falling into unfamiliar positions, forced by a mass that was new and unexpected for that brief moment.
"Do you have to do that to me before I'm even awake?" he complained.
His voice was deeper than the day before. He could feel it resonate in his chest and head. It came out husky. It surprised him, and it almost turned him on to hear it. He had to hear it again. "Couldn't you at least wait till I had some coffee?" Definitely sounded cool.
"Doctor's orders," Jake said. "Now come on, shower time. Check it out, muscleboy. Got some nice hair going there. Nips are getting pretty hot, too."
Russ stood up. The feeling of his thickness was new, a surprise again, as he realized his stance was wide because he couldn't push his thick hard thighs together any closer, and his hips were so narrow that his legs felt the pressure that angled them out. And when his balls and cock fell against them, they felt heavy and hit low. He could feel the weight of his meat. He looked down. His nipples were larger, like brown silver dollars that stuck out big and hard, and they were surrounded by short hairs that spread across his pecs and down his abs. He'd sprouted a trail that pointed to his meat that felt so big and heavy, and looking down, over the rounded, hard muscle, down the cobbled bricks of his abs, he saw his cock draped out over a pair of humongous nuts, so fat and long, it flopped past his huge balls to swing in the breeze. He looked back up.
Jake was just standing there, watching him.
"Holy crap, man. What the fuck are you guys doing to me?"
Jake just grinned. "Your dad is gonna be surprised, that's for sure. I know he didn't know what he was agreeing to. But you are gonna be a moneymaker for sure. Go on, muscleboy, go have a look. Hey Brent," he shouted, "Come in here, man."
"He's still here?"
"Yeah, man. He's sleeping with your Uncle Jakie? You got a problem with that, muscleboy? He wants to be close to his project."
"Do I have a choice?" His tone was sarcastic, but it came out sounding sultry and taunting.
He went into the bathroom, which was large, mirrored on every wall, and had an open shower with no curtain or door. They watched him shower the day before. The probably would again. The lights blared when he flipped the switch, and he was surrounded by images of himself from every angle. He'd grown even bigger while he slept. His whiskers were so thick now, it looked like he'd grown a beard overnight, but the dimple in his chin that had appeared yesterday was deeper now, his jaw squarer, his lips fuller. His eyelashes were heavier, his eyebrows thicker and heavier, his cheekbones more prominent, making the dimples in his cheeks seem deeper as well. He was becoming so handsome it almost took his breath away, and he had a ruggedness about him now that changed his whole look, even though, for all that, he still looked like an eighteen year old dude.
His body had changed its whole look, too. No longer just a muscleboy, he had the look of a heavyweight bodybuilder, juiced up and cut up and ready for the show. But it wasn't just the mass of his muscles that had changed his look. Or the veins that snaked over the surface of every muscle like strings and twine and small ropes under his thin, bronze skin. Maybe it was the hair that covered him in some preplanned ideal pattern, short, flat, swirling and flowing to emphasize the masculine contours of his hard, muscled body. Or the placement of those nipples that had somehow grown larger and sat at the outer, lower edge of his thick pectorals, right where the muscle would soon force them below the edge as it massed up over them, make them point down in that ultimate sign of muscle massiveness. Definitely the size of his cock and balls had changed his whole appearance, shifting the emphasis from pure muscle to pure masculine sexuality. But that was the thing. He looked like some kind of totally sexual guy, now, beyond bodybuilder, or even a run-of-the-mill god. He was more like some forest satyr, all pure, in-your-face sex.
He could feel the medicine now. He was getting that warm, erotic buzz. He was also getting turned on by what he was looking at. Okay, so he was a fr eak. He didn't choose it, couldn't help it, was being used, so there was a kind of freedom that came with the sensations and feelings he got from that medicine, a freedom to enjoy what he couldn't fight. The medicine was stronger than he was. And the conditioning that went along with it. Now he would think the word "muscleboy" about himself, looking at himself, and he could feel himself jolted with the erotic charge that word gave him.
He flexed one arm. The muscle swelled to thick, rounded, mounded peaks, and his triceps clung heavily, thickly beneath. He felt the muscle. So hard. His cock was getting fatter and longer as blood rushed into it. He loved the way this muscle felt. He lifted the other arm, double biceps, flexed hard, amazed himself at the massive beauty he saw in the mirror. His lats flared, his legs flared, all swooping in to the narrow belt of his hard groin and its package of male power, so intense, so big, and now he could really feel the medicine in him, already in his muscles and his cock and balls, making him grow more, change more. Once again, but more strongly now, he felt himself falling in love with himself, with his body, so magnificent, so erotic, so completely hot and totally sexual.
He saw Jake and Brent, silently watching him. He liked being watched.
Muscleboy, he said to himself. He felt the mass of his pecs. He loved his pecs. Touching them made him feel so hot. Having someone watch him touch them, see him getting off on his body, even hotter. He twisted his nipples, and the sharp twinge made his cock bounce.
Muscleboy, he said to himself again. Yeah, fuck. Muscleboy. He ran his hands down his abs. What fucking abs, man. Yeah, Muscleboy.
He flexed an arm again, and let them watch him kiss and lick his biceps. Aww, man, fucking muscleboy, man, total fucking muscleboy. He kissed his biceps while he felt the mass, lifted the weight of a pec with the other. Oh, fuck, man. Muscleboy, yeah, fucking muscleboy. The word was like stroking his cock, it made him so hot.
So he stood, letting them watch, worshiping the body they were creating. Already he could feel the muscle thickening even more. They were both stroking as they watched him in silence, and he could tell how turned on they were by him. They were almost drooling.
His hands roamed his body everywhere he could reach as he made love to his muscles, but he avoided touching his cock. He knew he could make himself cum without touching it, and that would drive them crazy. He thought about walking the beach, now, in the tiniest poser, showing all those fags the beautiful sex creature he was becoming, letting them see him change. Muscleboy. Fucking muscleboy. Hot fucking faggot muscleboy. Oh, yeah. He felt his hard bubble butt. It had shifted high, the kind of ass any guy would kill to have, or to fuck. He loved his ass. Muscleboy ass. Yeah. His balls fell over his arm as he reached between his legs to work a finger into his ass, then two, just to tease himself, get ready for the action. Yea h. They'd all be after this muscleboy and his huge cock and his hot fucking muscle ass.
He was so close to cumming. His cock was jerking, precum streaming from it, but he wouldn't touch it. He just kept feeling his incredible muscles and looking at it all in the mirror, the whole package. God he was so fucking hot and beautiful. Muscleboy. Oh, fuck, man, beautiful fucking fag muscleboy. His cock had to be twelve fat inches now, jerking, so close, so close, and it was going to get bigger and fatter, man. Oh, God, muscleboy. Yeah. Oh, man, so close he could feel it tingle in the head of his cock, build at its root, pull up from his big fucking hot nuts. Aww, man. Muscleboy, muscleboy, turning me into their fucking huge hot hung faggot muscleboy. Awwww, yeah. The cum shot from his cock and sprayed the mirror, the counter, the floor. It shot, and shot, and shot more until it felt like he had drained his toes.
They all came at the same time, but right then, Russ' world went no farther than himself. He just stared at himself in the mirror. He was fucking huge, and absolutely fucking beautiful.
It was Brent that said it, though.
"Absolutely fucking beautiful," he said. "By this afternoon or tonight, another thirty pounds or so of muscle on him, look out, man. Bet we get those guns to twenty-four today."
Russ listened as he flexed and stared at himself. It was so incredible to be this guy's project. He hoped he'd go totally crazy with him. Twenty-four inch arms. Holy shit, that would be so fucking hot.
"Yeah," Jake said. "Wonder if we can hit thirty by the time he stops."
"Don't know, man, but we'll sure as hell try. Come on, muscleboy, get cleaned up and get into some trunks. It's a beautiful day, and there's guys on the beach want to meet ya."
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