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I'm A Freak
|I'm a freak. Or more accurately, I'm a muscle freak. I'm not just a
big guy or a buff guy. I'm an honest to God muscle freak. You ain't
see nothing like me. I make Marvel comic hero's look puny. And I
love it. L-O-V-E, love it. With any luck, a year from now I'll be
so fucking huge that I'll blow everybody's imagination. Let me tell
you about it.
It's been a year now since I started the monthly injections. And, man, what a year it's been.
I've always dug men with muscles. To me a big, beefy muscle man is about the sexiest thing around. Growing up I bought all the Marvel comics: Superman, Batman, and The Hulk. You know them all. I wanted to have a body like those guys. It seemed like as I got older, the folks at Marvel were making their hero's bigger, more muscular and more ripped. I liked that even better. It sounds weird, but those super-heroes were hot.
Muscle magazines fascinated me. I couldn't believe how those bodybuilders had built and sculpted their bodies to such heights of muscular perfection. Again, the older I got, the bigger and more ripped the pros seemed to get. That was cool with me. Those big dudes were the sexiest things around.
Sometimes the mag's would do one of those "before and after" things, where they'd show pictures of what the dude looked like before he started lifting and what he looked like now. Those spreads always made my cock harden. What it must feel like to go through that kind of transformation. I couldn't imagine. But, damn, I sure tried hard to imagine.
When I was in High School I started lifting weights. You know. I wanted to get big too. But, I guess I was what you'd call a "hard gainer". I did all the routines and took the legal supplements and, although I got strong, lean and vascular, I just wasn't a big guy. I was pretty skinny. Putting on muscle was near impossible for me.
Not that I was complaining too much. I mean, I was strong, lean and vascular! That was cool. And `cause I was at the gym all the time, I got to know all the big muscle guys. And the older I got, the bigger and buffer they got. That was awesome. I got to watch guys going through that magical transformation. Guys who looked the same as me when we joined the gym, I got to see them pack on muscle getting bigger and stronger as the months and years went by. That was such a turn on, man.
Some of them, well, really all of them, got off on my telling `em how great they looked and how big and strong they were. The gay guys liked it and even the straight guys liked it. I mean, nobody works out and builds a big chiseled body without wanting people to notice and admire it. Well, I noticed and admired.
Nobody at my gym was like a pro or anything. Even though there were some pretty buff guys there, I'd never seen a body like the pictures in the muscle magazines. I dreamed of seeing one of those guys so I could tell him how big and studly he was. I wanted so bad to get close and feel the pumped steely sinews of a big pro bodybuilder.
Sure I hooked up with some of the gay guys from the gym. I really enjoyed feeling the big hard muscles that they'd worked so hard to get. Some of those guys were really hot, with strong narrow waists and broad shoulders with fine muscular chests. I was their "boy toy" and the sex was good.
But, you know, as cool as it was to be with one of those buff guys, it wasn't really what I wanted. I wanted them to be admiring me. I wanted those bodybuilder boys to be my boy toys. Even though I was a junior in college now, I still fantasized about being a big muscle freak. That's all I wanted out of life.
So I decided to look into starting steroids. Yeah, yeah, I know, those things are bad, they wreck your kidneys and on and on. But I was desperate. Dude, I was like 5'-6" tall and 125 lbs. After almost 6 years of serious lifting: I told you I was a "hard gainer". Well, I wanted to make it a little less hard, okay?
Anyway, being the conscientious type, I started doing tons of research to find out what was out there and what seemed to work the best. In the course of my research I discovered this bio-genetic Ph.D. candidate at another university right here in this very city who seemed to be having great results with his concoction. I'm no scientist, but what his stuff did was to enter into your DNA and put your muscle building genes into hyper-drive.
I contacted the guy to see if he needed a human guinea pig. At first he wasn't interested. Gave me all kinds of lines about "scientific ethics" and needing to finish the animal trials and what not. I was getting nowhere fast. But in my several visits to his cramped little office, I'd noticed that he had both Marvel comics and muscle magazines lying around sometimes. He was also a pretty buff guy himself, being about 2" taller than me and, probably, 35 lbs. heavier. He was no Poindexter [although later that's what I came to call him]. So I tried another tactic.
I started to complement his physique and stuff when I came in to beg him to give me some of his stuff. Well, by gosh, after a few weeks that started to soften up his resolve. Then I started suggesting that, you know, I could provide some recreational sexual favors for him, since he was such a stud and all. That proved very successful. He was a pretty good lover and had a set of like wild eight-pack abdominals on him that were like a brick wall. And, get this, he loved to be punched for hours. That was a new thing for me and like I said I was strong and although I didn't mention it I also have really good stamina. Anyway, eventually he gave in and agreed to start a private experiment. I was so jazzed. You might say I beat it out of him.
About two weeks later, on a fresh sunny day, we started our little experiment. It was April and I'd just turned 21. I went to his apartment, since he didn't want to get caught by any of the profs or other grad. students. He was all official like and made me strip naked so he could take pictures and measurements. I was 5'-6" tall, hadn't grown a lick since I was 17, and 125 lbs. dripping wet. My waist was 28"; chest 36"; thighs [my best feature] 24"; calves 14" and arms 13". Lean and vascular: my abs were a pretty nice six-pack washboard and you could see the striations in my quads and pecs when I flexed what little I had. He told me I had about 9% body fat, which is pretty lean.
It was kind a cool to have this muscley guy fussing over my naked body. It was just a taste of things to come. Anyway, he got out this syringe with about an inch of clear liquid in it, had me turn around and jammed it in my ass. Other than the needle prick, it didn't hurt much. So while I started to pull on my clothes I asked him how fast it would start working.
According to him, it was already starting to do its thing. He lost me here for a bit with scientific mumbo-jumbo, but said that I'd probably start seeing results this week. He told me the shots would be monthly and each time I came to get one he'd take more pictures and measurements.
I have to confess, since I seem to be in a confessing mood, that I had wild fantasies about hulking out of my clothes right then and there. You don't get to be as big a muscle-desire-er as I am without starting to think those muscle growth stories on the Internet might come true. A couple of times that day, I thought I felt something and got all stoked that my muscles were gonna start swelling up like some cartoon transformation. `Course, it didn't happen that way which was a bit of a bummer. I consoled myself with his words that I'd see results by the end of the week.
It's weird. Actually a lot of things are weird about what's happened in the past year, but this is one of the things I noticed early on. I don't think I ever "felt" the muscle actually growing. Never felt a pulsing burning sensation or prickling all over my body or freaky muscle cramps like in those muscle growth stories.
But I did dream about getting bigger with ripped plates of armor like flesh. Not daydream type dreams but actual in my sleep dreams. They were so hot and erotic. Inevitably, I'd get an erection in my sleep and wake up cumming [a very cool side effect]. These almost nightly orgasms didn't seem to affect the rest of my sex life negatively.
The only way, other than those way cool erotic dreams, that I was aware of my muscles growing was through the fit of my clothes and watching in the mirror. I'll admit, that during the first week, I like spent hours in front of the mirror, stripped to my BVD's trying to see if I could see anything happen. It's funny now that I'm such a muscle freak to think back at how I so wanted to see my muscles grow. It didn't seem like anything was happening. But, man, things were cha-cha-changing!
By the end of that first week, I thought I could see some growth. I was pretty sure I could see some growth, especially in my chest and quads. I certainly thought I felt some growth when I put on my clothes. My jeans were maybe a bit snugger around my thighs and it seemed like my shirts were a little tighter. By the end of the second week, I was sure it was happening. The muscle growth was obvious when I was naked and my jeans were more than snug.
I can't tell you how awesome that made me feel. What I had dreamed about since I was about 7 was finally happening and I could see it was happening. My pecs were fuller and my quads were bigger and even my arms and calves were looking bigger. I spent hours in front of the mirror admiring my body. It had only been like two weeks and I looked buffer. Looking at my reflection I'd get an erection. I never thought that I'd have the kind of body that I could jack off to, but it seemed like I did now. And I did jack off daily as my body started to go from strong, lean and vascular to strong, getting buffer and vascular.
When I went back to see my benefactor, a month later, the growth was obvious, even when I was fully dressed. My jeans looked painted on and my size small t-shirt was stretched over my ballooning chest. My shoulders and arms were bigger; my sleeves barely covered my delts.
Poindexter was pretty impressed with my growth. He tried to act all this-is-completely-what-I-expected, but he was impressed. I stripped for him and he just stared at me for a couple of seconds. It didn't bother me. Seemed perfectly normal. I was an impressive, buff dude. That's why I wanted to be big, so buff men would be impressed. He took a bunch of pictures and then took my measurements.
Damn, even I was impressed. Surprisingly, I was ½" taller. That blew my mind; hadn't expected it. I weighed 145 lbs.! My waist still measured 29", but my chest was 38-3/4"; my thighs were almost 26"; my calves were 15" and my arms were 14-3/8"! This growth was all muscle, because my body fat was just around 8%.
I'd known that I'd grown. I mean, I could see it in the mirror. I could see it when I looked down at myself. I could feel the hard muscles under my skin. But, damn, man, seeing those numbers excited me more than I thought they would. It was like confirmation that I wasn't dreaming. In one month I had put on 20 lbs. of pure muscle. That was like a whole year's worth of working out for most guys at the gym and, man, I'd got it all in just 4 weeks.
It was May now and the weather was warm, so on the way home, I took off my shirt and tucked it into my belt like a rag. Because I was now buff and lean and vascular, a couple of people noticed me. One even stared. I wasn't a bodybuilder yet. Yes, my thighs were damn big for a guy my height but I was buff and beauteous. The looks didn't bother me, they made me feel hot, sexy and desirable. Oh, yeah.
Over the next month I continued to grow. It was amazing. In a week's time, none of my 501's fit. I just couldn't get them over my swelling quads. I'm a cheap bastard, so I took a pair of scissors to them and made `em into cut off's with a nice slit up each seam to make room for my ballooning quads. That worked for a little while, but not for long.
In two week's time none of my T-shirts fit. Hell, none of my shirts fit. I found I could do this really cool thing. I would struggle into one of my old T-shirts and it would s-t-r-e-t-c-h over my growing torso, then by inhaling and flexing like a "most muscular" pose, I could hulk right out of the shirts! They'd tear up the seams or down the back. I went thru all my T-shirts that way in just a day or two. That was such an erotic charge.
Like I said, none of my shirts fit. I improvised. Since I'd shredded all my T-shirts, I started wearing my button up shirts. That was a problem too, so I stopped buttoning my shirts all the way up in order to make room for my developing chest. By the end of the second month, I couldn't button the shirts up at all and I had cut all the sleeves off, `cause my guns were growing like puffing granite, baby.
I went out to like Ross to buy some white stretch tank tops and undershirts. Made sure they were all extra-large, since it looked like I was gonna get big. On the way home from that shopping session, I stopped at the local Salvation Army to get some other clothes so I could go out in public looking reasonable. These clothes kept me decent for a few more months, but they didn't last much beyond that.
It was during that second month that I realized I wasn't just gonna be a muscle man, or a big muscle man. It was clear that I was gonna be a muscle freak. My chest and my legs were growing fast, my arms weren't far behind, but my waist wasn't hardly changing. Well, that's not totally true. It was changing: my abs were getting fuller and harder. I was developing visible intercostal muscles; those are the "love handle" muscles that bracket your abs. But all my pants still fit normally at the waist, even if it was a struggle to get `em over my big quads.
And, man, my quads were getting big. Like I said earlier, after the first month my quads were pretty big for a guy my size. It looked like I was a competitive bicyclist or something. That was cool. But by the end of the second month, my quads and hamstrings were really big. I looked like I coulda been a speed skater. They were like so big. I had this pair of jeans I'd picked up at the Salvation Army. They had a 40" waist on `em, but my legs still filled those jeans right up snug. I had to wear a belt cinching in all that extra fabric at my waist! It looked strange. It looked freaky. Dude, I looked hot.
So when I went to see Poindexter at the end of month two, I was wearing a flannel shirt completely unbuttoned with the sleeves cut off and this pair of jeans cinched around my waist, but snug around my speed skater thighs. His jaw about dropped to the floor when I walked in. He dropped all the stand-off-ish scientist stuff. "Damn, you are getting BIG!" he says, over and over. And it just increased after I'd taken my clothes off for his pictures and measurements. I had this nice "V" taper from my broadening shoulders down to my tight waist. My legs were awesome and even my butt was getting bigger, higher and rounder.
Poindexter took some pictures and then started to measure me. I was 5'-7" tall now, only about an inch shorter than he was. I weighed 166 lbs., which I later find out was what he weighed at the time. And he was a studly athletic guy. My chest was now 41-1/2"; my waist was still 28"; my thighs were 27-1/4" almost as big as my waist! My calves were almost 16" and my arms were up to 15-5/8". In only 8 weeks I had grown an inch and gained 40 lbs. of muscle, 5-1/2" on my chest, 3" on my thighs and 2" or more on my calves and biceps. And I was still strong, lean and vascular at 8% body fat. I eagerly presented my firm butt so he could give me that wonderful, magical potion.
I was stoked. Here I was 2 months into the treatment and I'd already gone from a skinny man wannabe bodybuilder to looking like a muscular athlete! And not just a muscular athlete, but one with the potential to be the muscle freak I'd always wanted to be. That was freaking awesome, dude. I was like going through the kind of transformation that I'd watched my friends go through at the gym over the years, but it was happening to me ten times as fast and I hadn't touched a weight in 3 months!
Before I got dressed, Poindexter stripped right there in his living room. Like I said, he had a pretty studly bod himself: about 5'-8" and 165 lbs. with a 30" waist and 42" chest. We went at it pretty good. He was majorly turned on by my changes, almost as much as I was. He was a good lover too, and my hungry, muscular ass took his cock and he rode me like a stallion.
It was summer now and my muscle growth genes were in hyper-drive. It was like every day I was a little bit bigger and more muscular. Every day I was just that much closer to being a major muscle man. And it didn't take long before my body started to look like a real bodybuilder. I was in heaven.
It was warm out. I was not shy about showing off what I had. Rarely did I wear a shirt last summer. My torso started out looking good in June and it only got bigger and harder and more defined as the weeks went by. Why would I want to hide that? My legs were great in June and they just kept growing more and more muscle. Why would I want to hide that? And my waist was getting to look smaller and smaller in comparison to the rest of my hulking muscles. That "V" taper got more pronounced. Why would I want to hide that?
Needless to say I spent most of the summer months shirtless and in either speedos or Lycra shorts. That seemed to show off my metamorphing physique the best. When I did wear clothes, shirts were tank tops and my pants were those stretchy bodybuilder pants that I special ordered over the Internet.
It was during June that I realized that all my muscles were getting bigger, even my dick. I'd had a normal sized cock when we started but it was getting longer and thicker and my balls were getting bigger too. No wonder all the wet dreams and masturbation weren't affecting my sex life. My sex muscle was growing too!
At the beginning of the summer the guys and gals were starting to notice my hunky muscle bod. Straight guys were jealous; women and gay guys wanted my bod. I was an object of desire. Me! What a trip. Men who wouldn't have given me the time of day were suddenly interested in this developing muscle boy. I was only too happy to oblige the gentlemen.
In June most of my tricks wanted to top me. My firm bubble butt was a real enticement. Since it came with a lean muscular torso, washboard abs and fabulous legs, my ass was irresistible. Every hot top in town wanted a piece of me. I enjoyed that.
By the end of July most of my tricks wanted to worship this gorgeous muscle man. I could hardly walk down the street without some hot man pulling me into a dark corner to give me a blow job. By the end of September it didn't matter top or bottom, most everybody wanted to worship my freaky physique. And by then my cock and balls were really big and I was only too happy to be wanted, desired, worshipped and served. That was what I had always wanted!
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