He voiced rumbled through me again, like an earthquake. "We should talk about your plans."

"My plans?" I could hardly hear his words. I was mesmerized by his sheer bulk, all the bands of thick power, the angular masculine beauty of his face.

He smiled then, licked his lips and spoke. "Are you planning on watching, or did you have more participatory action in mind?"

"What?" Was he talking to me? My eyes scanned the lines of his body, the perfect power and bulging strength. His skin seemed to shine like liquid bronze.

His deep growl came out like liquid thunder. "Are we going to fuck?"

He pressed himself toward me, his hugeness now like an embrace. I could feel his breath on my face as I met his gaze, looking up and up, past his chest and that muscled neck and the jutting jawline. He smelled of tobacco and something spicy and dirty sweat – all man. His smile was slim and wicked, reminding me that he was mine tonight and would do only what I asked of him.

He could crush me into powder. He could split me open. God, the strength and size of the man. I felt his hand on my shoulder. I watched his face coming closer, tilting, felt his lips against mine as he kissed me gently, so gently, then deeper, insistent, needful. I was powerfully turned on by the contrast, this huge powerful man kissing my mouth with such a tender and passionate touch. I wanted to crush him inside my embrace, to somehow surround him and capture his strength, but my small arms could barely surround his bulk.

And his skin was so soft, so warm, like silk.

"Bigger," I said, my voice soft and seemingly small. "Please."

His smile gleamed with teeth and I could feel it again, that surge of heat and power through his muscled body, but it was all over this time, it was against me and through me and inside, and I watched his face move higher and felt his chest expanding, and the heat was everywhere.

Man, this dude was into me and how. I didn't mind being a thing to him, really. I mean, this wasn't about love, now was it? It was about worship. I knew that, so did he. And it was so easy to give him what he wanted.

I grew for him. I felt it everywhere, and I fucking loved it. My strength increasing, my muscles expanding, my whole body growing bigger and bigger, fatter with power and size. Feeling so powerfully masculine and so incredibly strong, man I fucking dug this shit.

My arms stung with power, swelling another inch fatter. My chest drooped with muscle as I packed it on. God, it felt so good. But he still didn't answer me, could I make my cock grow? I held back. Something told me to, that he'd need me inside him soon, to make that ultimate connection to me. When he wanted inside me, that would be no problems. I'd open wide for him and swallow his dick with my ass. I'd welcome him inside the wet heat of my marvelous, miraculous butthole and then squeeze and knead and suck him. My muscle control was absolute. He had no idea what he was in for.

I said, "Seven feet. Sixty more pounds." He swallowed hard and asked, "What else?" I raised an eyebrow in question and he said, "Tell me how big your chest is. How big is your arm? How big...?"

Ah. The details. Some guys need that, even when they're right here with me. Size matters, as they say, and sometime you couldn't really fathom it without numbers. But that was harder for me to tell him. Even the weight, well, I was making that up. I told him what I felt like, but maybe it was more, maybe it was less. I could judge my height easily enough, I had him to scale against.

But I didn't have to tell him. I knew what would turn him on more. "Do you have a tape?" I stepped back from him and bent my arm, watching myself swell. The muscle split and peaked hugely. Veins popped and pulsed to feed the strength. I looked down at him, my arm poised like that, the rock-hard muscle held motionless for him.

He took in a deep breath. "Hold that," he said. Like he needed to tell me. Fuck, dude, I know what you want. I can hold this forever. I just smiled and nodded. I even winked for him.

Fuck, this guy was so hot. Feeling him grow against me, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be fucking him, and feel him grow as I did it. To imagine that I was the one doing it, that my dick inside him was inflating him with muscle. That I alone had the power to make men like this, to fuck them huge and powerful. Fuck, I wanted that. I wanted that so bad.

But I also needed this. How big was he now? How many inches would I add to him? How fucking huge was that chest? Jesus Christ, look at him! Those mounds of muscular beauty, round and heavy and firm. How fucking big was that arm? He held it there, the bicep and tricep swollen and hard, and had this half smile on his face. He was enjoying this. Fuck, of course he was. Who wouldn't?

I got the tape and came back and there he was, still, posed just as I had left him, the arm still bent, the muscle still bulging. I wrapped it around his arm and felt my knees go weak as the tape told the tale. He was watching me measure him, and then he glanced at the tape, reading just under 21 inches, and something happened and his arm was swelling again and the tape stretched to surround the burgeoning strength. 22 inches. 23. Then it was slowing, his growth, and the heat disappeared as the arm reached the two-foot level.

I met his gaze and he winked again. God, that was so sexy. His face looked different, too, somehow. Leaner, more angular. Hard and manly. His soft, moist lips parted and that bear growl came out low and gentle. "More?"

"Wait. Your chest." I circled behind him and he raised his arms. So fucking huge! The triceps stuck out like wings and the bi's hugged his head. His huge shoulders bunched into boulders. He was nothing but muscle everywhere. I rose up on my toes and tried to fit my arms around him but couldn't, he was already too big for that. I felt as well as heard his laugh gently and he took hold of the tape and held it for me. I came back around and he lowered his arms, making his torso bulge fatter still. His nipples were like gumdrops, and I wanted to suck on their sweetness.

He was watching my face as I read the number. I said, "Fuck," softly as I saw the measure of him. •