Ten Big Indians

The Four-hundred Club


By John

So, how are our survivors doing? Let's check in again. Remember: "the bigger they are, the harder they . . ."

Comments invited.

Mike left a note for Spike taped to the gym door letting him know about Chen and Steve. Spike felt a terrible pang of sorrow as he thought of his missed opportunity with Steve's perfect ass. To have possessed that marvelous butt for just one evening may have been worth the cost. But, no, he had a higher goal. The way he now looked, there would be a lot of sweet asses that would be his. Over time in his line of work, God knows that he sure had gotten to interview a lot of prime beef looking for extra work or for summer employment. That was one of his favorite parts of his construction job. If it didn't just walk into his office seeking a job, it was all over on the jobs that he worked.

If he won this little contest no, when he won he would have virtually unlimited access to the best muscle stud-ass around. He could see himself now walking through a site overseeing all those tight, sweaty, shirtless bodies. Picking only the finest from among them to serve as his own special assistant. Hell, he could pick a different one each week and they would be lining up, drooling and fawning over him, to have the chance just to be with him and experience his magnificent muscle and special cock.

Yep, his time would come and none to soon. Funny how with each additional dose, the money had become less important and the stud opportunities had become more so.

He could dream of that later tonight. It was workout time again. Pity about Chen and, especially about Steve. Who knows, maybe back on the mainland, he could find Steve and have him be his first special assistant on his first big new job. Now, that was worth dreaming about tonight!

The note left by Mike had outlined a second daily workout option for each of them. Good, he liked split workouts and, maybe this chance to get back into them would help him catch up to these other three muscle studs After all, they were getting more dosage than he was, so he had to work harder than them. Having started out a full 25 pounds heavier than Dan meant that Dan was now only about 25 pounds ahead of Spike's solid 300 pounds. But it was 25 pounds that Spike wished was his to have. He turned to view the image before him in the mirror. He sure did like what he was seeing these days and he knew those workers back on the mainland would like it just as much and want it all the more.

His 6'-1" frame now filled out with 23 " arms and a wide 58" chest. His abs formed a fully-etched eight-pack without any crunching or extraordinary exertion. Each individual stomach muscle bowed out higher and fuller than the one below it as they sat on a perfectly taught 30" waist. All this was accentuated and encased in deeply a carved obliques girdle. A big wedge of the top of each front leg was no longer visible behind the base of the wedge of what Spike called his dick. He carried the same burden of perpetual hardness as the others. The top of his cock moved in a slightly upward straight line which was broken only briefly by the bulging ridge of his cock head. At the flair around the crown, the head of his cock was about 3" across and the same up and down. The underbelly of his cock moved back to his balls at a much steeper angle than the top of his dick. Even just standing here in front of the mirror only a few feet away from it, he could still see the entire underbelly of his meat because of the angle at which it moved back, always increasing in girth along the 13" length to each of his orange sized balls.

The base of his cock was so wide and so thick that his balls, in spite of their large size, were completely screened from view as he looked straight down from over his bulging chest. This wedge of meat had lost none of the unique shape that had given him his nickname in high school. Then it was a dirty joke; full of embarrassment and ridicule. Now, he bet that most of those who boys, even the ones who alleged to be "totally straight", would be lining up to get a good taste of his "spike". Now, more than ever, it matched its name. When he dared to touch it, which wasn't too often anymore, he was still astonished at how absolutely rigid it was. Maybe "wedge" would be a better name. If he drove this thing into some guy's begging ass now, it might be just as likely that the guy would be split in half like a log being split for firewood.

Rick and Dan had finally elected to work out separately. Dan had left Rick a note in the bathroom this morning letting him know, as gently as he could, that it was becoming almost impossible for him to resist Rick's still growing beauty. Dan sincerely believed that any opportunity to be left alone together would not be healthy for either of them in their individual quests for ultimate victory. He tried very carefully to avoid any references in the note to what they both knew to be true - that their desire to fulfill their love for each other would overwhelm them. He had assured Rick that they would still have dinner time together with the other remaining men. Rick wrote back that he understood and was taking a morning workout slot that was now open.

Dinner came, and with it, the four still in the program drew for the two new doses. Mike was now going to be getting four per day. Finally, Spike would be able to get a second one daily. He was thrilled about the prospect of increasing his gains and swallowed down the double stimulant excitedly.

He didn't want to loose a minute of that extra growth opportunity. In his anxiety to get the double dose, as he got up from the table to grab the pills, his cock locked on the underside of the tabletop. His side of the table was actually lifted off the floor by his super- rigid dick before he quickly sat back down and slid his chair out from beneath the table before attempting to stand again. The table slammed back down. The other three were awestruck by the display of sheer strength in this man's cock. It was not only the widest thing they had ever seen at the base but, now they were sure, he must have been growing some kind of extra ring of muscle surrounding that thing to anchor it into his body. It had shown only the slightest downward movement in it in spite of the, obvious weight of the table.

The morning of day eight brought with it a new first. Mike's scale told him that he was the first to cross the 400 pound mark. He was now the biggest cut muscleman the world had ever known - if only they knew. At 405 pounds this morning, and with taking a quadruple dose, there was no doubt he would be in excess of 420 pounds by dinner time. Though his view of his entire body was somewhat limited by the extraordinary swell of his pec muscles, Mike could see that, just overnight, his body had become something uniquely special. Without bothering to shower, or clean up, he headed straight to the gym that morning. He was sure that the bathroom mirror would be way too small to do justice to his viewing of this morning's body.

Rushing into the gym he headed to the nearest corner so that he would be able to see himself from several different angles more easily. Crossing the gym, he could glimpse that he was in for quite a treat. Finally stopping a few feet from two angled mirrors he moved his eyes upward from the floor. The feet were planted wide apart. He knew that they had to be. The trim ankles swelled sharply out to calf muscles, each of which seemed to contain the meat of both corresponding muscles on a "normal" bodybuilder. He had grabbed the now ever-present measuring tape from the top of a counter but decided to wait to do any measuring until he had completed the visual journey up and around the body that was coming into view before him.

As sharply as the muscle angled back to the narrow knee joints, it again began to flair outward and around to form the lower bulk of the upper leg muscles. Each huge bottom bulb of muscle disappeared into impossibly deep cuts between each, now competing mass. The three main muscles that joined above the knee had striations more deeply etched than anything he had ever seen. Not only was each bundle of muscle fiber clearly visible, each section within each bundle could be seen, too. The veins crossing and intertwining were ropes and it appeared that their size and thickness were essential in order to prevent the muscle groupings from leaping completely off of his body. The skin stretched almost transparently over the entire package.

As the inside muscles of the upper legs joined into the equation, it became apparent that the feet were as close as the massiveness of all the musculature would permit. Each thigh sported enough muscle mass to serve proudly as another man's chest dimension. Flexing the legs lightly resulted in a display of density and definition that caused Mike to jolt his upper body back a bit in astonishment. If he had not known that the muscle he was looking at was his own, he would have been frightened for his own safety in fear that the strength contained in these legs might threaten to crush anyone who dared to challenge them. The veins pushed outward into the skin more as he flexed because the amount of sheer, sharp, dense muscle offered them no other option.

Two shiny, rounded tan-red ball sacs stood far out in front of the top of the legs as, they too, had no choice but to extend themselves in the only free direction made available to them by the leg muscle occupying the space behind. Each sac appeared about the size of a small melon and had no loose skin left as they each struggled to contain enough semen to fill 20 or more men. All this was wanting to be delivered down the channel contained in a cock that demanded attention in its' own spectacular display.

There is was! For this he could not wait. Mike reached down with the tape and placed the leading edge up against the front of the abdomen he could not see except through the mirror. Running gently with his fingers along the length of the top of this majestic claim to manhood, he worked as carefully as possible to permit himself a feel of this amazingly hard, blood-rigid muscle without triggering it over the edge in its' state of magnified sensitivity. It was warm and smooth to the touch. The veins that continued the feeding frenzy it demanded were hard, round and dark along it's surface. His body twitched with excitement from within as his fingers bumped across each of these sensation enhancing blood cords.

Mike reached the backside of the giant helmet that guarded the seemingly invincible pipe. His felt a shiver run through his whole being as it responded to the endangering feel of human stimulation. Moving a finger very gingerly to the peak of the cap, he continued the journey of the tape with the rest of his hand. The whole head was visible to him as he looked down now over his rapidly heaving chest. Very carefully, he aligned the tape with the end of the mighty tool at the extreme edge of the piss hole. Focusing, he read the tape as the number 17 came into clear view.

My God, he thought, it's as long Chen's was. Plus, it was much broader than the one they had thought to be the most amazing monster of man-meat just a couple of days ago. Taking the tape and holding it flat over the top of the column of hot, seething meat, he saw that it was a little shy of 4" across at about of the way back. Doing a quick mental calculation, Mike figured his cock to be about 12" around. Compelled by the need, he let his hand drop to the top of it with the tape. He began to push down on the steel hard organ with a gentle but determined force. The tool that had been growing so much bigger these past days, had also been getting harder. It barely yielded to the pressure. He could feel it fight the power at work to dislodge it at the root. But it persisted. Heat began to build up from within his mind. Mike wanted so much to challenge this tool of desire, but forced himself, with great difficulty to remove his hand entirely.

Before his mind could insist on placing his hand back there to continue the self-indulgent love affair with his own manhood, Mike refocused his eyes in the mirror on the next level up of the image before him. How those legs could be sprouting so hugely from his 30" waist was almost impossible to imagine - even when he was staring directly at the reality of it all. The waist was ever so tight. It was small yet it was as hard as the rest of his musculature. It was compact and loaded with obvious internal power. The abs defined themselves in deep, vivid rounded rectangles of muscle that started immediately above the base of the cock. All 4 pairs of them showed such hardened definition as if to say "See, we may be small, but we can absolutely do the work demanded of us by this rest of this muscled body".

Which way to go became the dilemma from here! Does one take the view offered by the sweeping of the delicately etched fingers of the oblique muscles rounding the sides to the back and butt, or do you move up into the shadows cast over the top of the abs by the bulbous chest? Mike opted for the latter on this trip. The chest was huge! No, it was hugely, huge! Each pec stood out inches from the flat wall of muscle below. Only the pointy, projecting tip of each large nipple was visible as they pointed down toward the ground under the umbrellas of muscle on which they were set. As with the legs, each bundle of thick, thick fibers coiled themselves from the deep dark underbelly or center cleft as they formed into the sweeping fan of the main body of the muscles. Moving his hands up to sit perpendicular from his breastplate between the two manmade muscle- tits, he counted that the main belly of the pec meat was at least 6 fingers deep - unflexed.

He loved the feel of them and knew the power in them. At least he knew of yesterday's power as he had benched a full set of 8 reps with 525 pounds. As he permitted himself a simple flex, Mike figured that today he would go for the same reps today with 550 pounds. The flex introduced him to his own newer striations of strength. Separating from defined bundles to, virtually, individual fibers, Mike's pecs were a work of anatomy art. The skin served only to give the sheer muscle a common color. The veins only highlighted the thickness by moving from light to shadow themselves accenting the curving thickness of the meat. Ivan and Todd could have each applied their full body weight on to pec muscle simultaneously. The tape told him that a trip around all the sensuous muscle of his man-tits and back covered a full 5'-8". Yes, 68" of thick, impenetrable muscle.

Finally, crossing by the 3 ' wide boulder sized shoulders, Mike's eyes came in to feast on his upper arms. Raising them up, he bypassed the extended horizontal view and went straight for the double bi pose. The peaks leaped up into place without any hesitation, anxious to show off their size and density. Today the 29" inches would be pushed to 30" and, hopefully over 31" soon. That would push his arms past the size of his own waist!

The peaks of the biceps reached almost 2/3rds of the way up to the bottom of his clenched fists. The belly of the major lower front mass and that of the high reaching upper back massive balls were vividly separated by a deep cut arcing across the length of the intersecting spheres. Each mound was further delineated by a series of less pronounced, but obvious shadowed lines that the total lack of fat between the thin skin and the muscle itself permitted to be seen.

As with the rest of the body, the need to move excessive amounts of feeding blood to and from each and every thirst-hungry mountain of strength, caused a series of rope thick veins to snake and twist along the biceps, protruding largely just under the skin. The dense meat of the muscles refused to make any space within for these cords and the amount of life blood they demanded was visibly pulsing through the veins making the muscle appear even more alive. Mike knew the touch of the biceps well by now. Nothing could dent or disturb the solidity of them. He felt as if he could withstand even an attempt to crush the sinuous monsters within a power driven vice clamp. He had surpassed the use of the 150 pound dumbbells for curls and was glad that they had much higher weights on the cable machines to use. Besides, his cock would no longer permit the passing movement of the dumbbells at all.

The belly of the triceps hung large, hard, full and even with the bottom of his still thick, shadow-casting pecs. The palm of his hand and fingers just barely stretched to the bottom of the triceps meat with his fingers barely reaching up to the gentle line that defined the division between the bottom of his bicep and the top of the triceps.

He dared not turn around now. He knew that the inviting site of his broad, thick back as it tapered hard and sharp to his chiseled ass would be too much to take on top of the show of muscle he had already permitted himself. In spite of his obvious massive muscular superiority, he was still a real man. A man with a sexual arousal that matched the raw massiveness of his wonderful new body. Instead, he locked his mind, as best as he could, into the further growth and refinement of all those amazing muscles. They were his and he intended to keep them. Six others had lost their way already, he did not want to be number seven.

Day nine began much the same way. For Mike the muscle show he gave himself made it even harder to turn off his desires as he did an overview of the now 435 pound of human meat perfection.

Dan's 350 pounds was a far cry from the 210 with which he had started. Nor dare he to ever focus on Rick's increasing perfection anymore. Now, looking at himself, Dan was becoming his own paragon of muscle. His 13" of hard cock kept constantly reminding him of his unquenched sexual desires and Rick's mere presence on the island pushed his mind to face limits of arousal that no mortal man should have to endure.

If Dan had his difficulties, it was even harder for Rick. He was acutely aware of his still increasing beauty. His 375 pounds, though 60 pounds less than Mike, was still so perfectly sculpted that it seemed that the hand of God could not have improved on it. How all that magnificent muscle could still flow so fluidly from muscle group to muscle group was beyond the ability of any one of them to comprehend. The ability to resist taking this perfectly crafted specimen into their own huge arms and handle him to the point of release of that demanding and equally beautiful 16" penis was dwindling by the day. This yearning applied to Rick about himself, too. Mirrors had become his own worse enemy and he did all his workouts facing away from them to the maximum extent possible.

Spike had caught up to Dan now at 350 pounds. Dan still appeared somewhat fuller because of his 3" shorter stature. None-the-less, Spike was another muscular marvel. He rushed to the gym for his workout on this day. He had his own special show in mind as he entered the room. The idea had been forming in his head since the other night and the incident between the dining table and his dick. The 15" length felt impossibly hard by now. He could feel it, he could sense it. No matter how hard he flexed his amazingly dense muscles, his cock still felt even denser.

Moving to the free weights, he went over to one of the towers of plates. Taking a 45 pound plate and a deep breath, he aligned the hole in the plate with the tip of the head of his cock. Yanking the plate back toward his body with a determined thrust, it quickly passed over the head and the thick band of it's crown. The solidity of the meat in his ever-widening cock resisted further movement. He realized that only a man with the muscle and strength of the four contestants here could have successfully pitted the steel of the plate against the steel of his cock and pulled off this endeavor. Spike closed his eyes, appreciative that he had gotten past the super- sensitive head without stimulating the eruption he feared might accompany that movement. He braced himself for one last monumental yank. Mustering up all the strength he dared, he pulled in hard with the plate firmly grasped in his two strong hands.. His cock girth gave ever so slightly. It was enough for him to get the plate down about 2" past the flare of the head, but that was it. Spike knew it could go no further.

He held the plate in place for several moments, caught between his fear of letting gravity have full control of the weight and that of affect the of having the constantly hard head and some of the shaft being cut-off from the flow of blood. Instead of the numbness he expected, the head turned a dark crimson as the blood that was being pumped into that area found it harder to escape. The veins in the two inches beyond the plate grew thicker and more pronounced as they, too, were forced to hold more and more blood within their channels. The cock head became visibly hardened as it began to reflect the light sharply and it took on the feel of hot, hardened steel.

Sensing that it was now or never, Spike removed both hands from the weight at the same time. The pressure at the ring of muscle around his groin increased many-fold. He felt it rising to an amazingly pleasurable pain. But the cock shifted down under the force of the heavy torque only slightly and then it froze in place holding all 45 pounds aloft with it. His wedge of manmeat was, indeed, stronger than steel.!

Concentrating as hard as he could, Spike moved on to his next challenge. Grasping a bar along the wall behind him, he began thinking his way through "cock curls". Moving very slowly at first, as he got used thinking through and visualizing the motion, his cock actually began to move the weight up and then down again. First an inch, then two and then over three inches. He was curling 45 pound of weight almost a foot away from his groin using only the muscles of and around his cock! After eight "reps", Spike took hold of the weight again, counted to 60 and then began another set. This time, all eight reps went through a full four inch range of motion. He let go of the bar, turned toward the mirror and, after another 60 seconds did a third set.

As he watched, he was totally awestruck by the power and vision of what he was witnessing himself do. The fourth set was harder and felt heavier. He let himself do a fifth and final set as he forced himself to do all eight grueling reps. This was no mortal cock, this was a power-tool unlike anything ever conceived or created by man before, and it belong to a 350 pound mass of magnificent muscle! Spike would add this to his regular workout. His would be the strongest, most amazing cock in the world. Think of what his little muscle assistants would think as he displayed the power of this phenomenal prick to them.

Taking grasp of the weight he gave a mighty push. But it did not move off the impaled prick. The blood that had been trapped in the head and end of the shaft had hardened the cock shell so much as to preclude easy flexibility. Not to panic, thought Spike. Again, closing his eyes he called on the inner strength he had found to get it on. He pushed harder and with more diligence this time. The plate slipped to rest itself just before the flare of the crown. He felt the warmth run down the entire length of his rod as the two inches of blood that had been trapped in the veins at the end of the mighty shaft rushed back to join that in the rest of his body. It felt wonderful.

Taking a moment to breath and re-visualize, Spike added even more determination into the next push as he forced the weight to crash past the blood hardened flare on the cap of the cock head. He heard the loud "plop" as the head rim popped out on the other side of the weight. It felt even more wonderful. The plate clearer the end of his cock just as the first gush of cum shot down the over-stimulated tool and out the waiting hole at the end. Gush after gush smashed into the plate and onto the mirror and ran in thick wide streams to the floor. He kept on cumming for well over two minutes as Spike moaned, first in sheer pleasure and, then, in sheer agony. •

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