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Just A Little More
|After a few unposted short riffs on the same old theme, I thought I'd post one. Hope you enjoy . . .|
|"You wanted to see me, Mr. Blair?"
The young guy stood at the open door of the office, his white T-shirt hugging the crisp outlines of his cleanly articulated musculature, his pecs squared against his muscular arms, a thick vein running down the outside of each biceps, his arms resting against the widened flare of his lats, the rounded curve of his deltoids capping his V shape like the serifs on a Roman T. The silky shorts he wore hung low on his narrow hips, revealing the plunge of his obliques and final taper of his carved abdominals drawing the eye down to the place where his new, dark blond trail of hair, which began to widen at his navel, suddenly flared just where the waistband rested, flowing outward, the edge of a thicket of brown-gold pubic hair curling out over the top. Just below the waistband, the silky material draped over a bulge of head-turning size, the rounded shape obviously tucked into briefs or some kind of support which held his boy-man meat in a protruding package. His thighs gave shape to what would have been softly baggy-hanging legs, catching the bottom hems tightly above the knees, where, on another guy less muscular, they would have hung below the knees. He looked like the epitome of youthful athleticism, the junior bodybuilder, handsome, lithe, and exuding the sexual confidence of a guy who knows with no question that he is a stud. None of this was lost on Ted Blair, director of the TransForm project.
Of all the young models they had chosen to participate, Ryan Williams was his favorite, the most attractive among a constellation of stunning eighteen year old men, filtered from hundreds of applicants to be the first group to publicly undergo the transformation that the new drug, TransForm was capable of producing. Attractive, Ted realized, was subjective, but in this small, select world of genetic manipulation and infinite possibilities, Ted was king, and what he thought was what mattered.
What was it about Ryan? All of the guys, all twenty-five of them, were exceptionally handsome and had naturally beautiful physiques. Those had been prerequisites for even obtaining an interview. They represented the spectrum of humanity, every possible color of skin, hair, shape of eye, each a variation on the theme of male beauty. By most standards, Ryan would have been considered vanilla, even if a rich, vanilla bean French vanilla, and Ted, fairly vanilla himself, usually preferred his guys more exotic, more colorful, darker, less like him. But Ryan had sat across from him in the interview showing a cocky pride in his appearance mixed with some kind of shy reticence that made him irresistible. It was almost as though he hoped Ted would see his hesitancy and take him in hand, push him to do what he wanted and dared not want. The challenge was too delicious.
Each step of the way so far, Ryan had given every impression that he would just as soon stay where he was, not take the next step, not let himself be changed, and then, as he accepted what he'd agreed to accept, taken a shot, felt the changes that each shot forced him to undergo, he seemed to somehow enjoy it more than the other guys, maybe because Ted gave him no choice, and his forbidden desire was that much more thrust upon him, and, consequently, that much more exciting. Even now, standing in the doorway of the office, Ted could see it in Ryan's eyes.
"Yes. Yes, I did, Ryan. Come in. Sit down."
Ryan came in, shut the door behind him, and took a seat in the leather chair opposite Ted's desk.
"You're looking very good, Ryan. All you guys are. But we've got some extra feedback on you. Seems you're driving a lot of people crazy. But you probably know that, don't you, by the reactions you get when you go out?"
"Well, all the guys get reactions when we go out, Mr. Blair. I mean, all kinds of people recognize us, now, and it's not like we can hide that we're the guys in your project."
Ted laughed. "No, I guess you can't, can you? I remember when I went through that stage, when I first realized I was sporting equipment I couldn't hide. It's strange but pretty exciting, too, isn't it? How big are you now?" Ted nodded in the direction of Ryan's bulging crotch. "If you don't mind my asking."
Ryan blushed even as he said, "No, I don't mind."
There is was. That shyness. That reticence. Ted felt a quickening of the blood in his own groin.
"Ten, when they measured me this morning."
"Ten." Ted nodded again. "Not a bad number. But, as I remember, you started with a pretty decent size. Weren't you about six?"
"And it's been, what, a month now? That's an inch a week. Respectable."
Ryan shifted in his seat. "Yes, sir," he said, blushing a bit more deeply.
"And what did your arms measure, Ryan? You are starting to look like a young bodybuilder now. Did you realize that? Do you like that?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so, sir. It's kind of strange, like you say, but . . ." he paused.
"But you like the way you feel, don't you? And you like the way people look at you."
"Well, yeah. Yes, sir, I guess I do."
"And your arms?"
"Eighteen and a half, sir."
"Wow. Yeah, definitely junior bodybuilder stuff goin' on there. Getting some good thickness and staying real cut, shredded."
Ryan didn't answer, just smiled, pleased but taking no credit.
"Thing is, Ryan," Ted said, leaning forward and planting his elbows on the desk, "you have a quality that sets you apart. I want to capitalize on it. I want to really set you apart."
Ryan shifted again in his seat. Ted could see he was getting nervous, uncomfortable, the reticence rising in response to whatever was about to be discussed or proposed. It made Ted smile, and he let the nervous energy hang in the air between them, let the charge build a bit.
"I'm going to make you the leader, Ryan, the star, the main man. What do you think about that?"
"Uhhh . . . I don't know, Mr. Blair. What do you mean?"
"Stand up for me, Ryan. Take off your shirt."
Ryan did as he'd been directed, draped his T-shirt on the back of the chair.
"Step over in front of that mirror and look at yourself. Give us a double biceps. Look at that guy in the mirror. What do you see?"
Ryan moved into the asked-for position, and as he looked at himself, said, "I see a pretty muscular guy that looks like me, but, well, more like a bodybuilder guy, like you say."
"Uhh, a big bulge in my shorts?"
"And it looks like it's getting bigger right now. It excites you, what you see, doesn't it?"
"Turns you on, being changed into a young, hung bodybuilder, doesn't it? You like it, don't you, what you see, how it feels?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
"What else is changing, Ryan? What else makes you get hard looking at yourself?"
"The hair. I'm getting way hairy on the whole bottom part of my body. And I just started getting some coming in on my pecs, too. And my beard is way more filled in and full."
"You like all that, Ryan?"
"How does it make you feel? Why do you like it?"
"I don't know. More masculine, maybe. Just hot, I guess. It makes me feel h ot, sexy."
"Well, that's what I was telling you before. You're a very sexy guy. I want to take all those things to the next level, Ryan. The other guys will all be jealous, but you'll be the star. You'll be the top model. You'll be the guy everyone wants to be like. Would you like that, Ryan?"
He put his arms down and turned to look at Ted. The bulge in his shorts was definitely straining, now, at the material. "If it's what you want, sir."
"It is what I want, Ryan. I'll tell you what I want. First, take off those damn shorts. Let's get comfortable," and Ted pulled off his own similar shorts, leaving him sitting in a pair of extremely minimal bikini briefs of thin, white, almost see-through material--the standard-issue underwear for the guys in the project. He pulled off his T-shirt, and leaned back in his chair to watch Ryan remove his shorts. Ted was much more muscular than Ryan, more like a professional bodybuilder after a major steroid cycle, and his massive contours were covered with sleek, pale blond fur, flat and swirling, thick but not too long, not obscuring his muscles or his shredded sinews and veins and striations. His body was a roadmap of a hypermasculine terrain that could only be achieved by genetic manipulation, and he displayed it proudly and casually, caring nothing that the prodigious bulge in his own briefs, almost straining belief as much as the thin, stretchable fabric, was quickly growing, the python uncurling itself to slither across his groin to his hip, its uncut head forcing its way out of the waistband when it reached the limits of the scanty briefs. He smiled.
Ryan gulped, but he did as he was told, and dropped his shorts, draping them neatly with his T-shirt. He was left wearing the same sort of briefs, just enough material to barely cover his butt crack and to hold, by stretching with the size and weight, the enlarged cock and slightly swollen balls that he had developed in the past few weeks. His cock was already half hard.
"I'll tell you what I want, Ryan. How big do you think my arms are?"
He flexed one arm for Ryan to study.
"I don't know, sir. Twenty, twenty-one? They're really big."
"Well, here's what I think Ryan. Mine are twenty-one, and I think that a young guy like you would look absolutely drop dead hot with even bigger arms. I'm going to give you enough of the TransForm to make your arms grow to somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-three inches. Of course, nothing is exact until we do it. And from what we've calculated, the rest of your body will develop proportionally while you'll keep that thirty inch waist. Your thighs might actually be each one bigger than your waist. What do you think of that, Ryan?"
Now Ryan was blushing more, and he stammered, "I, uh, I . . . I don't know, sir. That sounds awfully big."
"Not big, Ryan. Huge. Massive. You'll be the biggest eighteen-year-old guy in the world. And another thing. It's bound to put at least another four inches on your dick. Of course it'll thicken up in proportion. Your balls, too. All that testosterone, you know. They'll become major production factories. We want to shoot the new line with you bulging like the hulk and showing your stuff, make all those kids weak with envy and desire to be just like you. What do you think about that, Ryan?"
"Sir, if it's what you want, then . . ."
"I want you to drink this, Ryan."
He handed him a small bottle of liquid. It could have been water. It wasn't. Ryan took the bottle and stared at it, then at Ted, who was standing in front of him now with his own foot-long snake hanging out, stiff, over the top band of his briefs, his hirsute mass commanding without a word. Ryan looked almost panicky. Ted flexed an arm again, wordlessly taking Ryan's free hand and putting it on his hard, peaked biceps, then with Ryan feeling that huge, thick muscle, ran his hand over Ryan's pectorals, across his deltoid, down the arm that held the small bottle, and, when he reached his hand, pushed it to his mouth, against Ryan's lips, and tipped it up. Ryan didn't fight him at all. He knew he wouldn't. He took the fluid into his mouth and swallowed it all. When the bottle was empty, Ted took it and set it on the desk.
"There, now. It's all done. Nothing you can do but enjoy the ride. But something tells me, deep inside, you really wanted to do it, didn't you? Can you feel all that muscle, that huge cock hanging from your groin, everyone staring at you, at what an extreme stud you're going to be? Think of all that hair on your chest, those big nuts in your briefs, pushing that huge cock out where everyone can see what a stud you are."
As he talked, Ryan listened, speechless, flushed, his eyes glistening with the deep internal pleasure known only to someone who had experienced the chemically induced hormonal flood, the sudden shifting of genetic patterns, the exponential increase of physical awareness, suddenly so intensely erotic that his maleness, like the tidal surge of a hurricane, overtook his thought, his sensory awareness, and became him, and he became it. His cock grew stiff, popped out of his briefs, and he just stood there, watching it grow. Slowly he lifted an arm and flexed it. The muscle was already starting to thicken, the peak to rise, the mass of his tris to push downward. He flexed the other arm. Then his hands went to his pecs. With both hands, he felt the muscles, and already they were thickening, too, the curve rising under his clavicles, widening to push out toward his arms, the cleft between them suddenly deepening, and they folded over his ribs with such swelling thickness that his large, round nipples began to hang on the edges and then slowly roll under.
"Yeah, Ryan. Look at you already. You're fucking beautiful. You want this, too, don't you, Ryan?"
Ryan looked from his reflection to Ted. He flexed again, and he held the weight of his huge cock in his hand as it strained against the thin, sensitive skin to grow, engorging itself more and more, and the tissue expanded and grew heavier.
"Fuck, yeah. Make me a fucking freak, man, if that's what you want. Make me fucking huge, man. Make people stare at me. That what you want, Mr. Blair? You want me to be your huge fucking muscle freak boy, man? You like watching me grow?"
"Yeah, Ryan. I like it. I fuckin' love it. Look at this beautiful fuckin' hair growing in all over your pecs, stud. So fuckin' hot." He rubbed his hands roughly over Ryan's steadily mounding pecs, feeling the short, soft, gold brown fur. "You like that, Ryan? That make you feel hot?"
"Yeah, it does. It makes me feel real fuckin' hot, Mr. Blair."
Ted wrapped a hand around Ryan's throbbing cock, barely able to encompass its girth. Ryan pushed his hips into Ted's hand, thrusting his cock through Ted's fist.
"Fuck, Mr. Blair. Fuck. Makin' me so fuckin' huge, man. Look at my fuckin' muscles. Oh, man. Oh, God, it feels so hot. You love my fuckin' huge cock, don't you? Gonna be so fuckin' huge."
"Yeah, Ryan. I love it. I fuckin' love your body, boy. You're fucking beautiful."
And he pulled Ryan's head toward his and kissed him hard, feeling the rapidly growing blond stubble on Ryan's jaw, rough against his face. Ryan kissed him back, the two exchanging the hard, masculine kiss that only men can know together, free of any restraint, hot, completely erotic.
Ryan pulled back his head, looked down for a second at his body, his full lips wet with Ted's passion left on them.
"Fuck, I'm getting so fucking huge. Jesus, Mr. Blair. This is so hot. You're so hot."
"Yeah? You think so Ryan? You like my muscles, my big cock?"
"Oh, God, Mr. Blair. That shit makes me feel so fucking hot." He grabbed Ted's massive pecs with both hands, squeezing them, rubbing them almost violently, feeling their weight, the breadth and depth of their contours. "You know I do, sir. So fucking huge, man. The bigger the better."
"I could take some with you, Ryan. I could get bigger while you grow fucking massive. Would you like that, Ryan? More muscle for the muscle boy?"
"Oh, shit, sir. Fuck. If it's what you want, sir, it would be so totally fucking hot."
"Just check yourself out in the mirror, then, stud. Watch that young hunk turning into a young hulk. Show me how much you love it, boy."
"Aww, fuck, sir. Look at me. Look at my fuckin' arms, sir." He struck another double bi, and his arms swelled to the size of footballs, hard, vascular footballs. "Measure 'em, sir. Fuck. You're making me so fuckin' huge, man. Oh, Jesus, it feels so fucking hot. I'm on fuckin' fire, sir. Measure my guns."
Ted threw back the contents of another small bottle, swallowing with intense satisfaction, instantly feeling the warmth in his stomach go directly to his groin and spread from there through his entire body, cellular structure, and brain. He looked at the handsome young man transforming before his eyes into a vision of hypermasculinity that he'd only hoped he could achieve with him. The dark blond hair was spreading and thickening on his torso like the shadow of a setting sun that throws even subtle contours into stark, bold relief. The kid was so into himself, he hardly noticed Ted staring at him, the formula in him driving up the intensity of his desire and excitement. He lusted after the kid's growth, seeing superhuman proportions coming to vivid life right in front of him. The young bodybuilder was nearing the size of a senior, hard-core, roided out guy, taking on a thickness that could never be realized naturally, and the size and shape excited Ted so much his breath came in short, fast gasps. The kid's balls hung halfway to his knees and were already the size of some heavy, ripe tropical fruit. And the cock, the incredible dick on the kid, stood out, arched up, defying the weight of its massive size. The new foreskin that the TransForm had started to regrow covered over half the head now, the bulbous tip sticking out of the tight cowl, oozing strings of slippery precum. The kid stood there flexing an arm, already swollen hard, glistening with sweat, veins snaking over the surface, under the taut skin, waiting for Ted to measure it. Ted grabbed a tape.
"Yeah. Show me that muscle, Ryan. Show me that hot, thick muscle. You are getting huge, kid. Look at that fuckin' arm. Fuck, your muscle is so hot, Ryan." He wrapped the fabric tape around the peak. "You love it, boy? You love getting so huge? Everyone's gonna stare. Shit. Already twenty and three-quarters."
"Aww, fuck man. That's big. Fuck, Mr. Blair, I feel so hot. I'm so horny, man, my cock feels like it's fucking alive. My balls feels so heavy. Do I look hot, Mr. Blair?"
"Jesus, Ryan," Ted knew he was reacting to the dose he took, now, his own arousal taking over, reaching those monumental sensations that came along with it, with the onset of the internal manipulations, the changes, just what he knew Ryan was feeling a hundred times more powerfully, "you look unbelievably hot. That cock. Those balls. That hair. Your muscle. So thick, so totally masculine. Look at that beard, boy. You've got a full beard now. So fucking masculine. Beyond masculine. You feel hot, boy? You like how you look?"
"Oh, fuck, Mr. Blair. I look so fuckin' amazing, man. I want my cock to get so fuckin' huge, man. I love it. Gonna put on those shorts and go out bulgin' like a total freak, man. Gonna be the dude, man. The main guy. The big one. Shit, gonna stick out so much everyone's gonna freak. Look at my cock, man. Oh, God, feel how heavy it is, so fuckin' thick, so long. God, Mr. Blair, I fuckin' love that skin growin back, feels so fuckin' hot, so masculine. Fuckin' super dude, man. Stoke me, Mr. Blair. You love how big you're makin' my dick, don't ya?"
"Yeah, Ryan. I fuckin' love it."
Ted took Ryan's cock in his hands, stroked it with long, slow strokes, sliding the new foreskin against the rim of the kid's huge cockhead, watching Ryan's eye's glaze with erotic pleasure. He lifted his own cock, put them together, both almost the same size, now, and Ted knew that, while his would grown a bit from the dose he'd swallowed to join Ryan in the throes of erotic ecstasy, Ryan's would grow even more, would be bigger than his, a monster cock, uncut, hanging soft nearly to his knees and thick as the kid's muscular forearm. With their two cocks pressed between their abdominal ridges and the hard, deep crevices between their pecs, the kid's almost as hairy as his now, grinding their torsos together for the sensation of maleness that the friction of muscle and hair against their huge meat sent shooting, exploding through both of them, he grabbed Ryan's head with both hands, roughly but tenderly, with searing masculine passion, and fitted his mouth over Ryan's again, feeling the dark blond fur that covered his jaw and lip, now, and he pressed their lips together, hard against their teeth, thrusting his tongue and wrestling with Ryan's own searching tongue.
"Fuck me, Ryan. Use that huge meat on me. Fill me with it. I want to feel all that young, teen manhood inside me, kid."
He leaned back on his desk, sat on the edge, offering his own thick, muscular legs up to the young stud. His cock flopped back against his pecs as Ryan put Ted's heels over his shoulders. The kid had to back up his hips in order to get his cock head down to that sweet pucker beneath the hot man's low hanging balls, but he found it, and the copious precum was all the lubrication he needed. Ryan pressed against the tight sphincter, forcing it to open to him.
"You like that, Mr. Blair? You like your muscle guy? Check it out, man," he flexed both arms as he pushed his throbbing cockhead slowly through the tight gates to masculine paradise. "Must be at least twenty-two, now. More. You like that, Mr. Blair? You like my huge muscles? Fuckin' massive, man."
"Fuck, Ryan. You're getting even hotter than I hoped. Yeah, fucker. I fuckin' love it."
"Yeah, me too, Mr. Blair. Make me your fuckin' huge freak boy, man. You like my huge cock, too, don't ya, Mr. Blair. You like how it feels going in? Hurts good, doesn't it? Aww, man, aww, Jesus, it feels so fuckin' hot. You fuckin' love it, don't ya, Mr. Blair?"
"Yeah, Ryan." He threw his head back with the blinding erotic pain/pleasure of the gigantic tool he'd created, the tool that would grow even more inside him. He looked at the eighteen year old face with the full, blond beard, the body so blown up with muscle that any roided out pro would be jealous of his mass. His own cock jerked with his out-of-control arousal, and, lying back on the desk, he reached around to the half-open drawer where he'd taken out the bottles, and pulled out another. "I fuckin' love your huge muscle body, kid. And your cock and balls. No one will be like you, Ryan. Imagine even more. Imagine walking around with an even bigger bulge, more muscle, barely able to walk. Is that hot, Ryan? You like that?"
"Aww, fuck, Mr. Blair," Ryan sank his cock all the way to his thick, gold pubic hair, feeling the totally masculine sensation of having so much meat, so much muscle, all of it. More? How would that feel? "Fuck. I'd be so fuckin' hot, wouldn't I?"
"Yeah," he could barely talk now, seeing the kid still growing thicker, feeling that meat in him up to his lungs, imagining him even bigger, more incredible. "You'd be fuckin' amazing." He could barely hold up the bottle.
"Here." His own sensations, erotic, overwhelming rational thought, were growing so extreme he felt his whole body was on the verge of orgasm. "Just a little more."
"You want me to, Mr. Blair? You want to see me even bigger? Fuck." He took the bottle, looked at it for a second as he slowly withdrew his cock, sliding it, enjoying the full thrust of sexual sensation as it slid through the tight opening, then slowly pushing it back inside his mentor, his hot, gorgeous maker. "If it's what you want, Mr. Blair."
"Yeah, Ryan. It's what I want."
And Ryan drank it down.
Ted let his head fall back on the desk, giving in to the internal world of his sensations, watching his creation take him, as the teen continued to change before his eyes.
"And I think you can call me Ted, now," he said.
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