Jeff & Mike


By Cleety

Yeah, it was Jeff, if that's what you can still call him. Whatever. I mean, this guy is obviously Jeff - I recognize his laugh, his voice - but as his bulk looms over me in the darkness, swords of light are stabbing him in random corners of his anatomy, revealing flashes that don't add up, CAN'T add up, to a human being…Well, my mind tries to take in the sight of this god-damn hulking, freak-of-a-freak - but the guy is so warped and distorted by muscle that it's not really fair to say I recognize the thing as my Jeffie.

"Hey Mikey! Damn, it's good to see you!" I think he said this, anyway, I was not really paying attention, because I'm goddamned RIVETED to this inflated, inhuman MONSTER of a leg that's pounding into view in front of me. The bulges and striations twitch on the front of his thigh, which is pressed out FOREVER. Honest, it looked like his huge thigh was going to get to me long before the rest of his body! I don't know if I fainted or what, but the next thing I remember I'm looking up into my Jeffie's face, still gorgeous, still chiseled, pretty much the way I always remembered him - except his blonde hair is cropped real close, revealing the cute little shells of his ears sticking out on either side of his head. Then I realize, I'm not on the floor - I'm in his arms, being held up off the ground. I'm in a cradle of pure muscle, and surrounded by a smell of man-meat that is so overpowering and intoxicating, so spunky and earthy and dripping with sweat and congealed sperm, that to this day I could almost shoot a load just REMEMBERING what he smelled like. Anyway Jeff finally sets me down, and laughing says, "Mike, you fainted, dude! You didn't even get a good look."

So I steady myself, and look up, and I try to take him in all at once. This musclebeast is easily 500 pounds. I figure he's about the old Jeff's height, all right - maybe a few inches taller - it COULD be him - but the sheer rippling, bulging poundage crammed onto that frame outweighed the Jeff I knew by 300 pounds. His bare limbs look like bags of muscle stuffed tight into some kind of stretching membrane, which I could tell by it's ruddy glow was Jeff's smooth skin. Next to my old Jeff, the guy standing in front of me literally made the Mr. Olympia guy who threw me in here look, by comparison, just like that skinny-geek date I had walked out on at that restaurant! Or the way that skinny geek, must have looked like next to me. You get the picture - HE'S BIG, RIPPED, and THROBBING.

Jeff's got on a pair of cut-off denim coveralls and the legs of the shorts are split around each thigh, to accommodate the sheer pressure of his swollen quads. I mean, his thighs were like twitching iron barrels, riven with ropy veins, and crimped in at the bottom by the bone of his knee cap. His calves flowed out from there, huge things, like he's got two coconuts shoved under the skin behind his shin-bone. Veins writhed everywhere on his smooth, stretched skin.

As I desert his thighs and start to look up toward his chest, I see the coverall top stretched across his trunk, making a kind of tank-top harness across the mountains of meat that is his chest. The only thing keeping the coverall straps from popping is, there are brass rivets connecting them. But even though this is incredibly strong denim, it's stretched so thin around his protruding pulchritude that it seems like he's wearing a wrestler's singlet. You can actually make out the muscles underneath the fabric - obliques, serratus, and in the center ten squirming cobblestones, which it took me a second to realize were his abs.

I can't even talk about the parts of him that weren't covered by the skin-tight denim. I mean, his chest, shoulders and arms - fuck. Let's say "engorged." "Inflated". Armored blimps of muscle. Every ton of meat from a champion beef steer slathered onto the skeleton of a normal human frame. You could hear his fucking heart pumping softly, it must be completely engorged now too to be able to pump the amount of blood it would take to irrigate all that beef properly. You could even hear this faint "whooshing" noise, like traffic on a distant road, a soothing underscore which I eventually realized was the sound of the blood hissing through the protruding blue garden hoses of his veins, running down the glowing, watermelon-sized muscles of his upper arm. Anyway…

Anyway, Jeff's grinning, and he's all, "We've got to talk, so go ahead and shoot." What? "Don't fuck around. I want your attention and don't want you staring, so I'm gonna make you shoot, Mike, and then talk to you." So he looks me in the eye, and BAM! Whips up his right arm, the sonofabitch! A slab of meat as big as the tire on a Honda springs up on an arm as big around as the heating ducts in the ceiling. In a hulking, three-stage motion, the biceps peak expands and expands, jerks to a stop, then expands some more, straining the taut skin like an over-inflated innertube. His head - which remained normal sized, of course - is, like, right up against the swelling meat of his bicep, and dwarfed by it. The muscle of his forearm flares into quivering place from the bent elbow, squeezing against the crest of the bicep like the two muscles are fighting for dominance as they swell into each other in the crook of his arm. It's DEFINITELY Jeff's arm! I can see the same proportions, almost, between the two heads. But it's like I blew it up in Photoshop! He starts to growl, releasing a torrent of masculinity as he stares at his own bicep, inflated like a living boulder millimeters from his snarling lips. My cock ruptures without my even touching it, and a cup and a half of semen gobs out my shaft and down my thighs, dripping to the floor.

"Whoa!! Nice load. I see you still love muscle." He relaxes, shakes his arm out - the meat wobbles ominously from side to side. And I say something like, fuck yeah dude, but what happened to you - some such bullshit. "You've never seen anything like my body, have you Mike? Ahhh…duh. "Have you ever even imagined a human man with muscles as big as the ones I've got now?"

"Don't tease me, dude, I'm serious " - I'm practically sobbing! - "I can't take it right now." My cock's already getting hard again, watching the heavy, pendant mounds of muscle sway from side to side as he shakes out his arm.

"C'mere." And he thunders closer, his legs swinging in huge waddling arcs of power - and sits down on this stool in another patch of light, and shows me an old sofa for me to sit down. I crawl over there on all fours and clamber up, not daring to look at my own fuckin' ex-b/f.. •

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