He chose the Littleman's spandex hot shorts, a neutral, fleshy kind of color that spectacularly showed-off his new, super-sized cock. His brother insisted on squeezing into his cut-off jeans, referring to them as his "Daisy Dukes," which Big Budd thought was funny - but it took both of them to slide the shorts over his muscular quads and zip them up over his abundant package. If he got hard, they'd burst. About half his ass hung out the back, the shorts so tight as to give him a wedgie.

Big Budd wore his cowboy hat, but Little Budd wore his CAT-diesel trucker's cap, greasy and dirty and well-worn. Little Budd had shaved, but Big Budd left the scruff on his chin and lip, giving himself a sloppy, half-grown goatee - in his cowboy hat, with all the new hair, he felt more masculine than the Marlboro Man.

Little Budd wore his workboots and a too-small wife-beater to complete the image. Big Budd remained bare-chested, but wore his cowboy boots. After a moment of inspecting himself in the mirror, the mass, the muscle, the swirl of body hair, in a moment of inspiration, he buckled his brown leather belt loosely around his waist, so it hung on his hip, the big, silver buckle - that he'd won in HIS only rodeo appearance - balancing on his club-shaped cock. He was never a fashion-conscious kind of guy, but adding the belt was like putting a period at the end of a sentence. It was right.

He was a cowboy fantasy - Little Budd like a porn-movie actor at a construction site. Try as they might, they looked like twins trying not to look like twins (even if Big Budd had a bigger cock). However, both of them were anxious to complete their assignment so they could have their fourth treatment of the Littleman's formula and get even bigger, even more masculine and muscular and cock-hungry.

They'd do anything for that.

The others were dressed similarly. As a matter of fact, the first few minutes of the group being together was spent seeing how their choice of outfits affected each other's sex drives. Big Budd's cowboy outfit was a huge success - so was his cock, grown now to the biggest of the group. Dane was particularly attracted to Big Budd - "Always had a thing for cowboys," he mumbled as he stroked Big Budd's hairy pecs.

Big Budd touched his cock. "Well, I reckon I got a hell of a 'thing,' now," he said, smiling as seductively as he knew.

Dane winked. "Never you worry. Our time is coming, but tonight you got some company business, eh?"

"Yup. I'm lookin' forward to it."

The Football Coach was dressed in the same polyester coach's shorts/ t-shirt combination he always wore, though he filled it out quite differently today than he had yesterday. His thick, heavy cock and ripe, swollen balls stretched the material to the point of capacity. His legs were his best bodypart, though he had a very thick neck/ trap development, but he was still built like a fire-hydrant, not a bodybuilder - his abs were rounded and thick, like a roidgut almost, if such a thing were possible among Littleman's Men. He'd been the biggest of them when they'd arrived, now he was just one of the pack - as if Littleman's Men could be described as ordinary - and only his macho attitude made him unique. He'd taken to smoking cigars - something he had in common with the Oil-Rigger - and he puffed on a big one even now.

Also unlike yesterday, if he and Big Budd hooked up now, there'd be a fight for top - and Big Budd would probably win. The idea of fucking the Football Coach in front of his brother and that pretty-boy Bartender flashed briefly through BigBudd's mind. Now, why on Earth was THAT turning him on?

He laughed to himself - as if it mattered, EVERYTHING was turning him on!

The Bartender had on the same kind of hot shorts that Big Budd wore - except the Bartender's were white - he also had a puka-shell necklace, but he'd shaved himself clean. Big Budd didn't realize how natural he'd found the body hair on muscle until he'd seen a man without it. He knew all them professional bodybuilders shaved and such - and who could forget Ivan from this morning? - but it just looked odd to him now. A man without hair.

Not that the Bartender was unattractive. Quite the opposite. Yeah, he was smaller than the rest of them, but he was still as big as any serious muscle-head out there in the "real" world. He had a fantastic body - for a heavyweight porn star! - and breathtaking facial features. Now he stood there with a can of spray-glitter and coated his smooth muscles until he sparkled. "I'll fuckin' rock the dance floor," he said.

Officer Jacobs stood there with Big Budd for a few seconds as the group gathered, as they all checked each other out. How he'd done it, Big Budd didn't know, but Officer Jacobs had somehow managed to squeeze himself into a pair of motorcycle cop pants, the heavy muscle of his legs threatening every seam - his remarkable equipment fighting the zipper - and calf-high black boots. A single leather strap over one shoulder, across the hugely muscled, hairy body, and what Big Budd assumed was Officer Jacobs' actual uniform hat, cocked back on his head as he looked at his fellows. Jacobs was painfully sexy, freakishly big from his sudden dip in the hot tub this morning, though still not as muscular as the Old Man had become. Certainly more massive than any of the other guys at the seminar.

He was Dane's equal, maybe even his superior, not that Dane seemed all that concerned, moving around like a designer at a fashion show, adjusting this on one guy or adding that to another, a busy bee from flower to flower. For example, when he got to Jacobs, he offered the Officer a pair of leather gloves - which Jacobs gladly put on - and a night stick. The night stick was about the length and thickness of his cock, so when Jacobs absently hit his open palm with it over and over, Big Budd imagined he masturbated the same way.

Dane wanted to tie a handkerchief around Big Budd's thick neck, which Big Budd initially resisted. REAL cowboys didn't wear them things - it was gay. "REAL cowboys don't have cocks as big as their horse's, either," Dane joked. "It's part of the fantasy. Just wear it." Dane also reminded Big Budd how to tuck his cock in the Littleman's style - up front and down, presenting it like royalty.

The Oil-Rigger came in his blue-jeans and a leather harness, criss-crossing his out-of-proportion pecs and his tight, tiny waist. He looked poured into the jeans, they were so tight, and Big Budd could easily see the outline of his substantial dick against his leg. The Oil-Rigger wore a biceps band on each arm, though Big Budd knew he preferred to top.

The Oil-Rigger's roommate, the Law Clerk, wore the Littleman's posing trunks, workboots, and a button-front short sleeve shirt, though this one fit him quite well - as opposed to all the other guys who looked almost squeezed into clothes - showing off his deep cleavage, his near-perfect set of abs. He was such a freakin' tease, thought Big Budd. The Law Clerk wasn't anything but a poser.

With all of them there, Dane once again explained their task for the evening. To earn THEIR fourth amp, they had to recruit a new man into the fold. Straight or gay, didn't matter - on the other hand, this WAS San Francisco - didn't have to be at a bar, either, though that's where Dane was taking them tonight, to the San Fran club scene. The only requirement was that the new guy join them voluntarily, not be forced into it or tricked.

"If you get off on that," said Dane, by way of reassuring them, "then you can take guys without their permission when you get home. The goal here is seduction - I want you to see how easy it is - how NATURAL it is - to spread the good word."

Big Budd thought the same thing they all did - "With bodies like these, who could resist?"

Who'd WANT to?

He gave them each a tiny hip-bag - Big Budd had never heard of "fanny packs" - just big enough for the transdermal gun, the two amps, and their personal items, room keys, cash, etc, the Littleman's logo stitched into the front. "The dose you'll give your target is quite a bit more powerful than YOUR first dose was," Dane said as he handed them the small, glass vials, "so you should expect to see a dramatic change in them. Of course, wait'll you see what your fourth amp does for you!"

And so they went. A new shuttle-bus awaited them, a new driver - though even THIS guy looked liked he'd sampled the formula. For anyone watching, they looked like a bunch of over-sized COLT models on their way to a gig.

And it WAS easy. Stupid easy. Not that Big Budd was nervous about it - hell, he was too cocky to be nervous - but it would be a while before he developed a routine. Starting conversations with strangers had never been his strong suit. Fortunately, his body did most of the talking for him.

As our little cowboy went strutting into the country-western bar, all heads turned to stare at the incredibly massive Big Budd - background noise fairly well stopped. He couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from curling into a cocky little smile - nor could he resist reaching down and adjusting his already-responding package. He was a new Big Budd - a Big Budd who WANTED men to stare at him while wearing next to nothing.

He ordered a draft beer and drank it quickly when it came - God damn, a beer hit the spot! - one foot up on the brass rail that ran along the base of the bar, Big Budd scoped the room. It wasn't REAL country - not like back in Kansas - it was more like idealized country. Hell, probably none of these guys had ever ridden a horse, he figured.

Almost in response to that, he saw that the bar had a mechanical bull. Off of the main floor, in an area of its own - decorated to look like a stall - an old-fashioned, mechanical bull. Big Budd smiled - how he'd like to hoist his muscular ass up onto that.

Then he thought about how HIS dick was almost the size of a bull's, and when he thought about how riding HIM was gonna be like riding that beast, Big Budd had to fight getting hard. Worse when he saw himself in the mirror behind the bar. He had to resist the urge to flex.

He LOVED how he felt, being out in public, looking like this, being all man. Why had he resisted this so much? What had he been afraid of? Thank God for his brother and his brother's foresight. Big Budd thought about his brother trooping off with the group that was going to the leather bar. In a way, he'd wished he'd gone with them - he'd feel a little more secure in a group - on the other hand, if he were there, he'd be playing with them instead of scoping out a target the way they'd been instructed. There, he'd be just another in the group of incredibly muscular guys - here, he was a solo-act.

He could feel the eyes on him, so he flexed as subtly as possible, letting them have a little bit of a free show. Should he wait for one of them to approach him? Should he be passive or aggressive? Well, being aggressive would mean getting HIS fourth amp all that much quicker.

He looked around.

Hot guys all over the place, and who'd have thought Big Budd would ever think THAT? So many choices - but then, almost immediately, Big Budd saw the right guy. He could just tell - there was... something about him. Big Budd didn't understand "auras" or "vibes" - he was a bumpkin from Kansas, after all - but almost instinctively, he knew the right type. The Littleman's type.

Young guy - early twenties - appearing kind of lost, easily overlooked by the crowd, attractive but not pretty, a good body, thin legs - a FANTASTIC ass! - dressed like a country-western singer in pegged-jeans and a sleeveless plaid shirt. Leaning against the far wall with one foot up so he'd appear casual, he was anything but. He looked like Big Budd would if Big Budd had come into this bar without the benefit of the Littleman's transformation: nervousness tinged with lust, anticipation, and desperate hope.

A thin blonde, Big Budd doubted the guy could grow a beard, much less that he'd have the hair on his head much longer. A shame, he'd look good with a thick moustache - maybe something on his chest.

Without realizing it, Big Budd began stroking the hair on his own chest, lightly, subtly, though the detail wasn't lost on any of the men who watched Big Budd watch this guy.

Eye-contact!

The corners of Big Budd's mouth curled up as the guy's jaw dropped, but Big Budd didn't know if the guy was shocked by Big Budd's body, or just that Big Budd was looking at HIM. Big Budd winked, leaning back a bit on the bar, allowing himself to flex a little more easily. Tease the guy, he thought, remembering what Dane had said. Let the guy come to you.

Leaning back also showed his package better, his heavy, lengthy horse-dick. How could this guy resist THAT? How could anybody? The other guys watching certainly couldn't - Big Budd could feel the room get an erection. It took everything he had not to get one himself. He chuckled - maybe it would HELP. Big Budd liked being the kind of guy who was uninhibited enough to be attracted to himself in public.

He reached down and adjusted that big new cock in the spandex - thick and beautiful, and all his. He really loved his cock, unlike the way he used to be, almost ashamed of it - now, he just wanted to pull it out and show everybody. No, no. Better in the spandex, the mystery will pull them in.

The blonde guy tried to look away, but just stared helplessly like the rest of the bar. Big Budd gave him a bit of a break and spun around to order another beer. While his attention was focused on tipping the server, the blonde guy had moved over to the bar and was politely waiting his turn.

Big Budd gave him a nod, said, "Howdy," and took a swig of his beer.

"Hi," the guy said - he was so nervous. Big Budd thought that was cute. "I'm Mac."

Big Budd nodded again. "Mac," he said in greeting. "I'm Budd. My friends call me Big Budd." He reached up and put his hands behind his neck, flexing his abs, the dim overhead light showing off the log he now called his cock. "Guess why?"

Mac resisted the urge to reach out and touch Big Budd. Instead, he quietly said, "You're so huge."

Big Budd brought his arms down and flexed his mammoth chest, popping the halves back and forth before he reached for his beer. "I reckon," he said. "Still, always shootin' for bigger."

"You want to get bigger?" the guy asked, the question out of his mouth before he knew he'd said it. "Why?"

Big Budd smirked, amazed at the honesty of his own response. "Because it feels so good," he said, then switched easily into seduction mode. "Want to feel it?"

The guy laughed. "Don't tease me," he said, looking around at all the guys looking at them.

"I ain't teasin' ya," Big Budd said. "I want ya to. Go ahead, feel my big, hairy chest. Run your fingers along my rock-hard abs, put your hand against this melon that I call a biceps. You know you want to - I know you want to - and we all know that all these guys watchin' us want you to. So touch me, and then tell me it'd bother you if I was bigger."

Tentatively at first, the blonde guy reached out and stroked Big Budd's hairy pec, feeling the pillowy curve of the muscle, the big, sensitive aeriola that hung on the edge like a desperate rock-climber, the gully of cleavage. The guy couldn't resist getting hard - who could anymore? thought Big Budd.

"Purty sweet, ain't it?" rumbled Big Budd, enjoying the electric feel of a man's hand against his skin. "You know, when I first started, I didn't reckon I wanted to get this big, but it's so fuckin' incredible, so... masculine, that now I wanna turn myself into the biggest freak out there."

Mac smiled as he nervously ran his hand along Big Budd's deltoid then down the vein running over Big Budd's biceps. Even though it was the arm he was using to hold his beer, Big Budd flexed for the guy. Rock hard. "You talk like you're not all-natural," the guy said, his tone a little bit teasing. "But I guess guys who are your size are always taking the steroids, aren't they?"

"You ever seen a guy on steroids with a cock like mine? With nuts that aren't all shriveled up?"

Mac was defensive, pulling back. "I've never seen a guy like you in real life, only in the magazines. Only in my fantasies. I don't care what you're on."

Big Budd smiled, leaning forward to speak to Mac confidentially. "I'm not on steroids," he said. "I reckon I'm doin' something a whole lot better. You seen that new Littleman's catalogue?"

A gasp - recognition! Mac had DEFINITELY seen it, Big Budd surmised. By the reaction, Big Budd guessed he'd "seen" it - masturbated to it - more than once. "Yes!" the blonde guy said, breathless. "Oh, my God! Those guys... YOU!... are so... the mag doesn't show much, it just hints... crops the pics just as the bulge..."

Mac glanced down at Big Budd's spandex shorts and instantly recognized the logo. Big Budd thought the guy was looking at his package, but then he pointed at the logo on the leg. "THAT'S the..." he looked up, making eye contact again. "You ARE one of them. They're real."

It took everything Big Budd had to control his cock - he was so... flattered that this guy had included him with such prestigious company, and Big Budd wasn't even finished with his transformation, yet.

Big Budd nodded. "Real? I reckon we are," he said. "And soon, we're gonna be everywhere. Matter of fact, I'm in San Francisco right now as part of a training seminar for the company."

"Really? What are you training for? A contest? A modeling job?"

Big Budd smiled. "We're learning how to recruit," he said, and gave it a moment to sink in.

The guy was stock still, quiet. Aghast. "What?" he whispered. "Recruit?"

"Mm-hm," Big Budd grunted, nodding, absently running his hand over the hair on his massive torso, which he flexed for himself. Playing with his nipple, he said, "Matter of fact, I'm out on assignment tonight. Before I'm allowed to have MY next dose of the formula, I gotta find a guy willin' to try it out, willin' to have a taste - a newbie."

"You're kidding," Mac said, but Bid Budd shook his head.

"I'm serious," Big Budd said. "And I'm makin' the offer to you."

"Oh, my God. You're kidding. Get as big as you?"

Big Budd chuckled. "You're not gonna get as big as me off one hit. You'll notice a difference for sure - you'll FEEL it, but you don't become a freak off one hit. Don't worry."

Big Budd was a good salesman - he didn't push, he didn't force. While Mac thought, Big Budd casually stood there and flexed, ready for the questions, should they come. Not surprisingly, Mac asked the most common question their training predicted. "What does it feel like?" he asked.

So Big Budd gave him the most effective response his training had to offer. "Only one way to find out," he said, gently squeezing the base of his cock.

"What if I don't want to get any bigger?" he asked next, sticking to Big Budd's script without even realizing it. "What if I'm happy with twenty extra pounds? Do I HAVE to get as big as you?"

"You can stop anytime you want to," Big Budd said as sincerely as he could. "Tell you the truth, I never thought I'D want to get this big, but uh... I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought. Don't count that out is all I'm sayin'. This is your chance to feel like a real man - take it."

Mac may have been startled by the speed with which he said "Okay," but Big Budd wasn't. Dane had been right, this HAD been easy - the Littleman's formula sold itself.

"You want to do it here, or you want to go someplace?"

"We can do it here?"

"Yeah, sure" said Big Budd, smiling. "I reckon it's kind of fun to go through the transformation in public. You wanna...?"

Mac was almost drooling. "Yeah!" he said, nodding quickly.

So they went to the men's room together, standing by the two urinals on the far wall - unknown to them, this was the most common spot for mutual jacking because it offered a tiny bit of privacy - and Big Budd explained how to use the transdermal gun. Mac was worried that it would hurt even as Big Budd assured him that it wouldn't. "Even if it did," Big Budd said, "wouldn't the results be worth it? But it doesn't..."

Big Budd would've been glad to show him by taking the amp himself, but the rules were that this guy went first. Big Budd didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his standing with the company. After only a moment of two of hesitation, the guy held the gun up to his outstretched nuts and pulled the trigger.

A "pop!" to be sure, and the guy jumped at the noise, but no pain.

When he pulled the gun away, Big Budd asked, "Now, did that hurt?"

"No," Mac said. "Just feels kind of weird. Like my balls are full of extra liquid."

Big Budd chuckled. "You just wait," he said, loading his amp into the butt of the gun. Pulling down the front of his shorts, exposing his big cock for the first time, he glanced at Mac, and saw the blonde guy riveted to it. "You want to give it to me?" he asked, holding out the gun. "You want to shoot me full of the magic?"

No hesitation this time - Mac took the loaded gun right out of his hand. "Oh, yeah," he said firmly, reaching down and gingerly taking one of Big Budd's goose-egg balls in his hand, hefting the weight of it, and then stretching the skin tight. "Ready?" he asked.

Big Budd sighed. "So ready," he said.

And Mac pulled the trigger.

Big Budd could feel it go in - though it didn't hurt. (Strange, Big Budd almost wished it HAD. Maybe Officer Jacobs had been right, maybe needles would be better.) But he could feel it down there, and he threw a boner in anticipation. No! He thought, WILLING it down - not yet.

He took the empty gun back from Mac as the blonde guy tucked Big Budd back in his shorts. "My God," he mumbled. "It's so big." Fascinated by Big Budd's cock.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," said Big Budd. "Now, let's get back out there so you can have your transformation in public."

He knew they had about ten minutes or so before they'd begin to feel it, so he got another beer. The guy was full of questions. "When will I feel it?" "How will I know?" "What if I don't like it?" "Can you have a bad trip?" and on and on. Big Budd would've been impatient, had he not been the same way himself when he'd taken his first hit - just yesterday.

And then Mac got that look - that "looking inward" kind of look, that self-absorbed moment when he first felt the hit. "I feel weird," he mumbled. "Like I'm stoned..."

"I reckon it's starting," said Big Budd. "Hang tight. It'll really get intense."

"Whoa! This is amazing!"

Big Budd could see Mac's erection, pushing eagerly against the tight denim. Wow, already. Big Budd was just beginning to be aware of his own buzz and this guy was already flying. Dane hadn't been kidding - this "test" amp he'd given Mac was far more potent that what they'd been given their first time.

"Holy shit," Mac said, putting his hand against his stomach. "This feels incredible!"

Big Budd could see it start to happen, the veins in Mac's shoulders and arms becoming more pronounced, his breathing becoming heavy, the rise and fall of his chest as his torso began to expand. As Big Budd suddenly became aware of the weight of his own balls, as the low rumbling of pleasure made itself known to him, Mac had already begun to grow.

"You might want to go stand in that dark corner over there," Big Budd said, indicating an unlit spot beneath the overhead deck. "Least until the transformation's over, then a whole new you can step out."

"What about you?" Mac said, his tone seductive. "You gonna come back there with me?"

"Nah," said Big Budd, shaking his head slightly. "I reckon I'm gonna go ride that mechanical bull I saw on the way in. We each got our own fantasy, Mac." He handed the blonde guy a business card from Littleman's - slipped it in Mac's front pocket. "You decide you want to get even bigger, call these guys."

"But, I..."

But Mac couldn't fight it - the buzz was too intense. He might've protested, but instead allowed Big Budd to lead him to that dark spot beneath the overhead deck. Spinning the passive blonde guy around, Big Budd kissed him, and reached for his rock-hard cock. "Nice," murmured Big Budd as he squeezed Mac's dick through the tightening jeans.

Mac moaned during his orgasm and almost lost his balance, falling back against the dark wall. "Holy cow!" he said as he caught his breath. "That was un-fucking-believable! Damn, I love my cock! Oh my God, Budd, I'm ready to go again!"

Big Budd smiled. "You ain't seen nothin', yet."

A couple of the desperate men who hung out under the deck - where, apparently, ALL the anonymous guys would feel each other up in the dark - had already moved in, touching Big Budd's incredible body, but targeting the moaning Mac, who was hard and ready to go again.

Mac, so swept up in his buzz, welcomed attention from anywhere. It was easy for Big Budd to step away, leaving the blonde guy to the hands and tongues of these strangers. The next time Big Budd saw him, he would indeed be a changed man.

Big Budd, on the other hand, had his own fantasy to explore - riding the mechanical bull during his own transformation. As he strode - strutted, throwing one massive thigh around the other - to the machine, off to one side in the main room, in its own stall, he felt all eyes fall on him, all the guys he squeezed past, forcing them to touch him, to rub against him, and all the guys perched on bar stools or on the upper deck over the dance floor.

He felt the familiar warmth in his testicles. He felt them start to swell and grow. As he walked along, they bounced back and forth like tennis balls, though his shorts did stretch enough to accommodate them. He could feel the rush start to travel along his veins, like a roller-coaster. His hands were shaking as he put the coins in the machine - he watched the veins rise in his forearms. Control, he thought. Control yourself.

But swinging his gigantic leg over the body of the bull, the heft of the saddle on his balls - too much. It felt too good.

Big Budd got hard. All thirteen, fourteen inches of cock - though now it felt even bigger, and it probably was - Big Budd lost control as the ride started.

Like his hat, his inhibition was easily tossed on the first buck. His fantasy had come true - he was riding a rodeo like his brother did, he was hugely muscular, and everybody was watching him.

His first orgasm came as the ride slowed to a halt.

Fortunately, someone was quick enough to stick in a few more quarters. •