By Also_KnownAs

The man was sitting in a darkened booth. A brown glass bottle filled with beer sat on the table in front of him. A pulsing rhythm shook the room. Shirtless and beautiful men were writhing and twisting to the sounds, dancing against each other, their bodies hot and slick with sweat. He was wearing a black T-shirt, one arm laid across the back of the booth against the cool, deep red vinyl. His other arm was resting on his leg. The table in front of him had a glass top, and if anyone took the time to look through it, they'd be able to watch the man caressing one of the biggest cocks on the planet, it's thickly veined shaft emerging from his open fly and lying across his thigh. His large hand was moving against his prick's smooth, warm flesh. He was bathed in the sweet thrill of orgasmic bliss as he watched the parade of male beauty move in front of his eyes.

Another man sat beside him, practically disappearing into the darkness except for the glow of his eyes and the slight gleam of white teeth. It was hard to tell exactly what this man looked like, what his features were, how big he was in comparison with the other. Many of the men in that room would've felt more than a little nudge in their Jockeys if they realized he was shirtless, and the thick, broad muscles of his chest, like two fat hams, bulged so large that he almost appeared to have breasts. They were round and full, but not with fat or milk but muscle, rock hard and meaty.

The first man had a sideways smile on his lips, one end twisted up to create a deep dimple on his arched and sculpted cheek. A thick shadow surrounded his full lips, a black mustache and goatee imperfectly shaped, a hard brush of night embracing his face. Eyes as equally dark gazed out on the dance floor from beneath a heavy brow. They were narrow, and the smile never touched them. He had a shock of short hair on his head, unkempt and shiny. His skin was olive, not looking sun-kissed but born that way. He warm breath exited slowly from a body that would be standing 6-foot 4 inches if he stood. His demeanor was relaxed, but wary. His head bobbed slightly to the music, but his hand's sweet manipulations had a rhythm all his own.

The second man's head had a thin layer of hair tight against his scalp, a rough, curling down of fur, pure black. His almond-shaped eyes were also black, so deeply brown that the iris disappeared into their depth, surrounded by whiteness as clean as cotton sheets. His neck was as wide as his head, a muscled beast of a man, whose upper body was trying to burst from his sleek, dark skin. Beneath the table, he wore a pair of black lycra shorts that hugged his assets like a second skin, just as he desired. If the man next to him owned one of the biggest, fattest pricks around, he owned the other. His was a thickly veined monster with a cowled helmet, his foreskin so long it dangled all the way over his plum-sized head. His hand rested against this hidden beast and soaked in its heat. He was pulsing with sex and desire, he could literally feel it in his veins.

Eyes were on them again - the eyes of the beautiful men on the prowl across the unusually textured floor. They couldn't see the one man clearly in the shadows. They knew the other was there, had seen them enter together. They couldn't tell that their bodies had become even more muscled since, hard and thick with sleek power. The white-skinned man's arm bulged and flexed as he leisurely pleasured himself. The head of his massive manhood was also hooded in a tight cowl, his uncut foreskin clinging tightly to the swollen, hungry head allowing only the eye of his snake to touch the air conditioned breezes that caressed the long, fat shaft. His shirt clung just as tightly as that foreskin but refused to reveal the tight rippled brawn of his belly, or the huge heavy globes of muscle that hung from his chest. And there was no way to tell that the blue jeans he wore did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that his ass was high and round and perfect.

The place was called The Wet Bar, because at midnight that odd, pimpled rubberized floor would be funneling away the water that would begin pouring from the ceiling. A warm constant rain that would make clothes cling and make sweat-slick bodies glisten in the flashing lights. The men and boys in various states of undress were getting juiced up for the wetness to come. They all thought they were hot, masters of beauty, they thought they oozed sex.

The men in the booth actually could. They could ooze sexual pleasure from every pore of their altered bodies. They could breathe sex from their lungs and blow it across your naked flesh and make you cum. They could touch your skin with their transformed hands and send you to such deep spasms of ecstatic bliss that you'll think you died and went to heaven.

One man's name was Chuck, and Chuck had a plan. He was simply waiting for just the right moment to spring it. He'd been outside IGE now for a full week, and had been enjoying every minute of it. He felt like the Johnny Appleseed of muscle, leaving his seeds across the land and forcing things to grow and grow.

The other had been a young man in the park.

He was running through the green hills, his muscular and athletic body moving effortlessly. All the man's muscles were in stark relief under his dark skin. He had a fuzz of black hair cut very short on his scalp. His body was wet with his sweat, it ran in rivulets in the valleys between his huge and deeply defined muscled form.

Chuck lounged on a bench, shirtless, wearing a pair of cut-off jeans. His legs were planted wide as his leaned his hard, muscular torso back against the wood. He was the height he now nearly always assumed while "in disguise," 6-foot-4. His looks changed from one encounter to the next. This time he was a smooth-skinned beauty. His muscles bulged hard and engorged beneath pink, perfect skin. His turquoise eyes sparkled in the light and he wore a shaggy cut of brown hair, loose and hanging just over his ears. An inch of his ample prick dangled out of his shorts.

He leaned back, bent his arms behind his head so his biceps bulged like melons and let out a thin, intense layer of his scent, strong enough to entice any man who came within 20 feet of him, but not strong enough to do anything more than that. He closed his eyes, smiled, and waited.

He'd learned pinpoint control over his transforming capabilities with a little trial and error. He knew that the guy would be unable to help himself, he'd have to approach. Whether he was gay or not, Chuck didn't care. He was a beauty hunter. He found the most beautiful men and drew them in. What happened next, he left to fate.

But it always ended the same.

"Hey! Hey, dude!" The voice was deep, powerful, almost musical.

Chuck opened his eyes and looked at his target. The guy was about 24, he guessed. His body was sleek and fit, his skin so dark it was almost black, his muscles well trained and bulging. He looked almost like Todd had when Chuck first greeted the transformed man at the door on that first day. He was a huge specimen, beautiful and healthy as an ox. Chuck thought he probably spent a lot of time working out to perfect his impressive form because his legs were just as defined and hard as his upper body. "Hey," he answered.

The guy approached him, not even breathing hard. "You better tuck yourself up. They'll arrest you around here for hanging out like that." He was smiling, though whether that was amusement or desire Chuck didn't yet know.

Chuck's grin touched the other side of his lips as he sat forward. He looked down, placed his hand under his fat prick and gently pushed it back into his pants. The crotch of his shorts bulged hugely. "Thanks for the tip. I'm Chuck." He offered his hand. It was the one he'd just used to adjust himself. His masculine smell lingered on his palm.

The guy took it easily. They touched, skin to skin. "Frazz." He shook Chuck's hand. Chuck's grin grew teeth. "I know, I know," he said, smiling back, "but it's actually short for Frazier. I just don't think I look like a Frazier." He stopped and posed. "What d'you think?" Chuck just kept smiling. The guy had much to be proud of, and his easy-going attitude was probably the result of knowing how good he looked, and that he could probably pulverize anyone who so much as blinked in a way he didn't like. "You from around here?"

Frazz nodded. He put his hands on his hips and started to stretch his hamstrings. "Other side of the park. Near the river? You know it?"

Chuck shook his head, eying the guy's basket. There was something long and limp in there. Something that wanted out. "Just flew in," he said. He rubbed his arm with his hand, accentuating its size in comparison. "I was wondering if there was a gym around. I'm feeling the need for a little pumping." He gazed at Frazz.

Frazz's brows rose on his lovely face. His eyes were as dark as the rest of him. Chuck wondered if Frazz shaved himself, or if all that clean, beautiful skin was naturally bare. He realized that if they were to stand next to each other, they could be twins. This guy was already huge. "Looks to me like you just came from a gym. Pretty impressive." He took a step toward Chuck and started to stretch his other leg.

"I can never be too big," he answered. "I think I'm addicted to size." He watched Frazz's face as the other man's eyes glanced down to his package. He wondered if he was allowing himself to get too large. He could feel the cold teeth of the zipper pressing against his firming flesh. He started to bend his arm, flexing and bulging the bicep, and the action drew Frazz's attention away from his package. The arm seemed to get larger with each flex. "You look like a pretty athletic guy yourself, Frazz." He urged a soft push of the potent power of his Voice into the name, pumping a throbbing hint of his overwhelming masculine power into the five little letters. "You like a good workout?"

Frazz slowed and straightened. "Sometimes." He took another step toward Chuck. His eyes were again cast on Chuck's bulging basket. Now he did seem to be breathing a little harder. His huge chest rose and fell, the nipples forced toward the ground by the very size of him.

Chuck nodded and leaned back again, his arms resting on the bench's back. The movement pushed his pelvis forward, and his dick again made its ample presence known, this time the head was nearly drooping off the edge of the bench. It seemed to be crawling forward along Chuck's heavily muscled thigh, swelling as it grew. "Tell me something, Frazz."

Frazz's mouth opened slightly, but all he did was nod.

Chuck's hand lazily curled in toward the slabs of power on his chest, His fingers lightly brushed against one large nipple, the thumb plucking its high tip. "What's a guy do around here," he asked, his baritone a rough rumble, "if he's on the prowl?"

Frazz swallowed. "Prowl?" His own voice practically growled the word, and his thick lips bent into a grin. He felt hot, his skin was slick and glistening with sweat. He could smell his own sweat, and something else mixing into that earthy scent. Something spicy and hot and passionate. Why was he dropping to his knees?

"Yeah, Frazz. If a guy, say me for example," Chuck said, moving his hips forward on the bench. His cock was now a good three inches out of his shorts, "needed a little action, and he needed it immediately, where would that man find it?"

The sun felt very hot. A cool, dry breeze swept along the gravel pathway. Somewhere, someone was playing tennis. Somewhere near. Frazz could hear the thok of ball and racket. Someone was shouting something. The gravel bit into his knees. He didn't look down, didn't notice that his legs were bulging as the muscles stretched tight. His abs looked better defined as well. His already rippling belly was slowly being upgraded by a bulging collection of rounded power. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the ground. His arm was bulging with fresh brawn, the skin growing shiny and thin. "Where?"

"Yes, where," repeated Chuck. His dick was insistent. Its skin was darker even than Chuck's tanned flesh. The head was wrapped in a tight hood of skin, and the shaft was thick with throbbing veins. A gleaming drop of precum swelled at the tip, a dome of salty love wanting to prepare the way for its enormity. The seams of the denim cut-offs were slowly unraveling themselves, splitting open as his meaty legs bulged. "Can you help me?"

Frazz leaned forward and placed his lips to the glistening top, kissing Chuck's lengthening tool gently, reverently. His tongue moved out of his mouth and licked the tangy droplet off, looking very red emerging from between his large black lips, licking it inside where it bathed his mouth with a thickly masculine musk. He put his lips to the helmet and sucked it inside, wrapping his tongue around its firmness, feeling its heat against the roof of his mouth, how hard and huge it was. He moved forward, welcoming it inside, it reached forward and rubbed against his throat. Frazz's eyes gazed upward at Chuck's beautiful face, his smile, his eyes.

Chuck reached down and brushed his Touch against Frazz's cheek. The other man shuddered and moaned - Chuck felt the sound all along his length. He was slowly transforming the man pleasuring him. It wasn't fair, really. What choice did the man have? Chuck's sexual arsenal was unbeatable, indefensible, overpowering. The moment the young man had come within Chuck's sites, he was a done deal.

Frazz raked his teeth along Chuck's prick, so he closed his eyes and shot a sudden wealth of lubing honey down the man's throat. It swam down and sank in, building a heat inside the man, delivering a tide of pleasure more intense than any orgasm he'd ever experienced.

Which made Frazz very happy. He reached up and grasped Chuck's ass, as if he meant to pull the huge man all the way inside. Chuck reached down and unbuttoned his shorts. He didn't have to, he could easily have simply ripped them off his steel-hard body. But this felt sexier. A slow striptease even as his cock stretched farther and farther into the man between his legs. He pushed his fingers down into the heat of his shorts, into the moist sweat clinging to his glossy black pubic hair. He softly rubbed his root, touching his rough fingertips to the pulsing stiffness of his engorging beast, then withdrew his hand and smelled himself on his fingers.

He raised his arm and breathed himself in, turning his senses to the soft, wet hair in his pit. His sweat was laced with his man scent, strong and spicy - strong enough to draw another man closer if one happened by. Frazz's hunger for him was almost that strong. He looked down and watched the man's shoulders bulge with new brawn. They stretched and spread, their muscle growing slow but steady beneath the man's dark chocolate skin. He could see the man becoming stronger by the second.

His own thighs were swelling, now. He was growing, too. He was allowing himself to. Just as he was allowing the man swallowing his prick to grow. He fed the man with himself, with his power and his strength. The other man's shorts began to rip. The seam along his ass was splitting open as he grew. The seams along the outer expanses of his burgeoning thighs ripped apart, unable to contain the hard, fresh muscle growing there.

The excitement was getting to Chuck. Someone might come along this path any moment, walking the dog or out for an ice cream. They'd come upon these men, two huge and overpoweringly muscular men. One black as night, the other a bulging tanned beauty. The black one was on his hands and knees, as if in worship. The other man had his hand down his undone shorts, the dark wealth of his sweaty pubic hair spilling out, the root of his huge manhood emerging from the forest and passing forward out the open leg of his splitting shorts. They hung onto his huge frame literally by threads. His muscle was too large for them.

And the black man, a man of equal size and strength, his wide back thickening and growing, his bulging shoulders expanding, was hungrily devouring the white guy's dick. His huge dick. The black man was growing out of his nylon running shorts, the fat muscle of his thighs ripping them apart. He was growing bigger, more muscular, the extreme taper of his torso from his tight, powerful waist to his mountainous shoulders was becoming even more pronounced. Muscle was developing as they watched. Actually growing under the man's dark skin, like snakes moving under black satin.

Then, there was a ripping sound. The observer would look at the man's denim shorts, but they appeared to be still holding on. Then it was clear what had happened, because the dark man's shorts fell in tatters to the ground, and it was clear to see that the man's balls, his furry sack, were swelling as well. Then the drooping head of his own huge cock appeared in front of those balls. It was actually extending itself, growing also, the fat head ripening as the shaft became longer and longer until the tool was so big that the head touched the gravel between his legs. It dangled literally to his knees. An unbelievable cock, growing between his developing legs.

Then they'd see the white man place his hands on the black man's head. He would look down at the other man with his laser-sharp eyes and the other man would withdraw, allowing the white man's long, stiff prick from his mouth. It would be red, hard and glistening with spit. A long trail of something like honey would droop from it's throbbing end to the black man's mouth. And then the black man would stand up, his huge erection wagging like a pendulum in front of the white man's face, and he would lean forward and open his mouth and fall to his knees on the gravel, off the bench, placing his large hands on the black man's ass and slowly swallow him whole. They were both growing, Chuck resuming his natural size while feeding Transform in stronger doses into Frazz's gargantuan form. They were expanding, growing wider and higher and thicker by the moment. Frazz bent his arms and watched the muscle build upon itself. His biceps split into clearly defined heads, right down the middle. He was pure power, nothing but strength and plenty of it. He watched his own chest expanding in front of him, watched the muscle growing fatter, rounder, bigger than ever, bigger than anything. The white dude was sucking him to hell and back, his mouth was a Hoover, it felt impossibly great. And the guy was twiddling Frazz's tight ass with his fingers, digging and teasing and tickling the entrance to his inner heaven.

He felt something touch his head. He reached up, feeling the leaves of the branches that shaded the bench. The branches that had been three feet overhead when he arrived, slightly out of reach for him. Branches ten feet high. He smiled and closed his eyes, feeling himself growing, getting bigger and stronger, everything he ever wanted. The beautiful white dude was giving him head, blowing his joint better than anyone had ever sucked him before, man or woman. The guy had talent, that was for sure. Was he a Genie? Would Frazz have to pay for this dream? It was a dream, it had to be. It felt so real, so good, so right. He was getting bigger and bigger. He could feel himself getting heavier, stronger, better. His cock was huge. Well, it had been huge before, now it was mammoth. He could feel every inch of it, every sensation, the dude's tongue, the dude's throat, the dude's hands. His dick pulsed and tingled and throbbed with pleasure. It erupted through him like waves, like a tide rising, like something uncontrollable that he could control.

He had control. So much power, in his control. The dude's hands were kneading his ass. He felt fingers enter his tight hole, felt them wiggle and push and play with him, bringing him to new heights of pleasure. His balls were filling up, full of something so hot and powerful that he could feel it, literally feel himself filling up down there. Something thick and hot, something sweet and strong, and so much of it. He was swollen with it, swelling with it, his balls hanging farther and filling up.

He reached down and dug his fingers into the dude's hair. It was so soft. So full and soft and cool. His other hand caressed his own chest, his touch feeling the increasing brawn, the size of his muscles growing bigger yet, still bigger. He was naked and huge and getting sucked on a gravel path in the park. Someone was playing tennis. This was happening. This was real.

This was real.

He started cumming, blasting his load down the dude's throat. It was so powerful, so full and rich, so much pleasure so deep and wide, his toes curled and he pinched his eyes shut. He was emptying himself and filling up the other man. The beautiful, powerful, magical man sucking his huge dick. He grasped the man's hair in his hand and clenched his fist. He was cumming and cumming, feeling like he would never stop.

Chuck swallowed Frazz's load as quick as he could manage, but the guy was a powerhouse, a super-charged muscle machine shoved into overdrive by his transformation. Chuck pushed everything into the guy and still he wanted more. He could feel it, sense it, the need for power and strength was pulsing out of the huge black body. There was no stopping his hunger, no wonder he was already so big.

He heard the man gasp as he spent the last of his huge load and emptied his balls. Chuck could feel his mammoth cock growing limp inside him and he pulled Frazz out of his mouth, savoring every sweet inch of him until they were two men again, not joined by either Chuck's transforming powers or Frazz's huge orgasmic discharge.

"Whoa." Chuck looked up in his natural form, a furry mountain of muscle with piercing green eyes, and met the gaze of the nude giant looking down at him as he said, "Now that's what I call a blow job." •

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