They sat and flicked playing cards while they talked. They laughed and recognized that they moved with just followable speed. “Spamson, Matthias is ‘Him’ I think.” “You just met ‘him’.” “But, it’s who he is.” “Ok.” He touched Diego. ”Is your bicep 13 yet?” “And a half.” He curled his arm and looked at the nothing flex. “Yup - Frick.”

Samson wrote in Parque Guell to Maria T. “Just meet me,” he said. “Just see me… Maybe with Deegs… Maybe to meet this new guy of Deegs’.”

They came out of the water – they’d wanted to swim this long, wanted to see its change. Diego’s pecs outlined like a breaststroker who'd win an international meet and his isolated bulge mounded against legs that were strengthening. He looked like a gay model from some come-on swimsuit catalog. He rubbed his hand along the topside of what he could now call his grossly-held ‘man cock’. He groaned with his lips open. Samson straddled his leg out of the pool and his arms cut divots into the flesh that was accumulating on his tricep and that was ramping up small-ly on his bicep. It felt so good. Standing on the side, he bent with the scum still dripping and circled his hands on his thigh. His fingers braceleted the leg beneath the struggle of the green show-er and he let his arm move intentionally against his dong. “HnnhHHHH…Let’s get that tape measure,” he said and his pouch filled.

“I wanna outbulk him, Samton – maybe get mass-fucked up.” “Deegs, we’ve been looking great, but we’re so fucking far from any possibility of that, of anything fucked up like that. And c’mon it’s not even smart. We’ve put on 40 lbs. We rule, stud. 180 gym-ish pounds, Deegeey… Fuck, you look as sexy as shit – and beyond! But, that’s what we need for gigs…. Everyone knows how hot we are now… Deegs, the auditions, the shoots, the shows are rolling in… Just look at these Brad Pitt-built bodies!...” Diego looked right past Samson and measured the 41 1/2” around his tall chest. He inside-pet his long quad. “But going… freak big, Deegs….That causes problems. Modeling problems… others.” “Watch.” “He’s not that way naturally, Deegs. Neither of you would be.” “Matthias’s introduced me to big studs now, Sam. They’re different, they’re mass-pumped... Sam, they’re fucki.. frickin’ just better than you and me. I got such a boner, Sam, having them around, thinking about being one.” “I don’t know, pretty, but, I’ll always support you, mi amigo mejor. I’ll always be there.” “Gracias, Samson, I appreciate that, I do. But, Samson, you’re doing it too.” Diego pushed forcefully into his friend. Samson stepped backward. And then Hungrier than the view he’d postured, he said, “Yea, of fucking course. I’ll do it too.”

“Samson, you want to join us for Mass?” “No, go without me – I’m meeting Juan; gonna ask about M.T.”

Diego and Samson filled a pew. The priest’s voice droned, “… we pray for Barcelona and international relations.” “Or, maybe it should be… we pray for the growth of a Barcelonan and his international relation,” Diego discretely raised his bicep the way one does when one hasn't learned to be unafraid to show off masculinity. “It’s 14 inches.” “You so want it,” Matthias said. “Yea…I do." “I’ll give it to you.” It was unnecessary, yet the suggestion made 7 ¾ inches harden down Diego’s Giovanni’s. “Fuck Yea.”

Samson threw a video-tape message for M.T. on the apartment table. Diego and Matthias stood naked. The German looked like he’d stepped from “Flex” and then stripped any Lycra he'd have worn. Diego’s undressed 181 pounds deserved to be in another magazine, like "Playgirl", where no girl would stay dry at his handsome tallness. But, Diego looked sparse. As Samson came more fully into the room, he saw that both Diego and Matthias’ dicks projected like the syringes that scattered on the ottoman between them. “You’re on time,” said Matthias. “Whether you know it or not, I’m changing you boys. I’m dosing you today and tomorrow until there’s such juice flowing in you that you two will be freaky beyond your ability to know whether you deserve it or not. With these ‘roids, you’ll become what a million out of a million guys are too scared to become.” “Oh give it, Matt-boy, go ahead and give it to us.” Diego moved closer to Matthias and framed a spot on his lower torso where he wanted the shot. “Matty, hit my ab.” Matthias aimed, bringing his arm back, and stabbed toward the 25-year-old’s groin. “AAARGGGFUUCKK,” Diego realized that something was wrong and that the sparkling point had not penetrated his skin. It had merely tickled his situp wall. “FucKKaagaainn,” He groaned distractingly, and then arm-flashed, and with ninja focus he forced Matthias’ hand hard against his etches, until the syringe unloaded its dose. He relaxed his grip, whirring his hand back to his side. “AHH.. FFUCCYESSSSS!” He looked toward his abdomen at the red dot showing around the steel. Matthias withdrew the syringe, and Diego could immediately sense his olive skin healing around the jab. “Ah, Fuck… AhH, Yeaahhh… Ah, I can sense it tracing in me.” He smeared his hand into the bloody droplet and pushed it into his pubes. He grabbed onto his rod and felt along it. “I’m gonna jack – gonna go jack.” He arched his sexy hips forward toward his hand.

Matthias and Samson watched the horny tall Spaniard in his stroking and then stepped to the other side of the room. They didn't recognize anything had gone awry. Matthias said, “I’m gonna start on Samson, but do have a good time.” He turned to Samson and brought his big German body tight against Samson’s back, purring in Samson’s ear. He had no way of knowing the overwhelming sensation it caused in Samson’s goop-sensitized flesh to be touched by such testosterone-created bulk. “UnNph.” Samson grunted and turned. He pulled Matthias’ hand onto the light-woven fabric that fell over his man gift. Matthias could feel Samson’s thick cock. “We’ll make you big, Sam,” Matthias massaged Samson’s junior-porn dong, “big so you’ll deserve this rooster-dick...” Samson drawstringed and let his pants drop. He looked at his legs; they carve-developed from his hip to his knee. His eyes moved to his appendage. Ah yeah, he touched it and let it stir capturing the feelings he was having as he began to become eroticized at the thought of the heaving coat that would come. An 8 and ¾ cock –with its ¾ addition - had changed him. It made him hungry – for more muscle, more dick. There was something pumped up and scrotal- about growing – getting a bigger body and shlong. He groaned aloud. “That’s right, Samson,” Matthias whispered, “Fuck-damn, you are men men.” He put his hand solidly on Samson’s thinness and then let it fall on to Samson’s meat. “Oh yes, Fuckers – Fuck me with gross dog cocks, men.” Matthias went back to the drugs and picked the syringe from the bag. “Welcome to a new universe, girlie being.” He plunged the syringe daggeringly into Samson’s thin cheek, and smiled as the oil disappeared into Samson’s un-fucked rise. He knew this would start changes that would be transforming Samson for years to come.

Samson visited the playground knowing she’d be there in her wheelchair. “Hola, Estrella.” Maria Theresa looked from the third-graders. “Oh god, Samson… ” Samson full-adonis’d in a soft suit. He was more handsome and drawing than she’d remembered he could be. It was arresting how his high chest held the lean field of his shirt. His elegant throat was anchoring an enamel, pitted tie. “Maria Theresa, I can’t ask you to change your mind, but this quote is from the first card you ever wrote me.” “Oh, no, Samson.” But, she looked at him, with his somewhat athletic presence in the tightened tailoring and his head with its re-growing obsidian buzz. He looked so dominant. His dimple-sirened smile was incredibly handsome, twice that of some glow-dayed, top-paid soap star. “‘Where you go, I will go… I will know no fear… I will know no doubt… The world is my gift and the only price is for me to take it.’ These are your words, M.T. I need you to believe them.” He handed her a rose like snow and the card, and turned. She watched as he walked away and saw humps that bubbled his slacks. “I’ll call you,” a low voice echoed back.

The German swallowed. He gazed at Diego. “The gear’s changing you, Degito – The taste of you, but more, your taper, protégé – your Y’ing shoulders and little hips. You’re troublesomely fast, Diego. It’s got to be 15 lbs.” Matthias pulled his gun around Diego’s leg and made the 20-inches peak into Diego’s quad as though he couldn't help suggesting who was boss. “Fuck, 195 and step on any amateur stage, lift boy… you wouldn’t win, but 100 guys would ask to suck you like I've sucked you now.” Diego touched up his muscling anterior, impressed, but not impressed the way he needed, the way he sensed he would grow to be now, with a god-striving body no one could touch. He smiled at Matthias and wiped goo from the bodybuilder’s lips and ate it himself. “It’s not enough, Matty – not enough.” Diego checked out his 14.5 inch bicep. He tousled his fingers into the Germanic hair “More shots, Matt,… More. I want one now.” Matthias readied the dianabol.

Samson scooped powder liberally into pitchers and Diego talked. “It’s building. My bi’s 15, Sam – two days for that half-inch. And we're well into the 190's and carved with nice identifiable muscle. Oh fuck, it’s fast… it’s like, crap, my crotch aches all the time now…” Diego straddled the top of the kitchen chair and moved his denim encompassed dick against the wood. “A half inch like I breathe, BamMan…Oh, it’s so good-on-earth … but, fuck, Matthias will know.” “What are you going to do?” “He’ll compete and I won’t go.” He flexed and then reached into his t and massaged his too reasonable tit. “I’ll stay for awhile. It’s gotta be that way.” He continued to hump the wood until a minute passed and paste appeared pushing through the deep blue fabric. He scraped the compound onto his hand and ate it with his expression lost in desire.

Rain pummeled the stagnancy. It came while they swam. Now they stood on the deck and mugged knowing they had likely reached 200. Black ropes hung on the handsome bodies that they had built, blanketing them - but, the ropes didn’t break despite the downpour that fought to cleanse their skin. “You look muscle-y, Sam.” “Real muscular – not some pathetic Men’s Health model?” “Well a Men’s Health model, Sam, yeah – but one of the good ones… brawny kindof.” “Fuck.” “No…. good fuuCcK… nice shoulders – you’re strong. And your gut is growing. Your balls. You’ll get tomfinlandian, huh? Bigger – and your dick get groin-huge? Get so fucking thick?” “Ah, fuck yea, thickness. But you’re going different – going tight, so fantasy flared.” Samson reached out and put the back of his fingers on Diego’s fulcrum about 2/3rds of the distance from his navel to groin. “You’re compacting, Deegs – you’re sucking your way to fucking corseted black & green and swelling out from there. Your dick is so easily tailing from that race dog groin. You’re going to become some fucked manboy superhero with an incredibly narrow waist and massive from there – Green Lantern… Nightwing…Ultraboy… some fucking muscle-swollen sexboy.” Samson’s hand was hard on his own boner. “…. I love our looks, Deegy.” “I want so fucking much.” “It’s scary, Diegs. I want so fucking much too.” They moved closer and their faces were a few inches apart. “What fucking much do you want, Samson?” “I don’t want to say, Diegs.” Their pumping up bodies touched fronts. Rain streamed on their shoulders and then splashed their pecs that met. Behind them, water funneled toward the gaps that cut the butts that were more globed. The cold flow continued into the lycra-draping suits where it finally trickled beneath their lifting scrota. “Diego, you are incredibly handsome.” “I’ve always just been trying to keep up with you, Stud.” Their lips neared each other. “Diego…” “Samson…” Their tongues touched. Diego turned his head and reached into Samson. The sight was archetypical maleness pressed together; 15.5” biceps head-to-head, and pecs, 44” inches, crunched. A moan escaped their throats, and bulges of 9 ½ and 8 1/8th inches mashed together through foiled bikini fabric they wore just for show. Diego pulled his lips away, yet couldn’t do other than ground closer against Sam, “We can’t do this, Samson.” With force of will, Samson pulled one beginningly muscular leg back. “I know, Diego.” Diego took his fingers off of Samson's muscle-y left cheek and Samson and Diego separated and stopped.

Samson lay awake in the empty apartment, a 16” arm across his face, his feelings for Diego full, wanting him. The memory of Diego on the slick Roman tile fought for his center. It felt like a red steak-flavored cotton-candy version of what he felt for MT. But despite his love of Deegs, despite the unmeasured bonds, despite the fact that Deegs was getting as hot as f8xk, no one was like Maria Theresa. No one did to his heart, to his loins what she did.

Diego stomached on Matthias’ bed and cock-logged as his ass mounded dick-eating glutes. He stared at the Teuton and watched him pack. The bull-boy’s steroided size stirred his balls, but Diego also knew that the volume of cum leaking onto Matthias’ sheets was only half Matthias’s, the other part belonged to Samson who was changing day-by-day and mutating toward a vision of muscularity that was more and more fuck-hot hung.

Matthias threw the last trashy poser into the suitcase and started on his drugs. His flight clothes lay on the chair; his magazine-showcased muscles flowed from the 31-inch waisted briefs, his dick filling the pouch the way every promoter hoped it would be filled. “I’m bringing this camel, you gave me. Is it a Moroccan camel?” “No se, but we can pretend es verdad. We can pretend es a bodybuilding camel de Kasbah entered against you.” “Sure, consider it entered, Deegdude.” “It’s so long before you’re back here for the final! Frick!... What’ll I fuck?” Diego cock-joked and pushed his filled balls and penis into the mattress. Matthias looked at Diego, at the 22 lbs of muscle that had grown on Diego that he knew about, and the other 42 that had grown before – Diego was a 202 lb physique wannabe now. “How desperately you want to really bulk up, Diego. How bad you want to be something different - a man pounder and get to the hulk size and have a real pounder mass.” Matthias low-laughed and something shined, like maybe he couldn’t admit the fear of someone showing more ability, gaining more beauty so fast. “I can maybe leave you maintenance, Diego. The real stuff though… I gotta use it for me. I gotta make sure to take care of the one whose life is on the line….” “Ah jesus, my love.” Diego crawled off the bed until he could catch his hand in the band above Matthias’ ass. “Since you’re gonna fuck me, I think it’s only fair I fuck you.” He pulled the underwear from Matthias muscled glutes and with one thrust shoved his timbered hard-on into the dark cavern of Matthias’ hole. He screwed without mentioning that an added inch was now aiding the job. “Don’t worry about me, Matthias. Take your drugs…. This is just something for you to remember me by.” He shoved a last time and with alarming self-determination jetted a selected volume of delicious load into Matthias’ caverns. Matthias groaned mindlessly and let go a sigh.

They handed the Runway Coordinator the receipts. “Too thin?” He looked at their long, gym-lifter bodies. “Oh boys, I don’t think so. Strip it, just right here.” Diego peeled his wife-beating T – a distinct shelf suckably represented his moderate but bodily shaped pecs. Below, a contoured land of flattened abdominals lived hotly in their shadow. “Damn – that’s PERFECT – what was the brain waste thinking – the pants?...” Diego stripped and smiled to show 28” golden thighs topped by a strapless jock he’d picked knowing how pouched it would be and knowing how he’d only grow more. “Oh... Fuck… Oh gorgeous – YES” “208… un-thin enough, you think?” he hummed, letting his balanced musculature move perfectly on his frame. “Of course, dear dear, of course…” The coordinator drew his breath and looked to Samson. “You, let’s see you too.” Samson fingered the brown buttons of the old UPS top that girdled his beginner back and his bench-newbie chest. The motion tightened the sleeves that dressed his novice arms. He smiled and then pulled the shirt edge and stretched the buttons as he realized that one-by-one he could plastic-pop them from the fabric. “What do you think?” he asked. He dropped the shirt from a torso that had never been developed before and cocked to know he looked like a fan who would send a pic to Muscle & Fitness as if they was the first person in the world to realize that bodybuilding made you bigger the way you never imagined you could be. Oohing sounded into the headset. Samson touched his cargo shorts. They rode loose on him baring a beautiful crack – and showing obliques that channeled out of sight to his groin. He let his fingers lie in the divot, in the flesh that was making his hip increasingly virile. “Show you more?” “Oh beautiful, please...” “You want it… you got it, boss.” He shrugged back, hem-fisting – wanting it to be true that he could power-mass the shorts off, but it was something he couldn’t actually do yet. He moved his hand to the button, opened it, and zipped down. He let the shorts drop and nothing hid the thews of his legs and the hanging mutation of his 10-inch, porn-stabled dong. “It’s 205, Sally,” Samson hand-spread his movie-pretty dick and rubbed his head’s black-buzz. He chisel-angled his nakedness between the two and spoke full as he repeated, “Yup, 205.” “First and second walkers, that’s all I can say, first and second… you’re cubicle A, boys – oh, mi dios, I need air.”

CHAPTER 13 – PHYSIQUENOS The refuse sloshed and pressed Diego’s midsection. His legs were growing stronger and still more rivered under the sewaged surface. He could feel the caustic gunk massaging about his male hangings and even more pounding up his anus. The anal-push felt incredibly stimulating, almost like the gigantic sausage of some slush-conscious creature yearning to fuck-stuff him. “We don’t need to stop anymore – the slop feeds us – gives us what we need.” He waded stiffly in response to the entity that possessed his ass. He scooped a massive portion of the crap into his hand and unloaded it into his gagging mouth. Samson porpoised out of the dirt-syrup and his buttocks piled the navy lycra that ran between the white piping of his thick gut and exiting thighs. Diego heard a blapping sound and knew that the goop-crap was squeeging from the butt-shoving that was being administered to Samson too. The sound showed that Samson had proven incapable of fully containing the indulgently heavy fudge press. Samson’s head emerged and looked the vision of a globe ruling supermodel, “we’ve lapped since 12pm, no breaks. How much more can we get away with?” “The sun touches those tree tops at 5.” They moved close and touched. Their bodies demanded the tentative label of bodybuilt now and bristled with energy. “Let’s go for fucking it,” They turned into the fluid, and ducked; Diego mashed his face into Samson’s launching haunch and sucked a load from the beautiful fuck butt. Fuck that was hot. They stroked away through the spa’s volume.

“M.T.?” his voice was soft but deeper with his growing reverberation. “Hola.” She sounded sad. “Who is it?” “It’s Samson,” he was standing in boxers on the bathroom scale. “It doesn’t sound like you.” He read the weight – well 221 lbs of muscle is 82 pounds more than you used to know, he thought. His cock’s swollen softness slightly grew but still significantly displaced the front of his boxers. He pushed the button on the cd-player and the Spanish guitar serenade played gently. “You been good, Bonita?” “Si, Samson… but you do sound different.” “Yea… yea, I am different.” His voice captured the changes – the germ of his growing power. His torso was so beautiful and nicely big. The pause lasted a while, mellow strumming notes filling the space. “You know… I wanted you to know… Well, I’m feeling…” He abandoned his attempt to follow a more personal line of conversation, “So, I told you? Diego’s found someone – they seem to be serious.” “I am so happy for him. Tell him.” The meandering of the musical passages slowed to a set of soft plucking. “Yeah, no, yeah… he’s so happy” “I’m glad.” “I miss you, Maria Theresa.” “Samson, I don’t…” “No, don’t say it... You know “he” misses you too – if not for me, see him at least. Meet Matthias.” “We’ll see – give me time,” her voice was worn like the Spanish sun on dry grass. “Thank you, M.T.” The cantata mellowed into greater strains of subdued harmony. He started to drop the phone from his ear, to flex and crunch his hot-muscled chest, and to lift the overflowing jug of goop that waited with all that it had to give him. As she clicked good bye, he heard what ears couldn’t hear. She had whispered like a butterfly, “I miss you, too.”

Samson sat at the computer looking at bulked-up builders. It was something that Diego had never showed. But, fuck, there was something so gravitating about these self-developed fucks. He reached into his jeans, groping.

From his bed, Diego’s voice bassed into the phone, “yyyeeeaa…unnnhuhh…. Tell me, again, Matthias.” From afar, Matthias recounted the fetish-heavy account of his third place finish in that night’s second tour stop and Diego stroked until he blew a lode onto his valleyed, buff-cut new builder’s belly. “Ah fuck, Matty, you don’t even know what that does to me.” “How does it feel to have such muscle yours, Deegs?” Diego’s right-hand touched the 18-inches of his left curl-capable limb. “I don’t know, Matt… it’s a feeling of…” His foot cocked back and all of the cords on his rocket-shaped 29” thigh rose. “… a feeling of such…” He pulled his arms across his chest and flexed his pecs and curled his fists up. “… incredible…” He relaxed again and muscle-prince smiled. He bared fangs that showed sudden feelings of growing command and he said, “I need to say good bye, my love.” And hung up.

They had finished paddling under the black heavens. “Deegs, look at you!?” Samson infra-eyed the slopped-up Barcelonan, realizing that his mutating abilities made him capable of seeing in the star-absent pitch. Diego looked down, not realizing, “Que?” “You’re not seeing… Don’t try to see with your eyes; just try to see what’s there.” Diego looked again but this time sensed something beyond his vision. He relaxed his focus and a view melted into place. “Yeah, fuck…. That’s fucking right - I’m fucking developing. What a fucking nukemonster I’m gonna be.” Diego scanned his two chest mounds and cock-stiffed at how they rose over such river-polished ab-stones. He looked at his skyscraped waist and how it wet-slid into the swimsuit he had chosen. It was clear now that it would wet-slide any suit he’d chose, and his huge-for-a-guy member would have forced any of them into the same show-me-all ball-stretcher. “Even your soft’s not in your fucking suit,” Samson said. Diego tightened his prostrate and watched his bulge lift up. He angled his feet apart like a Heavyweight Bodybuilder and flexed the quads so that they flared into the torpedoes that would come from the arsenal of the agile, fighting Sea Wolfs. Diego lifted his arms and flexed it all and felt so great. He smiled as he pulled out the equipment that weighted his suit. “Care for a suck, 239 lber?”

Diego ignored Samson’s slumbering breath and looked at the sleeping form of the stunning jerk, Alejandro. Alejandro had had no idea they’d ever met, that that fast-swimming, good-looking guy who had been 138lbs and so slightly endowed was the same monster who’d just done him. Now Diego was 249 lbs and loaded 9-1/2 inches that probed and ruled. Plunging the ass of the fuck had been simple like being a bull. It had been what he wanted and he had given it to him more than hard. He had gotten bigger now and ripping guys like Alejandro was just part of his fucking job.

She lay on the bed. Samson had fucked her thunderingly, grinding in a way that was biologically unlikely, and raunchy in a way no normal guy could do. She’d orgasmed six times as he biceped her in mid-air with his big-as-a-pro’s arms. He had bull-mounted her on the bed; and had triangle-plowed her from the side. She lay spent now and needing more he continued to hump his own 244 lbs without her, shooting doses puddlingly into his hand and slurping them down.

“Samson, what’s going on?” she asked, having recovered. “What do you mean?” “I mean what’s going on!?? I do this a lot, Samson. I have a lot of customers. And you’re massive now.” “I’ve been working out.” “Yes, well clearly, Test-head, and shooting up, … oh yea, getting “huge”… it’s gross, Samson, but that’s not what I’m talking about... I mean your cock size, Samson. That prick’s not what you once put in me – It’s so…. It’s big… unimaginably so… so thick.” “It’s an 11 ½ incher now, Lila, fucking 11 ½ inches and round. It’s a monster, Lila, a real monster… God, oh god, do I like it.” She stared at him, a look of alienation. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, therapies supposed to be about what you’ve got – the therapy says no surgery, Samson, no drugs – I have to say we’re through.” Even as she said it though, she saw him flagrantly intumescencing himself to full-growth. She couldn’t help herself and fingered its heaviness again. She touched her tits against his 244 lb musculature – there was a look of addiction in her eyes.

“You miss me?” Diego wanted the answer. “Yeah.. no…yea, I do… really, no, definitely, Deegs. I do,” Diego frowned at something distracted sounding in Matthias’ voice. “Oh, Diego, wait for this…you should see the stallions that just walked by. UmmHUH.” “I’m sure, Matty… “ Diego spoke to himself, “Get a grip. Just let it go, Deegs let it go. It’s ok” He caressed his 255 pounds with his hand and spoke back into the phone, changing the subject. “But, fuck, 2nd place, Matthias… Fuck, how does that feel!!?” “Like a fucking wetdream. I’m getting bigger, Deegs, and more muscular. When I step on that posing stage, hulking with my legs bulging, my back huge, my chest mammoth, and bi-pythons flex-alping, it’s easy for my german-dick to pose-bulge these fuckin’ briefs. To have pumped myself up to 280 -- I’m so fucking muscle-aroused. The audience screams, Deegs, they fucking scream at how massive I’ve become – how gut-heavy and muscular I boulder. I plow sideways and curl my bicep, I show them my muscled flank, my hard ass, my quads, glutes, and hamstrings – I’ve seen them sprout boners in their gym-rat wear and I fucking snarl and show it all. I know what I fucking did to get this way – to fucking be different from every little fuck that grabs a dumbbell in the gym and thinks he’s a fucking bbuilder – I can’t stop myself from showing all this bulging, rippling, mind-blowing beef squeezed into these puny pieces of fuck. You don’t have any idea how good it feels… How good it feels to be fucking huge, Diego.” Diego smiled at himself with an elusive sense of contradiction as he put down the dose of steroids he’d just taken and put down the now empty jug of growing ooze. He looked at the 260 lber in the mirror. “I don’t know 280, Matty,” he said, and then under his breath added, “but I’ll fucking know it soon.” He hung up and moaned and pulled the 9 ½ inch snake he now had from his pants. With four excruciating strokes he forced 2 cups of blowing cream into the air. •