Samson and Diego Rising

Becoming Gods


By QuoteTheRaven

CHAPTER 20 – SITGESIANS In Sitges, the rock outcrops at the end of the beach. Diego stood with his 430 lb body feeling incomprehensibly heavy and sexual. He soaked in the sun. Around his immensity, 11-year-old boys rough-housed so that they bumped into him but their shoulders thudded against his chiseled abdomen and their akimbo arms brushed his thickened bulge before they fell off into the water. Greater powers were endowing him. He consumed the radiation of the sun, and ate the photons raining down. He could feel the accumulation and that his muscle multiplied and grew colder and more huge the more he took in. He postured, greedy to suck it in – the rays colliding against him and more piggily, he stole the rays that strove to pass and hit the rock below. Anyone who’d looked away from the worship-meat in his 800-dollar brown bikini puzzled at the shadows laying at his feet. A devastatingly handsome smirk carved his bone-cheeked visage. How nakedly ambitious he was growing. The bikini was a feeble moderation to his atlasing, thundering bulk, and to his Ruler-of-Heaven Might. 247 gay denizens of the sandy stretch had fallen silent and pawed absently at their own lycra’d groins as long as he’d stood there.

Down the beach, he tracked Samson’s 410-lbs hulk-striking the white sand with a Spanish-sun body. The immediacy was intoxicating – Diego could see the half mile distance as though a few feet. The bulging of Samson’s expanding thighs and corded ebony hams bunched as though close enough to be slathered over by Diego’s pornographic tongue. Similarly, Diego could almost imagine the squeezing of Samson’s everest-thickened glutes gripping down on his own aching crotch and the push of Samson’s porn-commanding appendage touching into his own thrumming hole. Diego caught the drop of drool that fell from his lips. He forced his vision foward into Samson’s $495 white slink that erotically clung to the devour-demanding fertility-god groin below. “Do it, Samson, do it.” He whispered He was not surprised when he heard in his ear Samson’s reply, “I will.”

She lay alone on the sea-canvassed chair – sun in her blacker-than-night waves and her sad delicacy. Samson crouched and the ass-tracer spread across his fucking buttocks making a white field that asked to be punctured. It eroticized the palpable suggestion of his muscled, lordman screw-hole. A purr hummed deep in Samson’s 4 hundred pounds, and he put his hand gently over her sleeping eyes. “M.T.” he breezed with a baritone-cast of his aural might, “I’ve missed you, and have made you wait.” His beef-large back splayed 4 feet. He leaned over her and his monstrous size obscured the sun. “Tomorrow night,” he brushed his lips on hers and then uttered so that he moved the molecules between them. “Sleep,” he commanded, “come to me tomorrow night”. He stood and his soft, full penis stretched forward in the jet of his royal king swaddler. He reached his arm to her and softly laid The Hotel Rey key and red rose in her hand. 26 inches wrapped his mammoth, unimaginably strong bicep.

Diego smiled from the rock where he held his anatomy in display. He had one mighty paw on his hip, the other curling his twice-than-schwarzenegger limb. He knew how bulging that more-than-two-foot girth was. He had found the power to attain absolute stillness now – and for fifteen minutes had been more flexed than marble. Through his hot-modeled nose he imperceptibly sucked great, slow streams off the Meditteranean waves – extracting salt to charge the Vulcan-metabolism that powered within and exhausting a thread of air so cold that tiny icicles fell out of the air to the rock at his feet. He looked into the sky and several hours away could see that Matthias’ plane was drawing closer – that Matthias was 282 lbs now, and that beside Matthias he could smell the steroidal presence of 271 lbs of mutated Asian testosterone. He was 150 lbs bigger than them now and he turned from the rock and King Konged like a hairless muscular ape into the city streets of his home.

CHAPTER 21 – ARANIAN The red-suited bellhop left the side-of-beef and champagne in the cart and pulled the door shut, ignorant to the godly Adonis who deified the room.

Samson’s XXL white v-neck t-shirt baby-dolled impotently, and stretched a hankied distance on his 495 lb, 7” mass. The fabric choked against the crevacey seam above his watermeloned arm meat. The cotton pinched ridiculously against the dome-blown delts of his mammoth shoulders that stretched three feet and 9 inches in each direction from his column-muscular neck. Humping traps and a giant chest caused the cottoned neck hole to torturously pull showing a throat so girded that it nestled into his collar-bone like a gun-turret pedimented on the Cliffs of Dover. On his monstrous lower body, he wore nothing but the slinky European hugger he’d taken from Diego’s drawer. His 17 inch length piled veiny like an anaconda out of the top of the translucent polyester blend, and the see-through fabric outlined his sick, black member. It was like he had a meat-colored boa in his pants with two elephant-bulled balls below. He pressed his exploded wheels and mammoth weight against the wall-sized, gilt-framed mirror and humped his fuck-shaft against the pulverizing muscular monster reflected there. “Oh fuck you, yea fuck you, you fucking big boy. This monster-god body’s gonna powerdrive this fuckin’ baloney dick all over Maria T’s little cunt.” He slowed the pump against the glass and felt blood engorging his muscles. He felt the excitement in his bulk. The release of his basketballed testosterone waves always reacted with the goop now flowing in his veins. It made his muscles grow huger; he could feel it happening even now - himself getting bigger. “Mmmm, this is good. So fucking good.” He reached into his ass and touched his hole two feet deep between his amazing waterlooian haunches. “Mass me up, gorgeous. Fucking, beef it, fucking mass boy.” He smiled at himself and it was devastatingly handsome. His skin was so smooth and his hollow cheeks were alive with blood that was deep black across his facial bones. His lips were an eggplant purple, his teeth were blizzard-fanged, and the green of his eyes limed in pools that were flawlessly white.

He backed away from the mirror; brought his wrists together in an inconceivable most-muscular. He watched as his t-shirt popped on his body. Up each side his tarzan-flaring lats pierced through, cracking the cotton until the garment lay ponchoed like a tiny horse blanket over some corruptedly steroided steed. He curled into a double biceps and the front of the shirt fell to the top between his god-mountains exposing his sky-scaper sculputured V.

He tugged the fabric and, as incalculably strong as he had become, the shirt snapped instantaneously around his throat-pillar. God, he looked like Dorian Yates, but Dorian Yates if he’d ever had these looks and been willing to take fucking rEAl quantities of steroids -- so thick, so fucking extreme, so much more fucking powerful. His boulder-massive muscles monumented 4 feet on his shoulders and mountain-expanded his 84” chest. His tits curve-plunged in great domes so that they nipple-projected spunk-groaning tetons. Woven thews knitted across his upper back wider than two doorframes and turf exploded the massivity of beasty 29” missile launchers where once a puny slacker’s passive 11” arms had been. “Ah fucking Osiris, this felt so fucking endowing.” His gut was thickly rippled with a bulging ab-field piled to his hips with bull-beefy virility. His midsection was huge and deconstructed with 12 earth-born bricks that heaped over one another in his fat, trunkish strength. No longer any comprehension of the slim model he had been, he gutted grossly into the European slinker with the excess of an extreme wrestler gone yearningly large with over-shouting rage. The flimsy euro-trash slip strained under his pendulous meat; the band pulled away from his pube plain, sundae-boating a view of a once-mortal dick that had gone inhumanly huge. “Oh fucking, beast, you’ll godrock-fuck her fuckiing handicapped girly world.” From his pulsating chest, down his iron-casted flares, onto his obliques, around his power-pumped gut, his heaving immensity all drained into tunneled gullies carving in from his hips to the sweaty mass of his balls. His upper legs bulged threateningly and his 59” thigh muscles pump-challenged the containment of their very girth. Out of the skin-tight leg holes, Samson’s columns looked like eruptions of Tom-Platzian trunks, but 3 times the size of that heralded freak. He shifted and seven ropes of muscle shifted under his skin all supported on calves that sized like two lion thews ready to spring. “Oh GOD…. GrrrrrRRRRAAGGGGHHHH.” He growled at himself expressing all the glory-infinitying bulk that he now resurrected. He was more exquisitely huge than any imaginable god-king of Africa had ever been. His cock unwound further and hammocked its sling, lay-growing left in the nyloned lip around his hip. “AhHHHHHH FUCCKKKK.” He let the hardening sensation overtake him and looked as his gargantuan maleness stretched for steelbeam enormity. “Fucking unbelievably yes.” It continued to extend and thicken until his bulbous head logged 9 inches off his hip, a total size of 17 inches and 9” girth. “Yes, OHH FUCCKINGG, yes.” He touched his hand to the monumentality of his clad-breaking horse organ. He couldn’t believe how big he was and how strong. He rubbed his bicep hungrily again as 29” of medicine-ball limb grew continually at his side.

He swung to the rack. The designer clothes hung in eye-stroking style – each garment long, expensive, and lean. The rack label read in brown on white paper – Samson Pitt, 6’1”, 140lbs. His man-weapon telescoped another 2 inches as his arousal pushed it unbelievably farther. “Oh, fuck, I weigh a quarter-ton of fuckin’ monstrous pounds – incomprehensibly huger than that negligible prick ever was.” He placed his hosedick in his great palm-paw and then reached and placed a garden-hose of goop into his mouth. He turned the spigot and 28 gallons of body-obliterating scum-essence entered his throat. “Oh, FUCK, MAKE ME EVERYTHINGG….” His cock tracted backward to his thundering loins, to his gargantuan build and then as he mammoth-drank, it freight-bazooka’d outward along its length. It blasted princely thunder-cream through the screen of the sleazy ball-briefs until a mist of spunk spread in a cum-cumulus cloud that clotted the entire room.

The touch of the atomic droplets on his skin was beautifully heightening. He could feel the inhuman sperm of his porn-fantastical load wriggling carnivorously against him desperately wanting to get in. “No, my hungy babies, no,” he said. But, even as he said it, he relaxed his invulnerable barrier, letting it happen, and wanting it. Immediately, he could feel the zygotes drilling through his surface into his insides. “OooohhoohhhoOh..” Each of the million points raged with climactic intensity that could only be described as the despicable simultaneity of ten-thousand battle-hardened Greek warriors cumming as they climaxed upon innocent women of 500 burning cities. His body shuddered with it and every muscle soared in fantastical size. Then as it became bearable, he realized that he could feel the god-sperm finding cells and binding with them. “Ah, magnificent fuck of all christs.” With a zanging rage, each muscle cell suddenly became something more savage and alien than had ever existed before – it was a construct that was known nowhere else in the existing expanse of the universe before. “AaaarrghhhHHHHhhhhhhhhhhHHhhhh” He could feel the mitochondrial factories accelerating into fissioning reactors. And the muscle fibers blowing into casings as mutilated as living steel. He was becoming invincible and inhuman. He was going through the kind of transformation that would make the changes to date seem like fucking nothing. “Ah, magnificent, fuck. With his deifying body he put out an irrefutable call, and the white of the air around him stirred and swirled back to him. The power juice engulfed him and with his dark skin he drank the attacking sex entities and with heaving breaths he vacuumed god-juice from the vertiginous haze into his lungs. 8 gallons of erupted ball blast unmercifully assaulted his body and vanished from sight.

He looked into the mirror and was more beautiful than any man had ever been. He smiled and smiling back was 10 feet of muscular deity weighing 1500 pounds.

As magnificent as the mountains of the most ancient range he stood, but more beautiful – and inside he held the astonishing power of the earth’s core – surging and channeling with the great subterranean currents of heat and power. He waited.

A knock on the door came. It was her. He could see that it was her through the expensive wood. She was more beautiful than she had ever been.

“Oh, Maria, it’s a new world,” he echoed to himself with the arching waves of outer space, “a world we could have never known existed. Oh god, Maria, this is the body that will change everything at last.”

Aloud he said in mortal simulation, “I love you, Maria. Come in.”

CHAPTER 22 – PYRENNEAN I Matthias came from the stage, not willing to think of Diego. His trophy was in his hand and his skin was so thin it was like an organic membrane. He was a 280 lb IFFB freak and held the 100 lb Barcelonan trophy like little Diego would have held a 5lb weight.

Ming, lascivious, came off stage immediately behind. The Chinese super heavy wrapped thick arms around the Germanic glory boy and pulled back. “You did it Matt-e-auss…” His dick weighed in his poser and pushed in the gully of Matthias’ glutes. Ming flattened his HGHed abs against the xmas tree of the champ’s lower back. Matthias’ penis stirred in his suit anticipating the hardness of the muscle-based sex to come. “You fuck me, muscle fucker,” Ming whispered in Matthias’ ear. “Oh fuck, I’m leaving him, Ming. But… jesus…ah…jesus…ah… crap… look at us.” Matthias turned and pressed their muscles together. He put his lips full against Ming’s rose-manned mouth and their torsos mantled together making a union of muscled eroticism.

Matthias was on a high, a pharmaceutical high, the trophy in hand, and doses of junk coursing in his veins. He was unnatural… his face wrecked… gear battering him into the size of Coleman or Cutler. “I’m HUGE… ” he said. The drug load was unhinging him –leaving him a humped body chemically induced to unleash the maleness he had wrought.

He began to reach into Ming’s hammocking poser, when a thud sounded shaking the platform on which he humped. Matthias released the sex object in his arms to turn to look. He heard a low voice – low like the motor of industrial refrigeration– full and musical with a textured Spanish accent. “Matthias, mi amor.”

Matthias reacted to the voice and something familiar in it. Matthias turned suddenly aware that he was undressed except for the taut poser that showed his body thickened with illegally endowed Olympian thews. His fuckable ass stretched the lycra into sheened globes of gold-painted beauty. His cock pointed forward – a hard, pointy peg in the triangled white panel of the otherwise gold-metallic hip girdle. “Ming, you better leave,” he said. And Ming, understanding, was gone.

The clothed 545lb giant in front of him stood with monstrous muscle. A pair of lacerated jeans tried to cover his titanic legs and collapsed to his hips. Hanging in the gap between the Mammoth's legs, a mountainous bulge dropped holding the hose-folds that lumped the denim the ways that a king cobra’s twists would lump the cloth of a snake charmer’s bag. The 40" round legs v’ed in a stance 4’ wide and the snake pulled into a dangling appendage because of the arch of the jutting ass.

From the immortal’s waist rose an astonishing trunk sheathed in the gleaming ice of XXXL lycra. The garment vise-gripped his upper body, snapping against his heaving flesh the way nun-abused linens strainedly held the mattresses of fresh convent beds. The skin that showed in the open ovals down the lycra center was so golden and exquisite that it was the complexion Adonis had achieved at his greatest moment of power.

He gloried with his head dropped back, his arms wide, palms to the sky, and godly chest opened like a plain before the sun. He drank unworldly power. The biceps that adorned him shredded the fabric around his 29” tower-gunned limbs. The cuffs stood trapped against his forearms where 18 inches forbade the ends’ advancement upon his being.

The muscled Apollo dropped his beastly stanchions and lifted his golden-haloed skull. It looked down into Matthias’ face. The god’s eyes smoldered blue and gold-tinged wisps radiated into the atmosphere. A meadow of blond skull-capped the deity’s creature-like beauty. The towering 7’5” Hercules’ angular face x’ed over boned cheeks and jaws. Thick, dark lips disappeared back to the burrowed hollow concaves of his carved image. Matthias gasped, “Diego,” and lurched forward bringing his 6’1” bulk to a beggar-boning stance, “Oh fuck, Diego, MUSCLE – such GoDLY MUscLE!” Diego smiled and replied, “I haven’t even begun.”

CHAPTER 23 – PYRENNEAN II Diego glowed. His vast body heaving – his great throat tightening – breath-snorting need… snorting love. Calmness, steadiness.

Diego planted his feet wide, showing all he was – his manhood protruding, his fist-ended arms at his side, his shoulders back. He rubbed his hand over his torso and returned it to his side. His lips broke into an assaulting curl, dazzling irresistance. “Yesss..” he hasp-growled unmoving…. “Yesss..” His tree-chewing jaws jutted forward.

First a sound of straining fabric and the garments honored to touch his slabs developed networked tears. The hem of his right leg popped in three places – the fissure crawled up his dirigible calf, jumping the gap across his gayboy-tapered knee, and burst from his thigh so that the right denim blasted from his body in all directions. As the fabric destroyed itself from Diego’s mighty right squatter, Diego simply smiled letting the corded muscle of his swelling thigh reveal itself in the massive perfection that it had achieved.

On his torso, the white lycra-d long-sleeve, already near brushstroked on every ripple with the definition that only a coat of paint should show, pulled a widening gap between collar seam and shirt body. All around the neck, Diego’s tawnee-browned muscle-traps became visible as the white of the fabric split. In the end, only the circle around his Corinthian neck stood apart, strangling him like some 30th century dog collar. He touched it approvingly and smiled.

Diego flexed his fists, and the shirt ruptured against his topologied granite – the fabric broke – shredding across islanded abs, car-armored pecs, and tarzan-sinuous biceps. Within moments, a tatter of rags dangled palpably from his rippled body. With a brush he flung them away and growled and displayed the piles of beef that packed on him making him more huge than any monstered beast of a grade-B fantasy. Fuck, he wanted so much more.

Bare-torsoed, he reveled in deification. He smiled at the meatspreads that built outward – he laughed to think what he had once had instead of these dragon-wings of a pterodactyl. His lion lats had grown gloriously thick and now reservoired so much power that he knew he had more teravolts housed in himself than even the batteries of the great Iberian Power Grid could possibly hold.

He reached with his left hand and grabbed the denim of his now one-legged jeans. With an explosion, the waist snapped from his body and his delt storm-troopered his arm into a lateral raise. The denim ruptured in a log-splitting tear over his Paul Bunyan cockhead. The cleft of his mushroom top splicing the fabric as it flowed across his mighty ball and left thigh.

The 501’s were free from his body, and he ripped the zipper from the crotch. Reaching into his spandex dick-hammock, he tied his ogre-appendage with the copper-colored links. His bulge swelled into great lumps that gapped the flesh-colored slinkiness from his herc-radionated physique.

Hugely built and virtually naked, he rubbed his hands over his bikini-sucked, throat-collared bulk. “I NEED MORE, MATTY.” He labor-breathed. There was a hulking sexuality in his face. “ALREADY, I AM, MATTY… BUT MORE…” He rippled and mass-armed his fists wrist-to-wrist in front of his tan sack-bag. He leered the sexual come-on of a Chippendale’s boy gone fucking twice the size of any Olympian fuck through a soul-selling deal with a military research experiment gone intolerably mad.

CHAPTER 24 – PYRENNEAN III “I NEED MORE, Matty… I wanted you to see.” “No, jesus, Diego, Look at you – You’re more than any human could ever dream.” “Oh, FUCKING God, MATtY. I’m nothing yet – just fucking believe.”

Diego stooped. He gave a lingering look, and then power-curled a barrel the size of an oil drum. “Yes, More.” He cantilevered and with one hand snapped a lid from its seal. He eyed the 98 gallons of dark-rotted scum like a carnivore hunting prey. Matthias blanched at the stench, “fuck – what shit is that!?” Diego glanced curtly, but raised the canister to his mouth. A begging rattled his lungs – like the sound of a child treat-pleading its parent – but truly the sound of testosterone wanting immeasurably more.

The barrel reached his thickened lips, and he wrapped the rust-flecked rim. His nostrils flared, snorting and in-sucking the caustic solution. “Yes, oh Fuck sweet yes. Oh sweet fuck muscle juice.” His Apollo bicep pump-bulged, bottoms-upping the tankard. Mutant fuel battered his face, cascaded his mouth, ninety-eight percent entered him, and the rest spilled, dumping on his Peruvian mountains, on his French massive, boy-tapered cum-waist, and tickling his hanging, world-beautiful appendage. It burned the sensation of fire. “Oh GOD, GOD YES.” He widened his lips… “MORE”, he opened his jaws.

The magma gashed his tongue and wounded his gulping throat. His neck muscles piston-triggered, wanting to resist the way the mountain cat lightning-fights the game warden’s bag, but he smiled and forced them open again. “OH... Christ the glorrryyy...” Inferno lashed where the concentrated oobleck incinerated into his passion-fissioning cells.

“OHhh... YEESS.” The avalanching power was intoxicating, more incomprehensible than he could have imagined – more glorious. His body was stellaring heavier even as he sucked the glot-vile cream. He staggered, dropping like an Ape feather-darted behind each ear, 590 pounds bulk-punching 19” splintered divots around each knee. Oh, God, Fucking GODdd.. It felt so good.

“Diego… be IT…. Be the monster no God ever conceived… BE IT.” His muscles host-choired in 1,000-voice allelujiah… bulging. He near-omniscient focused on his mouth -- tilting, lifting his head from his lower jaw until his face stretched fully hoovering the stim-deifying bile. “YES… MORE… FUCKING GOD MAKE ME!”

He shouted and it was an ancient cave lord heading a force of 10,000 in battle. A rushing sound reverberated from Diego and his insatiable desire finally sucked the last of the sludge into his bowels like a super-tanker pumping full the final cubits of a trans-global hold. He gasped and the muscle slush was gone.

“YYYYYEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!” he roared shaking the walls of the performance space. “OH CHRIST!” His muscle-piled arms flexed. “OH HULKING FUCKING YYYYESSSSS!” His hands, inside the barrel’s rim, spread and the reinforced steel object ripped as gauze in his uncrematable hands and he smashed the steel halves into his body before biting a chunk from one.


CHAPTER 25 – PYRENNEAN IV A bone-slamming echo clapped and continent-seismic pulses assaulted his huge body. The waves increased – in frequency, in intensity. Diego’s eyes closed and orgasmic annihilation obliterated him. “God above… YES.” His head dropped back and each of his monstrous muscles strained at his very skin. He pulsed with transformative power. “Oh Christ… Make me more fucking huge and powerful than a god can ever become…”

At his waist, his abs collapsed – his previous 33-inch middle smolted to pillared 32” inch core. How incredible and inebriatingly flexible his organic-steel column seemed. His wasp-narrow hips pound-crumpled in craven reconstruction and the fracture was an earth shuddering rumble. The hip-swaddler girdling his loins gripped to a pressing black-holed suck like a parasitic wave cradling his world.

He god-cried and his massive horse dick showed a towering increase. The lycra fabric that just-held his weapon before, now splay-stretched over an organ so warp-inundated that it plunged through the tawny silkiness so that nothing but a porn-sick smattering of marine film remained across his war-boat hull rod and cannon-deck balls. The skin-matched fabric showed every ropy god-vein and cunt-mushroom fuck lip of his god-slutty schlong.

“No MortAL SHALL ever KNOW THE MIGHT I’m FeelING MATTYY.” He stentored.

The atomized fabric cloyed to his magnificence, moving it with such intensity that orgasmic pleasure flared euphoric. His face light-housed and he had the facial radiance of the Angel of Righteousness raining destructive bolts of Retribution on the great cities of sin. “Oh HOLY Fucking Jesus… oh fucking all-powerful GOD.” On his massive hard ass, the punished mage-cloth yawned into gaping tatters that crossed all of the soared heights of his temple-bound globes. The cut of the lycra survived but it chasmed deep into the 1000-psi seam between his heaving, unconquerable humps. The fabric depth-lined his buttocks until they were disgusting beyond even the most brazen stripper’s highlighting of her own pendulously siliconed tits.

He felt throbbing musculature and pulsing in his cock so large and powerful that 100,000 men could not know its feel. “Oh GOD MAKE ME SO FUCKING HUGE – SO FUCKING FREAKISHLY HUGE – SO FUCKINGLY, INHUMANLY ….” He roared. He was 900 lbs and his voice pounded low waves until the timber above him rumbled, until plaster shook free and rained onto his Thorian bulk. “Look at Me MATTY… LOOK AT ME.” He looked at Matthias – saw Matthias still frozen with what once was his superior mass – Matthias’ mere human cock erect with only its mortal 7 inches, peeking 3 inches out of its championship poser. All of it was in reaction to the sight of Diego’s inhuman, growing monstrosity. “OH THAT’s so FucKiNG RiGHT maTTY – LOOK AT ME.”

Diego raised his head and looked down at his legs – saw them lengthening even as the cords that surfaced his night-stolen quads began to divide and grow. His Hulk massive upper body tottered and the earth-core swelling of his lower extremities forced him larger, more powerful, more Centaurian.


The transformation was hitting him like 12,000 orgasms. “Ah, Fuck – I CAN’T FucKInG TAKe IT. I’m Impossible… SO FUCKKING Fucking Impossible.” He was 9 1/2 feet tall now and looked down, Matthias was more than 2 feet shorter. “FUCKING GOD – I Fucking Worship and look at what I become.”

He drank in the sight of legs that burst into nuclear stockpiles built to the geopolitical excess of rash superpowers. His calves full and hard, flexed 40 inches – thicker than 6 of the phone books he now ripped with a smile never leaving his face.

On his thighs, where 5 roots had formerly bulked the bodybuilder wheels of a mutant, 8 massive vines each 6 inches in diameter braided 4 feet between his hipgroin and knee. His legs thundered as unholy pillars 80 inches around. He shifted the weight on his immensity and the soaring pouch of his alien monster-dong pharaohed absolutely over each Jupiter-booster stilt.

“Oh CHRIST – Oh Christ… it’s TOO MUCH… FUckING tooOOO MUCH… Aagg Aaarrgh”

Against his resistance, his hands now ice-aged into glacier-shattering fists – clenching like woolly-mammoth hearts pumping a circulatory system of the densest muscle mass ever conceived by evolution. His arms grew rigid at his side, pain beaficant on the countenance of his blond-shorn, regal visage.

It was too much – the growth was too much – no human was meant for this and it was overwhelming – so overwhelming that his arcing, raging cum-phalanx and his piling Kal-elian bulk was driving him to some unrecognizable state of sane. “Oh fucking god above – make me your muscle being – let me survive this –“


His face became empiringly divine like Alexander’s army of 240,000 raging at the battle of Remeduah. He creation-looked over the realm of one bodybuilt Jehovah-bicep to the other. “Grow MoTHERS – GROW!”

The peaked and veined biceps sprung against the tightness of his micro-thin skin. “AH, FUCKING MOTHERS - GROW!” With each king-of-hosts fist, he saw that his peaks were exploding in girth and breadth. They were bouldering larger. “YES, MOTHERFUCKERS, HA OH FUCKING HA”

He clenched his fists more and sexier and curled his arms, peaking, swelling his triceps, making his arms ever more unbelievable. At 32 inches he licked them and cum spilled from his cock through the strained remnants of his strapped briefs. Milky white spread in sick pools at his feet. At 36 inches, he snort-fucked the air. “Yes FUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS YES FUCKING.” At 40 inches, they’d swelled to 7 tank-cords battened agonizingly to 14-inch joints – the whole massiveness, even relaxed, quintupled the largest beastly gorilla arm.

He beat his fists against his chest and the peaks of his arms moved like tiger bodies filled with carnivorous hunger. He put his hands against his monstrous organ and just the collaring caused him to scream in sexual ecstasy.

The massaging motion of his cock triggered a powerful explosion. Pecs that had piled on his torso the size of gladiator shields now descended in a clenching spiral down to become a power-packing crush of titanium. The tightness of his flesh stunned him and he could feel how this organic endowment saturned unbearably inwards on his mortal bones. He couldn't breath and gasped in pain. His very life breath was squeezed and threatened. But, then a great, ruling smile crossed his face and he could feel and understood that his ribs were alchemically hardening, turning to steel against the preternatural gravity of this new furnace-born host. He was being transformed by every molecule of the Spanish land and the radioactive kiss of the Spanish sun into this carnal being.


His great titted pec-band gamma-wave erupted, and suddenly shape-growing domes built massively high on his breast like some sub-oceanic sea shelf rumbling itself into a tsunami wall. “FUCKING OH SWEET FUCKING YES”, he bayed.

Flesh, rub-denser than the most thundering herd of Clydesdales, gained Belmont-stadium expanse and champion stature on his Macedonian-torsoed rock.


He watched as pecs larger than four 45 lb plates throne-soared themselves on his breast, himalaying 24”inches deep until the thunder-mass left him 105” in tape-measuring size. His gargantuan 3 ½ foot round arms posed feet from each other and his upper chest raged up his collar bone buffeting the roots of his near delicate 22” tree-trunk neck.

On his great breast expanse, he groaned to find nipples grown to no less the size than the center hole on any great weight. The sexual locii protruded magnificently as though they were giant docking ports on a geo-orbiting weapons satellite. “OH FUCKING FUCKING FUCK – I AM HUGE FUCKING HUGE – SO FUCKING HUGE” He bellowed the sound of waves crashing in the North Atlantic Sea.

Diego lifted his head and now looked straight ahead. He stood over-bulging mind-blowing massiveness, an Iron-pumper god-blasted by some true mad-doctor fantasy ray into 3500 lbs of 11-foot inhuman monstrosity. “OH GOD IT’S TRUE – IT’S SO FUCKING TRUE” He engine-hummed knowing he ruled the world, even the mere girly men of all of the world’s greatest physique shows together were not this massive, this mammoth, this powerful. No one was not human, had become so muscular that he was no longer of mankind, could no longer feel pain.

A great X of protruding bone covered his unfathomable face – his bones angling into the distance of his depthless pools of black, neon-blue eyes. His jaw-bone building-built from his special-powered ears down his muscle-corded neck before cantilevering a chin so Roman-god incarnate it would inspire every one of Michelangelo’s marble sculptures all over again. On his face, dark-night eyebrows accented his eyes, while his blue orbs were so dazzling that their radiated energy sent beams of light onto the wall 50-feet away. Atop his sumptuous dome, spun-gold stubble created a glowing aura of world-spanning, erotic domination.


No sound could appropriately capture his enlarged feelings – the tangibilization of Alpha and Omega. He had muscles so powerful now that they vibrated an infinite scale, surging with the waves of the universe’s astronomical dance. His body was star-burned with fat-obliterated sun-fissioned mass.


With a kneading hunger, he tightened his immense ball-sack, and he roared again, roaring laughter. He felt so incomprehensible and with intention god-sucked his 18 abdominal ridges and sucked up hiw volleyball-blown swayers, hydraulisizing them into the eruption of his hundred-metered hurricular quads and battleground hams.

No sound could express him. No sound could blast the unphaseable hunger of these world-encompassing atlasian-primal needs.

Yet, a low vibration started in the glazed nadir of his great abdominal vee – a rumbling shaking that massaged the base of his world-population fuck organ. The thunder climbed his body gaining in magnitude, growing as each abdominal-bulge amplified the yearning expression further. The crushing waves reverberated off the internal surfaces of his vast back meat until finally they exploded out of his mouth that he had thrown open like a timeless and Pleistocene cavern.

It was a mastering thunder-roll that throned out of him - the waves of sound so low that the molecules around him split into component parts. The vast articulation horn-blew the room with such unremonstrable power that the things in it condensed and made space for his great voice. The reverberating waves scale-pulsed so immensely that an ominous heaving blasted the complex-corridors and rolled unstoppably into the streets of the staggering city beyond.

He locomotive-sucked air into his vast lungs, reeling - reeling at his own monstrosity, at the simultaneous explosion of one-hundred-thirty-four million nerves entombed in his 3800 lbs of weight and girth. His black hole dense upper body meat, his red-woodian leg-pillars, his coliseum-pounded ass-mounts, his globe-incarnate pec-tents and his quadripedian man organ flexed and bulged on him with all the mastery of a living god.

A great smile, inhuman with hormone-fevered elation, marqueed his devastatingly adonisized 4,000 lb becoming.

“I FEEL STRONG…. SO STRONG, MATTHIAS.” A cold wind snowed with arctic lows over Matthias. Diego stepped to Matthias, with Zeussian stature towering over Matthias’ Germanic build. He looked down into the muscle lifter’s eyes. “WORSHIP ME, MATTY, ADORE ME.” The voice was a contained hum-throb, as Diego learned to govern his power and to interact with the mere mortals of the world. “OH GOD YES.” Matthias strained upward and raised his tongue to Diego’s bowed chest and wonder-of-the-world man-pantheons. He lapped at the pump-packed roundness. He circled the globes painting wet drooling trails around the protruding mountains. His mouth locked the trigger-sensitive nipples, docking on their full erect brownness. “Ahh..aaahhhaaahhhhh” he said. A caustic burning cream oozed into his mouth, “Ah yes… ah, it is so sweet.” The small taste flushed his muscles and made his skin feel taut as he started to grow – it was a feeling that he’d felt hours earlier during the pre-show pump, but now it had returned ten-fold.

Diego, took Matthias' head in his enlarged, more-than-a-man’s hands. He firmly guided Matthias until Matthias tilted between Diego’s mammoth quad-columns facing the immense ship mast of his 28-inch, tank-balled monument. Matthias shivered with insanity. There was no concept in his world any longer but the feverish need to drink of Diego’s h-bombing and suffocating gallons.

“Drink me, Matty… Show me how much you worship every last atom of this throbbing monster God, Matthias…. This is what you owe me… This is what I had to become.” •

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