Fugitives: A Muscle Growth Picaresque


By Capt. Moonlight

I was standing before a veritible god sitting on the edge of an inviting bed when I noticed something strange. To wit, I had no erection. This surprised me so much that I almost lost sight of the situation in front of me: huge, pendulous pec muscles doing a slow dance with control and grace worthy of a Nijinsky. There was only one reason that popped into my head of why there was this singularly amazing disintrestedness in my cock: I was scared. I know there are some folks who get off on fear. The more frightening or dangerous the situation the better. Not me. I was a skinny and rather timid. If I thought there was no way for me to be victorious through verbal powers alone I backed away. Sure I was seven inches taller than Ignacio but... do you think that could have made any difference. I visibly shuddered to think what playing rough with this guy might be like. Ignacio noticed this and must have immediately understood. "You're scared, aren't you?" I tried to compose myself with a laugh, "Well, let me put it to you this way: let's say it's you and a bear is seducing you into its arms. Wouldn't you be scared?" Now he laughed, "I think I might be able to handle myself with a bear," and he brought his right arm up in a flex.

Now, in my adventures in both sexes I've become something of an anatomy connoisseur. I have my preferences in eyes, noses, coots, boobs, dicks, thighs, asses, mouths, hair and... of course... biceps. I've learned through various types of media and observation from real life to spot the ones I'd call jewels of the human collection and store them in my memory- to be brought out from time to time for examination and polishing. I learned to appreciate the smaller biceps as opposed to the larger ones. That is if the smaller ones showed superior shape or definition. I even came to the point of disparaging upon mass entirely for the perfect aesthetic of small, lean biceps. Ignacio just turned this prediliction on its head. It was the most massive rock of muscle I'd ever seen. It stood proudly apart from the rest of his arm; the definition was unsurpassible. I should mention again that Ignacio was just three inches over five feet but by any height that bicep would seem gargantuan. It rose up to a pointed summit that had just two inches of air between it and his clenched fist. He relaxed it just a little and flexed it up and down repeatedly to a slow, masterful rythmn as if it was talking its directive from his beating heart. It was the first time I saw him flex his biceps and I nearly fainted.

Again, nearly fainted... very nearly. My eyes rolled up into my skull and I titled a little on my feet, falling against the closed door. I was propped up there like a cardboard cut out leaned against a wall when before I knew it I was floating acorss the room to the bed. When I fully regained my composure I was lying on an incline of pillows. Ignacio was looming over me with each arm, like corinthian collumns, planted on the bed on opposite sides of me. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had picked me up and carried me there.

I looked into his face which wore a look of concern. Don't fuck this up with hysterics, I said to myself. I smiled and said, "Still think I'm cute?" "Adorable," he said, and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand in a very soft and warm manner. Whatever dread I had about some submission session that would have me in casts, suspended from the ceiling in some hospital, faded away. No I could lay back and trully enjoy myself.

"You're pretty adorable, yourself," I said and I ran my hands up his arms; over every crevass of his unfathomable triceps, "with your little arm muscles." Ignacio smilled. He was put at ease now, too. He shifted over to the side of the bed that had room for him and layed on his side looking at me. "These pathetic little arm muscles?" he inquired laying his left arm on my chest (did it feel heavy? mmmmhm!) and flexed his bicep up slowly. I placed my hands on it. There were plenty of room for both of them and maybe five more. It felt like a diamond growing under my palms. When it reached as far as it could I pressed down a bit with my fingers but there was no hope for anykind of indentation. "Yep," I said, "This little arm muscle won't pass mustard." "Aw, sorry about that. Here, let me fix it a little." He clenched his fist until I swear I heard his skin inside squeak a little from the pressure. Huge veins, about the circumference of pencils emerged on his bicep and forearm as he pumped. I watched as his arm vibrated with effort and then, gradually, the bicep which had just two inches to go before hitting his fist was now pushing it away. I gasped. "How... did you... do that?" I must have reverted back to a childhood state, or something, watching old Popeye cartoon where biceps could give off ringing, metallic sounds if hit. I say that because I tapped on that towering, inhuman muscle with my fist. It didn't ring but it was like knocking your hand against a wall of solid oak "Hold on," he said, speaking as if he hadn't done anything extraordinary at all; as if increasing his bicep by two inches was as easy as a crad trick. "Hold on, I'm real annal about symmetry. Now everythign has to match. You might like this." He sat up in bed a bit and reached over to the side table where he picked up a length of measuring tape. Was I going to enjoy this? Mmmmhm! He flexed his left arm again, right in front of my face. It was only a soft flex. Understandably he didn't want to do anymore damage. He handed me the tape and without any directions needed I measured the bicep. It took an effort to reach the top. "I didn't need a sherpa for this one," I said grinning. "Should I make it bigger then?" "No no no, just joking! It's... my god, 22 inches. Igancio, aren't you already the biggest man in the world?" "Nope, for the record I've got a few more inches to go." "Well, you must be the biggest 18 year old that ever lived." "Maybe the biggest 17 year old." "seventee... I thought you graduated with me." "still got a year to go." "You said you liked my speech!" "I was there... to see you, dummy!" "Dummy... dummy...." I started to go a bit numb. "Hey, you're pretty dazed. Do you want to rest a bit. I'm a lot to take in on a first date, I guess." "No!" I said, nearly jumping out of bed, "No, symmetry's important! Can't have you looking lopsided. Uh-uh. I must have the OCD myself. bring over the other arm!"

I made a twenty two inch loop around his other arm. I was kicking the bed with my heels as he filled up the loop. That problem with the erection I was telling you about earlier? The problem had been terminated... with extreme prejudice. Ignacio noticed this with no small amount of pride. "You know... I can't have people saying I'm all arms." "You mean...." "Let' start from the bottom and work our way back up again." And so it went. For his calves to his thights we added another two inches via his secret power. I looked at their swelled majesty with rapsodic wonder; just how far can you go, Ignacio? How have you managed to hold back so far? I ran my index finger over his relaxed left calve. It was bulky and swayed like a hanging sack of liquid. The he tensed it and I swear I heard cracking from the muscle. Even his abs had to be made thicker by his mad aesthetic. Of course two inches would just be a hideous prominence. So he settle for just an inch. He cruched up his muscles by sitting up in bed a bit. He clenched his teeth and an eight-pack... and then a ten-pack of billiard balls grew out of his stomach. "Give me a little tickle, Eli. Won't you?" I brushed my fingertips over his abs. It was steel. true steel. It even made the little dinging sounds from the cartoons. "Watch this," he said and then, and I don't know if anyone else could do this but he flexed each ab individually. They popped up and down in various places like a wack-a-mole. By this time I was unconciosly masturbating. He stayed my wrist, "Just a bit more to go," he said. I knew what was left and it looked daunting.

I looked rather despairingly at the length of tape in my hand when I considered the prospect of measuring his back and chest. "Hmmmm," I thought a bit, "What if we don't get it just right?" "We'll just have to wing it. For my pecs I don't think you'd mind if I went a little over the limited." Before he could even finish I was trying to lasso the tape around his torso. A futile effort. I looked at the last number on the tape when I stopped trying. "Whatever you are," I said, "You're over 40 inches." I saw that I had been unconsciously masturbating again while I was reading the tape. "Ignacio," I said, "I don't know how much more of this I can take!" Ignacio got up from the bed, "Then I had better finish it off."

He stood up before me while I sat on the edge of the bed. He was just a foot away from me. His chest, from seen from the below, obscurred his head a little, From where I sat he looked much taller. He looked at me from over his pecs and said, "See ya, slim!" He put his arms akimboo at his side and began to tense his pecs and inflated his chest. From below I could see the intensity in his eyes as he strained with all his might. Then I began to notice it: his pecs were filling up... and up... and up. His rib cage grew bigger and I noticed that his fists were no longer resting on his hips. They were dangling in the air. I looked up again just to see the last bit of his face be swallowed up by his chest.

I got up. I had to see that he was still there. Like I said, I had him beat seven inches, height wise, so it wasn't hard for me to see the top. What I saw made me laugh out loud. He had swelled up his pecs so much that they had rammed up against his chin. He looked like his jaw was holding himself from the edge of a cliff. It didn't look all that comfortable. "Igancio, my dear man! You didn't bite off more than you can chew, did you?" He tried to say something but the pecs wouldn't let him so he had to left the air go out him. When his body relaxed I saw the fullest, most developed pecs muscles anyone could ever dream of having. "I said," he could finally talk, "I said that you'd like it if I went over the limit a bit." "There's no limit..." I said reached out for his pecs with trembling hands. "There's no limit..." They were relaxed and I kneaded my fingers through them. There was not a spot where I didn't have my whole hands brimming with pectoral muscles. I pushed them up and let them fall. I didn't realize it at the time but Ignacio had dropped my pants and was grappling onto my member in his hands. "Eli," "Yesssssssssssssss....." "Hold onto my shoulders and watch my pecs." "Ooooooooh kaaaaaaaaaay...." I did what he said and he went to work in two areas. In one area he was jerking me off with slow, tender strokes. In the second area he set his pecs to their slow dance again. I was building up and no mistake. My breath became more and more rapid and excited. The more excited I got the faster his pecs moved. Faster and faster they went, creating flapping sounds in the air. I took my right hand off his shoulder I was about to reach for them. "No," he said, "not now." He was right. It would have been like putting my hand into a boat propeller. The interchange in my imagination of those two things: his pecs and a high powered machine, was all I needed then to blast one. •

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