“Damn it!” the photographer yelled, putting down his camera. “Dave, get in there and fix that.”

“Fix what, sir?” Dave, Ryan’s roommate who also worked as an assistant, bumbled, looking up suddenly out of a daze.

“Can’t you see it?” The photographer was astounded at the boy’s blindness. “Ryan’s…ding-dong” – he waved his hand flamboyantly – “is out of place.”

“Ok, sir,” Dave obeyed, immediately rushing onto the set. Looking at his roommate’s monster cock, he hesitated to touch it. Ryan peered down at him over his broad chest. Go ahead, fag, he silently told him with his eyes, that’s the closest you’ll ever get to it. Dave gulped and nervously, but quickly, shoved the nine-and-a-half-inch snake back into its original position.

When the photographer was satisfied, the shoot resumed, Ryan gazing provocatively at the camera, as the six girls – some from behind, some from below – stared longingly at him. Ryan had become the most sought after model in Jansen’s agency. He was making more money than he had ever had in his life. It was almost a joke that he was still in college. In fact, the only reason why he was still enrolled was for football; modeling was going to be his career. I mean, who wouldn’t want to make loads of cash while being surrounded by tons of hot chicks and being catered to every minute of your life. He was living a dream.

“Ok, that’s good,” the photographer called, motioning for the assistants to shut off the set lights. “Break!” Giggling, the girls broke their pose, but not their lock on Ryan. They knew how virile he was, how he could take on two or three of them at a time – he already had during the lunch break – and how he could virtually go nonstop for hours.

“Hey, Ryan,” another female voice echoed from off-set; it was Brionna, the only girl that even Ryan couldn’t resist. She was wearing the smallest bikini he had ever seen…and it looked great on her. The other models groaned, knowing that Brionna trumped all of them.

“Don’t worry,” Ryan told them, “there’ll be plenty of me for later.” He shot them the look he knew crippled them and they sighed. He knew he had them literally aching for his cock, but they’d just have to wait. He swaggered over to Brionna, feeling the eyes of the other girls on his wide back and hard bubble butt. He was used to it.

“Hey, baby,” she purred, wrapping her slender arms around Ryan’s massive shoulders. “You ready for a little break?” The way she said those words made Ryan’s cock shudder.

“Yeah,” he whispered and gently pushed her into a side room off the studio, their lips already in full lock. As the couple backed up against a wall, Ryan immediately began slipping off the top of Brionna’s bikini. She moaned as his beefy pecs rubbed against her tits and reached for his briefs, placing her hands on his ass as she pulled them down.

“Fuck me,” she hissed between kisses, their breathing becoming more frantic by the second. Ryan practically ripped off her bottom, expertly inserting his giant cock into her cunt. Brionna shrieked with pleasure as he began pounding her in the way that only he could. “Harder!” she urged him, stroking his bulging arms. A grin appeared on Ryan’s face as he reached his climax. He was the biggest stud in the world.

Nick’s alarm clock cut shrilly through his dreams. Opening one eye, he awoke to the March sun bathing him in warmth. Man, that was an awesome dream! He had dreamt that he was fucking a girl senseless and that she kept urging him to do it harder. Ever since he had lost his virginity to Angela, he had been aching to have sex again, but most of the girls in his class were too inexperienced. So, he had to resort to jacking off, which he did just about every night.

Nick opening his eyes more fully, realizing he was lying on his stomach. As he focused, he caught sight of his arm next to him. What a thing to wake up to in the morning! He flexed it two or three times, admiring how his biceps balled up to a peak, the muscle fibers and veins clearly visible through the skin. Now completely awake, he suddenly remembered it was his 13th birthday. He heaved himself over in the bed and sat up so he could look at his reflection in the mirror. He could’ve sworn he looked more mature than yesterday. His eyes were brighter, his cheekbones were sharper, but his body was looking awesome! Nick had stopped wearing shirts to bed; he liked to have his muscles breathe at night. He sat up some more, watching as his abs condensed flawlessly into six solid sections and his pecs tightened across his chest.

Then, he became aware of his throbbing cock. That dream had given him a huge case of morning wood. Distantly, his hand wandered below his boxers and fingered his dick. Damn, it was hard! Slowly, he began stroking it, thinking about Angela and all the other girls in his dreams that he had fucked. Suddenly, his cock erupted in an explosion of jizz all over the sheets. Wow, that felt good!

Satisfied, he climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror, staring at his now-flaccid cock dangling between his legs. It looked thick and heavy. He had measured it a couple of days ago and it had grown a bit; it was a little over six inches now. He still hadn’t seen any other guys’ dicks to compare, but he knew his was big; it looked big.

Then, Nick saw his old wrestling singlet draped over his desk chair. Smirking curiously, he grabbed it and put it on. He had just seen JP win the state wrestling championship a few weeks ago and it was amazing. Ever since then, he had been dreaming of becoming a champion just like him. And now as he looked at himself in the mirror again – this time, in the uniform – he looked like a champion. I mean, the singlet had always looked good on him, but now with all this muscle Nick had grown, he really looked like he belonged on the wrestling mat…it was starting to get small on him. He had grown another inch – he was 5’5” now – and weighed 125 pounds, almost all of which he knew had to be muscle, so the design on the front was stretched long ways and it was excruciatingly tight around the crotch. He tugged at the fabric around his cock to loosen it. He could clearly see the outline of his dick stretching up toward his stomach. He grinned. Imagine if Angela saw him in this; she would go crazy. Yeah, he said to himself, I am becoming a stud.

“6…7…8…” Billy grunted as he pulled his body upwards. He was going to do ten pull-ups, even if it killed him. “9…10!” He roared as he dropped back to the ground. I did it, he said to himself, I finally did 10 pull-ups! For the last two months, he had been slowly building up to ten – He could do three by the end of January, five by Valentine’s Day, seven by the beginning of March and now, ten! Billy rubbed his sore arms, feeling the strength in them. He wondered how many Tyler could do. Probably 500.

Sweating, he stripped off his wife beater, being extra careful not to rip it. He had already torn one of his undershirts. His mom had to buy him a lot of new clothes because he was growing out of his old ones so fast. In fact, he had sprouted three inches and gained 20 pounds in one month – one month! Surely, all the eating and working out he had been doing had done the job…plus the creatine. His mom and dad had taken well to his sudden interest in getting big like Tyler. They had continued getting him creatine and his dad even bought him a set of beginner’s free weights, so Billy worked out every morning before school.

He opened up the notebook where Tyler had written down all the exercises he was supposed to do; there were so many, he would never have been able to remember them on his own. And one by one, Billy went through them diligently: arm curls, triceps presses, shoulder presses, squats, shrugs. This last one was Billy’s favorite. They were supposed to workout muscles called traps – he thought that was a funny name – and he could already do them easily with the heaviest weights. He was probably going to have to get more pretty soon. And then at the end, he would have to do at least 50 sit-ups. He hated these, but if Tyler told him to do them, he had to. Otherwise, he might not get as big as him. When he was all finished with his workout, he took a shower and went downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning, Billy,” his mom greeted him, immediately rushing over to fix the collar of his shirt. It was getting a little tight around his neck and shoulders, to the point where he could no longer button the top button.

“Good morning, mom,” he replied, his stomach grumbling from the scrambled eggs he smelled.

“Morning, son,” his father beamed from behind the newspaper. “You’re looking big today. Did you do those exercises that that Backton boy told you to do?”

“Of course,” Billy smiled. His father was especially happy to see his son take on a hobby like working out. He must’ve figured that since his son wasn’t quite smart enough to be a doctor or something, he’d be an athlete. Mr. Freeman was an avid Redskins fan and nothing would’ve made him happier than having a son who played football.

“You know,” he stated, “Tyler Backton is the leading tackler in the district. You’d do good to stick with him.”

“I know, dad,” Billy answered, hearing the statistic for the millionth time, though he didn’t mind hearing about his hero. “Guess what, dad?” he went on. His father looked up expectantly. “I did ten pull-ups without stopping today!”

“You did?” Mr. Freeman’s face brightened. “Well, congratulations, Billy!” He stood up to slap him on the back. “I think we’ll celebrate later. How ‘bout you and I go to the store and get you some more weights. From the looks of you, I’m sure you’re outgrowing the ones you have.” Billy gleamed, knowing that he was looking bigger. Not only was he taller, but his arms were thicker and his back was wider, and if he flexed his chest really hard, he could feel some muscle under the fat. He was starting to get big!

“Mom?” Ian called from the top of the stairs. There was no answer; the house was absolutely silent. Damn, he said to himself, they already left for work…again. Both his parents worked crazy hours and he was left to fend for himself a lot of the time. It was ok; at least they weren’t around to hound him about something or other.

He plopped down the stairs and headed into the kitchen where a breakfast burrito was waiting for him on the counter. As he put it into the microwave, he went back upstairs to grab the bottle of creatine. He didn’t want his parents to know about it since they would probably think it was weird that he wanted to get muscles like JP Maloney. His dad always preached about putting academics first, but frankly, Ian was sick of always having to study instead of going outside to play basketball or whatever with all the other guys.

Back in the kitchen, Ian prepared the creatine in a drink like the instructions suggested and had it with the burrito for breakfast. The stuff tasted disgusting, but if he wanted to start getting muscles like Nick was beginning to get and attract all the girls, he would have to put up with it. Plus, he was starting to see results after nearly two months. Ian had finally grown an inch in height and broke 100 pounds the other day, which meant that he had put on some extra weight. He knew he was still far behind Nick, but he was catching up. And he was sure Nick wasn’t taking creatine, so by the summer, maybe he’d return to being the bigger one.

Noticing the clock, Ian gobbled up the last bites of the breakfast burrito, chugged the rest of the creatine drink and ran back to his room to change. He stripped off his shirt and quickly inspected himself in the mirror. He didn’t look all buff and muscular yet, but he could tell he had gained some size – almost ten pounds; he could see it in his chest and arms. They seemed a little thicker than they used to be. Reaching into his laundry basket, he pulled on his favorite DC United shirt and smiled at how tight it felt. Pretty soon, he was going to bust through that shirt like it was nothing and then all the girls would want to be with him. I’m gonna be a stud, he said to himself.

“Happy birthday, Nick,” Chrissy greeted her brother at the bottom of the steps. He had finally come down from getting ready, a process that seemed to get longer as he got older. “How does it feel to finally be a teenager?” Nick shrugged, his round shoulders shifting underneath the T-shirt. At 13, he was really starting to get big; most of his old clothes were too tight on him, especially his shirts, every one of which barely covered his growing muscles anymore.

“It feels ok, I guess,” he grinned delicately, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his thin triceps jumping out of his arms. Chrissy shook her head to herself. Her little brother was growing up so fast; it seemed like just yesterday he was a skinny little kid. Now, he was becoming a muscular young teen. Even his voice was rapidly changing; it was tinny and unstable – in that area between little boy and grown man. But lately, the cracks were becoming fewer and fewer and his voice was beginning to show signs of thickening…just like the rest of his body.

“Happy birthday, Nicolas,” Nick’s mom echoed, walking into the hallway. “How’s my little Hercules?” she sing-songed, moving toward her son for a hug. Nick nimbly side-stepped it, rolling his eyes. Chrissy laughed. Yep, she thought, he definitely is a teenager now.

She followed Nick and her mom into the den where a small pile of wrapped gifts was on the floor and her father sat in his armchair, silently reading the newspaper. At the sight of his son, he immediately rose and walked over to him.

“Happy birthday, Nico,” he gruffly shook his hand, his bushy moustache moving up and down as he spoke. Mr. Angelakis was an imposing character, well over six feet tall and very broad, his barrel chest making him look even bigger. It was apparent that he had been a powerful athlete in his prime and indeed, he had been some sort of boxer back in Greece. He had moved to the US when he was in his late 20s and now, he owned a local chain of hardware stores, becoming fairly successful in the process. All in all, he was proud of what he had built for his children, so you can imagine how proud he was of Nick who was apparently taking after him. He wrapped a burly arm around Nick’s shoulders, shaking him boisterously. “How’s my big boy?” he boomed. Nick smiled awkwardly.

“Open your presents,” Chrissy called, relieving her brother from the familial displays of affection that she knew he hated. Nick smiled broadly and eagerly grabbed the first gift: a long rectangular one from Chrissy. Excitedly, he ripped open the paper and gasped at what it was – a chin-up bar.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “It looks just like the one Billy has!”

“Yeah,” Chrissy gleamed, “now you don’t have to go outside on the jungle gym anymore. You can do your pull-ups in your room.”

“Thanks!” he grinned, looking at the package with sheer enthusiasm. Chrissy knew he’d like it. Just wait ‘till he sees what mom and dad got him, she thought. The next gift was a set of sweaters from Nick’s grandmother…all in small.

“Oh, I hope those fit you,” Mrs. Angelakis worried, holding one of them up and eyeing it against her son’s chest. His grandmother hadn’t seen him in a while and didn’t really know how big he was getting. He was probably already too big for them.

“We could always take them back, mom,” Chrissy assured her, smiling. They were going to have to let the family know that Nick would be graduating out of child sizes, if he hadn’t already.

Other presents were typical ones for 13-year-old boys – video games, CDs, a football – he was excited about that one. But nothing prepared him for the final gift: a giant package almost as tall as Nick himself. Scratching his head, Nick stood on his tip-toes to reach the top and begin un-wrapping it. He only had to rip one side of the paper off to see what it was.

“Oh, my God!” he shouted, jumping up and down. Chrissy was shocked by her usually-stoic little brother’s display of emotion. Practically over-brimming with anticipation, Nick continued un-wrapping the gift from his parents: a personal weight bench. “I can’t believe it!” he shrieked.

“Now you can get big and strong like that JP Maloney,” Mr. Angelakis said, his hands on his hips in a satisfied stance. He recognized his son’s physical potential and would do anything to help him reach it. “He even helped your sister pick it out.” Nick’s eyes grew wide when he heard that. Chrissy could only imagine how that sounded to him, knowing that his hero had a part in this.

“It came with weights, too, right?” he asked.

“Of course,” Chrissy replied. “The weights are in the garage. They go up to 200 pounds. Hopefully, that’ll hold you for a while.” She arched her eyebrows, knowing that if her brother was anything like JP was, he’d outgrow that well before high school.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbled hysterically. It should have been no surprise to Chrissy that he would be ecstatic about getting a weight bench for his birthday. She gazed at Nick and could almost see his mind racing. She knew what he was thinking. She knew he was imagining himself getting huge muscles like JP. She knew he was dreaming about becoming a stud. •