“You ready, Nick?” Graves said, patting him on his thick traps. Nick swung his arms back and forth, his striated shoulders rippling with immense power.

“You bet,” he muttered, still staring his adversary down. Then, with a huge exhale – his shredded abs tensing impressively – he pulled up the straps of his singlet and snapped on his headgear. The sound of the crowd was a dull roar to him as he mounted the mat platform, strutting confidently to the center, his beefy arms heavily swaying back and forth away at his side. His opponent, not a small guy by any means, seemed downright scared. No doubt, he had never seen someone with the musculature that Nick had.

The two teens shook hands and got into their starting positions. Nick ground his teeth together, his jaw muscles flexing and popping. The other wrestler gulped again; he simply didn’t know what to think…other that he was going to lose. But that was exactly what Nick wanted.

The referee blew his whistle and Nick pounced on his opponent with breathtaking quickness, earning a takedown barely two seconds into the match. He could hear the breath of the other guy escaping his lungs, his tensed muscles – covered by a sizable layer of loose fat – jiggling as he hit the floor. Immediately, Nick had him in a defensive position, fighting for his life. But Nick wasn’t going to let him go so easily…and the guy knew that. Nick had become notorious for playing with his opponents. He would come agonizingly close to pinning them, but then back away ever so slightly. It was all in an attempt to rack up more and more points, making the defeat that much more embarrassing. To the other guy, it felt more like being on death row – you could only wait for your time to come and there was nothing you could do about it. That was why Nick Angelakis had been given the nickname, “The Executioner.”

But to Nick, this was fun. He was so much stronger and quicker than many of the athletes in his weight class that he dominated them…and that made him almost a shoe-in for the championship. This guy didn’t have a prayer! As Nick earned his third near-fall, he smiled. God, he loved this sport! The referee blew the whistle to end the first period. Nick stood up nonchalantly. He glanced up at the scoreboard – he was winning 9-0. This was almost too easy! How did this guy make the state final?

“I really have nothing to say,” Graves said when Nick came over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he grinned, “you’re barely sweating.”

“The guy’s a cinch,” Nick replied calmly, heaving his pumped chest. Graves shook his head and patted him on the butt to send him back out. Once again, the two wrestlers met on center mat – the other athlete looked tired and even seemed like he was about to cry. Time to put you out of your misery, Nick mentally said to him. At the whistle, he erupted in force, piling his vast strength onto his opponent, muscling him down to the mat. It seemed as if he didn’t have anything left to fight the incomparable Nick Angelakis – he was already tired out from the first period. The poor athlete was breathing hard and sweating profusely, grunts of surrender escaping his throat. Finally, Nick wrestled the guy’s shoulders to the mat, pinning him easily. The whistle was blown one more time and Nick instantly jumped up to the elated cheers of the Spartans supporters in the arena. He had won the state championship!

The other wrestler, however, lay hunched over on the floor, trying to summon the strength to even stand. It was obvious he was completely drained – Nick was far too strong and far too powerful for him. Nick looked over at his opponent and suddenly felt a tinge of sympathy. The guy had busted his butt trying to put up any sort of a fight. He deserved some kind of congratulations. Nick went over to him and reached his arm down to help him up.

“Good match, man,” he said as he lifted him to his feet.

“Thanks,” the teen muttered, apparently surprised at the Executioner’s unexpected sportsmanship. He gazed at him in respect and slowly shook his head. “Dude, you’re the greatest.”

“Nick, you were so amazing,” Erin stirred, gazing into her boyfriend’s incapacitating hazel eyes.

“You’re still going on about this weekend?” he replied, blushing. It was the Monday after the state tournament and the two lovers were headed to the musical rehearsal…but not before they had had sex once again in Erin’s Jetta.

“I wasn’t talking about this weekend,” she suggested, peering up at him while slowly licking the front of her teeth. Nick bit his lip. The feeling of his massively thick cock penetrating her never got old; instead, it seemed to feel better each time they did it. “I’m gonna have to get a bigger car soon,” she commented, rubbing her hands up and down her god-like boyfriend’s muscular arms, their size stretching the fabric of his T-shirt…as did his enormous pecs. He was so scorchingly hot, it was insane. She could barely keep her hands off of him for a second. “You’re gonna get too big for it.”

“You think so?” Nick grinned, his dimples popping up, practically making her cum on command. “I’m planning on bulking up a little more over the summer.”

“Shit,” she exhaled. “I’m gonna need to get a Hummer.” Bulking up “a little” was Nick’s language for “going to add on another 10 or 15 pounds of muscle”…at least.

“Come on,” he reminded her. “We have to get to rehearsal.” But just as he was about to turn away, Erin grabbed his waist and pulled his body toward her, kissing him fervently. She needed to stall him just a little longer…though she was aching to kiss him anyway.

All day, he had been getting accolades and recognition from nearly everyone at school, but it wasn’t just for winning the state title. The thing that was on everybody’s lips was what he did afterward. The down-to-earth gesture that he had offered to his opponent had not gone unnoticed. Even the Washington Post had a picture of him helping up the other wrestler on the front page of the sports section. The headline had said, “Stay of Execution,” playing on his nickname. No one could get over how considerate he had been; when others would have started celebrating, he thought to recognize his foe first.

“Now we can go,” Erin smiled after pulling away, leaving Nick breathless. Her body tingling, she led him into the auditorium where a huge cheer erupted as soon as he walked through the doors. On the stage, a banner shouted, “Congrats Nick” and the entire cast and crew of the musical stood in front of it, applauding. Erin looked up at Nick who was shaking his head, his face a scarlet red of embarrassment.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” he whispered to her. She shrugged.

“Actually,” she answered, “it was really Greg’s idea.” She nodded toward the boy as he came bounding down the stairs and up the aisle.

“I saw you!” he hollered. “I saw you! I was there! It was awesome!” The two teens clasped hands like buddies, Greg’s long hair flying around as he bounced his head in excitement. “It was my first ever wrestling match…actually it was my first ever sports event.” He suddenly started getting a little more serious, though his eyes still twinkled furiously. “I never had a reason to until I met you,” he went on. “I always figured all jocks were…were, well, you know, kinda jerks. To people like me anyway.”

“Well, thanks for coming,” Nick replied, smiling down at him. Of all the glorious comments he had received, this was by far the most meaningful. Knowing that he had changed someone’s life made Erin feel warm inside. Somehow, it even made her remember how JP had once changed his life.

“Nick,” Ms. Gross beamed as she came toward Nick, “the only thing the teacher’s lunchroom was talking about today was you helping that other boy up. I’m proud to say that I know such a thoughtful, caring young man like you.” The woman gently grabbed his huge arms in her hands and smiled at him warmly. Nick seemed like he almost didn’t know how to respond to all this.

“Thanks,” he said. That afternoon, the rehearsal went like a dream – everyone hit their spots dead on, all the singers nailed their songs, the dance numbers were nearly flawless. Even Mr. DiPalma seemed in high spirits. It was as if they had all been empowered by Nick’s performance on the wrestling mat that weekend. At the end, Erin couldn’t remember feeling better about the show as she left the auditorium with Nick, his massive limbs wrapped around her body. She leaned her head against his hard chest and sighed. Her life couldn’t possibly get any better. Suddenly, Kyle ran around the corner, nearly running right into the couple.

“You gotta see something,” he said breathlessly to Nick. Nick looked at him puzzled, as did Erin. What was he talking about? “Come on, Nick,” the smaller boy urged his teammate.

Nick could only imagine why he was following Kyle. He told Erin he’d see her later – the look on his colleague’s face was deathly serious; in fact, it looked like he had seen a ghost or something.

“At first I didn’t recognize him, but then he turned around and I almost peed in my pants,” he went on rapidly. That’s when Nick noticed Kyle’s knees shaking as they proceeded toward the sports wing.

“What are you talking about?” Nick pleaded. But his question was answered as the two approached the windows of the weight room. “Oh, my God!” he exhaled, his mouth dropped open in complete shock.

On the bench press was a hulking figure, his bulbous chest hiding his face. For a moment, Nick thought it was Billy, but then the figure sat up and Nick noticed the spiked black hair and egotistical sneer that had become indicative of Ian. And that’s when Nick nearly collapsed in fright. Ian had turned into a gigantic teen behemoth! His neck looked like a tree trunk, cords of muscles popping at even the slightest movement. His shoulders were as wide as a barn and his arms bulged with inhuman strength, forced far out from his torso by a pair of abnormally thick lats. His pecs were so huge, they almost seemed to dwarf his head, leaving dramatic shadows over his large, full six-pack. But then there were his legs – two columns of pure power that looked as if they had a life of their own. And all this was covered in a complex network of pulsing veins. Ian had simply morphed into a monster!

But how? Only a few months ago, he was just an athletic 15-year-old, but he was now the biggest kid Nick had ever laid eyes on. His tremendous growth spurt could not have come naturally.

“I’ve never going in there again,” Billy blurted as he walked out of the weight room upon seeing Nick through the window. He had been working out like he usually did, but even he looked as white as a sheet. At his size, nothing ever bothered him…until now.

“What happened?” Nick croaked.

“Look at him,” Billy answered. “Look at Ian! The guy’s stronger than me now!” Nick looked at his friend in disbelief. You have to be joking, he thought. Billy was nearly 250 pounds of sheer mass – able to bench 500 pounds; no one could be stronger then he was.

“But he’s not bigger than you…” Nick protested, though he knew that didn’t mean anything. He just couldn’t imagine Ian being the strongest guy in school.

“Ian’s over 250, all muscle…look!” Sure enough, Ian began flexing in the wall mirror. His body exploded as his muscles bulged menacingly, shifting for space underneath his thin skin – his lats flared out like airplane wings, his biceps peaking to enormous heights, his pecs rippling with ridiculous definition. But the look on his face was the scariest thing about him; it was the look of someone who knew he was a god among little boys, an unstoppable force of strength…and a monster who wanted more and wanted it now. That could only mean one thing.

“He has to be juicing,” Nick thought out loud.

“Yeah, he’s definitely on the sauce…and stacking, too,” Kyle spoke up weakly. “He nearly knocked Peter Evans unconscious during football…and that was when he was 40 pounds lighter.” It was obvious Kyle – a built, but small kid – was downright terrified of him.

“And he’s bullying everyone out of the weight room…even me,” Billy added. Nick looked back over at him in shock. “He can rep what I max,” he explained. Angrily, Nick made his hands into fist, his forearms jumping, his biceps flexing underneath his tight T-shirt. Ian was out of control; he had to be stopped…but how?

“Get off that thing, fucker!” Ian stormed over to the pulldown machine where a scrawny junior was working out. But the guy didn’t move; he only stared. “I said GET OFF!” Ian roared, grabbing him and literally throwing him down to the ground. Don’t these idiots see that I need to get bigger, he said to himself. 255 pounds was starting to feel too small…260 would be nice, but 270 would be even better. He sat down and began pounding out reps at the weight the previous guy had. “Fuck, this is light!” Ian sneered. “Rick, move it up!”

“Ok,” Rick obeyed, adjusting the weight to one that was more to Ian’s liking.

“No, more!” Ian barked. “What do you think I am? A little girl?” When he was satisfied with the weight, he blasted through a set…and then immediately dove into another one. He glanced over at his reflection. His shoulders, his chest, his lats, everything was red and pumped. God, I’m a stud, he thought.

This was what every night was like for Ian. His whole life now revolved around getting bigger and bigger. He even would skip school a lot of the time to train – his parents were so oblivious; they were just proud of him for being a great athlete. Little did they know how much he ate and fucked. Heck, when he wasn’t working out, he was either eating massive quantities of food to fuel his growing body or fucking some hot chick, sometimes two, three or four at a time. And those roids he got from Travis…shit, they were awesome, especially when he combined them with all the supplements he had been taking. The only thing was how expensive his lifestyle had become…but as long as he was dating Kim Johnson, the richest girl in school, he had as much money as he needed. Yeah, he was stealing it from her, but he was Ian Antoncelli…and he could have anything he wanted.

“Fuck, yeah!” he grunted as he finished the set, standing up to flex in the mirror, a hard-on raging in his gym shorts. There was not a 15-year-old on the planet as big and strong as he was. “Let’s go,” he said to Rick. “I’m starving.” And before Rick could give a response, Ian was already heading toward the door, slipping on a polo shirt on the way. He liked how the fabric had to stretch across his broad chest, the sleeves straining around his arms. He popped the collar as he stepped outside. God, I’m hot, he thought. His sweaty, bronzed skin glistened in the light of the nearby streetlamp. He had worked hard to look this way…and damn, it was worth it. He smirked as he saw four hot cheerleaders coming toward him. They were already drooling at the sight of him. Oh well, time to take the shirt off.

“Hey, Ian,” one of girls greeted him as he was halfway through peeling the polo up his chest, his thick abs in full view. “Wow, you look amazing!”

“Hey,” Ian returned. “This shirt’s a little hard to get off.”

“Can I help you get it off?” a second girl asked. Ian gave her a look that immediately sent her into a daze. Yeah, they always did that.

“Sure,” he replied cunningly. “Then I can help you get off.” All four cheerleaders giggled. They were aching to do something with him, especially after he had just worked out, his muscles all pumped and hard. Suddenly, the first girl stepped up and began kissing him on the lips. Ian instantly wrapped a beefy arm around her and she started groaning. No doubt, she was already cumming.

“What about me?” another girl spoke up. Ian grinned and turned his head to kiss her, too. And then it began. The remaining two girls began licking his hard, erect nipples, unable to hold back from worshiping his god-like physique. Then, the first girl slipped her hand down the front of his shorts, grabbing hold of his dick. He eyed her, his lips still in contact with the other chick, and she started jerking him off. Eight hands and four pairs of lips were groping every inch of Ian’s body – his massive biceps, his thick pecs, his ripped abs…and yes, his juicy cock. Suddenly, he erupted with eight huge spurts of cum, all over the four girls who were groaning and moaning in delirium.

“That was fuckin’ awesome,” he said as he pulled up his shorts, the cheerleaders too dazed to speak. All of a sudden, he felt a chill sweep through his entire body and he hands started to shake uncontrollably.

“You’re sweating a lot,” one of the girls observed. Ian looked at her uneasily.

“I’m just really hot,” he answered. They giggled again, but in reality it was a cold sweat. “I’ll see you later,” he told them, and rushed back inside. Shit, why did this have to happen now? The tremors grew worse as he opened his bag, his hands shaking so much he could hardly unzip it. He pulled out the vial of steroids and snuck to the bathroom. What the fuck is happening to me, Ian thought, gazing at himself in the mirror. His pupils were dilated, his skin felt clammy – and this had been happening more and more. It had to be because he hadn’t juiced in a while; that always made him feel better.

Ian filled the syringe and plunged it into his hip. Almost instantly, he began to settle down as the drugs flowed through his body. He knew what was happening; he wasn’t stupid. He was becoming addicted to the drugs. These roids worked like magic – he had grown bigger than he had ever dreamed – but they weren’t supposed to be addictive, not physically anyway. Were they?

Kim sat down at a table in the middle of the prison’s visitation room. She had vowed herself to never come here, but she was desperate; she had nowhere else to turn. Her parents were too caught up in their own lives, her best friend wouldn’t even talk to her and her other friends just told her to snap out of it. They couldn’t see what she was feeling; they couldn’t understand how out of control Ian had become. There was only one person who could.

A burly guard led Luke into the room. One look at him and Kim had to look away, suddenly feeling queasy. She barely recognized him at first; a year’s imprisonment had taken its toll on her brother. His all-American looks had vanished – his blond hair darkened to an ugly brown, his blue eyes sunken, his face gaunt. Even his body was a shadow of its former self; he had lost a tremendous amount of weight while in jail. As he sat down opposite her, he gazed at her forlornly, tired.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” he started, his voice sounding thin and weak.

“I needed to talk to you,” Kim began, trying to avoid looking directly into her brother’s sad eyes. “It’s about Ian.” A hint of a smile cracked upon Luke’s face, as if he hadn’t smiled in months.

“How’s he doin’?” he asked, but Kim looked up at him seriously.

“He’s on steroids,” she said plainly. Luke’s face fell. “And really bad, too.” Gingerly, she rolled up her sleeve to show her brother the bruise from the last time Ian had thrown her down. Luke shut his eyes at the sight of it, gulping painfully. No doubt, it brought back regretful memories. He now knew why she had come.

“Please tell me he didn’t do that,” he whimpered. Kim nodded, blinking back tears.

“I’ve seen the stuff he takes. Luke, he’s out of control. He won’t stop and he’s stealing money from me. I don’t know what to do,” she pleaded, awkwardly reaching for her brother’s hand. He inhaled sharply.

“Did the vial the roids came in have a little symbol on them…a, a little Rx thing?” Kim looked at him curiously. How did he know?

“Yes,” she replied, feeling confused. Luke hung his head and looked like he was about to throw up.

“It’s Travis Plummer,” he finally said. “They call him the Pharmacist. That’s his signature.”

“Is that where Ian is getting the steroids?” Luke nodded, looking troubled. She had heard that name before, but didn’t know who he was. “Did you get yours from the same guy?”

“No,” he immediately answered definitely. “But I’ve heard of guys who have bought from him.”

“How can I get Ian to stop buying from him then?” she interrupted worriedly, but Luke just shook his head.

“It’s no use,” he spoke quietly. “Forget about it. Especially if he’s as out of control as you say he is, there is no way he can just stop.”

“Why?” Kim asked. Luke looked nervously around the room and then leaned in closer to his sister. She leaned in with him.

“If there’s one thing Travis hates more than anything, it’s jocks. He loves to see them suffer.” He swallowed before going on. “They say Travis laces his steroids with heroin to make his clients addicted without even knowing before it’s too late.” •