Recruit, The


By Richard Jasper

How often do you get to watch yourself grow?

Well, duh, yeah, I know. Unless we're talking about down there, it just doesn't happen.

Unless you're one of us.

I didn't realize it, then, but I was the first one. And even though in the first two days I'd grown four inches taller and gained 100 lbs. of solid muscle, nothing could have prepared me for the third day.

Unlike the first two shots, I wasn't sleepy this time, nor was I jazzed. Instead, I was calm, peaceful, almost bored.

I watched myself grow.

I sat at the table and ate and ate and ate, although not as much as the first day. It had become clear that I was going to grow regardless of whether I ate. The hunger pangs had been psychological as much as anything and now that I knew something else was afoot I really didn't notice them.

There was a large square mirror on wall opposite the table.

I could see myself getting broader, thicker, more massive.

I'd find myself holding onto my dick, which was never soft, and then I'd notice that it was getting bigger, too. Don't get me wrong, it had been nice and big to begin with, long and thick, before I ever had the first shot. Now though it was noticeably bigger than a double-hander and my hands – fuck, my hands were like concrete blocks – were twice the size they had been when I started.

That would get me excited and I'd whack off and the cum would be everywhere and then I'd sit there dazed for a few minutes and then I'd clean up and I'd go take a shower, realizing now that it was getting hard to get through the shower door, and then I'd dry off and go eat some more and…

I could see that not only was I getting broader, thicker, more massive, I was getting taller, too. Even sitting there in the chair I could tell I was taller, my head and shoulders further away from the top of the table, higher up in the mirror.

It was mind-blowing.

About four hours into, after my second or third shower, I noticed that there was a standard scale in the bathroom, so I decided to take a look. I slid the weights over to 260 but – clank! – it was obvious I'd already gotten much bigger. I kept tapping and tapping, no difference, until I moved the next weight over.

There it was.

300 lbs.

On the nose.

I'd gained 40 lbs. of solid muscle in 4 hours.

It kept up all evening. About midnight I tried the scale again but it only went up to 350 lbs. – I was obviously bigger than that!

Finally, I hit the sack, slept like a baby.

The next morning I got up to take a leak. I knew something was different as soon as my feet hit the floor

For one thing, my feet were fucking huge. I'd always had sorta big feet for my size (12 wide at 5'10 and 160 lbs. is somewhat above average) but now, damn, it was the same as with my hands. They seemed twice as big, twice as thick. My feet looked like they were on steroids.

I bumped into the doorframe going into the john, flipped the lid on the toilet, and then grabbed hold of my dick.

Holy fucking mother of God.

I grabbed it at the top and kept reaching down and down and down – I was nearly doubled-over before I reached the end of it, 2/3rds of the way down to my knees. How fucking big was the thing? I'd have to ask Doc, obviously.

"And won't he have fun measuring it," I chuckled to myself.

* * *

As it turns out he DID have fun measuring it but first he fainted. His back was to me when I came into the room and when he turned around, he let out a little shriek and then, clunk, out he went.

I was on him in a flash – obviously this new mass wasn't slowing me down any – and had him on the exam table.

"Wakey, wakey, Doc, c'mon, it's OK," I crooned.

He came out of it, eventually, and no worse for wear. And then got down to the business of measuring.

"Clever me," he announced before he got started. "I had the vet lab send over the big animal scale yesterday afternoon while you were in isolation. I figured at the rate you were going you were going to be too big for the one I had."

My mind reeled as he read off the numbers…

"Height: 6 feet 6 inches."

"Weight: 500 lbs."

"Biceps: 40 inches"

"Neck: 38 inches"

"Chest: 100 inches"

"Waist: 48 inches, although it looks damned small compared to the rest of you…."

"Quads: 50 inches"

"Calves: 38 inches"

As soon as he'd checked my height I started getting hard and when we read my weight off the scale I went to full-mast.

"And, yeah, I guess I better check that, too."

About what I had guessed, it turned out.

"20 inches long, 12 inches in circumference…"

He looked up at me – waaaaaay up at me. I was now six inches taller than he was, nearly three times as heavy, and more than twice as broad.

"Uh, Corcoran…"

I looked down at him.

"Yes, Doc?"

He looked down at my massive tool, licked his lips, then lifted his eyes back up to mine.

"Doc, would you like to go for a little ride?"

He snorted, then laughed, then blushed.

I put my mammoth right hand on his right shoulder. It seemed so small, so fragile, by comparison, even though I knew it belonged to a highly-conditioned, well-muscled 180 lb. man.

I extended the pinky of my other hand and wrapped it around his belt buckle. Slowly – but with no apparent effort – I lifted Doc off the floor, first to eye-level with me and then up so that his head was brushing the ceiling, his feet dangling a bit in mid-air.

"Stand on it, Doc."

I lowered him back down and his thick black rubber-soled Army-issue doctor's shoes were standing on my dick.

"Hold onto the cabinet, there Doc, I'm gonna let go of you now…"

He did as he was told – all 180 lbs. of him was balanced on my cock.

"It's like fucking rebar," Doc said.

Then I twitched it.

"Upsie Daisy!"

He scrambled to hold onto the cabinet.

"Fuck it, Corcoran, next time warn me when you're gonna do that…"

I laughed.

"Consider yourself warned, Doc," I rumbled, then bounced it up and down 100 times in rapid succession.

"Jesus, Corcoran, give it a rest," he said, finally.

I took his wrists and lowered him so that his legs straddled my monster cock.

"It's like a fucking sawhorse," he said, and tried to wrap his arms around my enormous back.

"I can't reach," he mumbled into my armor-plated abs.

"It's OK, Doc," I said.

I had him. •

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