By VladBath

When Scott had finished throwing around the equipment at the dock we returned to the lab, I atop his massive shoulders. He let me down outside the door and he squeezed his way through the shattered portal. It felt as if I had lived in a dream for the last couple of hours. Scott was so far beyond my wildest dreams that I would do anything for him now. All he had to do is ask.

He was obviously pleased with the way the morning turned out and as soon as we got back into the lab, he b-lined for the mirrors on the platform and started flexing again, rubbing his hands across his superhuman muscles.

Without taking his eyes off himself, he said, "We have to go out and show this off today. I'm too hot to keep indoors." He hit a double biceps and I nearly came again.

"Well there isn't anything I can do to keep you here," I said, "After what I saw on the dock, I don't think there is anything ANYONE could do to force you into something." I advanced slowly behind his massive back, completely hidden from view by its massive proportions and started to gently rub my hands over his herculean muscles, feeling every ridge and striation as it rippled and flexed.

"I want to go to the gym and see what the guys say to this!" Scott said, spreading his lats to their full, 4-foot width.

"Alright. If that's what you want," I said. "You had better get into some clothes before you go over though. While I'm sure they'll be turned on by you buck naked, I'm pretty sure we'd get arrested if we went out on the street this way."

Scott grinned and headed off to the locker room. I shut down the equipment and followed him in. He was standing by a locker trying to fit his oversized basket into a pair of compression shorts. The fabric was already straining against his 42" thighs and his huge, hard glutes. He looked ready to explode right out of them. His massive legs had left no room for his incredible cock and balls. I walked over to him.

"Here," I said, "Let me help." While carefully trying not to rip the already strained fabric, I reached down and stretched the fabric just a little further. With some effort, Scott was able to move his enormous member inside and I released my grip. There would be nothing left to the imagination in this outfit, I thought to myself. Scott couldn't find anything big enough for his massive torso so he decided to go shirtless.

"Right after the gym, we need to take you to my tailor", I said, "And get you something to wear."

"You don't like this?" Scott grinned, thrusting his huge basket out and flexing his pecs.

My heart was racing. "I didn't say that. Its just going to be difficult for you to walk around in public this way. Me? I'd like to see you like this all the time."

"You'll get to see me as much as you want", Scott said, reaching across and pulling me into his rock-hard chest. "But first, let me see how many guys at my gym are queer for my new body."

We walked out to the door and realized there was no way I could lock up the lab: Scott had completely destroyed the door frame. "Oops," he said, blushing. Looking around, he saw several sheets of corragated aluminium stacked against the loading bay. He walked over to them, picked up a sheet and bent it double and then double again as if it were a piece of paper.

He walked back, hastened us to leave and wedged the aluminium into the door space. "That should hold until you get a new door," Scott said, satisfied with himself, "Being mega-strong comes in handy."

We walked over to my car and encountered our next problem. Scott was considerably larger than the average person and all I had was a two seater.

I took off the roof, moved his seat as far back as it would go and asked him if he could squeeze inside. With considerable effort, he was able to crunch himself into a mass of ultra-dense muscle that just barely contained itself to his side of the car.

"That must be uncomfortable," I said.

"It is," Scott replied. "Just hope I don't have to breathe too deeply or I'll crush your dash-board."

"The sooner we get there the sooner you can get out of this thing," I said.

"Just tell me were to go."

As it turned out, we were only about ten minutes from his gym. When we got there, he opened the door and immediately stretched, flexing his massive physique again.

"Damn that was cramped," Scott said. "You better think about hiring a van or something to get us back."

"Will do," I said. "We're here. Shall we go in?"

Scott looked at me and grinned, "You bet."

I opened the door for Scott and he slid in sideways: his shoulders were too wide for the door. We crossed to the desk where the attendant was sitting, reading MusleMag. He wasn't one of the "big boys", but he was built. I gave Scott his membership card (his wallet was with me: no room in his compression shorts).

"Morning Jim," Scott said, casually putting down his membership card.

"Morning Scott," Jim said, quickly glancing up. Before his eyes had refocused on his magazine, he threw his head back and stared at Scott.

"Jesus! What happened to you?!?!"

Scott grinned and said "Just been working hard. This is my friend Vlad. I said he could work out with me today. Is there a problem with that?"

Jim couldn't take his eyes off Scott's incredible muscles. He was just sitting there with his mouth open and his eyes bulging.

"Hello? Jim?" Scott said, waving his huge hand in front of Jim's eyes.

"What? Oh, no problem. Sure, go ahead. No, wait a minute. You got to wear a shirt," Jim said with obvious excitement in his voice.

"Do you have anything in my size?" Scott asked chidingly.

Jim swallowed hard and said, "I guess not. Go on in. Damn you're awesome!"

Scott just smiled, pulsed his pecs, picked up a towel and entered the main floor. Jim got up from his chair, dropped his magazine and followed us in, a look of disbelief still on his face.

The gym had the usual early-morning crowd of about a dozen or so guys, most of them big and pushing some serious iron. As Scott walked by each of them, they did a double-take, stopped what they were doing and just stared.

Stared at that huge muscular back, those impossibly wide shoulders, the tiny waist, the phenomenal glutes and those oaken thighs.

Scott made his way casually to an open flat bench. "Today's a chest and biceps day," he said, grinning knowingly. Both of us were quite aware there wasn't enough weight in the whole gym to give him anything more than a warm up, but this was showtime and Scott liked being in the spotlight.

"Let's warm up with 495," he said, "Help me load this bar."

"Sure," I said, and began loading my side with five plates. As we did, I noticed a lot of the guys had come over to watch. Scott went to the end of the bench and sat down on the end. He quickly glanced at the stares of utter incredulity on each of their faces and said, "Yeah, about 495 is a good warmup for BICEPS." The audience's eyes got bigger still and they started talking among themselves. Scott was obviously enjoying this.

One of the big guys (whom I later learned was named Paul) spoke up, "I don't care how big you look, nobody does curls with 495. It just isn't possible."

Scott grinned. "Maybe for you, but not for me." He got up and walked to the back of the bench, put his hands under the bar at shoulder width and lifted the bar off the supports. Staring right at Paul, Scott slowly curled the bar in perfect form for twelve reps. The crowd had fallen silent during this amazing feat and then broke out in cheers as he put the bar down. Everybody came over and congradulated Scott. They were all slapping him on the arms and shoulders, smiling and saying they'd never seen anything like it. Its my opinion they weren't congradulating him as much as they were trying to touch his monsterous muscles. In either case, Paul still wasn't convinced.

"There's got to be a trick. No way you're as big and strong as you look,"

Paul said, scowling.

"No trick," Scott said, "Just 32 inches of rock-solid biceps." Scott flexed his right arm and the sight of the boulder-size peak, pulsating with power, nearly made me embarrass myself in front of the entire gym. Looking around, I could see I wasn't the only one turned on. Just about all the guys were sporting hardons through their shorts. A couple of them were openly playing with themselves and eying Scott's massive package.

"Mind if I try?" Paul asked.

"Go ahead," Scott said. "I'll spot you."

Paul walked around to the back of the bench and Scott moved out of the way.

Paul grasped the bar and with some effort lifted it off the supports but couldn't curl it more than a few inches.

"Here," Scott said, "Let me help." He manoeuvred in behind Paul, pressing his slab-like pecs hard against Paul's back, extended his arms outside Paul's, linked his index finger on either side of the bar and started to lift gently. Suddenly the bar was lighter in Paul's hands and he was able to curl it with some difficulty. As he did so, I could see Paul struggling with the realization that Scott was everything he claimed to be: ultra massive and super strong. He also seemed to be very uncomfortable about the rise he was getting in his shorts. Paul put the bar back and Scott moved back.

"Okay," Paul said, grudgingly. "I guess you are pretty strong. What I want to know is how? Nobody is your size. And you weren't this big on Monday. Nowhere near this size. How did you do it?"

"I'm not ready to tell anyone yet," Scott said coyingly. "I need something to drink. Vlad, join me at the juice bar?" Scott had a quizical look on his face. He had something to tell me but I wasn't sure what it was... •

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