Amateur Night


By Rad Rx

I watched as the dance floor filled with fog until it completely obscured the figures from view. The crowd had started making its way from the tables toward the barriers to the dance floor in order to rush the floor as soon as it opened.

"Going in?" asked the tablemate "it's been awhile since the dancers have had the chance to strut and show off, so it's not going to get any less crowded on the floor. As for me, I've got to head to work."

"You're leaving this?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I may have time for one more. Join me?" he asked motioning to a nearby waiter who brought a couple shots of chilled vodka. We threw them back; he got up from his stool. "Name's Todd, and you must think I'd be crazy to leave this. I am going to work -- but I work here," he paused and grinned. "I'm one of the bouncers, and I'll make a deal with you. If you help me out with some quality control on my final specs, I'll get you to the middle of the dance floor without a problem. If you're up for it, that is."

"Sure." I had no idea what he was proposing, but images started swimming through my head fueled by what I had already seen this evening. I'd be crazy not to.

"Great. One personal show coming up . . . and out . . . and any other direction you'd like," he smiled. He pulled me up from my stool and motioned for me to stand facing him at a distance of about 6 inches. We were about the same height, but had been more built than me to begin. He shook his hands and shoulders and rolled his head a few times as if loosening up. Regaining himself, he made eye contact and just started expanding. I could see the sleeves on his loose shirt start to climb up as his shoulders broadened. His smile became almost arrogant as he was forced to look down at me and his chest closed part of the gap between us.

"Yup. Just like riding a bike," he quipped "I was aiming for somewhere in the mid 300 pound range, and it doesn't look like I'm that far off." With that he undid his fly and let his pants drop to the floor. While he was stepping out of them and using his feet to pull of his shoes, I asked why he wasn't going to outgrow them. "Technically I'm not a part of the show. My job here is strictly crowd control. But I'll make a bet with you. If you can pull my flexed arm straight, I'll do the shirt for you."

Up for anything that would get my hands onto him, I readily agreed.

He curled his arm up and in across his abs and invited me to go ahead.

First I tried prying open the angle by leveraging one hand on his wrist and the other against his shoulder. "Any day now," he yawned and taunted. Then I grabbed his flexed wrist with both hands and leaned my entire body weight against it hoping to pull it down. I thought I was making progress when I felt it give several inches. Mocking a yawn with his free hand he just smiled again and pulled me back while acting out a set of partial rep curls. "Anything else you think might work?" he said. Thinking quickly, I let one hand slide up over his forearm, around the elbow, and used it to start massaging his triceps. It worked, he momentarily forgot himself and started flexing his triceps harder, and I was able to quickly pull his forearm out of the flex in order to straighten his arm.

"That's cheating," he laughed.

"I don't think so, big man. Just because your ego gets the better of you and you choose to flex in order to show off for people," I laughed.

"It does not," he countered.

"Fine, then," I began "I'm going to massage you someplace else, and your goal will be not to flex." It was now my turn for a challenge. "Think you can make it?"

"Go for it!"

He assumed a fully upright relaxed position and tried to remain casual. A quick survey later and I reached out and laid my hands on his chest. He looked up as if trying not to notice my intentions, and I started caressing them. A couple of times I thought he would cave as he gasped and tried to remain focused on not flexing. Finished with my taunting, I laughed and said "you can go ahead and flex now." Before I could even finish the sentence, his pecs hardened into cinder blocks under my palms. He leaned in and started doing a close-up version of a most muscular. I could see that he was growing again, the shoulders of his shirt gave out. Pumping a couple of times at the bottom, he finished and stood up to look himself over. "Well," he said, "aren't you going to finish tearing off the shirt?"

He was now at least 8 inches taller than I was, and I reached up under his arms in order to grab the fabric hanging across his back. I intentionally fumbled it a couple of times just to hold this position a bit longer. Finally pulling away, I could see that he was now fully exposed save for his gauzy, dark blue nylon shorts. He could see that I was confused about the workout shorts. "Bouncers don't wear thongs or jockstraps," he explained. Grabbing himself, he gave a couple of tugs and started swelling out of his own hand "But that doesn't necessarily mean we have less to show."

I asked whether I should follow him out to the dance floor now. "You're kidding, right?" he laughed, "I'm not even as tall as the waiters yet. When a bouncer starts to move, people here make way for them. We're not the muscleboy cling toys that everyone else plays with. Don't you worry, you'll make it to the dance floor. So turn around, and we'll start the next production cycle."

Wondering what could possibly require my turning away, I didn't question and just did so. I felt him come directly behind me and squat slightly in order to position his crotch under my butt. Reaching one of his arms under mine, he pinned my torso to his own, placed his mouth next to my ear and whispered "going up."

I felt my feet leave the floor as he came out of the squat and straightened his legs. Rather than the several inches that I was expecting, however, we just continued upward. I looked down to see his quads ballooning out on both sides of my own pressing my own legs outward and slightly into the space between them. I adjusted myself on my makeshift seat and felt it also swell under me. He pulled a little more snugly and giggled quietly. When my head was several feet higher than it had been, I tried to gather a look at the rest of him. I was obviously hampered by the angle, but I could make out that his chest was now at least as broad as my shoulders and very nearly cleared them. I was amazed that he was able to keep the arm holding me as close as he was given that the other one now looked impossible swollen with muscle. I felt the power of him as he adjusted his stance and allowed his bulk to settle into place. Hearing his deep rumbling voice from up behind me, he asked I was enjoying the seat. I felt him swell a bit more and actually succeed in forcing my own legs apart. I then saw his enormous forearm come in over my own arm, and he reached for my crotch. Without effort, he palmed my crotch and started kneading my raging erection. Already weakened by the moment, I couldn't last and came forcefully, actually banging my head against his chest.

"Sorry about that," I said.

"Not a problem. Just testing my tolerances," he explained. I felt a more constricted as his chest expanded against the back of my head and the arm still pinning me to him swelled to the size of a beachball. "Most guys come on the first squeeze, though. I must be losing my touch."

With that he turned us both around toward the dance floor and started walking. He wasn't kidding before. Herded by waiters whose heads were now even with my abs, people were cleared in order to let him pass.

"Hmmm. Seems like your legs do a little too much bouncing, and they might hit someone," he said.

"I'm trying to keep them still," I offered.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to make some adjustments." I felt myself go up at least another foot. Looking down, I could see his legs and waist expanding to that of a solidly built powerlifter until my own legs were merely tossed between them as he stepped rather than being pushed out front.

We had almost made it to the far side of the dance floor when he gave me the next set of instructions. "I'm going to slide you down now. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you need to step away, turn around and give me a big hug."

"Hug?" I asked.

"Deep down, I'm really just a big softie," he chuckled. "Honestly, it's just so I can make final adjustments. I'm not supposed to fraternize too much, but stop by and say 'hi' later on. I'll be near the back restrooms."

"I somehow don't think that finding you will be a problem."

"Ready to go?"

I nodded and felt myself being guided down over the outward sweep of his massive thigh. He let go and let me drop the last foot or so to the floor. Recovering quickly, I took a step away and turned around and quickly grabbed out for his leg in order to hug it. In the small time it had taken me to step and turn, he had already started growing more. I grabbed out for his monstrous thigh and wrapped my arms around it. Feeling it harden and flex even more, I wasn't surprised to feel my hands being pushed apart and downward. When it finally became apparent that I could not hold on, I stepped back and looked up at him. Even compared to the dancers, this guy was enormous. He took a couple of breaths and smiled down at me. Giving my the thumbs up as a sign of thanks, he turned and thudded off to his post at the restrooms.

I, on the other hand, felt a bit ashamed at not having paid more attention to where we were going. I quickly scanned the floor (more specifically - the several feet of space above everyone's heads) to see what was going on. •

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