The co-worker didn't protest. Although he had never even contemplated having sex with a man, there he was, so totally engrossed at being fucked that he didn't even know where he was anymore. I came to realize over time that we were all imbued with that same kind of seductive power. We could take anyone we wanted, anytime, anywhere. That co-worker eventually became housemate number six. A few weeks after the office incident, he had stopped having sex with women. Months later, after his transformation became complete, they found him on the doorstep.

The virus, I learned, could only infect on men. Since women couldn't become hosts, the virus considered them a dead end, and kept us from wasting our time with them by making them unattractive to us. It never interfered with our sessions amongst ourselves, because the virus had a group mind. Spreading between bodies in sex between infected people was the way it socialized with the different parts of itself in other bodies. It was so plugged in to the minds and bodies of its hosts, it got off on the pleasure we created for each other as much as we did. It continually found new ways of adapting our bodies to enhance our pleasure.

The commune in the Haight I had discovered was just one place we were concentrated. I soon learned there were others. A few of them were in San Francisco, but there were more in Los Angeles and New York. Men of independent means, who used their money to support the rest of us, owned each of them.

Frank, who really had gotten bigger and sexier since I first met him four months ago, introduced me to some of the others in the house. Aaron was the name of the black man I found meditating in the attic. He really had been floating in mid air, too. In him the virus had developed all sorts of psychokinetic powers. Among them were levitation, telepathy and induction of psychedelic states in others.

Clint and Antonio were the only others home that night. We caught them en flagrante delicto in the conservatory as Frank showed me around the house. Clint was a sandy-haired blond with a golden brown tan. Antonio was a dark-haired Italian with pencil thin mustache and a hairy chest.

When Frank opened the door on them he tried to continue the house tour, but words started to fail him. He couldn't take his eyes off them, and neither could Aaron or I. In a few seconds our dicks were hard again and we were joining in. It was as though none of us had had sex in weeks. With such an excess of sexual enthusiasm and so many partners to work with, it was several hours before we had exhausted ourselves enough to sleep.

When I woke up I was alone in the house. I fixed myself an enormous breakfast and drank a half pot of coffee over the morning paper. I borrowed a pair of jeans and an immense polo shirt that just fit around my shoulders, arms and chest. I couldn't have gone to work if I'd wanted to, since I didn't have a suit that came close to fitting. Instead, I decided to go to the gym and try out my increased strength. Rather than freak out the people who knew me at the gym I belonged to with my overnight growth, I chose a bodybuilder's gym in the Mission. I knew I wouldn't blend in anywhere, but I wouldn't stand out quite as much there.

The first thing I tried was the bench press. I loaded the bar with four 45-pound plates on each side. Four hundred and five pounds was about fifty pounds heavier than heaviest weight I had used for reps last week. Lifting it was like lifting just the bar. I put another five 45-pound plates on each side. The four or five other guys in the gym in the late morning stared. No one benched that much weight. I pumped out ten reps with ease. Again, it didn't seem like there were any plates on the bar at all. I had a smile on my face that stretched from ear to ear. Nothing short of sex felt so good.

I stood straddling the bench and curled the bar. It weighed 855 pounds and felt light as a feather. The guys explained it to me later, but apparently the virus increased our muscle strength out of proportion to either the increase in size or bodyweight. The composition of the muscle cells changed so that cell for cell the muscle was stronger. It was plain that I wasn't going to get a real workout with standard weight equipment any more. Luckily we didn't need to workout to maintain our bodies.

I walked across the room to the stationary bikes. Even with the resistance set at maximum I could pedal faster than the speedometer measured. My legs were practically a blur, but everything else in the room seemed to slow down. People walking by took minutes to complete a step. The second hand on the clock stopped. I slowed down my pedaling when the machine started to feel too warm. After a half-hour at a regular pace I wasn't even winded, but my heart rate elevated a little. Blood rushed through my veins and I felt wonderful.

I had to pass the bench press again to get back to the locker room. I recognized the man loading it up. He was a professional bodybuilder whose picture had been in all the magazines in the last year. He was only about 5'8", but he was built like a tank. In fact that was his professional nickname, "Tank". No matter how much he shaved, he always had a five o'clock shadow. That summer posters of him had sprouted all around the Castro. I didn't think he lived in San Francisco, but maybe he was visiting. I was sure he hadn't been in the gym during my earlier exhibition at the bench press.

Our eyes locked as I got closer, and I saw him react to my body with awe. I stopped next to the bench. The silence made him uncomfortable. He asked me to spot for him. He had some respectable poundage on the bar, about 450. I stood at the head of the bench. His eyes strayed to the obscene bulge in my gym shorts. He pulled himself together and positioned his hands. On the count of three I eased the bar into place above his chest. He did eight slow, smooth reps on his own and two more with my help. He failed completely when he went for one more. When I set the bar back into place his prodigious chest was heaving. He was wearing a tank top and I could see the veins bulge on his pecs. I could see the stubble on chest too, from where he had recently shaved it. My dick swelled a bit at the sight. I hadn't planned to talk to him, but the virus kept me from walking away and took control of my voice.

"Mind if I work in?" I heard myself ask.

"Be my guest," he said.

We traded places. I knew from my previous experience that the weight he was pushing wouldn't begin to challenge me, but I decided not to show him up too badly. I knew if you lifted even a light weight slowly and deliberately it would give you a pump, and that was all I needed for my purpose. I put another 45-pound plate on each side, took off my shirt and lay down on the bench. He positioned the weight for me and I pushed out twelve slow reps. When I set the weight back down, my chest was completely engorged with blood. The largest veins in my arms popped out. They were as thick as ropes and squirming like snakes. I looked up at my spotter, but he didn't even see my face. He couldn't take his eyes off my arms. When I sat up I could see his reflection in the mirror staring at the width of my back. His mouth gaped. I stood and turned to face him. His eyes were on my bare chest now and my freaky brick-like abs.

"I need to take a break," I told him. "Would you like to join me?"

He nodded.

I led him into the locker room. I rolled his tank top up over his pecs. His dick was as hard as it could get trapped inside a jock strap. I pulled down his shorts and jock strap to free it. I pulled on it and it filled completely with blood. Tank's dilated eyes were wondering all over my body now. I lead him into the toilet and locked the door, then I knelt at his dick. It was about eight inches long and as thick as the base of a beer bottle. It was big for a mere mortal. It wasn't going to reach that hot spot in my throat, but there were still plenty of options for pleasuring us both. My own dick had expanded out over the top of my shorts and past my abs. The sight of it made Tank gasp. He gasped again when I wrapped my lips and my tongue around his dick and took my first slow tug along its length. As my tongue rolled off the tip of it, pre-cum oozed out the slit. Before he could relax I wolfed it down to the base and inhaled deeply, sucking it like a vacuum cleaner. The muscles in his groin strained and he roared. I enjoyed his reaction so much my dick squirted a few drops of pre-cum. I reached my arm up to prop him up by his chest then picked up the pace of my strokes. He moaned. His knees started to weaken. Tank grabbed my head tightly with both his hands to hold himself up. My neck muscles were so strong it didn't affect me in the least. I slipped my long tongue out under his prick and licked his balls. He jerked. On the next stroke I slipped it past his balls and into his ass. The sensation was so unexpected it sent him over the edge. Tank pulled at my head and I let him yank it into his groin. I sucked extra hard again and pulled stream after stream of cum out of his cock.

I stood up. Tank's eyes were moist with tears. As we kissed I slid my cum-coated tongue into his mouth. I took his tank top off, slipped off my tennis shoes, and climbed out of my shorts. Tank bent over and sucked on the head of my giant prick. He grabbed the shaft with both his hands and spread his saliva along its length. I was determined to fuck him before we were finished, but I didn't see any reason to rush it. I leaned back against the wall and let him have some fun. Besides, just fondling my dick was making him hard again. He took about six inches of it into his mouth, which amazed me, considering how thick it was. What he lacked in oral abilities, he made up for with this enthusiasm and his handwork. And it didn't hurt that I was so oversexed by then that I could cum a quart just by thinking dirty. Before long my balls drew tight to my groin and I shot down his throat. The first shot hit the back of his throat with such force that he was taken by surprise. He fought back a gag and swallowed as much as he could. The rest seeped out around his lips and ran down my dick. He got all the next few shots down his throat, but eventually he couldn't keep up. He spewed the excess out and lubricated my prick with it, milking the last few volleys out with his hands.

I was still so horny I could hardly see straight. I lifted Tank up by the bottom of his ass and set him on the counter. Tank was in no condition to struggle. His glazed eyes were wild with lust. I put his legs on my shoulders and drove my cum-greased prick up his ass in one thrust. It knocked the breath out of him. I drew back about half my length and plowed in again. He moaned. A couple more strokes and he grabbed his own dick with one hand and rubbed his nipples with the other. "Ooh, yeah! Fuck me! No one's ever fucked me that deep before!" he whined.

I grinned and tightened the muscle at the base of my dick. I clenched my eyes shut and willed my dick longer. With each thrust I could feel it grow. To prove it to myself, I started full strokes, pulling even the head out. Seventeen inches! Eighteen inches! Nineteen inches! Twenty inches! I put my ham-sized hands on his massive shoulders and held Tank steady and tight as I reamed his ass. His tongue went slack and his eyes stared straight through me. I pushed his limp hand away from his dick and stroked it myself. His abs tensed and he came so hard that the cum shot over his head. I laughed. But with his impossibly stretched ass clenching around the base of my dick, I didn't laugh long. My cock was already so hot it felt like it was on fire. Seeing Tank soak his hot shaved chest in his own cum did me in. I screamed and shot a long hard squirt deep inside his ass. I pulled out everything but the head of my dick and shoved back in, gushing the whole length of the stroke. It felt so great I repeated the long stroke and came even harder on the next one. Instead of slackening, my shots were becoming more intense. I pulled halfway out and grabbed the base of my dick, jacking it with my fist and milking the next few shots out into Tank's butt. Then I took up fucking him again, still shooting on every thrust. Finally the intensity subsided a bit. I wrapped his thick thighs high around my waist. My dick was so long that I could still get three quarters of it in his ass. I slowed my pace a bit, though. My dick had softened a bit and I concentrated on the slick silky smooth sensation of it sliding around inside his ass as I squirted the last few volleys inside him. I pulled out and let my long dick flop down against my leg, then collapsed against Tank's chest.

I think we may have dozed off a few minutes in that position. I opened my eyes and Tank was looking at my body again. His dick wasn't hard yet; we had given it a more thorough workout than that. But it was filling out. He smiled broadly at me.

"You are fuckin' unreal!" he said. "How come I've never seen you before? You're way bigger than Arnold or Ferrigno! Don't you compete?" "I just started lifting last year," I said. In the last couple days, during my sudden growth spurts, my voice had become so deep that it often turned me on to hear myself speak. My dick jerked a bit against my leg.

"Yeah, sure. Last year! Well, if you ever start competing, the rest of us are through! Do you live here in San Francisco?"

"Yeah."

"I'm only here for the weekend. I'm guest posing at the Mr. California contest in San Jose tomorrow night. I love to get your phone number, though! Posing in front of an audience makes me horny as hell!" I didn't have the phone number of the house in the Haight, so I gave him the number of the phone in my apartment. It didn't matter. It was best for me to leave him alone a few months until the virus got a foothold. He'd be ready to join the brotherhood soon enough. I could wait. I wondered how long he'd stay in bodybuilding after he was transformed. Maybe he'd be the one of us that blew everyone else in the sport away.

After a sponge bath in the sink, Tank went back out on the gym floor to finish his workout. I showered and got dressed. I was happy to see my dick had returned to its "normal" size -- twelve inches soft. Twenty was great for a special fuck, but it could get unwieldy to be that big every time. It still filled out the front of my husky sized jeans in a way that couldn't be ignored by even the casual observer. It was like having a couple softballs and a small garden hose stuffed down my pants. I realized I must have been driving half the people I saw crazy with lust and the other half crazy with envy. •