|One of the perks of my job is that I get the chance to travel. New places, new gyms, new musclemen to morph. Although the towns change, the gyms still hold the typical range of men, gymnast's size to linebacker-size, my favorite among them of course being -- Fanta-size.
I was in San Jose recently, and though the song makes it sound as if a visit would be interesting, the only items of note were the eye-candy at the local Gold's. One in particular worked at the front desk. He was 5'6" latin with blond streaks running through his spiked hair. We struck up a conversation, and he asked if I competed. I just laughed. I also learned that he was gearing up for a show in a couple of months. Hmmm, my particular area of expertise. I waited until he was making a clean-up round of the place to begin.
The last place on his rounds was the locker room. I entered shortly thereafter and made the time slip; he was using a stall at the moment and was unaware that we were the only two left in the place.
I did have the decency to wait until he was finished to begin my work on him. I heard him groan in pain as the first wave hit him. I usually like to watch their expressions as this is happening, but my loathe for cramped quarters was about to play out with him. Still thinking he was in a crowded gym, he opted to crouch/sit and let the spasm subside, only I saw to it that this wouldn't happen soon.
His moans grew deeper and more gutteral. The only indicators of his progress were his feet, which contorted in an attempt to remain in his sneakers. Size eventually won out as his feet literally exploded through the seams in the base of both shoes. The other disadvantage of not being able to see him was that I wasn't exactly sure of how much response he was showing. I could only guess that he was still sitting, but was now required to keep his forearms crossed across his thighs in an effort to fit between the narrow stall walls.
His breathing became heavier and more labored, as if consciously trying to remain concealed. With as much noise as he was making, he probably felt comfortably alone enough to relax his arms a bit. Feeling a bit of the restraints loosening, I re-doubled my efforts. I soon heard the sound of the wood screws straining to release themselves from their fittings in the aluminum support rails. I could actually see the particle board walls showing the first sign of stress by bowing out, against the pressure of his growing shoulders and arms.
Realizing that he wasn't going to remain hidden much longer, I could tell by the tension in his calves that he was preparing to make a stand, I helped him all I could. The walls didn't stand a chance as he hunched his shoulders in. As he stood I increased their width and watched as the walls partially split and were partially carried up with him. Realizing now the full extent of his new size, he just looked over the stall door at his reflection and moaned "OH, YEAH!"
I watched as the door was blasted open by a double punch from his mammoth fists. Ducking his head slightly under the aluminum top rail, he prepared to exit what was left of the stall. Although he could have turned sideways and (barely) made it, he apparently wanted to make a complete job of the destruction. He crossed his forearms in front of him in an attempt to wedge his shoulders through. Satisfied that they wouldn't pass but were as far as they would go. He flexed his arms back in a rowing fashion to force the aluminum rails to yield to his new bulk. Urged on by the sound of the straining metal, I helped him out a bit as he mutilated what was left of his former place of privacy.
Still mesmerized by his reflection in the mirror, he crossed the small space for a better look. I used this time to appraise my own work as well. He was gigantic. His Gold's uniform shirt still clung around his neck, but all three buttons of the polo had burst open in order to keep the collar around his neck. The lower hem exposed his massive abdominals. The sleeves and yolk, of course, had yielded completely to his new arm and shoulder mass. The sleeve fabric now lay loosely across the top of his delts and were torn open down to the base of his fully exposed and pumped lats. Also through the 'armholes' the outer curves of his chest could be seen, heaving excitedly at their new dimensions.
His shorts appeared to be painted on to his thighs. Although he had gained considerable size in them, he was apparently disappointed at the lack of give in the fabric. Stepping forward onto his right foot, he started swinging the mass of muscle back and forth, gearing up for a stage pose of rippling quads. Not wanting to further disappoint him, I waited until the full 'pop' of the pose to hit him again. Satisfied with the ripping of the fabric up the side of his leg, he took the pose into an overhead abdominal, wherein I widened and thickened his lats to the point tearing through the remaining size seams of the shirt. Feeling more pumped, he immediately dropped his arms into a most muscular, which he then became. Seeing his traps swelling and further separating the collar on his shirt, he then relaxed, stood up panting, and noticed me standing behind him.
"Think you're ready for your contest now?" I smiled.
"You responsible for this?"
I explained that I was, and although I normally don't allow destructive tendencies in my morphs, I made an exception in this case. No more, however, was to be allowed.
"Fine with me," he said, examining his sweaty body, "but I could use a shower to rinse all this dust and crap off of me."
Since we were already in the locker room, I saw no reason to deny this. "Sure, but you have to promise that I can help, even in the places you can still reach."
With that he rid himself of the remaining pieces of cloth clinging to his body. He then crossed over to me and, pinning me to his side with one hand, rid me of mine with his other. "I can see you're as excited by this body as I am."
I tried to contain my excitement as he carried me to the showers. I wasn't easy while being jolted into his muscle at every thudding step. Having his own erection swinging in time and hitting my leg with a solid 'THUMP' every other step didn't help.
The shower was an orgasmic experience. He was contented to flex himself as I did overtime soaping and massaging his enormous body. We permitted ourselves a leisurely long rinsing, after which he reached down and grabbed my waist with both hands. "Now we clean the most important part," he said as he lifted my hips to his mouth and engulfed my rigid cock with a single gulp. I kept my arms massaging his enormous biceps the entire time. Although barely exerting effort, they still pulsed in rhythm to his thrusts, thus adding to our mutual pleasure. Finally, I gave forth with a tremendous spasm, rocking even his massive frame, albeit slightly. He put me down and, gesturing to his own member, said "your turn."
"Maybe later," I responded non-chalantly, hardly believing that I was turning this down. Other plans, I guess.
The drying off was uneventful save for the number of towels it took to dry his bulk and for the places he was too large to reach. As always, I was only too happy to oblige.
We made our way to the empty gym floor and he surveyed the place carefully, trying to determine where to start. "Not much in here to challenge this body."
"Then why don't I take you up on your earlier offer?" I asked, referring to the raincheck on the blowjob.
"If you think you're up to it."
A challenge, perhaps? I played it off by saying, "well, I probably won't be able to lift you like you did me . . . " Who was I kidding? I knew damn well what was in store for him, but he didn't. I loosened my jaw and took all 12 inches of him with one gulp. His moans informed me that his attention was on one thing only.
I was massaging his thighs at the onset just to have my hands close to his hips. I then started in a rare indulgence, morphing myself. He was barely aware of the increasing size of my hands on his thighs as my body quickly filled out to his own proportions. I had to readjust my stance several times to keep on my feet and my head at the level of his cock. When I felt I was ready, I pressed upward from my squat, taking him up with me.
"Holy Shit, what's going on?" as he realized that I was, indeed, quite 'up to' satisfying his needs and mine -- and getting more up to it with the passing seconds. Without regard for the aesthetics of my body, I rapidly increased my mass level. My arms swelled and fought with my jutting pectorals to keep hold of him in front of me, his own thighs brushing my chest and increasing my excitement. He was apparently becoming more excited as well, if his attempts to massage the thickening mass of my bull's neck. I could tell he was going to give soon, which was all the better as I glanced up and saw his head nearing the 18 foot warehouse ceiling.
Almost screaming, he came with violent bursts, which my massive frame easily absorbed. Allowing him to catch his breath, I shifted my hands to his wing-like lats and brought him down to eye-level. His feet were still over 4 feet off the ground, which meant that I had blown myself up to somewhere between 12 and 13 feet of gargantuan muscle.
He came around in a moment and, apparently not minding that he was still dangling, looked briefly into my eyes and lunged forward to kiss me. I pulled him over the protrusion of my own chest and fully returned the pleasure. Keeping hold of his lats, I figured it was time we were on equal footing and started catching him up to me. We continued our kissing for as long as our massive bodies would allow. As his feet hit the ground, all we could do was hold each others waists, our respective bulging chests separating our mouths by 2 or 3 feet. Any attempt to pull the other closer simply forced the flexing mass to push us further apart.
Quads straddling quads, cocks fully erect and pinned up between our abs, and pec to massive pec, we both knew the only way to fully access each other was lying down. Making our way to the open stretching area, we did just that. Two fully pumped behemoths hit the ground with seismic force and continued what was now impossible standing. I could only gauge our size by the fact that, when on his back, I couldn't see the top of the machines nearby. Our largest dilemma was whether to kiss or hold each other, as no amount of writhing could allow this to occur simultaneously. I continued to fill us out up in our excitement, sure now that neither one of us could fully stand in the gym. I don't think we cared, either.
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