As I pulled over to the side of the deserted California highway, I was able to get another look at the chippie pulling me over. "Shit" was quickly replaced with "Holy Shit!" as I saw him walking up in the rearview. He had pulled of his helmet to reveal a beautiful crew cut of blond hair with a physique typically pictured on those "Welcome to California" postcards. You know ñ the ones with the mythically built models posing in uniforms handing out tickets to some unlucky schlump. Unluckier still that they wouldn't stand a chance at the officer in charge.

"ID, please," he said, not even bending to look through the window of the Cherokee.

"Damn," I thought to myself. My chance at the winner of the Scott Klein look-alike contest and he happens to have his pecs thrust into the window of my car waiting for my driver's license. I finally handed him the license, but I reached over myself with my right arm in order to force him to reach further than he normally would have. Who do they get to fit those uniforms so well?

I watched his muscled ass in the rearview as he returned to his bike to run the number. I noticed that there were no seams showing through on his ass and wondered if they wore any underwear at all.

He took his time returning to the window, which gave me a little time to clear my head and rearrange myself. It had definitely been too long.

"Do you have any idea how fast you were . . ." he said, trailing off in mid-sentence. I looked over and saw that he had grabbed the window ledge to keep himself from fainting. His shirt was also noticeably tighter than before. Oh, shit, that wasn't supposed to happen. Guess I wasn't guarding my intentions well enough.

I swear I didn't mean to do that, but what could I do? How would this look on a report? Could I reverse it before he fully realizes . . .

"Damn, that feels fucking great," he said crunching his pecs together against the straining buttons of his shirt.

Guess the reversal bit is out of the question. Since I was already way too late to make my other meeting, I decided I would take a little time with this one, although it was probably illegal to interfere with an officer performing his duty like this.

Letting loose a few more of my inhibitions about him, I watched through the window as he continued to flex/curl his biceps. That being as good a place as any, I added several more inches to his upper body mass within a short space of about 30 seconds, savoring the look on his face as his tightening sleeves climbed up higher onto his delts and split open through the seam under his arm.

Not waiting to see if anything else would change, he rushed around to the front of the Jeep. Squatting down so that I could only see his grinning face as his chin rested on the hood, I was wondering what he was trying to do. Then the entire front end of the car was lifted off the ground. He was actually deadlifting the front of a Jeep Cherokee! Then he smiled even bigger and I saw his face disappear as the car was raised even higher. Up and down it was lifted several more times. Not only was he able to lift the front end, but he was now apparently curling it as well.

I was having a hard time with my cock as it struggled to get out of my pants, so I jumped out my door and made my way around front. Barely breaking a sweat, he finished another few reps and set the car down when he saw me standing there.

"Sorry about that, I just couldn't resist seeing what these arms could do. Have you ever seen anything so fucking freaky?"

If he only knew, but he was definitely about to find out. "Not a problem," I responded.

"I mean, really, I've heard about these strange alien experiments and shit, but I never thought this would be one of them. I wonder if it will last, or if anything else will happen?"

"Just a minute there, officer . . ."

"Grosse, with an ëe'"

"Well then, officer Grosse, it wasn't an alien experiment. I did this to you." I quickly then gave him a run-down of the house rules; no violence or damage, physical size and ego are the major players in this game, and we could go as long as he wanted.

"So there's more," he asked.

"Only if you're willing to tolerate my insatiable apetite for big guys."

"I don't want to tolerate anything less from you. I've been trying to keep my cool about you ever since you flew by at 80+mph, and this uniform doesn't hide much."

Tracing my arm up the back of his tricep and into the ripped seams of the sleeve, I said "it hides even less now, and in a couple of minutes you'll be lucky to hide at all."

Getting ready for the next round, he unfastened his belt and holster to carefully lay aside his gun. He then reached down to start to remove his boots, but I wasn't about to let that happen. I hit him with the next wave in full force, and his posture went rigidly erect as his body erupted around him.

It's amazing how much additional mass can be accommodated by a larger man's frame. I watched as his shirt crept up several inches to reveal his beautiful brick wall abdomen, which was already heavily shadowed by the pectoral shelf above. The buttons on his shirt gave way starting with the second and third one down from the top where his chest mass came in at its roundest.

The shoulders widened, pulling the torn sleeves higher and finally stopping fully atop a gorgeous set of delts the size of bowling balls. The top button came away with a grin as he inhaled to expand his chest to its fullest capacity. At that point the fourth button was struggling to come up over the base of his chest, being pulled up with the rest of the shirt as his trapezius swelled and filled the area under his ears, nearly pinning his head in an upward gaze.

His back and arms came into their own as they pressed against each other, neither one of which giving much regard to the seams splitting by their turf war.

His legs were straining to be free of the olive cloth of his uniform. I watched as the mass of his thighs expanded to twice their previous size. The sweep of his outer thigh tearing out of the yellow striping on the seams in the process. Forget the teardrop of a normal bodybuilder, this thigh had produced an entire well of quivering muscle holding relaxed above the knee. Taking it all in, he let the mass sway erotically slowly before ëpopping' the pose into place.

Having not allowed him to remove his boots had provided for some very interesting growth noises in that area. I could tell his calves were struggling to rip through the walls of leather enclosing them, and the noise was that of a piece of slowly stretching rubber. Finally, the strain gave as his calves exploded through the sides of the boots.

Looking him over, I would have placed him at about 6'8" and 450 pounds of muscle.

Looking himself over, he would have placed himself the easy winner of every muscle tournament in existence if his facial expression were any indicator. Rumbling with the volume of his new size, he reached for his crotch, looked down at me and said "Fuck, yea. Why don't you come over and help me release this last bit of straining clothing."

Rarely one to pass that invite up, I made my way over to him and buried my face in his pecs, tracing my way down to his crotch. I was massaging his member through the cloth with my mouth when he reached down and stopped me.

"Something wrong?"

"Maybe we should get away from the asphalt before we let this get any further."

Wondering whether he didn't want to be seen or if he was just concerned about the sensitive skin of my knees, I made my way around the front of the truck.

"Just a minute," he called after me. I looked back to see that he had stopped at the front bumper and was reaching down for it.

"You already know that you can lift it," I said.

"Yeah, but how about this," he responded as he proceeded to re-position the car in his right hand while fully facing me at the side of the road. He then proceeded with his curling exercises single-armed. Lifting his left arm into a monstrous display of a single front biceps, he laughed and said "how about a photo of this for the folks that run the magazines? Headline reads ëMan so massive that he outgrows ordinary gym equipment.'"

I smiled and thought that I really prefer the men when they outgrow the gym, too.

"Get over here so I can finish the job I started," and then to myself "and keep going with the other one as well."

Laughing at his new size, he made his way over to where I was waiting in the dirt of the California desert. "Now, where was I," I mused softly "Oh, yeah, removing the last of these clothes." I re-buried my face in his chest as I reached up and around his back, excited to realize that my elbows bent in and around them at the perfect angle to massage his middle back under the tatters of his uniform. Reaching up a bit higher, I grabbed a handful of the fabric with each hand and started tearing down at it.

Not stopping my devotion to the massive sweep of his outer pecs, I reveled as the cloth I was pulling down in the back uncovered more of him in the front. He continued to moan and flex for me as I worked him with hands and mouth from both sides. The pressure on his crotch felt like he had a softball stuffed in them pressing outward onto my lower abs. His member was prevented from snaking downward on his leg by the tight cut of the fabric over the top of his thighs. Undoubtedly a less than comfortable situation, I went about silently relieving these stresses in the most convenient method ñ overwhelming them with more pressure.

He knew immediately what was happening and moaned in agreement as he felt my tongue drop lower on his chest, tracing first the outer curve, then the gumdrop sized nipples, and finally upward onto the crevice of his pectoral shelf. "Fuck, yea . . . More . . . almost there," he rumbled. I felt the pressure on my abdomen increasing as his member fought to free itself of the last constraint the uniform held on him. Realizing that his thrusting was pushing me away from him and that it might slow his progress, he enveloped me in muscle as he reached both arms around my own head and down my back. I finally reached my own climax as he flexed himself around me. This triggered the final push of his own aching member through the soaked fabric and upward between us, its throbbing in sync with his rapidly beating heart. I lost no time in taking as much of it as I could while using my hands to massage the rest of its length. It didn't take long before I felt him tense all around me i! ! n preparation for the rush of cum that issued forth, covering my face and his abdomen in the process.

Breathing heavily, he carefully pulled away from me to more fully examine the most recent changes in his physique, although capitol letters might be more appropriate to use in this situation. He was magnificent. The entirety of his 8' frame was glistening with the sweat of our encounter. The luster of his golden hair and tanned body added to the image of a glowing muscle god standing with his chest heaving in the California sun.

"After that I could definitely use a bit of rest," he said. Stepping over to a good-sized rock, he proceeded to lay himself down fully naked onto the dirt, using the rock as a prop for his head. I went over to join him and lay myself down nestled very comfortably between his arm and torso, availing myself the use of his chest to serve as my headrest. I continued to massage his other pec and abs with my free hand until he moaned himself gently to sleep.

Carefully making my way back to my Jeep, I reached into my bag and pulled out a spare pair of briefs for him to wear when he woke up. I'm sure that ride back on a motorcycle would probably be quite chilly even with those on. Making my way over to where he lie sleeping, I placed the underwear in proximity to him. Setting an auto-reverse morph to return him to his normal size (well, almost normal) over the next few hours, he would simply awaken and wonder what had happened,

Back to my car I went, wondering if there might be still be time to keep my original date. After all, I'd been practicing. •