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Jerry Johnson and the Muscle

By Josef Howard
(c) 2001

Chapter One: The Contest
Under his bed covers Jerry fantasized about his godfather, Woody. He put his hands inside his jockey shorts and felt himself swell and get hard. He imagined Woody laying his thickly muscled arm on his shoulders. He thought about how much he wanted to touch Woody back. He fantasized about undressing him and seeing his muscled, hairy body naked, in private, where he could demonstrate his appreciation for it enthusiastically. His hands began to caress his teenage hard-on.

When Jerry had first come to live with Woody as a little boy, after his parents died in a car accident, Woody had been a top competitive bodybuilder. Although Jerry hadn’t yet reached puberty then, seeing his godfather without his shirt, or even his veiny bicep in a short-sleeved shirt, had given Jerry a boner and made him tingle so much he could hardly think. After Jerry had started to grow hair around his dick, he constantly masturbated to the mental image of Woody -- and he had to masturbate a lot, or he wouldn’t have been able to live in the same house with Woody without springing a stiffy and sounding stupid whenever Woody asked him to pass the ketchup.

Woody had dropped out of competition a few years ago and went back to teaching high school, but he still kept most of his outrageous size, even though the pressures of a normal job had taken off some of the edge of his hardness and definition.

As Jerry got older and figured out he wasn’t attracted to girls, his crush on his godfather only got more intense. Sometimes in the summer, when Woody slept in the nude outside the covers, Jerry snuck into his room at night and watched him in the moonlight, thrilling every time Woody moved in his sleep, his muscles tensing under his taut, thin skin.

Woody lying like that, his dick swelling sometimes, was what Jerry thought about now as his stroked his long, thin boy dick in dawn’s glow.

Lately Jerry had started working out himself, and he had put on a few pounds, but he was still a slender boy with a light coating of baby fat between his smooth skin and his rounded muscles.

The intensity of Jerry’s wacking reached its peak. He panted as quietly as he could to avoid being heard by Woody in the next room. Then, release. In wild spasms of ecstasy he poured his copious load on his legs and the sheets. He had just finished wiping himself up with yesterday’s underwear when the door to his room opened.

“Hey, Jerry. Get this,” his godfather, Woody wasn’t even looking at him as he entered the room. His was reading a rolled up magazine with his glasses on. He was already dressed and eating breakfast. “American Anabolix is having a contest. They put this new, miracle bodybuilding compound in five bottles of their protein drink, Explode! and the five people who find the bottles get a trip to the factory that makes the stuff.”

By now Jerry had tossed his underwear under the bed while his godfather was looking at the ad. He had recovered most of his breath. “How do you know you have one of the winning bottles?” Jerry asked.

“That’s the thing. They say in the ad that the stuff is so potent it instantly packs on up to fifty pounds of muscle --”

-- Jerry felt his dick twitch and start to harden again at the thought of it --

“—but in any case, they put a gold star on the inside of the bottle cap so the winners can claim their factory tour. And one of the five winners will be chosen to be a life-time spokesmodel for the new product,” Woody finally looked at Jerry, who was sliding up to sit in bed and adjusting the sheets to hide his hard-on. “Hey, Jerr, wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants for your training program? Putting on about five years of muscle in ten minutes?”

“You think it’s real?” Jerry asked as he tried to keep from blushing.

“Lots a crazy stuff is happening. They can clone animals, genetically engineer plants. If this stuff isn’t real, it’s only a matter of time before someone else makes something that is.”

Woody’s eyes turned back to the magazine and Jerry used the opportunity to slide out from under the covers and pull on a pair of blue jeans before he padded off to the bathroom to clean-up.

“Hey, Jerr. I’m going to pick some of the stuff up tonight after work and bring it home. We both use protein drinks anyway. I could buy a case of it, and we might get lucky.”

Jerry thought it was odd that his godfather, a guy who just barely got by on his school teacher’s salary, would consider buying a case of expensive supplements they couldn’t afford. (Woody had never made much money as a bodybuilder. The good drugs were expensive, especially in the doses the pros took. By the time he quit, he’d been deeply in debt.) Usually their budget forced them both to rely mostly on good old-fashioned food for their bodybuilding. Maybe his godfather wasn’t as complacent about getting older and losing his edge as Jerry had thought he was. Jerry sure wouldn’t mind finding one of the bottles, even if it worked only half as well as advertised.

When Woody came home after school and his normal two hour workout, he had not one, but five cases of Explode! in the car. That night the two of them opened every bottle and checked the caps, but none of them was marked with a gold star.

Around the country, news of the discovery of winning bottles began to hit the papers. The first man who found a winning bottle, Javier Zardaga, had himself video taped as he drank it. Soon Javier’s tape was playing in what seemed like an endless loop on news programs and fluffy entertainment journals, several of which featured stories of the winners flexing and mugging for the cameras. One of the other winners had already been a professional bodybuilder who became so large he weighed over 300 pounds, even though he was only five foot ten inches tall. Another winner had been a big gay porn star – big in more ways than one, Jerry knew, because he had “borrowed” a video tape of his films from Woody one Saturday when Woody had been out of town. Even the smallest of them seemed huge to Jerry, big and lean as professional bodybuilders, and plainly more well-endowed. That was a detail neither Jerry nor his godfather talked about, but the formula clearly had an effect on things other than muscle tissue. Javier’s genitals weren’t visible in the transformation video on the news, but it was obvious that it caused extra hair to grow on his body. And the way he packed and filled out the posing trunks he wore on the entertainment shows when he exhibited his physique, it was pretty obvious that his genitals were two or three times larger than the average man.

Jerry and Woody intensified their dragnet for a winning bottle. Woody charged an unused credit card to the maximum buying cases of the protein drink from stores all over the state. But after all the cases are opened, they still hadn’t found a winning bottle.

They went to bed dejected, but in the morning, Woody went to the grocery store to buy a gallon of milk, because ironically after buying all those protein drinks, they still had nothing in the refrigerator for breakfast. When Jerry unpacked the brown paper bag, as his godfather shucked his jacket, he found two bottles of the protein drink with the milk.

He groaned. “Woody, I thought we had given up on this!”

“Hey, there’s still one winning bottle out there. I found an extra five dollars so I got ‘em,” Woody picked up the bottles. He handed one to Jerry. “Open it.”

Jerry twisted the cap. For an instant he left it on the bottle unscrewed. Then he picked it up lightly and flipped it over. In the center of the rubber liner was a bright, glittery gold star.

“Jesus Christ!” Woody said.

The two of them looked at each other blankly, and slowly cracked wide, open-mouthed grins.

“Finally!” Jerry said.

“Drink it, Jerry.”

Jerry looked at his godfather, the man he had lusted after since almost before his first memories, a man he loved now more than he loved his dead father.

“No. You drink it, Woody. Fifty extra pounds on me and I’ll just look good. On you it will look incredible. You can go back to competing again, maybe win even the Olympia.”

“No, Jerr. My day is done. You take it.” Woody steered Jerry’s outstretched hand, which held the last winning bottle, back towards his Jerry’s mouth.

Jerry loosened his belt, unbuttoned his shirt and downed the bottle in one long draught. Before the last gulp Jerry started to tremble and shake, and then, faster than either of them could see it happen, his muscles simply exploded like an airbag into a fantastic physique that burst through his loose clothing and left it wilted around his ankles like shed skin. Even his dick, though still soft, had swollen as thick as a rope and almost as long as his thigh.

“Holy shit!” Jerry exclaimed as he looked over his thick fibrous pecs, down his flat, stacked abs and over the sweeping contour of his bulging thighs. He tensed his right arm at his side and bent it slowly inward, watching it bunch and bulge. It was tight as a brick. He flipped his arms out to his sides and did a double bicep. Over his hugely round deltoids, he could see his arms swell like balloons almost ready to pop. The veins in his arms stood out as thick as fingers and pulsed.

Blood was rushing to another extremity too. His thick ropy cock was getting even thicker and levitating upward an inch every heartbeat.

Jerry’s godfather was visibly aroused at the sight of his young charge. Jerry had known his godfather was well endowed, but a tube of flesh almost a foot long was thickening along his thigh inside his loose fitting jeans. His eyes were dilated and his mouth hung open in awe. Jerry felt proud-to-bursting to see his long unrequited lust reciprocated. He suppressed a wide grin.

“Come feel these arms, Woody,” Jerry enthused. “I can’t believe this is all really me!”

Woody stood still. His cock was now fully hard and slithering up his leg toward full mast. He stepped closer and brushed his callused middle-aged hand on the arc of Jerry’s shoulder.

Jerry leaned to his lips and kissed him on the mouth. Woody last defense crumbled and he sucked back so hard Jerry’s heart jumped. The two of them embraced desperately.

Jerry dropped backward and pulled his godfather on top of him. Woody hoisted Jerry’s thick thighs, popped his boner loose from his jeans and forced it up his foster son’s virgin ass, dry. Jerry tensed at the searing pain, then relaxed. As Woody pumped him, Jerry began to enjoy the sensation of his godfather’s meat massaging him inside.

Woody was frantic with lust. Before Jerry could come, Woody exploded inside him, shaking and dripping with sweat. Jerry held him on top for a minute, feeling Woody’ heart beat through both their chests, then Woody pushed himself up, rested on his knees an instant, then started to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Jerry told him as he patted Woody thick, shivering arm. “You don’t know how many years I’ve wanted you to do that to me.”

“It’s wrong, Jerry. I’m like your father.”

“Not really. We’re not related by blood.”

“But your dad, Jerry. How would this make your dad feel? He was my best friend.”

“I know.”

“No. Not really. You don’t know everything. Your dad and I were lovers when we were younger, until he decided to settle down with your mom. After that the two of us never made love again. He never said anything, but I know he was ashamed of what we had and wanted to forget it. Except every so often, when we were in a group, when everyone else was talking among themselves, he’d give me this longing look when he didn’t think I could see his face.” Woody wiped salty tears from his face. “No, Jerry. He wouldn’t have approved of what I’ve done to his son.”

Jerry tilted Woody’s chin up and looked him in the eyes. Everything about Woody was sexy to Jerry, even now, when the scales had tilted so heavily in Jerry’s direction that he could have anyone.

“I don’t care what he would have thought,” Jerry said.

Jerry kissed Woody’ lips gently, then nibbled on them and licked his tongue. Jerry could feel the heat rise between them.

“Now finish the job,” Jerry said, as he pushed Woody’s mouth down on a cock much bigger than Woody’s own.

Woody opened wide and engulfed about half, then aligned his throat with Jerry’s cock and sucked up the rest. Jerry shouted, “Fuck, yeah!” His godfathers spongy tongue excited Jerry’s silk dick skin, and he was firing down his throat in less time than it had taken for Woody to finish his fuck.

Chapter Two: The Tour
When the two of them were recovered, physically if not emotionally, Woody read the fine print in the contest rules that came with one of the cases he had bought. It seemed that anyone younger than 21 who won the tour had to be escorted by a parent or legal guardian. Jerry was elated that he would be able to share some part of his prize with his godfather. Of course he had already “shared” the main part of his prize several times by then, but Jerry wanted to share more. He wanted to share his entire life with his godfather. Woody was still enthusiastic with their sex, but he was plainly bothered at its implications, and Jerry thought he seemed uneasy about the different in age between them. And maybe Woody didn’t love him, Jerry thought, at least in the same way he loved Woody. He told Woody that if he was chosen as spokesmodel, Woody could quit his teaching job and maybe open a gym, but Woody told him that if he won all the money was going into a trust fund for his education.

“Do you know how expensive four years at private college can be?” he asked rhetorically.

A black stretch limousine arrived in front of their house on the day they were taken to the tour. The driver insisted on blindfolding the two of them before they got in. The blindfolds remained, through a long drive into the country, until they were in sight of a large, smoke-belching industrial complex that looked more like an oil refinery than a supplement factory.

All of the men in the factory’s parking lot and the men who passed through the main entrance, from the lowliest clerk to mid-level managers, were built like brick shithouses.

“You suppose they get to sample the merchandise?” Jerry asked his godfather.

“Seems that way,” Woody said.

Jerry and his godfather couldn’t keep their eyes off them. Their heads spun around like dolls as they pointed out eye-popping stud after eye-popping stud to each other.

Inside the lobby, just inside the main factory door, Jerry and his godfather met the other winners for the first time. Jerry wasn’t sure if the other four winners really were assholes of if he was just predisposed to think that because one of them had taken what he thought was his godfather’s rightful place as a winner.

The professional bodybuilder, Wayne Ridgemont, had made the pro ranks a few years after Woody had retired. He recognized Woody and dissed him, calling him gramps and telling him he thought he had died already. Wayne had already been huge before his Explode! transformation, but now he was positively gargantuan. The only thing that had gotten smaller was the bloated, distended pro bodybuilder waist. It had tightened back down to a rock hard eight pack. Perhaps one of the reasons Jerry thought Wayne was obnoxious was his well desired reputation as a womanizing straight man.

Another of the winners, Randy, was an ex-gym rat, who obviously got off on how strong he had become since he found his magic bottle. As they waited in the lobby, he couldn’t stop demonstrating his strength, presumably to himself, since no one else was paying attention, by lifting heavy furniture. Randy had probably been one of those men at the gym who always lifted way more weight than he could handle, in terrible form, just so he could brag about how much he could lift.

As they all introduced themselves, Jerry met Javier, the first winner, the man from the news video. He didn’t seem so bad at first, but the more the six of them talked, the more apparent his vanity of his new found looks became. Jerry caught him looking at himself in all the lobby mirrors, even in window reflections.

The last of the five was the famous gay porn star, whose stage name was Rock Hard. He had been pretty muscular before, and his dick had been thick, if not incredibly long like some of his video partners, but now he was as big as Jerry in every way. He stared shamelessly at all the other men, especially Woody, which made Jerry especially jealous.

After a few minutes a handsome man in a custom suit cut as large as a tent to accommodate his physique came out of the elevator bay and greeted them. His chiseled cheeks and chin were dark with a half-day’s growth of dense dark beard. His turquoise eyes stunned Jerry whenever he glanced his way.

“My name is Bill. I’m going to be your tour guide today.”

He shook their hands and told them how happy he was to welcome them to American Anabolix.

“The five of you are about to embark on an incredible adventure. You’re going to see things even our most trusted executives have never seen. I’m afraid that, because of this, I have to ask you all to sign a nondisclosure agreement at the reception desk before we continue.”

“This wasn’t in the contest rules,” Woody said.

“No, but I’m sure you can understand our position. This formula is so potent, so far ahead of anything else on the market, we have to protect not only our patents, but – frankly – the public.”

“What are you talking about?” Wayne asked.

“The secrets you will learn are not without danger. The tour itself could be perilous, which is why there will probably never be another tour, and why paragraph seven in the nondisclosure agreement specifically indemnifies use against damage claims that arise out of your experiences here today.”

Pages rustled as several of the winners flipped forward through the contract to read paragraph seven closely.

“As you five have, the factory workers have benefited from the anabolic aspects of the formula, but there have been side effects from long-term exposure. The factory workers you will see are different from the ones you have seen in the parking lot and the lobby. Those are office workers. The factory help have all suffered some unusual side effects. They take many different forms and none of them is particularly unpleasant, but all of the workers have diminished intellect. It doesn’t affect their ability to work or to enjoy of life’s simplest pleasures, but it has made them unfit for anything except manual labor. Additionally, these side effects from intensive exposure are mildly contagious. All of you must avoid intimate contact with the factory workers, or you will become just as incapacitated and American Anabolix will have no choice by to keep you here at the factory as workers, for your own security as well as the safety of others in the outside world.”

For a moment the tour guide’s speech put a pall over the festive atmosphere. None of them had expected anything this heavy when they claimed their prizes.

A look of intense disgust crossed Wayne’s face. “There ain’t no way I’m getting close enough to a bunch of men to catch anything from them.”

His comment was enough to sidetrack the other winner’s fears. Jerry’s fears were superceded by his renewed disdain for Wayne. After everyone had signed the documents, Bill led them through double doors into a large empty warehouse with polished concrete floors. There was a tram waiting there. As they took their seats, the tour guide shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of his seat. His white cotton shirt strained at the edge of his shoulders and stretched seductively around the belly of his bicep. The third button down from his collar fought an endless battle to prevent his broad, round pectorals from tearing the shirt open. The tour guide switched on a microphone at the head of the car and started to talk again. It was a little like a trip to an amusement park.

“Each of today’s four tour stops will show you where one of the four major components in the American Anabolix Explode! product is made. The actual processes that create the components are too complicated to explain to laymen, but I will tell you as much as I can about them.”

The tram pitched forward and double doors opened to allow it passage into the next room. Dozens of shirtless workers swarmed the floor of the factory room, carrying huge buckets of liquid and pouring it into vats heated vats. Steam rose from the boiling fluid and the air was thick with a sickly sweet smell.

“This area formulates the components that increase muscle size. As you can see the workers in this area are larger than the ones you may have seen pass through the lobby, because they have been exposed to these chemicals the most. Some of you may notice the smell from the vats. Don’t worry about it. You’d have to breath it for months before it caused any damage.”

As the tram got closer, Jerry swallowed hard. Every one of the workers in this area of the factory was twice as big as the men they had seen in the lobby. They wore huge oversized overalls without shirts. The straps were unfastened and the front placates hung down. It was plain why they wore no shirts. They were obviously too big for any clothing other than the overalls The sight of them even distracted the tour guide. Even if you weren’t sexually attracted to men, you had to appreciate the sheer size and sweep of the muscle and respect the immense strength it gave them.

The tram drove into the thick of the manufacturing activity and stopped. Several of the workers were inches from the edge of the tram. No one had ever carried as much muscle mass as these men, and the sharpness, density and hardness of the muscle were even more impressive up close. Jerry had seen morphed photos of muscle men before on the Internet, but these men surpassed even those.

Perhaps it was just so hard to believe. Perhaps it was just curiosity. Whatever the reason, Javier reached his hand outside the tram and touched the shoulder of one of the workers. The worker looked at him. Their eyes locked.

Javier moved his hand to the workers hugely distended pectoral muscle and fondled his nipple, as thick as a fingertip. The sexual energy between them surged and bound them. Javier could no longer control his limbs. He was over the tram rail and standing in front of the worker before the tour guide knew it. And their lips were locked in a soul-sucking kiss before he could react.

Javier’s dick swelled inside his pants. The worker’s cock climbed slowly up the front of his overalls and stuck out over the loosely folded front. Javier bent and took the worker’s cock into his mouth and sucked.

“Shouldn’t we try to get him back inside the tram?” Woody asked.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” the tour guide said.

The worker put his heavy paw on Javier’s head and pushed him further down. Before Javier had swallowed even half of it, the worker was grunting and firing hot cream into Javier’s throat.

The tour guide signaled for the driver to continue. Before they had driven five feet Javier’s body had started to change. Every muscle of his already massive frame grew thicker and harder. The seams of his clothing tightened, stretched and tore open. His body expanded until it was indistinguishable from his newfound playmate. And then, in a final consummation of their perilous bond, the worker bent Javier in half and plunged his hard cock deep into Javier’s guts.

The sight was so erotically sensational that Jerry thought he might pitch himself over the tram rail and join them, but he was momentarily restrained by the firm hand of his guardian, Woody, on his shoulder. Ultimately he was saved by the tram’s exit from the room. In the silence he collected himself and looked around at his godfather and fellow winners. Everyone seemed shaken to varying degrees, and in varying ways.

The tour guide spoke to calm their nerves.

“I’m so sorry, for Javier and for all of you. I’m sorry you had to see that. I really must caution you. No matter how tempting it might be to fraternize with the workers, you must avoid contact at all costs.”

“The queen had it coming, doc,” Wayne quipped, but Jerry thought there was more than a little whistling-past-the-graveyard humor in the tremor of his voice.

The tour guide ignored the comment. For a long while they traveled down the wide, dim hallway until finally they drove through another set of double doors and into another factory room.

The tour guide cleared his voice and tried to continue. “In this next area we make the component that affects secondary sexual characteristics like strength and body hair. The chemicals in this room are a distillation of genetic material from gorillas.”

In this room the workers even looked like gorillas. The hair on their chests was so dense it was visible under their tight white t-shirts, and it carried over, uninterrupted, down their arms and their backs. Their faces looked like gorilla faces. Their teeth and lips protruded slightly and their nostrils were broad and flat.

Though they were ‘only’ the same muscular size as Jerry and the other winners, it was plain from their work activities that they were many, many times stronger than the other workers. There were no forklifts or conveyor belts in this section of the factory. The workers were strong enough to do even the heaviest lifting. They were like ants, hoisting pallets many times their size and weight. The entire tram was fascinated at the sight of them, but when one of the workers pulled so hard on a three inch thick steel lever that tilted a huge vat of boiling chemicals that he bent the level in two, Randy almost came in his pants. He surreptitiously brushed himself firmly through the material at his crotch to finish the job and closed his eyes as his thick tool squirted. No one else seemed to notice Randy. Their eyes were big as saucers as they watched the worker straighten the lever as easily as he would straighten a pipe cleaner.

Ever since Randy had started lifting weights as a teenager, he’d been turned on by strength – his own and the strength of the other lifters he watched at the gym. He had never had sex with men before, but the truth was that whenever he fucked a woman he fantasized about his overwhelming strength dominating the woman beneath him. The possibility of living the ultimate utmost aspect of his fantasy and becoming a man so strong he could dominate anyone, so strong he could bend steel as easily as tin foil, was irresistible.

He leapt over the tram railing, ran to the worker and knelt in front of him. He wasn’t even sure how to do what he needed to do, but Randy popped the buttons on the fly of his jeans. The tremendous dick unfolded and flowered in front of Randy’s face from a thicket of dark fur. Randy’s desire to consume it overcame all his heterosexual inhibitions and he took it eagerly into his mouth. The worker stopped his job and pulled Randy’s head further down on him. In an instant he was filling and overfilling Randy’s mouth with hot cum.

As Randy’s body absorbed the cum, hair began to sprout all over his body, so fast that it was like they were watching a time-release film. His jaw distended, his lips protruded and he looked back at the tram with empty eyes. But, seeing him transform into a creature more like himself, his newfound playmate knelt in front of him and returned the favor. Randy -- if what he had become could still be called Randy – rolled his eyes back into his head and grunted enthusiastically. His frantic fingers gripped the edge of a steel machine at his side and squeezed so hard he left finger prints in it.

The tram lurched forward. After they left the room, and Jerry’s eyes returned to the front of the tram, he noticed the tour guide and the driver were talking in tense whispers.

Then the tram stopped.

“Folks, I hate to do this,” the tour guide said. “But I have to cancel the remainder of the tour. It’s obvious that we underestimated the temptations to you all. I can’t continue this, even though you signed the disclaimers. It wouldn’t be right.”

Chapter Three: The Spokesmodel
“Fuck it,” Rock said. “We’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, don’t cancel the tour!” Jerry agreed.

“Don’t worry,” Woody said. “I can take care of my boy here.”

“Hey, hey, I ain’t fucking any of your workers. Why should I be inconvenienced if these queers can’t keep their dicks in their pants?” Wayne protested. “The rules say I won a tour and I want my tour!”

Jerry thought Wayne’s insensitivity was repulsive, but he couldn’t say he felt too sorry for the two men who deserted the tour. He wasn’t sure their fate was punishment.

The tour guide picked up a phone and spoke for a long time with someone. When he hung up he announced that the tour would continue after all.

The next room made the component that increased sexual appetite. The stuff came from bulls and the workers in the room were so horny they were constantly hard. To keep the workers from molesting the men on the tram, the company had installed a thick sheet of transparent, bulletproof plastic between the factory floor and the path the tram took along the edge of the room.

None of the workers wore pants. They couldn’t. They were too big and too erect to fit in them. As the tram got closer, Jerry could see that, just as the other workers resembled gorillas, these workers looked a little like bulls. Their noses were broad and flat with flaring nostrils. They had broad sloping foreheads and even horns. On either side of their monstrous erections were gigantic balls that dangled half way to their knees.

The productivity in this section of the factory was abysmal, because the workers were so easily distracted. About half of them were fucking instead of working.

Jerry was hard as steel as he watched them; and so was his godfather, Woody. But the man most affected was Rock. As Bill the tour guide described them, before they even entered the room, just the thought of the sexually super-charged men had been enough to give Rock a boner. Seeing their erect equipment watching them fuck as casual as shaking hands made his heart pound and his palms sweat. His eyes darted to the tour guide.

As the guide explained that luckily not much of this particular compound is needed in the formula, Rock leapt the tram rail, and the bulletproof plastic barrier as well, and landed on the factory floor.

For instant it appeared that his desertion would have no consequence. The workers were so absorbed in fucking each other they didn’t seem to notice him. Then Rock caught one’s eye. The worker ambled over, circled and stood behind him. His bull-sized dick pointed between Rock’s ass cheeks. He grabbed Rock by the shoulders and forced it through the material of his pants and deep inside his guts. Rock gritted his teeth and shouted in pain. Two of the workers who had been humping nearby heard the noise and walked over. One of them grabbed Rock by the hair and force-fed him his dick. The other one mounted the first worker. In seconds a swarm of workers, lured by the frenzy of sex with new meat, had fallen on them, and Rock was hidden under a pile of humping bodies.

Suddenly Jerry’s eyes were drawn from the spectacle to the start of another huddle of humping humanity that was forming to the left of the first. His godfather Woody had leapt the barriers while the sight of Rock’s subjugation had absorbed them.

Jerry started to stand up, but Wayne restrained him, and as the tram started moving, in the throes of his transformation into another of the bull-balled sex starved men, he heard Woody shout not to worry, before he completely lost his ability to articulate.

Jerry sobbed openly as the tram left the room. His godfather was his only family, and he had loved him not only as a surrogate father, but also as a lover. When they were a safe distance from the factory floor, Bill stopped the tram again while Jerry recovered his composure. He didn’t care about the tour or anything else, so when Wayne insisted they continue, he didn’t argue. If he couldn’t be with Woody, it didn’t matter to him where he was now.

Bill was downhearted in his delivery of his tour spiel, “Our final stop is the area that fabricates chemicals to enlarge male genitals. Like the last two, this one is derived from animal DNA – this time from horses. I want you to brace yourselves, because the side-effect on the workers is particularly unusual.”

The tram burst through swinging double doors to reveal a production line “manned” entirely by centaurs – or rather men who resembled centaurs. Like centaurs, from the waist up they were men, and from the waist down, they were horses, only with a peculiar twist – they had dicks in two places. One was between the front legs of the horse, where a man’s would be, and the other between the back legs of the horse, where a horse’s would be. Both cocks were enormous.

At the sight of them, the permanent scowl on Wayne’s face dropped away. Everything and everyone else in the room ceased to exist. Jerry and the tour guide could see the obsession sweep over his body. It was plain that his homophobia had just been a mask to hide from everyone the intensity of his fascination with dick, perhaps even from himself. But at the sight of so much of it the mask dropped away and his true feelings were revealed.

Both of them grabbed for him. Jerry caught an arm. The tour guide caught a leg. Although either of them could have held any normal man, Wayne’s Explode! transformation had made him bigger and stronger than both of them, because he had been huge to begin with. He tore free and climbed over the railing. He walked over to the workers and bent over, presenting himself to them. One of them mounted him from the rear. Wayne reached for the centaur’s front genitalia and sucked it into his mouth. Almost from the minute he was penetrated, equine features began to form on Wayne’s body. By the time both the centaur’s dicks emptied thick horse cum inside Wayne’s mouth and his ass, Wayne was one of them. The centaur who had taken him stood back as Wayne climbed up, uneasily, on his new legs and shook his head. He reached down to his ample front cock, which dangled halfway to the floor, and raised it up by the root. It lolled and flopped in his fingers and he grinned. Now another centaur mounted him from the rear, and Wayne rolled his eyes into his head as both his dicks hardened.

The tram left the room and stopped in an empty room near doors that led to American Anabolix offices. The guide helped Jerry out of the tram and pointed him toward the doors.

“Mr. Wiezer, our founder and president is ready to meet with you now,” the tour guide said.

Jerry figured the job as spokesmodel was definitely his, now that he was the only survivor of the tour. Who would have figured the tour would eliminate all the others and leave him as the only choice. Or maybe that is exactly what the company had in mind all along.

A stunningly handsome secretary asked him to be seated outside Mr. Wiezer’s office for a moment. He held his face in his hands and wept.

After a short while the secretary told him Mr. Wiezer was ready. He stood, wiped some of the tears from his face and walked into the office.

Behind a huge mahogany desk, in a room that was almost as big as Jerry’s whole house, sat Bill, the man who had taken them on the tour.

“You’re Mr. Wiezer?” Jerry asked.

“I apologize for the subterfuge.”

“You’re responsible for all of this?”

“You mean the things that happened on the tour? I – I didn’t plan it quite the way it worked out. I thought it would be a good way to observe you all so I could choose the best man to represent our product. I knew some of you might not be strong enough to resist the tremendous temptations – and certainly I wanted to avoid picking a spokesmodel who couldn’t handle that, but I never dreamed I’d lose so many of you.”

“What about my godfather? He wasn’t even in the running.”

Bill had stepped around the desk to stand closer to Jerry. He laid a broad, muscular hand on Jerry’s mountainous traps and squeezed them with firm affection.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Woody. American Anabolix will – I will do everything I can to make things right. Your godfather will get the finest attention here at the factory. I can’t let you see him without supervision, but you can see him whenever you want. And as the spokesmodel for American Anabolix new miracle bodybuilding supplement you’ll make more than enough money to support yourself, even while you’re finishing your education.”

Jerry was distracted from Mr. Wiezer’s words, from even the dull ache of his grief over the loss of his godfather, by what he saw through the straining buttons of Mr. Wiezer’s dress shirt. The definition visible in the shadows and swirls of black hair made the skin of his crotch thicken and swell. Against his own will his eyes fixated at the man’s broad chest and his lips parted. He felt terrible that he was losing sight of his loss, but the pounding of his heart and the pressure of his swollen dick inside his now-snug pants had completely bushwhacked his attention. The tyranny of his heightened sex drive completely subjugated all other thought. Once aroused, there was only mouth, ass, and dick.

Watching Jerry’s face succumb to desire made Mr. Wiezer’s blood begin to rush, until he could no longer speak or even think in complete sentences. Neither man could be held fully responsible for the impropriety of their feelings. Both of their bodies were charged with the full fruit of Mr. Wiezer’s lifelong labors, the formula that expanded the potential of men’s bodies and set their thoughts to the astounding sensations such bodies could know.

Jerry let his forefinger wander between the buttons of Mr. Wiezer’s dress shirt. He’d wanted to remove it from his chest since the minute he’d seen him before the tour had begun. He tugged lightly and the tightest of the buttons popped free. The forest of chest fur, as thick as the fur on the chests of the gorilla-like workers, was exposed. Jerry pulled the rest of Mr. Wiezer’s shirt apart and combed his fingers through it.

With his attention focused on the great mounds of chest muscle under his chin, the sensation of lips on his lips caught Jerry by pleasant surprise. He let his eyes raise to meet Mr. Wiezer’s eyes. Their mouths pressed more firmly and their tongues brushed forcefully against each other.

Mr. Wiezer tore the top of Jerry’s jeans apart and freed his great, flopping penis, which was already full and firm. With a gentle tug at its root, it became so hard it felt like stone. Mr. Wiezer wanted to enjoy the feel, the heft, the size of it, but he knew there would be more time for that later. He pressed down on Jerry’s shoulders.

Jerry knelt, his dick now so hard it curled back on his chest like a door handle. He gently unfastened Mr. Wiezer’s dress pants, pulled the zipper apart and tugged them down. Mr. Wiezer’s cock slid free. It was so enormously thick Jerry squirted a bit of jizz just to see it. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, but still must barely accommodated the circumference of its blocky blunt head. It pushed against the roof of his mouth, and slid down toward his tonsils.

Mr. Wiezer’s thickly muscled paw steadied Jerry’s head as he thrust forward and poked it further in. It widened from the head to the root, and the further it got inside, the wider it opened Jerry’s already stretched mouth.

Jerry took a full, deep breath before it reached his esophagus and blocked his passages.

The sweet ecstasy of burying even half his shaft in Jerry’s hot, wet mouth twisted Mr. Wiezer’s face like he was in agony. He tightened his wide grip on Jerry’s head and yanked it forward. His snake-like cock plunged deep into Jerry’s throat until most of the rest of it was buried past his lips.

When he released Jerry’s head, he yanked back, but then dove back down on Mr. Wiezer’s dick enthusiastically, stoned on the feeling of being able to devour that much dick. He sucked from his lungs and vacuumed it down again and again. No one had ever sucked so much of Mr. Wiezer’s giant member so well. In just a few minutes, Jerry felt it stiffen, swell and spit cock juice inside his gullet. He pulled back to taste the cum as he jerked the spit-soaked bottom half of it with his hands and milked it dry.

“Jerry!” Mr. Wiezer could hardly stand after Jerry let him loose. “Who taught you how to suck cock like that?”

“It was pure inspiration, sir,” Jerry said, as he wiggled out of his jeans and shucked his t-shirt over his head. “Now it’s your turn to find inspiration.” Jerry laid himself on the floor at Mr. Wiezer’s feet, propped up on his elbow, his knees up and his legs wide apart. His fifteen-inch cock, as thick as a Coke can and stiff as a bone, still curled up and hovered over his cobblestone abs. His free hand reached under his ass and tugged his tight cheeks ever-so-slightly apart, pointing Mr. Wiezer to his preferred source of inspiration.

The sight of the tightly puckered hole between the two immensely muscled mounds of Jerry’s ass sent the blood rushing back into Mr. Wiezer’s horse cock. It stretched and sprouted in spurts, at once so fast that it shook sprays of Jerry’s saliva from itself. Mr. Wiezer stroked it, lubricating it with the remainder of Jerry’s saliva and the remnants of his own jism. With his pants still around his ankles and his dress shirt still on, though open in the front, he dropped to his knees, spread Jerry’s legs and inserted his thick thumb up in Jerry’s ass. Jerry smiled lasciviously and squirmed. Mr. Wiezer stuck his other thumb inside and pulled Jerry’s anal ring apart to make way for his throbbing instrument. As the head slid between his thumbs he tugged them free and fell on Jerry’s uplifted legs, bracing his body on them and driving deeper.

Jerry’s only other sexual experiences had been with his godfather, Woody, and although Woody was large, he was no where near the size of the morphed man-god whose fence post dick was now burying itself up his ass. It was as though it was his first fuck, filled with all the pulse-pounding, fist clenching, fabric rending feeling of his first.

As Wiezer’s cock fought for and held new territory, Jerry tightened his knees around Mr. Wiezer’s neck to restrain him, but Mr. Wiezer pushed further until there was no more of him. Then the real action began.

Jerry’s ass began to delight in the sweet, sweaty pokes. Braced by Jerry’s legs, both Mr. Wiezer’s powerful hands were free to massage Jerry’s mile long dick. When Jerry came the first time, Mr. Wiezer had to fight to keep Jerry’s spasming asshole from sucking the jism out of him without giving up on the pumping that pushed ounce after ounce of juice out of Jerry’s sputtering dick. He opened wide and aimed a long hard squirt at the roof of his mouth, licked his lips lasciviously and fed Jerry his own hot cum with a long open mouthed kiss.

Jerry fought for his breath. He never imagined getting fucked could be so intense. As much as he had excited his godfather, Woody, Woody had never fucked him as enthusiastically as the mammoth man pummeling his ass now. Hot steel stroked his insides from his clenching butt hole deep up his abdomen in spots he had never sensed before. Instead of softening after he came, Jerry only got harder. And the ferocity his delight absorbed all his awareness until his mind no longer registered what he saw with his eyes or heard with his ears. All he could sense was the fireplug up his ass, the powerful paws on his huge dick, and the sweat-slick mounds of muscle sliding against him. A succession of orgasms punctuated the ecstasy like hammer strokes driving a nail home, until his young body birthed the last, grand mal climax and he passed from consciousness.

Each time Jerry came, Mr. Wiezer was sure he would lose himself in the tremulous pleasure that swept along his dick and release the flood of dick juice that pressed at his groin. Yet each time the clenching in Jerry’s ass stopped just before he weakened, and he renewed his resolve to exhaust the boy completely before taking his reward. When the lad’s last orgasm came, though, Jerry’s ass squeezed the base of his dick so tightly he shouted inarticulately, buried himself deeper than he thought possible and emptied his spunk.

A few minutes later the two of them came to on the floor of Mr. Wiezer’s office, foggy-eyed and tingly.

Jerry smiled weakly and said, “You never mentioned that prize in the contest rules.”

Mr. Wiezer didn’t raise his eyes to see his face. “I should probably apologize, taking advantage of a young man who has shown such restraint for the last several hours.”

“If that’s how you feel, I hope you need to apologize to me several times a day!”

Mr. Wiezer looked into Jerry’s clear, green eyes. His open lips hovered an instant an inch from Jerry’s face, then brushed against Jerry’s. He hoped he’d be able to keep up with him.

Jerry Johnson and the Muscle