From: also_knownas@hotmail.com
Subject: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers" Part 1


Seducers - The Final Chapter of the Transform series.

If you haven't read "Supermen" or "Transform" which begin this 
trilogy, you might want to catch up. You can find the chapters to 
those stories in this forum.


PART 1

The man, the target of every other man's attention in the small café 
(being just one, at the early hour), was sitting outside in the 
sunshine at a table alone.

The fact that he was alone wasn't the most unusual thing about him of 
course. No one would look twice at some guy sitting alone at a coffee 
shop enjoying a sunny morning, normally. 

But this guy was anything but normal.

Tommy wasn't supposed to come out from behind the counter, leaving 
the register alone. The guy had probably elected to sit all the way 
outside just to torture him. If that was his intent, it was working 
almost too well. Tommy's boner was refusing to subside, and his 22-
year-old body was feeling like a 15-year-old pumped so full of 
hormones and sexual tension that he felt like he'd explode.

But the man sitting out there, the guy who'd come in not ten minutes 
ago and said in his earth-shaking tones, "Coffee. Black. Please," and 
who was dressed in almost nothing at all, smelling of a deep funky 
sweat that seemed to be leaking testosterone all over the floor, 
probably just come from a workout at the gym around the corner that 
had his ample collection of muscular beauty pumped high and tight and 
bulging, that guy was sex made mortal. 

He was so much man, so big and broad and beautiful, that he was 
practically spilling out of those little nylon shorts that hugged his 
ass like skin and held a basket so full it looked like he was hiding 
a couple of eggs and a foot-long length of sausage down there. Tommy 
could see, actually see the ridge of the guy's helmet pressing 
against the material, his dick held sideways toward his hip, the tip 
reaching nearly all the way around! And the shaft was so thick, it 
could not be real, no man's dick was so perfectly, beautifully 
proportioned. It had to be a rubber toy or something, but it sure was 
well detailed if it was a fake.

His bronzed skin gleamed with a shining slick of sweat that evidenced 
how hard he'd been working his huge muscular form, his dark eyes 
flashed with something primal and overwhelmingly male, the dark 
scruff of beard on his unshaven sculpted chin and high cheeks seemed 
to be growing thicker as Tommy watched and no man, no where, no how 
had a better build than the guy sitting outside the coffee shop. Each 
muscle was tightly defined, the depth between lending him definition 
that was ungodly. Whenever he moved, the collection of brawn that 
hung off his tall, wide frame moved with sleek perfection, bulging 
and flexing like a call to action. He had to have worked all his 
life, 12 hours a day shoving iron around to get that build, and even 
though his body had the muscular size and maturity of a much older 
man, his face made him look 19, 20 tops.

And what a face! Jesus God, but he was beautiful. Not just handsome, 
but that was surely a word that could definitely help define his 
looks – he wasn't cute in any way, shape or form, his looks were much 
more powerful and rough than that word described – but when Tommy 
looked at the man's face he felt his mouth go dry and his brain empty 
of words. Gorgeous was what he was, from his full, soft lips to his 
hard prominent nose to his heavy brow and the dark shock of straight 
blue-black hair that crowned him, he was beautiful. So goddam 
beautiful.

The guy was now turning his face toward the window through which 
Tommy had been staring, the guy who was meeting Tommy's longing gaze, 
the guy whose full lips now parted slightly and allowed that 
masculine face to soften only slightly as he smiled back, his teeth 
flashing brightly against the copper tan of his skin, and he lifted 
his hand from the table (Jesus! Jesus, look at that bicep!) and 
wiggled his fingers in a friendly little wave. Their eyes met across 
the distance, through the glass window, inside to outside, and the 
man sitting under the bright morning sun with the biggest set of pecs 
and what looked like an 8-pack of tight, hard abdominals winked and 
beckoned with a slight nod of his head.

Tommy hopped the counter so fast he wondered if the guy thought his 
ass was on fire.

In a way, it was.

"Yes? Sir? Yes, sir? Is there something… anything… I can do? For you? 
At all?"

The man's smile increased. He leaned back in his chair and spread his 
legs a bit wider, stretching his tall frame out and making his 
collection of brawn flex and swell. Tommy burned the image of this 
huge man into his head so he could use it for fantasies later. He 
wished he had a camera to record the vision before him. The man's 
shadowed face, the sculpted lines of his face, his deeply masculine 
appearance, he was almost absurdly beautiful. His black hair caught 
the sunlight and silver-blue threads of shining glimmers ran through 
it. He had heavy brows above his green eyes, and those eyes were 
burning into Tommy's flesh. The man's gaze fell along Tommy's form, 
the one he had tried so long and so hard to bring to even a whisper 
of the strength and size this man possessed in whole. 

The huge man smiled. It looked as though the bulge in his shorts 
actually settled forward under its own weight and slightly swelled, 
drooping dangerously close to the hem of his leg. Damn, that thing 
was real! All those fat, luscious inches down there were all him! He 
said, "Is it always this quiet?" His voice was so deep, Tommy swore 
the glass top table rattled.

Tommy thought about the words striking his ears, but he was having 
difficulty concentrating on anything other than what he saw. Out 
here, in the morning light, the guy looked even bigger! 

And that was amazing, because usually given time for a fantasy to 
sink into Tommy's overactive imagination, the guys never measured up 
the second time. But this guy – this guy was doing a really great job 
of taking Tommy's fantasy, rolling it up into a tight ball and eating 
it whole. His chest was a striated map of muscular wealth, two huge 
and very thick mountains of meat with a forest of dark curls dusting 
the tanned flesh. His nipples were fat and luscious, begging a tongue 
bath. His shoulders were bowling balls of brawn. Long, thick balloons 
of muscle were mounted on his arms.

As he sat back, pushing his butt forward on the chair, his arms 
relaxed back. They were overwhelmed with raw brawn, the skin 
stretched tight across muscles of such incredible vascular definition 
that it appeared almost as if the man had no skin to speak of. A dark 
hint of the forest under each arm was accompanied by the sweet, male 
tang of his delicious aroma. His skin seemed to gleam like metal 
under the bright morning sun. These were meaty plates of muscle, vast 
and powerful. Then there was the washboard on his stomach, thick and 
hard enough to scrub Army boots clean. More of his shining dark curls 
dusted his belly and thickened to a trail down the exact center of 
his torso, through his navel and erupting suddenly wide and thick 
just before disappearing under the waistband of his tiny shorts. He 
wore them low on his hips, but maybe he had to because he was so 
tall. But the only reason a guy wore shorts that small and that tight 
was if he was advertising for something.

Tommy heard the man clear his throat – he thought at first the sound 
was thunder, but when he managed to pull his eyes back up the 
incredible body, the guy was looking directly into his. "Like what 
you see?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. Shit, I'm… I've never…"

The guy smiled, showing straight rows of gleaming white 
teeth. "S'okay, I wouldn't show off this body if I didn't want other 
guys to look." Other guys, thought Tommy. He said other guys. "Of 
course, some of it developed on its own – without any work." He let 
his hand drift across his torso and he cupped himself, surrounding 
his ample crotch with his huge paw. The lines of power along his 
meaty forearm bulged as he grabbed hold of the shaft of his monster 
through his shorts, and when he squeezed himself the head swelled 
thick and huge, poking against the material. He was so huge that he 
spilled out of his grip.

"Holy fuck."

The guy let his other hand drop to his crotch and he brushed his 
knuckles against his swelling pride. Then he turned his hand over and 
buffed the helmet, which seemed to swell larger still under the 
attention like a proud snake. It looked like it was going to rip its 
way clean through his shorts any second. "Ten inches," he said softly.

"Holy fuck," repeated Tommy.

"Soft," he emphasized, moving his hands away from his groin to rest 
on his hips, framing the now throbbing and swelling beast pushing 
heavily against its nylon cage. "Ever seen a ten inch cock?"

Tommy gulped. He shook his head. "Not in person."

The guy smiled. "Want to?"

Tommy nodded. Of course he did.

"I look bigger than that. Or so I've been told." The muscled man 
hooked one thumb under the waistband of his shorts just above the 
root of his tool and tugged down slowly, his hand sliding over the 
firm contour of his cock and balls, the fingers sliding down and 
between his legs, his torso stretching taller as he pulled in his 
stomach muscles, tightening them to steel hardness. "Sometimes, it 
gets in the way. It's difficult to contain all of me." He unveiled 
more of his glistening, dark body hair and a pelvis networked with 
veins branching under his thin, bronzed skin leading to one goal – 
that fat, luscious length of prime meat still hidden under its slight 
sheath of Nylon. "But I don't mind at all." 

He pulled his shorts lower and lower until Tommy could see the 
thickness of his cock, at the root of his beast as it emerged from 
his muscular form. The veins spread across its expanse and he shifted 
his hip and shoved himself higher as his hand crawled lower. Inches 
of his fat prick sprung free suddenly, but still not the head that 
was lodged in a fold along his thigh. "Hmm. Maybe I am bigger. It's 
been a while since anyone volunteered to measure me." The whole of 
his cock was meaty and thick and glossy with sweat, a dark tube of 
flesh covered with veins that dully pulsed as Tommy watched.

The man slid lower on the chair, inching his tight butt to the edge, 
opening his legs, thick with defined wedges of brawn, wider and 
pushing his hand deeper between and under. The young man with the 
body to kill for let out a deep, dark, soft moan of intimate 
pleasure. He was rubbing his asshole with his middle digit, Tommy 
realized. He could see the man's muscle on his forearm flexing in 
reaction to his manipulations. "I like that," he said quietly. His 
thumb pulled the material further down, revealing more of himself, 
and his hand was reaching under and between his tight ass cheeks and 
he was pleasuring himself as he showed his package to Tommy. He was 
getting off on this. Jesus!

If it wasn't already ten inches of fat dick that Tommy was looking 
at – and it must not have been, because it looked like another third 
of his monster was still covered up – then ten inches was a fuck of a 
lot bigger than Tommy ever imagined. 

This guy was definitely a shower… and a grower. His anal play was 
starting to manifest in some pretty interesting and obvious growth of 
the already amazing cock. Tommy felt his mouth drop open in wonder as 
the veins lacing the surface started to swell and multiply. The whole 
of the thing was growing as if it was being inflated. Fuck, how big 
was this guy's prick? He was a genetic freak in the best way. Cocks 
that big didn't get bigger, but this one clearly was.

"Touch me," the man growled softly. "If you want to."

He did. Tommy dropped to one knee and reached forward, placing his 
fingers to the bloated tool. It was hot! He could feel it growing, 
too, feel the skin tighten and the shaft swell outward. Even the 
veins were hard, so pumped with blood that they seemed solid. The man 
shifted forward again and Tommy's hand was suddenly filled with his 
meat. He grabbed onto it, feeling the slick heat against his palm, 
and it pushed against him, it wanted out of that tight little space 
and into the open air.

The man never closed his eyes, he kept watching Tommy's fascination 
and reverence of his hugeness. He had pulled the shorts as far down 
as he could and now his excitement and growth had him caught, his 
vastness held inside a roll of nylon even as he continued to lengthen 
and swell. Tommy ran his hand, both hands along the solid sleek tool 
and then he wanted to see all of it, he needed it all out, all its 
inches, all its power and majesty. He'd never seen a cock so huge, so 
amazing and fat and beautiful.

He moved his hands around it, up its length, tugging it free of its 
confinement and it sprang out with a suddenness that startled him, 
and the man grinned. The cock sagged under its own weight, pulsing 
and bobbing with each beat of his heart, arching forward and then 
rising up, the skin drawn tight and shiny, and the head was swelling 
like a balloon. It was red and shiny, and after only a few throbbing 
pumps the guy's huge erection was standing upright, it looked over a 
foot high now, maybe 13 or 14 inches, Tommy thought. 

"Impossible," he whispered, stroking the mammoth meat with both 
hands, now so enraptured by the thick tube of sex flesh that it 
didn't occur to him that he was kneeling at a table outside his 
coffee shop hand-jobbing this muscle stud in the open air of the 
bright morning sunlight. There was no way anyone could not see what 
was happening, the cock was nearly as tall as Tommy as he kneeled 
there, the head gleaming with a runnel of slick pre-cum, the shaft 
now as red as an apple and hard as steel. 

He ran his grip along the fat shank of the huge prick. He looked into 
the guy's beautiful face, into his eyes, and saw passion and desire 
and a depth of sexuality that made him breathless. The man was 
looking at him with something approaching hunger, and Tommy realized 
there was no turning back, now. One way or another this guy's lust 
was going to be satisfied.

But Tommy needed two mouths and a jaw that could unhinge to take this 
mother inside, and the thought of splitting his ass open to welcome 
the huge tool up his guts made him tremble. Jesus fucking Christ, 
this guy was big everywhere.

"Are you afraid?" The man's voice was a deep rolling bass that moved 
through him. He nodded, even as he continued stroking. The guy 
smiled. It was gorgeous. "Don't be," he said. 

"I want you," he said honestly.

"Here?" The guy's smile increased. He looked like Satan himself, so 
big and beautiful and filled with sex.

"Anywhere. Please."

"You live near here?" Tommy silently nodded. "Close?" Still 
nodding. "Very close?" The guy's voice was a growl of need.

"Up… upstairs. Over the café."

The guy's smile practically glowed. He started to stand, slowly, 
allowing Tommy to back off his stiff member and as he assumed his 
full towering height, his muscles seemed to stretch and expand, and 
he reached down and took his shorts from off his muscled body, 
stooping to pull them over his fat, firm thighs and then he stepped 
from them and held them in his hand. Totally naked, now. Gloriously 
so. Perfect and fine and huge and erect. 

Tommy gulped as the guy's balls dropped down under that mammoth cock 
like two baseballs in a sack, and the man just stood there, nude, 
proud, huge and hard, looking down at Tommy. "After you," he said 
softly.

Looking up, Tommy was struck again by the overwhelming masculine 
power of the man before him. Steel-hard muscle, dark curls of hair 
dusting his bronzed flesh, the biggest fucking cock standing 
majestically over a pair of round, heavy balls. There was nothing, 
absolutely nothing wrong on the dude at all. He was perfect.

"Well?" he said. "Are we going to fuck or not?"

Tommy practically sprang through the door and sprinted up the stairs. 
He didn't even bother to lock up.


Continued in Part 2...

From: <also_knownas@hotmail.com>
To: <MuscleGrowthStories@yahoogroups.com>
Subject: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers" Part 2
Date: Monday, July 30, 2001 6:38 PM


Seducers
Part 2


Maddox was unhappy. This, in itself, was not unusual. His level of 
unhappiness, however, was.

He scanned the report on the screen again. It just didn't make any 
sense. It defied logic and reason and made him question the sanity of 
whoever at the Agency had sent this package. He was not averse to 
unusual assignments, quite the opposite. He was the guy the Agency 
sent in to uncover hard truths, unbelievable truths… but this was… 
beyond unbelievable.

He pulled the loose sheets off the printer and twisted back around, 
stacking them neatly before beginning to reread what the glowing 
screen in front of him had told him. 

Scott Maddox wasn't dumb. He was, in fact, extremely intelligent. You 
had to be to make it in the Agency's Elite Corps. You had to be 
smart, and you had to be strong, and you had to be a big badass 
motherfucker – with consummate manners to fit in at any diplomatic 
function, an eye for beauty to appreciate the finer things in life, 
and a body that would do what you asked of it every time, without 
fail. 

You also had to be attractive, because people like attractive people 
and trust them more than, well, unattractive people. And Maddox knew 
he was that as well, from his pedicured feet to the top of his blonde-
haired, blue-eyed head 6-feet 2-inches above, he was good looking. 
Oh, hell, he was gorgeous. He used those azure eyes of his well, and 
that mouth of straight white teeth with it's dimpled killer smile. He 
dressed to complement his well-trained muscles. His clothes were 
tailored to his frame and hand made to cling in places that left 
little to the imagination of exactly what he was packing. He knew 
that a big dick, like his, put other men at a disadvantage (whether 
they realized it or not). He knew that when he walked into a room, he 
would get some attention, and he would earn it, and others would fear 
and respect him. He used everything to his advantage to get the job 
done.

Because failure was not an option.

"Oh, this is fucked up," he murmured, his voice soft and deep. He was 
flipping the pages as he scanned the project brief and the notes left 
by what had to be the two most insane or ingenious geneticists the 
world had ever produced. He had met Dr. Carlos Martinez once. His 
crystal clear and perfect memory brought up the old man's face, his 
alert eyes and the jowls hanging off his cheeks and the hunched over 
posture he had. The other man, Dr. Jerald Lassiter, he knew only by 
reputation. He wondered how good a man had to be to deserve such a 
reputation. And those rumors, but rumors usually proved to be true.

After the initial definitions of genetic enhancement, most of which 
were hardly new to him, particularly since he owed some of the man he 
was today to earlier experiments along the same lines, the 
old `perfect soldier' routine which inevitably ended badly for one 
side or the other – either the initial guinea pigs lived up to and 
surpassed expectations, became unmanageable (to put it lightly) or 
they became little more than vegetables, their metabolism so screwed 
up that they either burned out or bulked up too big to move – and 
here it was rearing it's ugly but not unexpected head again. His own 
enhancements (he preferred to think of them as natural developments) 
had all been fairly small and done over a series of years, each 
building on the other, allowing him to be a little bit stronger, a 
little bit more handsome, a little bit less inclined to get tired 
without sleep or to become fatigued after hours of intense physical 
exertion. Some of them were the result of experiments like those that 
Martinez and Lassiter were doing – he himself had access to some 
early serum that had helped him surpass his previous records for 
bench press and bicep curls, pushing his ultimate pump over the 400 
lbs. limit on each arm – and some had been less than legal.

He wanted to be perfect. He had to be for his job. People, 
governments, maybe entire civilizations depended on him. And he'd do 
whatever it took to get there.

But this time they wouldn't use soldiers, it said. This time the 
initial trials would be performed on civilians! Which was, he thought 
again, fucked up. What poor saps would they possibly enlist into this 
ridiculous mess? And why would anyone volunteer for it?

Then he thought, sure, why not? People will do anything for money. He 
knew that well enough.

The approach was interesting, and well thought out. Martinez and 
Lassiter had done their homework. Of course they had. Some of the 
theories were interesting. He flipped back to the lab work, reviewing 
the chimp tests, the impressive results, the proof that the theories 
were more than theories, leading up to that first test subject, and 
then…

Nothing.

At least, nothing officially official. But that was where he came in.

He read on, past the ending, into the real beginning of the story, 
the part where the Agency took its observation underground, in the 
field, watching, and waiting…

    Transform was initially deemed a failure after the disappearance 
    of Dr. Martinez, when in fact it succeeded beyond the wildest 
    expectations of anyone connected with the project and continues 
    to change and increase in potency and power. 


    The original intent was that men injected would develop increased 
    strength, size and stamina for extended field missions so that 
    undercover plans could be carried out by the men alone without 
    additional tools, weapons or vehicles to weigh them down. Their 
    bodies would realize such intense muscular development and 
    cellular skin enhancements that even the need for body armor 
    would be decreased due to the mass and density of the tissue. 

    Such mass would also, subsequently, increase strength upwards of 
    ten-fold.

    Since the formula would heighten all male attributes including 
    libido in addition to strength, etc., the formula also had a 
    built-in trigger that would allow the men to find sexual release 
    in each other if they were on long duration missions. In addition 
    to turning any fully-grown man into a super-strong, super-sexed, 
    superman, Transform also altered the body chemistry to make a 

    Transformed man capable of living for extended periods without 
    any protein supplements other than his or his compatriot's sexual 
    emissions. He could literally live off semen. Transform would 
    also, unfortunately, render a man sterile.

    Since the formula completely reconstituted a man's genetic 
    structure, long-term effects were unknown. Transformed men may 
    live for extended periods of time without any physical 
    deterioration since they were designed to regenerate cellular 
    structure (including muscle) at an incredible rate. It is 
    doubtful they could be considered immortal, but they would 
    certainly be super-mortal. Since their skin and muscle tissue is 
    more or less impervious to weapons of any but the most drastic 
    sort, hurting or maiming or killing a Transformed man would prove 
    exceptionally difficult.

    Transform was not tested on humans until Subject One, but as soon 
    as it was released into its intended target, it began very 
    quickly to morph into something like a virus that released a 
    man's physical body into his total control. Also, the growth 
    process accelerated massively with each new man, and increased 
    even stronger when two or more Transformed men engaged in sexual 
    acts, exchanging sperm in any form including contact of the skin, 
    ultimately allowing men to grow far beyond normal human 
    boundaries and realize new skills.

"New skills," Scott whispered, his brow creasing. " I wonder what…?" 

His brain was trying to wrap itself around what it was reading. He 
tried to imagine what a guy would go through, how he'd manage to come 
to grips with changes so drastic that they changed literally 
everything about him, including sexuality. What a mind fuck that 
would be. But becoming impervious to weapons would be worth that. 
Besides, he'd left behind any of his own sexual prejudices and 
predilections long ago. It was all good. He continued reading:

    Sexuality and sexual release and satisfaction for a Transformed 
    man cannot be easily described in terms applicable to normal men. 
    With each Transformation, the physical sensations associated with 
    sexual and sensual actions seem to grow stronger and stronger, 
    stretching out from the penis alone to encompass every inch of a 
    Transformed man's body. Observation suggests that this, too, is 
    controlled by the individual.

    Orgasms are deep, full, long-lasting, mind-numbing affairs that 
    seem to go on for however long a Transformed man wishes them to. 
    He can ejaculate copious amounts, releasing a seemingly endless 
    supply that his testes produce in abundance. This may be a 
    natural effect of the serum since the semen production might need 
    to be the only sustenance available. He will sometimes release a 
    flood of lubricating pre-ejaculate almost as soon as he becomes 
    aroused. He can also release this on command. The eventual 
    development of twin penises amplify the affects even stronger. 

Scott's mouth fell open, and he mouthed, "Twin dicks?" He read that 
sentence again to see if he read it right. Then he read it again. His 
hand was absently rubbing his own ample cock under his pants.

    A Transformed man's orgasms - or even the simplest acts of 
    caressing or kissing or petting – deliver depths of pleasure 
    beyond the capability of normal men to comprehend.

Scott was becoming seriously aroused by all this. He couldn't take 
his eyes off the pages, now.

    A Transformed man is exceptionally physically attractive. He 
    becomes bodily perfected as a by-product of the overall 
    conditions under which Transform was designed to work. While each 
    man is as physically distinct in appearance as he was before 
    Tranformation, his face, body and muscular form are all improved 
    to an extent that would make him appear Godlike in everyday 
    surroundings. His natural appearance, absent imperfection of 
    form, comes to define male perfection.

    These conditions can be lessened to some extent during the 
    morphing process. It is also possible for Transformed men to 
    become "ugly" or "scrawny," but retaining a weakened-looking 
    state for long periods may be difficult owing to the overwhelming 
    size and strength of the muscle tissue.

"Holy fuck!" Scott's eyes narrowed as he continued reading. He leaned 
back a little, unzipping his fly and digging inside his tight pants, 
pulling his swelling dick out for some cool air. He used to get 
annoyed by this. It seemed like a natural side effect of all these 
attempts at improving the male animal – their libido would increase 
as well, growing stronger and hungrier as their body grew bigger and 
better. Maybe it was something so intrinsic to men that it couldn't 
be helped, but becoming a slave to desire was something he used to 
wish could be lessened. 

He had to admit, however, that the rewards more than made up for the 
inconvenience. The bigger dick, and its stronger sensations and 
thicker loads, were exceptionally gratifying. And when he was alone, 
like he was now, he felt no guilt about relieving any built-up 
pressure. 

    Transform becomes so ingrained into the cellular and genetic 
    structure that it can eventually be transmitted not only through 
    fluids, but also through scent and touch. A Transformed man 
    regains the pheromone attractants natural to all species but, as 
    in all other Transformed aspects, these pheromones are incredibly 
    robust and absolutely controllable by the subject. They refer to 
    this as `Sex Scent.' 

    Once released into the air, however, it loses much of its potency 
    over distances as short as 20 feet. Proximity is important 
    outdoors to attract and Transform another man. Men exposed to 
    dissipated Sex Scent will still feel an increase in libido, but 
    certainly less pronounced than direct exposure. 

    In an enclosed space, however, the potency is dramatic and 
    instant. Any man, Transformed or not, struck by the scent will 
    become immediately aroused to an extent that instantaneous 
    erection and ejaculation is likely. Transformed men retain some 
    antidotal reaction to each other's scent, but they can recognize 
    the individual smell of another Transformed man as uniquely as 
    looking at their face or testing a fingerprint. As mentioned, Sex 
    Scent can carry Transform within it. As in all other physical 
    aspects, a Transformed man controls Transform's power and may 
    withhold it from their own Sex Scent.

By now Scott was shaking his head with disbelief. This had to be a 
joke. Someone – someone very high up to have his access code – was 
seriously fucking with him. Pulling his own genetically enhanced leg.
But he continued reading and started stroking. The story was too good 
to stop now.

    The Touch is an additional sensual, sexual and Transforming power 
    manifested to varying degrees. If a Transformed man uses The 
    Touch on any normal man, depending on the power he gives it, the 
    man would be instantly thrown into an orgasmic state of sexual 
    ecstasy stronger than anything a normal human male has ever 
    experienced. The Touch may be applied as gently as a brush of a 
    fingertip, but it will deliver full potency in an instant. It 
    appears to react like a sort of sensual feedback, as if the 
    subject is feeling not only the pleasure of their own body, but 
    that of the other subject's body as well. Since a Transformed 
    man's pleasure capabilities are amped higher than any scale can 
    measure, receiving the Touch could potentially send a normal man 
    unconscious from the intensity overload of the sexual bliss 
    delivered. A man may also be Transformed via The Touch.

    Another power is referred to as The Voice. A Transformed man's 
    voice is naturally much lower and deeper than an ordinary man's 
    because of his size. The vocal cords are stretched longer, they 
    are thicker, the voice box more resounding, etc. However, an 
    additional pleasurable effect may be fed into a Transformed man's 
    voice that enters the pleasure centers of the mind through the 
    ear and has an intense sexual affect. An ordinary man cannot be 
    Tranformed using The Voice, but he can be easily seduced, brought 
    to erection and even made to orgasm simply by using a few words 
    laced with The Voice.

Scott put the papers down and sat back in his chair. This was 
incredible, if even half of it was true! His mind came back to one 
phrase he read, `because of his size.' He'd realized some growth 
after the hormone injections, both muscular and overall height, but 
all these other side effects were incredible! How big were these 
Transformed men? He closed his eyes as his hand firmly tugged on his 
fat, hard cock. He could feel himself approaching orgasm, so he eased 
off. He needed the energy for his workout, and he always got off 
stronger after a hard pump to his muscles anyway.

He shuffled through the pages until he came to a sort of Table of 
Contents for what a Transformed Man would realize after exposure, so 
to speak. If the previous passages were unbelievable, he didn't have 
words for these pages. His eyes were drawn to certain passages, 
containing certain words that caught his interest more than others...


    Super Orgasm – A Transformed man can literally ejaculate at will. 
    No stimulation is necessary; he can control his entire body so he 
    can control what it does. However, this form of orgasm is not as 
    intense as one realized during sexual acts. The entire orgasmic 
    release has been heightened like everything since a Transformed 
    man's body, specifically the skin's nerve endings, become so 
    sensually accentuated that almost any physical contact may feel 
    like an extended orgasm. Additionally, a Transformed man may 
    ejaculate for minutes or even hours if he desires, extending the 
    sexual act indefinitely due to his unlimited strength, stamina 
    and physical control. A Super Orgasm occurs without warning and 
    usually in groups. It is a shared experience and is usually so 
    powerful that the men engaged will be literally thrown apart 
    under the force of the pleasure and the blast of sperm ejected.

    Morphing – A Transformed man has complete physical control of his 
    body. His "normal" height may vary between 16 and 20 feet, but he 
    is also able to shrink himself to a more acceptable height when 
    in public, masquerading as something of an average man, although 
    his physical beauty and muscular size would still make him stand 
    out in a crowd. A Transformed man can change any aspect of his 
    body, from hair length, color, thickness and style to skin 
    pigmentation to eye color to penal length. There are no physical 
    limitations so far observed, but he cannot apparently grow larger 
    than his "normal" height and muscularity. Transformed men can 
    also assume the appearance of any other man, including each 
    other. 

"Handy," Scott murmured. "No wonder the Agency…" His words trailed 
off when he saw the next entry.

    Additional Penis – As a result of the super saturation of 
    masculine features, a Transformed man develops a second penis 
    that hangs alongside the original. It is, in every respect, 
    exactly as large and long as the original, but it is always 
    uncircumcised. He may morph it into a circumcised specimen at 
    will. The second penis may be shrunk inside the pubic hair to an 
    extent that it appears to disappear entirely. A Transformed man 
    retains the usual two testicles, albeit overlarge and overactive.

    Prehensile Penis – A normal man's penis behaves in a fairly 
    predictable way; it is flaccid, or it is erect. A Transformed 
    man's penises take on additional capabilities because new muscles 
    apparently form within them which allows them to work almost like 
    a monkey's tail. They can bend and flex and stroke each other. A 
    Transformed man literally perform anal sex on himself. The 
    subjects refer to this change as a Muscle Cock.

    Augmented Anal Flexibility – A Transformed man's anus takes on 
    some additional capabilities, as well. It can act like a mouth to 
    suck another man's penis (or his own, as desired) inside and 
    pleasure it. It can also open wider to take in as much as 
    necessary. This may also be another muscular side effect, as the 
    Transformed man begins to manifest muscular control where none 
    existed before.

    Flying – 

Scott blinked. Hard.

    Flying – A Transformed man behaves in a way to suggest that he 
    has the ability to suspend himself in the air as if he is flying 
    or defying gravity. After an initial `launch,' the subject most 
    often appears to be "swimming through the air." The actual 
    methodology and specific biological or genetic changes to account 
    for this feat are not yet fully understood.

"Fucking flying? As if two pricks weren't reward enough." He flipped 
to the next page, anticipating even more unbelievable shit. He read:

    The act of being Transformed is extremely pleasurable. It appears 
    to feel as if your body has become a penis being pleasured in the 
    most intense of ways. One feels alive and powerful and deeply 
    aroused and satisfied. The process may last only seconds, or it 
    may last days – it is entirely up to the man or men Transforming 
    the subject. They have complete control over the process and may 
    decide to give only part of the package or the whole thing at 
    once. 

    Certain men in the population are Triggers. They may introduce 
    new powers and capabilities, or they may only increase the 
    muscular size and overall height of the ultimate Transformed man. 
    In certain cases, new capabilities are not transferred for no 
    apparent reason.

    In particular, an adolescent or teenager who has not reached full 
    maturity will realize the effects of Transform to a degree over 
    and above that of a fully-matured man. Because their body is 
    going through its own changes, Transform supercedes and overruns 
    the direction their maturity may have taken and instantly matures 
    them into fully Transformed men of incredible physical beauty and 
    innate sexual talent.

There was more. Plenty more. And all of it as mind-bending as what 
he'd already consumed. He hadn't even opened the binary files which, 
he presumed, probably had pictures to back all this up. They would 
never have sent him this if it weren't verified.

It was obvious that someone had either infiltrated this, what, cult? 
Club? Tribe? And had reported all that he had seen and, presumably, 
felt while in their midst. It had to be someone who'd been 
Transformed. Scott's suspicions started circling around one man in 
particular, and he was piecing that part of the puzzle together when 
he opened the binaries and a flood of full-color, print-ready, high-
quality images spilled across the two monitors on his desk. Close-
ups, full-bodies, front and rear, side to side, top to bottom, the 
images covered every square millimeter of undoubtedly the most 
perfectly developed man Scott had ever seen.

Things bulged. The things that bulged bulged. Huge muscle everywhere. 
Tight shots of flawless skin without blemish or wrinkle. More shots 
of the man performing impossible feats, bending his ultra-flexible 
body in ways that were absurd if not obscene. Comparison shots to 
show just how big "big" was – and it was so far beyond Scott's 
interpretation that he didn't… couldn't believe it. 

Then there were shots of the man's face, and beautiful was a term 
that could hardly begin to approach his features. And somehow, even 
though he was beautiful, he was also extraordinarily masculine. One 
straight-on shot showed the man looking directly out from the screen, 
and Scott could swear he could feel… something coming back from that 
still, digitized image. 

And there they were. Two dicks. They were huge, they were long, and 
they were perfect. He looked for signs of the muscle they supposedly 
held inside, the fibers of power that allowed them to act and react 
independently, but they just looked like dicks. Big, fat, huge dicks.

So now he had the background, the dossier on the mission – but he 
still didn't know what the mission was. The file said there were at 
least 24 of these men, and presumably more each day if the process 
were as easy as the file pointed out. Unstoppable Supermen with 
impenetrable skin, 20 feet high and stronger than any hundred men 
combined, capable of disguising themselves in almost any form, and 
apparently so sexed up that the most logical place to find them was 
in the porn industry fucking everything that moved.

They could be anywhere, because they could be anyone.

Was he to eliminate them? That seemed a terrible waste. From what he 
read, they had not done anything violent… yet. Mostly they just 
seemed oversexed. In the extreme. But to bring such a force under the 
Elite Corps would be perfect. He imagined himself as one of these 
men, and what he could then do. The flying alone….

Perhaps infiltrate them? Discover their secrets? But the Agency had 
those. They were right there in front of him, in full-color and in 
great detail. And they apparently already had one of the Supermen in 
custody, or at least as a willing conspirator. Why not simply use 
him? What would they need Scott Maddox for?

Unless this information had not been given to them willingly.

He glanced at the clock. 3AM. One hour before the next download. Then 
he looked again at the pictures, the bulging arm, the muscle-fat 
chest, the wedges of brawn along the leg, the huge dicks. "Gym time," 
he said, laughing slightly. He bent his own formidable bicep into 
being, watching the 20-inch peak press against his 
shirtsleeve. "Sorry baby," he told it, "looks like you and me have a 
ways to go." He smiled as he got up from his chair, thinking of the 
days to come.


Continued in Part 3...

From: <also_knownas@hotmail.com>
To: <MuscleGrowthStories@yahoogroups.com>
Subject: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers" Part 3
Date: Monday, July 30, 2001 6:42 PM


Seducers
Part 3


Chuck grinned. Man, it was all too easy – but he still managed to get 
off on this every fucking time.

Being the man he was now, or whatever it was that he was because he 
felt like so much more than just a man, had not grown any 
more "normal" even though he hadn't been the man he was before he'd 
been changed for months. He could still remember what it was like 
before, because his body still delivered such intense shots of sexual 
and sensual pleasure almost constantly that every act, every 
utterance, every movement reminded him how big and beautiful and 
powerful he was now.

He looked down at his body, scanning across the gleaming bronzed skin 
at the cables of thick muscular brawn that pulsed and throbbed with 
incredible potential across every inch. He was so strong that there 
was nothing, literally, he could not do. No feat of strength was 
beyond his abilities. If he wanted to, he could be Clark Kent, 
pretending to the outside world that he wasn't really Superman, 
couldn't really fly, didn't really possess the strength to crush cars 
with his bare hands, stop trains, punch through steel like it was 
paper. 

But he could do all of that, and more. But whatever the power was 
that swam through his blood and lived in every cell of his body, it 
wasn't driven to destroy or wage war or punch the shit out of anyone 
who looked at him sideways. More likely, he'd take the guy with the 
pea brain and the big mouth, ram his dick up his ass, pump him full 
of Transform and watch him become another mountain of muscle with the 
sort of towering masculine beauty that would make other men swoon and 
cream their jeans if he just glanced their way. He knew what would 
happen, because the guy would be like him, seduced by his own 
desires, willing victim to the overpowering sexual need that burned 
through him like fire and made every movement an unconscious 
seduction.

Chuck would rather fuck than fight. It was just the way it was. 

The kid was damn cute. Lots of potential. Chuck watched him race 
through the coffee shop as he stood outside under the sun, feeling 
its fine heat bathe his naked skin, soaking in the warmth and light 
and health raining down from the heavens and soaking inside his 
flesh. The dude had a nice ass. And he packed it very neatly inside 
those Wranglers. 

Sometimes it was just too easy.

He licked his long, talented tongue across his palm and left a 
gleaming coat of slickness there and applied his hand to his tool. He 
could be so much bigger than this, and merely thinking the thought 
made him ache for the feel of growth, that deep sexual throbbing 
pulse of growing strength and size that exploded along his thick 
muscles and tingled across his silken skin. He expanded slightly, 
just to taste that power, his frame swelling out slightly all over 
until he stood two inches taller and looked several pounds heavier 
with fat, firm brawn. He smiled and the shadow of whiskers on his 
chin darkened until he possessed a black goatee and thick mustache. 

He wondered if the dude would even notice these changes, or if he was 
so blinded by Chuck's flawless and powerful form that the fact that 
he was even bigger now and wearing a neatly trimmed set of chin pubes 
that made his smile even whiter would go completely over his head. 

Maybe it would just feed the fantasy. 

Out in the world, among the men not changed, the ordinary men who 
could not do what he could do so effortlessly, this was more than 
ample. Now six inches past six feet high with a body (were it not 
hiding the compact weight of his true form) that would tip the scales 
at around 275, with a 51-inch chest and 28-inch arms. His waist was 
only two inches bigger than his fucking biceps, and the thickness of 
his vascular thighs rolled around each other as he walked. His ass 
was round and firm and high, and his shoulders stretched a yard 
across, easily.

He stroked his hardness, savoring the deep waves of total bliss 
enveloping his compacted form. They traveled through him like 
quicksilver, those shocks of complete sensual pleasure, lighting him 
up from inside. His nipples hung off the ends of his round chest 
globes like invitations. The dark curls that spread across his bronze 
flesh glistened like spun glass. Every inch of his body, every 
millimeter, was capable of delivering sensual satisfaction of such 
intense erotic power that any man who touched him could be brought 
instantly to multiple orgasm. He was an ultimate tool of masculine 
sexual power. There were only a handful of men like him walking the 
earth.

But there would be more, and soon. As he glanced upward and saw the 
kid leaning out his window, still clad in his white T-shirt and blue 
jeans, with a look of total joy and a little fear in his eyes, he 
thought, `And there'll be one more in about an hour.'

He smiled. `Maybe two hours.'

::Where are you?:: It was his friend and lover Frazz, speaking into 
his head from who knew where. 

::Where the fuck do you think I am? I'm about to get a nice blow job 
and a fresh piece of prime, firm buttcake.::

::What's his name?:: It was the voice of another of Chuck's lovers, 
this one a young – make that very young man called Adam. Of course 
he'd consider that first. Adam was always extremely polite and 
courteous, even when he was drilling your ass.

Chuck grinned and the humor came through in his answer. He was still 
looking up, still stroking off, still primed for pleasure. Because he 
always was. ::I didn't actually ask him.:: He could feel Adam's 
disapproval. ::Yet. Don't worry, I'll get to that. Believe me, he 
doesn't look too unhappy with my breach of etiquette.::

::So where are you?::

Chuck walked toward the shop, using his free hand to open the door 
while he continued pleasuring himself with his other. ::Why? What's 
the rush? You boys on fire or something?::

::Aren't I always?:: Chuck could feel Frazz's lust pouring over his 
words like chocolate syrup. He was a huge muscular monster of a man, 
his skin so dark he was almost black, with almond-shaped eyes and a 
ready, open smile that looked pornographic no matter how innocent he 
tried to act. He had a clean shaven head and a clean hairless body. 

Like Chuck, he had been Transformed, and was now another example of 
the perfected male form, overwhelmed with muscle and ready to fuck 
the whole U.S. Marine Corps. 

Frazz had been a towering figure of prime masculine flesh even before 
he met Chuck, but what he was now had amplified his beauty, strength, 
size and sex drive a thousand fold over what he had been. His whole 
genetic structure, every strand of DNA, every follicle of hair and 
every cell of skin, every fiber of muscle lining his primed, hard 
body had been cleansed of impurities and rebuilt. He was so much 
better than he had been, and so much more, that he was a different 
man altogether.

At least physically. Mentally, he was still Frazier, still the 
swaggering blowhard with the stinging sense of humor and the hands 
that performed miracles wherever they touched. But his eyes still 
twinkled with mirth and his smile still showed that, for all his 
bluster and ego, he was just a little sweetheart inside.

Adam was something else altogether. More than a man, Adam had been 
created from the essences of two other Transformed men, a sort of 
clone born of cells and sperm and grown to maturity in a matter of 
days, at least physically. He was still growing every day, more huge 
and more beautiful with each tick of the clock, born with an innate 
control of his entire physical structure down to every fiber of 
muscle and every follicle of hair erupting like a dark, curling 
forest on the mountains of his chest. Sometimes Chuck thought he 
could see Adam developing just watching him. He was male perfection 
in fast motion, a boy becoming a man becoming a superman as the hours 
passed.

Chuck was amazed every time he looked at Adam. He seemed to be 
growing every minute. His frame was stretching to accommodate his 
swelling collection of muscular beauty, brawn that was double that of 
Chuck or Frazz because he wasn't being changed from something else, 
his genes didn't need refining, his body wasn't going to go through a 
process of rebirth. This was his first birth, born as a fully 
Transformed man, and gifted with more of everything from the start. 
It was all developing by the day, and the boy seemed totally 
oblivious to his affect on his friends. 

In Adam's eyes, everyone was beautiful, and he loved them all. He 
would love them all if he could – and the thing was, he probably 
could. All at once. Everyone everywhere. With just a touch of his 
hand or the scent of his power, he could make men fall into states of 
sexual ecstasy from which the only recovery was to grow as huge and 
beautiful as Chuck or Frazz, so their bodies could cope with all the 
sensual and sexual masculine power flowing into them.

It's what Transform did, what it was for. To make supermen. 

And it gave them control. Absolute, total control over every aspect 
of their physical form. And when they grew, as they all did, their 
bodies became overwhelmed with muscle and size. Fat, bulging masses 
of power that flexed and swelled, hugely powerful and perfectly 
developed. The men would grow taller as the muscle packed itself on, 
their bodies expanding to allow Transform to build them bigger and 
bigger. They doubled in height, and grew stronger. Then taller still, 
and stronger, and bigger. Fifteen feet high. Sixteen. And then came 
The Sharing where all the men who had been gifted with the power came 
together in an explosion of lust and growth and sex and beauty, and 
they all grew to their ultimate height.

But they could also compact themselves smaller, when desired. Total 
control. Tell your body what you want, what you need, and it was 
there at your command. 

So Chuck's foot-long erection (he knew how big he was, down to the 
millimeter, even if to Tommy he owned something like 14 inches) was 
only a whisper of what he truly possessed – and what he could give 
another man with a simple touch of his hand, passing the Transforming 
genetics to him and making him over into his perfect self.

Frazz spoke again. ::We were just curious, that's all. What's this 
wonderboy look like?:: Chuck sent out a mental picture of the kid 
whose name he didn't know. It was a fully formed, 3-D video with 
surround sound that appeared to his friends as if they were there 
with him. This was another capability that manifested, the 
mindspeech, the mental sharing between Transformed men. Their brains 
eventually changed like their bodies did, reopening old abilities or 
opening up channels to new ones. They were evolving by leaps and 
bounds, their perfect selves still perfecting.

Frazz growled a pleasurable moan and Adam sent out waves of love, as 
he usually did. Adam loved everyone. It was just his way. And the 
purest expression of love, as far as he knew, was fucking. Neither 
Chuck nor Frazz had chosen to change the boy's mind about that just 
yet. Chuck realized there was a danger, or he thought there probably 
was, so he and Frazz kept a close eye on Adam. But the boy never 
seemed to mind. Because he loved them. 

At the moment, he and Frazz were deeply in love. Adam was deeply in 
love with Frazz's ass, and Frazz was deeply in love with Adam's 
monster cock. The term insatiable didn't even begin to approach the 
sexual appetite of a Transformed man. Total control meant total 
satisfaction – but losing control had its appeal as well.

::Nice,:: Frazz said approvingly. ::Need any help?::

Chuck was mounting the stairs. The deep throbbing waves of bliss that 
rained through him were growing stronger because he allowed them to. 
His dick was harder than ever and spitting out a flow of thick, clear 
precum that smelled like raw sex. ::Don't think so, but thanks.:: He 
stood before the kid's front door. It stood slightly ajar and he 
pushed it open with his foot, moving inside and tossing his shorts to 
the floor. "Hello? I hope I'm not too early."

"What?" Jesus, the kid's voice actually cracked! How old was this 
little man?

Chuck shook his head and let a sideways smile light his 
features. "Nothing." He followed the sound of his voice. "What's your 
name?"

"My name?"

Chuck rounded the corner and stood in the bedroom doorway, his head 
nearly grazing the frame. He leaned against the entry, crossing his 
legs at the ankle and grinning with sexual intent. He ran his hand up 
and down the solid inches of his lathered prick, while the other hand 
played with one erect and very plump nipple. "Yes," he said, his 
voice like soft thunder, "what's your name?"

The kid was sprawled on his bed, still dressed, but his fingers were 
tugging his fly down. He looked almost like an anxious little puppy 
getting his first bone. When his own thin but long tool popped out, 
it looked as hard as Chuck's whole body, and his chest, beneath the 
cotton shirt, was just beginning to show the muscle inside. "Tommy." 
He grinned back. Tommy had dark blonde hair, straight and hanging 
across his eyes. He had a boy's face, with not a whisker in site, and 
blue eyes with long lashes. His nose was very small, which made his 
sensuous mouth look larger than it was. "What's yours?"

"Chuck," he said. And he heard in his mind Frazz say, ::God damn, 
boy! You sure you don't want any help?:: Chuck was leaving his 
channels open so that Frazz and Adam wouldn't just see what he was 
seeing, they'd feel it, too. 

Still, as the song says, there ain't nothing like the real thing, 
baby.

This was his first conquest since leaving IGE – the Institute for 
Genetic Enhancement. It was a sham, created just to lure more men 
into the brotherhood, and it had worked for a while, but it became 
clear that Transform was too much to control, too big to corral. So 
the men of IGE had gone their separate ways, some teaming up, others 
simply disappearing.

This trio had spent a few days enjoying each other, and watching Adam 
continue to grow. He was now a robust 15 feet tall, still shorter 
than Chuck's 20 feet of muscle and Frazz's 21 feet. But Adam's growth 
was phenomenal, because he wasn't growing merely taller but more 
muscular as well. It was fucking amazing watching the kid's body 
continue to get bigger and stronger. Just watching him bulge his 
bicep – or was it biceps (the cut on the head was so deep it looked 
like he had a set of them on each arm) – was enough to set Chuck's 
dick to spurting. And he was just so fucking cute! He was becoming a 
true heartbreaker who would probably best even Joseph, another 
Transformed youth who Chuck considered easily the most beautiful man 
he'd ever encountered.

They had no plan. They had, instead, a competition. Of course. 
Because one way or another, everything became a competition between 
him and Frazz. 

"Well, Chuck," Tommy said, sitting up and poking himself in the chest 
with his erection, "you just gonna stand there looking gorgeous or 
are you coming over here so I can suck you dry?"

Chuck's grin turned positively immoral. "Well," he said with no undue 
modesty, "you can try."

Tommy climbed off the bed and walked toward him. His dick was 
standing up straight and firm and fat as his loose jeans slid off his 
hips. He wasn't wearing underwear. 

Tommy had never seen such a beautiful cock before. Maybe in some 
picture on the Net. Maybe in a dream. But never in the hot hard flesh 
and within his grasp. Chuck watched the kid zero his attentions in on 
the thing like that same dog after that bone. He was practically 
salivating. "Too big?"

Tommy tilted his head. "I won't know until I try, will I?" He smiled 
and met Chuck's gaze.

"Tell you what, Tommy. You take me – all of me – and suck me until I 
cum… and swallow the whole load, and I'll grant you a wish."

"A wish?" The doubt and sarcasm dripped off his reply.

Chuck just smiled and nodded. "Yes. A wish. Think of me like a genie. 
Except instead of rubbing my lamp, you need to suck my cock and make 
me cum."

Tommy eyed the giant dick. It looked about to fountain any 
second. "And I only get one wish?"

He reached forward and lifted Tommy's face, placing his fingers 
gently beneath his chin. His answer was soft and filled with 
promise. "You'll only want one." 

Tommy's brow furrowed slightly, then he shrugged and began to 
formulate his attack. Chuck's dick looked 14 inches long, standing 
straight out and pulsing eagerly. It looked to be as thick as a beer 
can. Tommy could feel its heat from where he kneeled, squatting 
before the god in his bedroom and the monster of his godhood. 

::That's hardly fair,:: Frazz sent. ::The least you could have done 
was give the guy a fighting chance!::

::You don't think I'm not going to grant his wish whether he succeeds 
or not, do you? Jesus, I can hold off cumming forever, even if this 
guy's the world champion of head.:: He could feel Adam's pride. He 
must have thought the same thing as Frazz, but the boy would have 
just touched Tommy with his fingertips and given him the gift without 
asking. ::Don't worry, Adam. You'll meet Tommy soon.::

Tommy started at the base, applying his slick tongue to Chuck's 
massive erection and licking up the inches of the fat shaft. A wealth 
of salty precum filled his mouth and he swallowed eagerly. While it 
was true that Chuck could hold his erection indefinitely and keep his 
balls from pumping until he decided he wanted to pump, he was also, 
at his core, a human male with sexual drives – although his drives 
were about a thousand times more powerful than Tommy's – that liked 
attention. And he could tell already that Tommy was a young man with 
no small amount of attention to give.

::Jeez, this kid's serious.::

::Shut up Frazz, you're not making this any easier.::

::Easier than what?:: Poor Adam. He just didn't get the whole 
anticipation/pay-off thing. He was pure pay-off.

Tommy placed his grip around Chuck's root and sucked his thick helmet 
inside his warm, wet mouth. His tongue was quite a talented little 
tool, itself, and he even used his teeth to good advantage. Chuck 
closed his eyes and felt Tommy's touch to his toes. He wanted very 
much to start growing right then, to feel his muscles expand and 
swell, but he kept a rein on himself. He wasn't even letting a thread 
of Sex Scent out, not yet. He wanted Tommy to be all Tommy without 
Chuck's overwhelming sexual powers to spur him on.

He could have, if he wanted, begun releasing the potent pheromones 
his body now produced, flooding the small room with a sexual scent so 
strong that Tommy would be moaning in ecstasy and spewing like a 
fountain. He could even lace the scent with the very chemical that 
had turned him into the super sexual, super masculine, super muscular 
being he was now. Transform swam through every cell in his body, and 
it was so strong that it only took a whisper of it to change another 
man completely.

Or he could have transferred the power through his skin, touching 
Tommy's cheek with his fingertips or kissing his lips tenderly and 
making him over in a matter of moments to become a being like him, 
with physical and sexual capabilities beyond anything Tommy could 
imagine.

But Chuck was what he had been even before the transformation of his 
body months ago. He was a horny bastard who loved fucking. He enjoyed 
it. He enjoyed doing it, and he enjoyed having it done to him. And he 
loved blow jobs. And Tommy was proving right now that he loved giving 
them.

And he was doing an excellent job on Chuck's joint, even as huge as 
it was. Chuck was aiding his lover's exercise in cock stroking by 
releasing copious amounts of the sweet, clear precum that acted as a 
super slick lube. Tommy seemed to be swallowing almost as much as he 
could pump, which only amplified his pleasure. Chuck reached up to 
pinch his own nipples and, in a moment of concentration, he did allow 
himself to grow, swelling his chest outward and dropping his fat 
nipples into his fingers. Even that small rush of muscular growth was 
enough to send shivers of deep sexual bliss through him. The growth 
process itself was like the truest, deepest orgasm imaginable. 

Feeling your body begin to swell with power, to expand outward, 
growing stronger and bigger every second, was heaven.

But whatever Tommy was doing was a close second.


Continued in Part 4...

From: "Muscle Chgo" <MuscleChgo@hotmail.com>
Subject: Re: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers"
Date: Thursday, August 09, 2001 8:19 PM


Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was beginning to think all the 
writers 
had taken the summer off! Very hot.
-MuscleChgo

----Original Message Follows----
From: also_knownas@hotmail.com
Reply-To: MuscleGrowthStories@yahoogroups.com
To: MuscleGrowthStories@yahoogroups.com
Subject: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers" Part 4
Date: Tue, 31 Jul 2001 01:48:55 -0000

Seducers
Part 4


For Tommy, going down (or was it up?) on this man was as close to
heaven as he ever felt. Whoever this guy was, or whatever he was, he
seemed to be putting out some sort of power or scent or both that was
so positively overpoweringly emphatically masculine that Tommy,
himself, started to feel as if he was being swelled up with it, like
it was inside him and on his flash and in his lungs and muscles, and
that as each second ticked past he was growing more powerfully male,
more perfectly, entirely masculine.

Did he believe that the man could grant wishes? At this point, it
hardly mattered. All he wanted was for this feeling, whatever it was
and wherever it came from, to go on and on. As he continued to
pleasure the man, to lick and suck and kiss and stroke his hugeness,
that feeling grew stronger inside him. He had never felt so
powerfully, completely masculine. His muscles felt strong and hard
and throbbed with strength. His dick was harder than steel, thicker
than a beer can, as big as his arm. His nipples tingled and pulsed,
he felt every hair on his body, every curling silken thread of male
confirmation like it was a warm coat against his naked form. And
heat, a heat unlike anything he'd experienced, a heat of passion and
lust and power so utterly masculine that there could be no doubt of
its origin.

It was this man. And the hunger for that heat and power and strength
drove him on.

::Oh, man, this boy's serious!::

::Frazz, please, withhold the editorial comments?::

Chuck felt his dark-skinned partner's laughter more than he heard it.
Sharing so much emotionally as well as physically through their
mental connection took some getting used to at first. This was a new
capability that Transform awakened, and like every other physical
manifestation it was completely controllable by the individual. Chuck
could, if he wanted, almost without thinking, sever the connection
and be `alone' again.

But over the days and weeks since this new power was established,
he'd grown used to sharing everything, experiencing everything,
feeling the fuck when he and Frazz or Adam or all three were fucking
both as the fucker and fuckee. The pleasure was doubled, tripled,
quadrupled, more and more and more, feeling the pleasure, sensing the
rapture and satisfaction, the desire and lust, the joy and bliss,
everything that he felt himself, as well as what he was making Frazz
feel, or Adam, and back.

Now he was open to them all the time. It was like being naked
emotionally as well as physically, but they loved each other, Chuck
realized, and that love was also magnified. Everything was. It was
just another by-product of what they were now.

Chuck lifted his arm and allowed some growth into the bicep and
tricep, watching the globes of brawn swell with muscle. A thick vein
popped along the surface and dug deeply inside, feeding his strength
and size. The skin stretched thin, making the cables of power stand
out starkly. He inhaled his scent, allowing his musky masculine stink
to perfume the room. His frame stretched slightly taller, and his
chest bulged outward.

::Jeez, Chuck, pull back on the reins. You might scare Tommy off!::

Chuck just smiled. ::Watch this,:: he advised, and he let himself
swell slightly larger everywhere. The growth brought with it a
heightening of his male powers, and Tommy could feel it sinking into
his skin, Chuck's overwhelming masculine energy. He swooned and felt
hot and hard and strong. It felt to Tommy like his entire body,
inside and out, every muscle and every inch of skin and every silken
strand of hair, was growing hot and tingling with sexual energy, like
he was building toward some explosion of orgasmic bliss so powerful
that he'd grow incandescent and catch fire.

::You're going to give the game away.::

Chuck smiled. ::Now, watch this.:: He sent Frazz and Adam the images
before him, the site of the boy at his waist, his hands around
Chuck's fat dick, his mouth suctioned onto his hot, hard inches, and
the shoulders suddenly swelling under his T-shirt, the muscles
splitting and spreading and growing bigger. From Chuck's point of
view, he could watch the boy's shoulders growing wider from his neck,
and thicker with brawn. The material covering his body lost its
wrinkles as it tried to continue to contain his developing bulk.

Tommy felt something change inside him. That anticipation of sexual
release suddenly swelled to a new level. He felt it most keenly in
his chest and shoulders, and it was spreading to his arms. It was a
shining sort of pressure, as if his muscles were being pumped
suddenly full to bursting with power.

::Chuck? What are you doing?::

The huge man's touch spread across his own gargantuan chest, so he
could feel his own muscular growth mirror Tommy's slow, constant
development. Now the boy's arms began to swell. The biceps were
ballooning with power. Thick veins branched across the brawn under
his pale skin. They spread fatter and broader until there was little
room in the sleeve.

His shoulders continued to grow wider and thicker, as his arms
inflated, and then his chest was slowly thickening outward, the thin
separation between his meaty hemispheres growing deeper by the
second. Tommy's attention to Chuck's hot, hard prick grew more
anxious and hungry as he began to change. He felt as if the more he
suckled and kissed and stroked this ultimate expression of masculine
power, the deeper he was feeling the sensations that were spreading
through his body, the feeling of growth and power building higher and
higher, throbbing through him, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

His muscles were growing, swelling up with strength, not defined and
striated like Chuck's massive brawn, but smooth and huge and polished
like marble. His shirt was growing tighter and tighter against his
frame, perfectly outlining all the luscious and powerful growth
happening beneath.

Tommy felt like he was cumming. Something about this guy, something
about his dick and his whole body, made him feel magnificent. He felt
huge with sex, bloated with muscular power, his whole body was
vibrating and trembling with intense erotic thrills that sunk deeply
into his skin and bones and muscle and made his balls feel heavy and
full and his dick feel hard as iron and big as another arm thrusting
up between his powerful thighs.

::What does it look like I'm doing?::

Adam answered. ::It looks like you're transforming Tommy.:: Always
stating the obvious, that was Adam. Some day, if he hung out with
Frazz and Chuck long enough, maybe he'd develop a sense of humor. But
until then, Chuck was content to watch him getting bigger every day
and to have the beautiful boy's fat, long cock buried up his ass.
He couldn't wait until Adam's second prick developed. Every
transformed man got one - or rather two of the perfect, highly
sensitized monsters. Transformed men had several advantages over
other men, but probably Chuck's favorite new tool was having twin
swinging pricks gifted with the same muscular control as the rest of
his body. They weren't merely limp or stiff, didn't merely hang there
or stand there. A transformed prick was agile, prehensile, filled up
with cables of brawn that allowed him to totally control how they
behaved. He could wrap them around each other, make them vibrate and
twist, stretch them and bloat them and make them act like snakes
escaping down a hole.

Tommy's upper body had gained several pounds of muscle in the few
minutes Chuck had been sculpting him. It was how Chuck thought of it,
anyway. He could apply Transform with an artist's touch, now. He was
creating a Grecian statue in flesh and muscle, an ode to the male
form, a perfectly sculpted collection of round, firm bellies and
bulging hard pillows of power. Tommy had a chest, now, a real chest,
two rounded mountains with squared corners that bulged thickly
outward. His nipples, dark circles of perfection, perked up stiff,
pressing their dark firmness against his shirt and begging to be
suckled and tongued.

His belly was a rippling mass of cobblestones, a six-pack of firm
muscle tightly packed. His hips stayed narrow, his pelvis and groin
flat, and then his legs bulged fiercely -- thick wedges of power on
top and wide flaring diamonds on his calves below. His face, too, had
been honed by this master sculptor of men. Chuck had merely to
imagine the beauty and his power would make it real.

Where Tommy had been, a slim drink of a boy with potential and
desire, there was now a beautiful young man so powerful of form and
design, so gorgeous in face and features, so broad and tall and
beautiful that any man seeing him might now have the same reaction
Tommy had to Chuck.

::How long?:: It was Frazz.

Chuck raised a dark eyebrow and pointed his gaze downward. ::About
eight inches.::

::Not his dick, fuckwad! I mean how long has he been going? I sort of
got lost in the transformation.::

Chuck smiled. ::Twenty minutes, give or take.::

::Shit. He's still at it?::

Chuck felt Tommy's talented touch up and down his stiffness. ::And
how. Better than ever.::

::Time for his reward, fuckwad?::

::Adam, Frazz calls me fuckwad because.... Never mind. Yes, it's
time.:: He allowed his balls to swell and churn, filling up with a
thick, hot abundance of his sweet, powerful cum. They dropped under
the load, bulging like balloons as he poured more and more and more
of his load into them. They grew fatter still, now pressing firmly
outward against his legs.

And still bigger. Swollen with his masculine power, his potent sexual
energy in physical form. Hot and sticky. He whispered a warning, his
voice gruff and deep, like a growl from a tiger. "Ready?"

Tommy's eyes met his. They were now a clear and shining blue, bright
like tropical waters with a darker, evening violet around the
outside. He didn't have to say anything, he was already sucking
harder than ever.

So Chuck released himself into Tommy, pumping his powerful and
intoxicating ocean down the beautiful boy's throat.

Tommy's mouth was suddenly filled and it was all he could do to keep
from choking, because the huge muscled man before him wasn't merely
pumping a few thick spurts of his cream, it was literally pouring
from him like he had a hose attached to him. The sweet, salty tang of
his essence flooded his mouth and he swallowed gulp after rich,
creamy gulp down his throat. It warmed him through and through,
spilling down inside him and spreading its warm power outward through
his whole body.

And again the thick, heady, overpowering masculinity of the man
struck him like a tidal wave. He could feel the man's power, his
strength and size and firmness, the inches of fat muscle, the soft
curls of body hair, the rough hands and deep, dark gaze. An
overwhelming sense of masculine supremacy filled him up and embraced
him and he was drowning in it. It felt as if the man himself was
inside Tommy, as if his own sense of self was being amplified with
Chuck's massive and towering masculine energy, and Tommy was
changing, the essence of him becoming so much more, bigger and more
beautiful and more powerful than he ever imagined being. The smell of
sex, the feel of muscle, the strong arms surrounding him, a fat dick
inside him. So much man.

Chuck did not transform him any further, though he easily could have.
He had made Tommy over into a man who could still walk around
believably as `human,' instead of superhuman like Chuck or Frazz or
especially Adam. He was gorgeous, yes, perhaps even abnormally
physically beautiful like an airbrushed full-color pornographic
perfection you might find in a magazine or online. He had been
upgraded, as Chuck liked to think of it. The slate had been wiped
off, but not wiped clean. He was still Tommy, essentially. Just a
stronger, bigger, more attractive (way more attractive, now that
Chuck really looked at him) Tommy.

Chuck came for a couple of minutes - no sense wearing him out before
the fun's even begun - and pushed his last few spurts of cream down
Tommy's throat before the young man, his new huge chest rising and
falling with each breath, let Chuck from his hungry mouth and fell
forward, wrapping the big man's hairy legs and firm, round ass in his
arms. He buried his face in Chuck's crotch, breathing in more of his
deliciously masculine scent. "Whoa," he said, and laughed a little.
If he noticed that his voice was deeper and more commanding, he
didn't show any surprise.

"Congratulations, Tommy." The boy looked up. His auburn hair,
straight and fine and shining, fell from those turquoise eyes and he
smiled.

"I get my wish?"

Chuck smiled. "I'd say you've earned it."

"Shit, you are one amazing dude, Chuck."

"Thanks." ::If he only knew.::

::He will:: responded Frazz.

Tommy released Chuck's pelvis and started to stand. And stood up.

And up.

And up.

Meeting Chuck eye-to-eye. He had gained six inches in height in
addition to the muscle bulging across his taller frame, stretching
his T-shirt to the limits, and the extra four inches on his fat,
heavy cock. The waistband of his pants fell off his slim hips but
caught onto his more massive thigh muscles. The seams threatened to
rip themselves apart. His shirt was already showing signs of
surrender. He blinked a couple of times looking into Chuck's face,
watching the man's beautiful features light into a growing smile as
realization hit him.

Then he looked down. "Holy... shit!" He stumbled back a step or two as
he surveyed his improved body. His hands had been out to his sides in
surprise, but now he brought them in to touch all the powerful brawn
on his body. As he brought his arms in, the seams along the shoulders
gave in, ripping loudly. His fingertips danced across the heavy
globes of his rounded chest, gripping the massive mounds of brawn in
his hands before he grasped the hem of the shirt that was almost
ready to rip all its seams apart, and started to strip it from his
new body.

What he revealed made even Chuck, who had built him, suck in a tight
breath. As the shirt inched up his body, his six-pack, deeply etched
on his tight stomach, flexed and bulged. He twisted his torso and the
abs popped and swelled, he stretched taller as his arms lifted and
then the wide V of his upper body showed itself as his chest and
back, overwhelmed with power, swelled outward.

Tommy pulled the shirt off, having some difficulty getting the
sleeves to release his bigger guns, and then he tossed it aside and
ran his hands back over his naked form in all its muscled glory. He
was practically hairless, with baby smooth skin that shone as if
polished. Every muscle of his body was clearly developed, fat and
firm and bulging with restrained power. The deltoids, the abdominals,
the latisimus dorsi, shoulders, arms, chest and stomach now remade
into perfection.

He dug his fingers through the wealth of chestnut curls on his loins
before they reached down to run along the plump shaft of his new
cock. "Shit," he whispered again. Then he looked up at Chuck's
smiling face again, and his own features suddenly erupted into an
expression of unrestrained joy. He opened his arms wide and pulled
Chuck into a tight embrace, muscle to muscle. Chuck's were stone hard
against his, but he didn't seem to care. "Thank you!" he said. Then
he said it again. "Thank you!"

"It was nothing," Chuck announced, feeling himself growing almost as
happy as Tommy after seeing his reaction. "You got a mirror
somewhere?"

Tommy froze, then sprinted toward the closet and opened the door
wide. There was a full-length mirror on the other side, and he
stepped back from it with a look of awe and wonder on his face. The
same hands that explored his new, bigger, better body now reached up
and cupped his new features, turning his head this way and that to
see exactly how beautiful he looked now. "How did...?" he began. Then
he was twisting around, trying to see his ass, his back, what he
looked like from every angle. He quickly stripped the jeans off his
legs to unveil the hard, thick wedges of power there, and the shining
skin so clean and perfect. And what an ass! High and firm and
round. "How is... what... how did you...?"

Chuck just stood there admiring his work. He was very, very good at
this aspect of his talents. Looking at Tommy, he felt a raging desire
coursing through his body. The boy was so beautiful, so amazing to
look at, and Tommy's unrestrained joy at seeing what he was now -
with no fear, no shock, just wonder and excitement - made Chuck feel
almost like a proud Dad.

Who wanted to start fucking his son into next Tuesday. "What's your
wish?" Tommy didn't answer. He was bending his arms into a double-bi,
grinning madly as he watched his biceps build into small mountains,
and his shoulders bulge thick and fat, and his chest rise and stretch
like wings of pure power. "Tommy?" Now he bent his arms down, bowing
himself into a most muscular pose, watching his upper body inflate
with developed masculine perfection. "Yo, Tommy!"

He turned, looking slightly embarrassed. Well, incredibly gorgeous
and slightly embarrassed. "What?"

"You have a wish coming."

He looked at himself in the mirror again. "It gets better than this?"

"If you can pull yourself away from yourself for just a minute, we
can both find out together."

"Who are you?"

"I told you. My name is Chuck."

"No, I mean... what are you? How did you do... this?" He spread his
muscled arms wide, tensing his collection of brawn, swelling bigger
still with strength and pride and beauty. His heavy, thick cock hung
forward above two round, egg-sized balls. His skin was smooth and
without a blemish, clean and clear and beautiful, the pale pink
slightly bronzed but still light enough that it made his large
nipples stand out starkly, and the auburn hair above his prick and
whispering beneath his arms appear darker brown. Tommy's blue eyes
were wide and bright. "How, Chuck?"

He was beautiful. He had the physical perfection of a young god, but
none of the other talents that came from being transformed. Standing
there, naked and glorious, any other man or woman on the planet,
probably, would be hard tempted not to want him, to be with him, to
have him. He lowered his arms and shifted his hips, standing poised
and comfortable already in his new body.

"I was like you," he said. "I was a man, an ordinary man. Then
something changed me. Made me more than I was, more than you're
looking at right now." He tilted his head slightly, closing his
eyes. "I can still remember the first change. The feeling of it, and
then the feeling afterwards." He opened his eyes. They had changed,
becoming intensely green, shining almost, clear and laserpoint
sharp. "It's probably what you're feeling now. Power. Pride. Sex."
Tommy watched Chuck as he spoke, feeling something coming over him.
Reality was distorting, or Chuck was. Was Chuck changing? "It isn't
the size, really. It's the power you love most. The strength inside
you. When you make a muscle, flexing it into a ball of brawn, feeling
the strength swell and multiply." He did so, raising his right arm,
not looking at it, keeping his eyes locked on Tommy's, watching the
young man watch him, watching his arm bulge, watching the upper arm
swell huge, the shoulder almost full to bursting, the dark shadow of
hair deepening as the arm and shoulder and chest swelled larger and
larger. "So much power. Inside you." The bicep kept growing! "Wanting
out, wanting to grow bigger and bigger, bigger than you, bigger than
the whole world."

Tommy realized it was true, that Chuck was changing before his eyes,
becoming... more. More muscular, more masculine, more beautiful and
more powerful.

"It's inside me, Tommy. More than that, it is me. That power.
Purified and perfected. Masculine muscular sex swollen and absolute."
Chuck's body was expanding now, very clearly so. The muscles spread
wider, fatter, thicker, harder, everywhere. His dark features seemed
to soften slightly, then grow more handsome, breathtakingly so. His
chin, his cheeks, his brow, his nose, his eyes... "You can be more,
Tommy."

If he thought Chuck was huge before, he didn't know what to call him
now. He had grown at least another foot taller in the space it took
him to say what he'd said. And he was two feet wider, and a lot
bigger everywhere. Tommy could see the muscle growing, watch the
fibers swell into cables, then split and spread and grow bigger
still. And Chuck's dick was lengthening and thickening, the head
blooming, his balls dropping and enlarging. The dusting of soft fur
was spreading, too. It looked silken and sexy, accentuating his
expanding dimensions and rounding curves and deepening muscular
development. "What's your wish?"

"I want to be like you," he answered. "I want to be more."

Chuck, all seven and a half feet of him, leaned against the
doorframe. It cracked audibly before he adjusted his weight to
compensate. He folded his arms across his chest, and everything
bulged bigger still, muscle pressed against muscle. His beautiful
face looked calm, but his green eyes were intense and the sideways
smile that swept across his full lips was filled with satisfaction
and amusement.

He sighed as he looked at Tommy, almost seeing the ultimate form he
would take in this improved version. The boy had a killer body now,
smooth and sleek with thick strength. He stood there so open and
plainly happy that Chuck felt something inside him light up. He could
feel Frazz's desire inside as well, and also Adam's joy and love of
this young man he'd never met - as if that mattered. "How much more?"
Tommy's head tilted, and an eyebrow rose in curiosity. "How much more
is there?"

Chuck laughed softly. "More than you could possibly imagine." He
swelled slightly larger still, and saw the boy's face register his
surprise. Tommy was still thinking in normal human scales. He had
thought that the Chuck he saw before him was the ultimate expression
of what Chuck could be, or that Tommy could become.

Tommy watched this magical man grow stronger still, even bigger, and
more beautiful. It was surreal, seeing this happening in the flesh.
It was like some special effect, watching this man remake himself
again and again, each time surpassing what he had been moments
before, each time becoming a more perfect example of what a man
was. "Bigger?"

Chuck nodded, and answered his request. "Bigger," he said as he grew
again. "And even bigger." His voice dipped another register lower as
his chest expanded outward and his shoulders built themselves into
mountains and his legs stretched longer and fatter with cables of
brawn. His cock reached further down along his thigh, the shaft
swelling as the head drooped and bloomed. Now the man was another
half a foot taller and who knew how many pounds heavier with his
thick muscle. The crevasse between the globes of his chest was deep
and shadowed with dark curls. His chiseled chin and cheeks dusted
with heavy whiskers that perfectly complimented the trimmed goatee
and mustache that...

That hadn't been there when the guy was downstairs. "How'd you do
that?"

"Which part?"

Tommy lifted his hand to rub his own face. "The beard. You weren't
that sexy downstairs." He grinned, and wet his lips.

"All part of the total package, Tommy." He straightened and
approached the young man who was now a foot and a half shorter than
himself. He placed his fingers on his face and drew their mouths
together, allowing a whisper of the Touch into the kiss so that Tommy
moaned and started breathing a little faster. Chuck's hands held more
of the super pleasurable sensations that his body delivered in bulk
and he caressed Tommy's shoulders, moving his hands and their
cascades of bliss along his smooth skin, across his back, toward his
ass where his fingers cupped Tommy's firmness and shoved a sudden,
full shock of the Touch through him, zeroing in on his loins.

Tommy fell against the huge man, overcome, gasping for air. "Oh,
jesus..."

"Better?" Chuck's deep voice rumbled through him.

"Oh, jesus," he repeated, recovering slowly from the small sample of
Chuck's capabilities.

"I have friends," he said, "who want to meet you." He pressed his
lips to Tommy's ear. "Do you have any friends I might want to meet?"

"And what..." Tommy sucked in a breath and straightened, his newer 
body
still recovering. "And what sort of payment does this require?"

Chuck smiled. "None."

"You don't want anything from me?" Chuck shook his head. "Then why?"

"Are you always this suspicious of gifts?" His hands were still
roaming across Tommy's muscular form. He kissed the boy's mouth
again, pressing his huge body against Tommy, bending his lips down to
the young man's, giving him a soft, tender, teasing kiss.

This was unfair, Tommy thought. This was a dream. This was a fantasy.
This was fucking great. He felt Chuck's large hands moving across his
naked skin like silken gloves. Everywhere he was touched tingled with
need, grew hot and charged with sensual pleasure. He started to think
about his friends, and about showing up at their place like he was
now, within this new body that already felt comfortable, a body whose
new strength and size felt so right, and so pure, and so good. He
could feel the strength of his muscles coursing through him, feel the
weight of his cock and balls like a luscious burden, and his whole
naked form felt alive and ready to take on anything the world handed
him.

"When," he whispered, gulping air into his lungs against Chuck's
sexual assault on his senses.

::Now! Right now!:: Frazz was yelling in Chuck's head. Adam laughed,
but his agreement was plain. They both wanted fresh meat, and they
wanted the opportunity to change a man like Chuck changed Tommy.

There was a thrill watching that power manifest. It was cool to see
another guy start growing as soon as you touched them, to see their
body change and become so beautiful and powerful.

Chuck parted from Tommy and walked away from him, moving with a
feline sexual grace and an athletic stride that showed his power in
every move of his muscular body. He bent and retrieved his Nylon
shorts and turned around, absently scratching his crotch so his
mammoth prick bobbed and swayed. "Tonight."

"Where?" Tommy felt frozen in place, as if moving would shatter the
spell and he'd be himself again, and none of this will have happened.

Chuck stepped into his shorts and pulled them up his huge frame. They
were obscenely tiny on him now, barely capable of holding his inches
in their stretched basket. The material clung to him like a second
skin, and there was no way anyone seeing him could doubt that the fat
dick and those two heavy balls pressing for release were anything
other than 100% manmeat. They rode so low on his hips that the
waistband came just above the root of his cock, and a thick wealth of
pubic curls spilled across that edge. "I'll be back," he said. "And
I'm bringing friends." He approached Tommy again, standing very close
to him, towering over him, and his torso began expanding again, his
chest swelling outward until it grew against Tommy. "Will you?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah," he answered.

"Cool." He bent down and kissed him goodbye. As he left the room and
disappeared, Tommy heard his deep rumble say, "Thanks for the blow
job, beautiful. And see you tonight."

Tommy stood there in stark shock until the door downstairs shut
again, then he fell back on his bed and stared at the ceiling until
his hands found his own huge hardness and he jerked himself to a
thick, hot load that splattered across his muscular chest and rippled
belly. He dipped his fingers into the cream and sucked his essence
off. He tasted sweet and warm.

A warmth that began to spread through his body.


To be continued...

From: <also_knownas@hotmail.com>
To: <MuscleGrowthStories@yahoogroups.com>
Subject: [MGS] STORY: "Seducers" Part 5
Date: Thursday, August 09, 2001 8:37 PM


Seducers
Part 5


"Him?"

Bobby nodded to Joe. They were standing behind the fryer looking over 
the counter at an older guy who looked, well, dumpy. He was very old 
to their very young eyes, both of them around 17 years old, he 
looked… maybe even 40! He was in a dress shirt and tie, his eyes 
looked sad and tired, he was losing his hair and his rotund figure 
showed that he had not even thought about a gym in dozens of years. 

His skin had a gray pallor and it sagged in places with sacks of fat. 
His thin lips looked like they had forgotten how to smile and his 
stance and stature announced that here was a man who had given up. 

There couldn't have been a starker contrast between people than that 
of the older man out front and the two young men behind the counter. 

They had been transformed, like Chuck and his friends. If they were 
striking as normal teenagers, that was nothing to what they looked 
like now. Health and vitality literally shone from their bodies and 
faces. Their pumped up bodies sang with youthful energy and massive 
power tightly controlled. The polyester uniforms they both wore did 
little to hide the collection of prime brawn and tight power that 
lined their limbs and encased their torsos. 

If one didn't know better, one might have thought the two were twins. 
Both possessed faces of unsurpassed masculine beauty, with full 
sensuous lips and high cheeks and jutting, chiseled chins. Their 
faces were clean shaven and so smooth and tanned that it appeared 
they had been born on some magical Mediterranean isle, except that 
Bobby had flashing turquoise eyes and Joe's were darker blue, almost 
violet in color. They both had long, full heads of shining hair they 
kept tied back, lending them a native quality. 

But it was their bodies that commanded attention even beyond the 
almost unearthly beauty of their faces. Their sleeves were bursting 
their seams from the pressure of the huge balloons of brawn on their 
arms. Their shoulders stretched so wide that it was lucky that 
polyester stretched. And they both had to wear pants that fit around 
their 30-inch waists that grabbed onto their high, round butts so 
tightly that the massive baskets that jutted forward and hung with 
ponderous weight showcased their endowments so obviously that no one 
had a shadow of a doubt that watching these dudes take a piss would 
be a lesson in humility no matter how much you were packing.

From the tips of their toes to the tops of their heads 6-feet, 4-
inches above, they were the two most gorgeous and powerful and 
sexually charged men anyone in the little town where they suddenly 
appeared had ever seen. And why these two were working the night 
shift at the 24-hour Tastee Freez on the highway was anyone's guess. 
There were still stories going around about their initial appearance 
together, walking through the front door of the little burger joint 
wearing tiny little bathing suits that were so small and so tight 
that they might as well have been stark naked. 

If one had to choose which of the two was more amazing, most would 
have to say that Joseph – or "just Joe" as he usually corrected 
people – would get the slight edge over his twin. There was just 
something indefinable about him, some small additional edge that made 
one feel just a little harder. Maybe it was his smile, maybe the way 
he moved or the way his attention seemed to focus on you and only you 
when his deep, sexy voice spoke. And had Joe not been standing next 
to Bobby, it wouldn't even have been noticeable. They were both, 
frankly, too perfect for words.

They had their own reasons for coming to this place, and it was all 
because of a story that Joe's friend Ed had told after they'd just 
been Transformed:

  "You're just sitting at… at McDonald's and this guy walks in. Frank 
  walks in and you reach out to him and slowly, softly, nuzzle this 
  place. You start to caress him, nudging him toward hardness, making 
  him feel so fucking good that he springs a boner right there. Then 
  you direct some Transform to him, just a little, just a touch. 
  Maybe through your scent. Maybe you get up to get a straw or 
  something and you brush his arm with your fingertips. And you give 
  him a taste of this strength, and you point it at his dick, and 
  that hard-on goes into overdrive. It gets harder and harder, so 
  hard it hurts, then it gets bigger. You give him a horse dick, a 
  magnificent tool of male sexuality so large its starts to rip its 
  way through his tight jeans. He's standing there at the counter and 
  he can feel himself getting hotter and hotter, his dick pressing 
  urgently against his button fly until, finally, the head pushes 
  into the open.

  "He's so big he can't hide it. He's huge. Thick veins wind over the 
  emerging prick and it extends inch by inch out of his pants, now 
  dripping with salty lube. He feels it growing, wants to start 
  stroking himself off but he can't, he still wants to hide what he's 
  got. It's so strong now, though, and so big that there's no way to 
  hide it anymore.

  "And you sit there and watch this happen, and bathe the guy in 
  pleasure, and when he finally makes a dash for the men's room, his 
  foot-high woody bobbing in the breeze like a flagpole, you follow 
  him in and relieve his passion. You hear him in the stall. He's 
  moaning and his body presses against the stall and he's in such a 
  hurry he didn't lock the door, it's open an inch, and you can see 
  him in there, leaning against the wall, his pants undone, his 
  shorts ripped apart and he's slowly and surely stroking the 
  glistening majesty of his red, steel-hard prick, lost in waves of 
  ecstasy like he's never known."

That's what Joe told Bobby about, and that's where they went when 
they left IGE, to find that place and make it happen, change guys who 
walked through the door. Seduce them and change them. And they found 
something out in the process.

Because at first, Joe wanted to do it sort of tricky. "I'll spit in 
their Coke," he planned, "and they'll start sipping and start 
ripping. Their bodies'll start to grow bigger with every gulp, and 
they won't know why, and you and me'll watch them grow! It'll be rad!"
Sure they looked like gods and could kiss a man into heaven and fuck 
them into hell and jump from the earth to fly among the clouds and 
were physically capable of doing practically anything, but boys will 
be boys.

But it didn't work. Nothing happened. So Bobby thought maybe it 
wasn't in spit, though they'd been told it was in everything about 
them. So the next time it was a vanilla shake with a little extra 
protein. They got the night shift because it was mostly quiet so 
there was plenty of time to get their rocks off if they wanted to 
without any interruptions, and most of the people who came in late 
were guys; truckers hauling cattle or computer wonks taking a code 
break or after-hours clubbers coming in to down some grub on top of 
all the beer. 

But it still didn't work. Bobby spilled some of his powerful spunk 
into this swarthy trucker's shake and expected the guy's body to 
start tearing out of his wifebeater as he strolled out the door, but 
nothing happened again.

"Maybe it only works from direct contact," shrugged Joe. "Come to 
think of it, nobody ever drink a cup of cum, right? You suck the 
guy's dick."

Bobby nodded. "Even the sex stink only works when you're with the 
guy. Nobody ever left some on a birthday card and mailed it out."

"Not that anyone ever tried."

"And why would they, when watching it happen is half the fun." He 
grinned for a minute, thinking about his own transformation and the 
last time he saw the other guys during the Sharing, when everywhere 
he looked he saw growing muscle and fantastic male beauty 
developing. "I wish Carlos was here, he'd know." Bobby 
grimaced. "Kinda makes sense, though. I mean, if it didn't take 
direct contact then you could, like, cum a gallon or so in a vat and 
sell the stuff as Dr. Sextongue's Super Muscle Formula and just 
anyone would get changed."

"Probably a safety valve sort of thing. I think I remember Carlos and 
Jerry talking about that, or something. Like, they put in stuff that 
prevented something like that happening. You know, to be safe or 
whatever."

They looked at each other and both shrugged. Then they fucked and 
everything was okay.

Now they were standing behind the fryer looking at the guy at the 
front counter. He was the first guy all night. Bobby's hand was 
squeezing Joe's firm butt, his other crawling down his pants to 
pleasure his hungry beast. Joe's pelvis was slowly rotating under 
Bob's expert handling, and his dicks were pressing against the 
stretchy warmth of his polyester pants. "He's perfect."

"He's not very… good looking." 

Bobby smiled. "S'what I mean." His Texan drawl swirled through every 
word. Joe loved that fucking accent, loved to hear him moan `fuck me 
harder' with his soft R's. "You want to see a guy change, I'm 
thinking no one's gonna change more than this old dude."

"Think we should?"

"You saw him looking at us. You could almost feel the poor old guy's 
stare on your cock, couldn't you? The guy was practically drooling." 
He laughed. "So, how should we do it?"

"Touch? Maybe? No, let's do the sex stink first. Just a little, just 
a whiff. Get him started, right? And then…"

"See what happens? Cool." Bobby drew his paw from his pants and 
grabbed the greasy bag containing the old man's cheeseburger and 
fries. Then he and Joe circled back around to the counter and, with a 
glance into each other's eyes and a slight nod, they both started 
releasing whispers of sex scent, the strong sexual pheromones their 
upgraded bodies released on command. "Here you go, sir. Hot and 
tasty!"

The man's name was Stanley Jefferson. He was 42 years old, single, 
lonely, and in his own words `a pathetic example of what life does to 
a man.' He stood 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighed 212 pounds. He 
didn't know that because he stopped weighing himself a long time ago. 
He looked in the mirror only to make sure his contact lenses were in 
and that he'd wiped all the toothpaste off his mouth. His hair, if it 
could be called that, was growing thinner by the minute. He had never 
married, and never would. He rarely thought about sex at all anymore, 
and thought of himself as more like a walking lump of flesh than a 
man.

Stanley could not believe his eyes, looking at the two young men 
towering over him behind the counter at the Tastee Freez. People like 
this did not really exist, and if they did they sure as hell did not 
belong behind the counter at Tastee Freez. They reminded him of 
everything he never had. Sex, beauty, strength, power and authority 
all in such abundance that the very earth should be shaking as they 
trod upon it. Their skin shone with so much health that he felt 
better just looking at them. And when they spoke, the power of their 
bodies rumbled in every syllable. 

He had felt frozen since entering the small restaurant and seeing 
these guys turn toward him. He could have sworn they were kissing 
when he opened the door. It was hard to tell, maybe they were just 
talking. Very close. But the thought of these two guys kissing sort 
of made him… feel hot. In an interesting way. He'd never thought 
about that before. Two guys. 

He looked at the white waxpaper bag and the happy little ice cream 
cone man smiling back at him. He could smell the grease and beef and 
ketchup and mustard. And something else he didn't recognize. He 
said, "My Diet Coke?"

"Oh, shit! Right, sorry about that. Bob, can you get that?"

"No prob, Joe." 

The second guy had a southern accent. Stanley suddenly flashed on the 
young man standing in a big, open dirt field wearing overalls, one 
strap hanging off his shoulder, his broad chest gleaming with sweat, 
hair billowing in the hot breeze like a flag. He shut his eyes and 
rubbed them, wondering were that came from, and why he was feeling so 
hot.

"Anything wrong, Mister?" Stanley opened his eyes and the other guy 
was looking at him. The guy had beautiful eyes. They were drilling 
into Stanley's own, looking inside him. 

"Is it hot in here?"

He smiled. His face grew more beautiful. "It's the grill. S'always 
on." The guy lifted his arm, and Stanley watched his upper arm swell 
huge inside the sleeve, his back flaring out like a wing, his 
shoulder mounting higher and higher. Did something rip? "See," he 
said, nodding at his armpit, "I'm sweatin' like a pig." A sudden 
strong whiff of the young man's underarm washed over Stanley. It 
smelled like high school, like gym class. Perspiration broke out on 
Stanley's brow, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. His jacket 
felt tight.

"Here ya go, sir. I put in lots of ice," the southern guy 
said. "Looks like you could use some cooling off." Gosh, his voice 
was deep for such a young guy. Couldn't be more than seventeen. 
He took the cup and stuck a straw through the lid, sucking 
earnestly. "Thanks."

"Sure. That'll be… $5.54, sir."

Stanley reached up for his wallet, putting his hand in his breast 
pocket. His arm felt constricted for some reason, and he was getting 
hotter instead of cooler. He couldn't take his eyes off these two 
guys. One of them was leaning back on the shelf behind him, resting 
his elbows on it and stretching his long frame out. His chest bulged 
against the dark blue polyester. His nipples were clearly defined on 
the thick mountains of muscle. The buttons strained to hold on under 
the powerful pressure. His neck was a map of brawn and sinew. He was 
sweating, too. A dark stain colored both pits and down the middle of 
his chest.

The other guy leaned one hand on the counter and tilted his head 
quizzically, a curious and small smile on his lips. He exchanged a 
look with his friend – they might be brothers, except for the accent, 
Stanley thought – and he sort of nodded. Then he turned back and his 
eyes fell down along Stanley's body, dancing along his torso and down 
further, like he was checking him out. That small smile kept getting 
bigger as he looked, making Stanley feel uncomfortable and weird, but 
at the same time, for some reason, he could feel something happening 
down below he hadn't felt in what seemed like years.

He was aware of his penis. He could feel it down there. Usually, that 
only happened when he had to take a piss, but this was different. 
Maybe it was this beautiful young man looking at him like that. He 
opened his wallet and took out a ten, handing it forward.

The guy straightened, and there was something weird about it that 
Stanley couldn't place. Something out of place. The guy reached out 
and they touched, hand to hand, for a second and it felt like a 
static charge hit him. Something shocking and sudden passed between 
them as they touched and the guy, who must've felt it too, his smile 
still increasing, said, "Thanks," as he took the bill.

Stanley's arm dropped to his side. He looked at the other guy, who 
had raised his arms up and cupped his hands behind his head. His arms 
were swollen huge with muscle that made the shirt appear almost skin 
tight, except at the belly. His pit stains had become more prominent, 
as had the wetness down the front of his body. One button was barely 
hanging on, and Stanley could see the separation between the young 
guy's chest muscles between the stretched edges of the shirt. 

The sound of the register brought Stanley's attention back to the 
first guy, whose eyes were again taking a measure of him, scanning up 
and down his body. Then he met his eyes and sort of wiggled his brows 
once. "Feeling better?" 

He forgot he was still holding the cup of Diet Coke. Taking a sip, he 
noticed that all the ice was gone and it had diluted. How could that 
have happened? Maybe there wasn't as much ice in there as the other 
kid said. He grimaced as he took the change, and the guy's fingers 
tingled across his palm. He must have noticed the grimace. "What's 
wrong?"

At first, he said, "Nothing." Then he said, "Diet Coke's sort of 
watery." Normally, he wouldn't have cared, but something made him 
feel… dominant. But only a little. And his penis was still bothering 
him. And his balls were tingling. And now his scalp was itchy.
The beautiful young man looked over at the other beautiful young man 
and said, "Didn't you put a lot of ice in this customer's drink, 
Bobby?"

The southern guy straightened, lowering his arms. The buttons were 
still having trouble coping, though, as if he was bigger now than he 
had been before. Probably just needed to adjust his shirt. Damn, that 
was one ugly shirt. He'd look so much better with it off, Stanley 
thought. He wanted to lean across the counter and unbutton it for 
him. "Thought I did." His grin became a bright smile. "Must be hotter 
in here than I thought." He reached forward, saying, "Gimme that one 
and I'll make you another. No charge."

They touched. Another shock rattled Stanley as the cup exchanged 
hands. The heat must be building up the static charges in here. What 
other explanation could it be?

Now his jacket was feeling really tight, across his shoulders and 
chest as well as down his arms. His penis was starting to really 
bother him too, but in a good way. He was aware of it rather 
exceedingly, feeling now the head of it and the shaft, feeling his 
whole unit down there. And his balls, too. He shifted his hips 
slightly, hoping the two guys didn't notice. He really wanted to dig 
down there and shift things around, but that could wait until he was 
outside. A trickle of sweat rolled down his face, tickling his skin. 
He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, which felt suddenly 
tighter.

He watched the southern guy walk back toward the soda nozzles and 
pour out his drink. It occurred to him, randomly, that the kid had a 
nice ass, and that, more than that, the pants did a nice job of 
showcasing it. Then he was reaching into the ice bin. Stanley's gaze 
lingered on the guy's butt. It was an amazing sight. He'd never seen 
a butt that looked so… good. It made him want to…

"Sir?" The deep voice drew his attention back to his senses. He 
swallowed hard. His throat was very dry. He looked at the guy eye-to-
eye. "Maybe you should sit down. It's cooler at the tables." 

"Yeah," agreed the other, the nice ass. "I'll bring your drink out. 
Go have a seat!"

He hadn't planned on staying. He was just going to get a burger, 
fries and a Coke and head home to watch the end of Letterman. Alone. 
As usual. But this sounded like a good idea, for some reason. And he 
wanted to see the guy's butt again. "Yeah," he agreed, "maybe I will."



Bobby and Joseph watched the old guy take his sack of deep-fried fat 
and walk over to a table. "Jesus," Bobby whispered, "can't he even 
tell what's going on?"

Joe was shaking his head in disbelief. "Weird. The guy looks, what, 
10 years younger? 15? And look at his fucking chest, Bob. And you 
could practically watch his neck narrow."

Bobby snapped the lid on the drink. "Thick he'll freak when he 
realizes what's happening?"

Joe shrugged. "Go give him the drink and a little extra push while 
you're over there."

"How much, you think?"

"Not all of it! Just… make him know what's happening."

Bobby grinned and gave his friend a little salute as he walked over 
to the old – now looking much younger – guy's table. 



Stanley watched the southern guy approach. His gaze was drawn like an 
arrow to the target in the guy's crotch. The young man with the 
ponytail owned a huge prick. It was almost obscene how big it was, 
and how obvious. It lay there folded lengthwise, a snake in his 
crotch. Stanley reached down and adjusted himself, not even realizing 
he was doing it, grabbing his own burgeoning beast and shoving it 
around in his shorts. 

"Sorry about that other cup," he said, his deep voice smooth and 
powerful. 

"No problem," Stanley answered. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
The guy seemed to perk up a little. He stood up and folded his 
impressive arms across is chest. The buttons strained, and his 
forearms looked like hams. "Nope."

"How old are you?"

"Oh," he said, looking disappointed for some reason. "Eighteen."

"And your friend? Joe, I think?"

"Yeah, Joe. And I'm Bobby." He smiled. "Joe's sixteen or seventeen." 
He laughed slightly. "I should probably know that." He rubbed his 
chest, possibly killing an itch. His thumb rubbed against the nipple 
pressing against the material. "What's your name?"

"Stanley. Stan." 

"Do I make you nervous or something? You're still sweating." His 
eyebrows arched and his smile looked honest and beautiful.

"No. Well, a little."

"How come?" The guy was still rubbing his thumb across his nipple. 

"Because you're so big, I guess. Kind of intimidating. But you 
probably get that reaction a lot." Why was he saying this? He usually 
refrained from talking to anyone. He was shy, retired, embarrassed by 
his appearance, if he were perfectly honest. But he wanted to talk to 
this guy, this kid, this beautiful human being. He wanted him there, 
to keep feeling this pleasant feeling.

He shrugged. "Most of the guys I know don't seem to mind." He nodded 
his head back at Joe. "I know he sure doesn't."

"Well, but he's as big as you, isn't he?" He gulped, and realized the 
sexual connotation. "I mean, as tall."

Bobby laughed. "He's as big, too." The guy reached down and cupped 
himself, adjusting his massive meat so that it settled longer down 
his pantleg. "How old are you?"

"42."

"Really? You look a lot younger."

The boy was a good liar. "Thanks," he answered. 

"I mean it," he said, almost urgently. "You look really good!"

He glanced down at himself, "I…" Then he stopped. "I…" His brow 
furrowed, he pinched his eyes shut tight and reopened them. His hands 
were frozen above the table as he looked down his body in the plastic 
seat. 

"See?" the boy said, and he put his hand on Stanley's shoulder. 
Stanley felt something jolt him, then a heat seemed to cascade down 
his body from that touch, then he felt an incredible pleasure filling 
him up, and his cock felt heavy and hot and throbbing. "You look 
really good, Stan." 

"What the…?"

"Something wrong?"

"What's…? What…?" His brain was spinning. He slowly rose to his feet, 
standing next to Bobby, feeling the muscles of his body stretching 
and burning. His body had changed. He could tell. He could see it. 

Everything had changed. 

The tightness he felt in his shoulders and arms and chest wasn't just 
discomfort. He looked down now and saw that he had a chest, a real 
chest, not the two sad tits of flesh he woke up with but two fat, 
muscular mountains sticking out. He placed his fingers on them, those 
mounds of brawn, and pressed. They did not easily yield. He felt 
their strength and tightness, they were hard, packed with might. "Oh 
my God."

"You okay, Stan?" It was the other guy. Joe. The beautiful, amazing, 
muscular Joe. They stood on either side of him, now. They bulged out 
of their uniforms everywhere. Huge, rounded bellies of powerful brawn 
pressing insistently against the cheap polyester. They were both 
smiling, both showing perfect rows of white teeth, their bright eyes 
shining, their bodies glowing with health and sexual power. Stan 
could hardly take his eyes off them, he felt drawn to them, he wanted 
them, to have them, to hold them. To fuck them.

"I'm not… sure. I think something… something's…" His hands were 
crawling across his chest, down his belly. His belly that didn't seem 
to be there anymore. His belly was gone. "Something's happening to 
me."

"Really?" That southern drawl was seriously sexy. "You look pretty 
fine to me."

"Pretty fucking fine," agreed the other voice. "But that jacket looks 
sorta tight. Why don't you take it off, get more comfortable. It's 
still kind of hot in here." Stanley felt the boy's hands on him, 
pulling his jacket open, sliding it off his shoulders. It had a hard 
time pulling from his arms, like the sleeves had shrunk. They were 
suctioned onto his arms and pulled inside-out by the time he was 
stripped from it. Then the hands were back, massaging his 
shoulders. "There. Feels better, doesn't it?"

The massage felt great. The boy had very strong hands, naturally, but 
also there was a fantastic feeling of pleasure and satisfaction that 
seemed to envelope him under the kid's attentions. He nodded and 
relaxed, and noticed that the smell was back, that locker room 
smell. "Feels great," he said.

"Mm hmm." 

Then Stan felt the other boy's hands on his chest, fumbling with the 
collar of his shirt, undoing his tie. "Lemme just loosen that up for 
ya, buddy. And maybe…" The fingers were unbuttoning his shirt. "Mm, 
hairy chest." Stan kept his eyes closed under the massage, but 
Bobby's voice sounded pleased. "This'll cool you off some." His shirt 
was being pulled open. 

"Maybe, or it might heat him up," said Joe's voice, very near his 
ear. "Are you feeling cooler, Stan? Feeling better, now?"

He nodded. He was, in fact, feeling amazing, and he could feel his 
somewhat more noticeable dick start to reflect his pleasure. His 
whole body was feeling better than it had since… since he couldn't 
remember when. Better than ever before. His eyes still closed, and 
those amazing hands still relaxing him, he heard a whispered 
question, a single word: More? But he couldn't tell which boy had 
uttered it. But soon after, he felt suddenly warmer again, but this 
warmth felt good, sexy, powerful, it filled him up from inside and 
spread through him, down his arms and legs, into his cock and balls, 
across his scalp and chest and belly.

The hands on the front of him moved now under his unbuttoned shirt 
and then up his torso, shoving the cotton material off his skin. The 
heat was everywhere, and that funky smell was strong, he could nearly 
taste it, like spice and salt on his tongue. He felt a moan in his 
throat, a deep sound, and he released it, unable to resist the 
feelings of sensual bliss that shook his body.

"Nice," said one of the boys. Bobby, maybe. Hint of the southern in 
it. The hands on his shoulders moved forward, onto his chest. He 
could feel the boy's strong body pressing against his exposed skin. 
The other hands were undoing his belt, then unbuttoning his pants and 
unzipping his fly. He didn't stop them. He wanted this. The heat was 
building. He wanted to be free of the clothes that constricted him, 
to feel the cooling air on his flesh. 

"Jesus, Stan, that's a nice boner." He felt a hand on his cock. It 
felt smooth and warm, silky and slick. "Let me help you with that." 
He was being stroked, and his prick was responding by getting very, 
very hard. It felt huge, thick and meaty, and heavy, too. Something 
warm and wet was stroking him, something that felt very like a 
tongue. He let another moan out, arching his back and sucking air 
into his lungs.

Hands caressed his chest, he could feel them moving across the skin, 
through his wooly fur, pausing at the nipples and teasing them. He'd 
never felt anything like that. Nipples could do that? He felt the 
feeling zero in on his prick, and it grew harder still, and felt even 
bigger. "Oh, god."

"Feel good, Stan?" The voice whispered in his ear. It sounded hungry, 
drenched with power. "Want some more."

"Yes," he said, barely able to speak through the sexual pleasure 
shaking his whole body. 

One hand left his chest and came up across his neck, onto his face, 
pulling his head to the side and suddenly he was being kissed, 
deeply, soft wet lips pressed to his, then he felt something stiff 
and hot pushing into his mouth, and he opened his jaw and let it come 
in. Down below, something similar was happening, but it was his dick 
that was stiff and hot, and someone else's mouth that it was going 
into.

He heard a ripping sound. Then several. Something was being torn 
apart. He felt naked already. 

He opened his eyes.


Continued in Part 6...