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Better than Perfect
|My name is Tony, I'm nineteen years old, and I was raised between the devil
and the deep blue sea, to pull out an old cliche. My mother, of course, was
the deep blue sea. The color of her eyes, and mine. She was beautiful,
brilliant, and came from an old-money family that believed people should only
appear in the newspaper when they are born, married and when they die. My
dad, on the other hand, dark eyed and dark haired, came from even more money,
but it was newer, and didn't carry as many social restrictions on its use and
enjoyment. Even now, in one of my brief, in-between moments, I wonder,
almost resent, how he's used all that on me. But I know, soon, this moment
will not feel lucid, but stupid and ungrateful, and I'll be the son they, or
at least he, raised me to be.
They met at an Ivy League school, he an all-around jock and she a speech and drama major. Her parents wouldn't allow her to pursue acting--too common for a girl of her breeding. My dad, who never intended to go on the stage, but loved being adored, found himself starring opposite her in some play that allowed him to do a good part of the show baring his muscular, hairy chest and stomach, which shocked her parents and thrilled her. His looks stunned everyone, and from then on, their marriage was the unstoppable culmination of a torrid affair.
So, as their early, first, and only offspring, I have to admit to growing up with the kind of privilege that comes with big money, and the kind that comes with the blessing, or curse, of outstanding physical genetics.
My mother died when I was only 13, but I remember her well. They say I have her poise and charm. She insisted on my understanding that the luck of my birth didn't make me better than anyone else. With advantage comes the responsibility to do more, make more of one's self. I know I'm no better than anyone else, but I stand here looking in the mirror, and I know I'm a hell of a lot better looking than most, thanks to my inheritance, and I don't mean the $20 million trust fund. I'd be a liar if I said I couldn't see that I'm the product of an amazing gene pool. From her, I learned to at least act humble, but from my dad, I learned that to have gifts and deny them, not to enjoy them, was to spit in the eye of fortune. His idea of making more of one's self was not, I think, what she had meant.
Since I can remember, everyone talked about how handsome I was. I used to look in the mirror to see what they meant. My eyes are a bright, almost turquoise blue, and I have real heavy black eyelashes and eyebrows. Even as a young boy, I had prominent cheekbones and a dimple in my chin. I thought my lips were too big and my mouth too wide, but everyone said I had the most beautiful mouth. They couldn't wait to see what I looked like when I grew up. I guess I bought it, because neither could I. And it started very early.
Right after my mother died, my dad took me to the French Riviera to help us both deal with our grief. I was so embarrassed about all the guys in France wearing those little bikinis on the beach, but my dad bought us both some and said, "When in Rome . . . or, in this case, France . . ." Of course then, at 34, he was stunning looking, had the muscular body of an athlete, and was completely unfettered by modesty. I, at that point, was extremely shy. I'd started puberty a while earlier, and already, I had quite a bit of hair under my arms and around my dick for a kid of 13. More than that, though, I'd already started growing a trail that started above my belly button an inch or so and plunged right down into my pubic hair. It was all so new, and that hair, growing out where everyone could see, seemed to be such a sort of announcement or something. I mean, I was proud, but also embarrassed. Oh, and one other thing. I was, as I heard my dad say, quite endowed. What that meant to me, then, was that, in that bikini, my bigger-than-they-should-be balls and dick showed big, and I knew people would stare. I thought I'd die.
I didn't know then how that day would change everything. My dad stood me in front of the mirror and stood next to me.
"Anthony," he said, "I want you to take a good look in that mirror. Your mother taught you to be humble and modest, and those are true virtues. But you're going to have to learn to live with the fact that you're different from most other guys. And I don't mean just our money."
I already knew where he was headed with this.
"You're already extremely handsome, and you're at that age--you're changing fast. You're embarrassed by starting to grow hair you didn't have before, and because you're bigger than other guys, I know that."
If I'd been embarrassed before, now I was so embarrassed I started to blush. I could feel my face heat up. But at the same time, I couldn't believe how cool it was that my dad was talking to me the way he was.
"I went through pretty much the same thing, only I didn't have anyone to talk to, and it took me until I was in college to understand what I want you to understand starting now. I was a good looking kid, too, and bigger than most, like you, but not to the same extent. I was embarrassed, too, and tried to hide it, to be like everyone else. I didn't even want to let other guys see me in my underwear, let alone swim trunks like these.
By the time I got to college, I began to figure out that people thought of me as some kind of stud, and still, it took years to get over being embarrassed, to enjoy my looks and my masculinity as gifts to be enjoyed. Do you have any idea what I mean?"
Of course I had only the slightest inkling, but I said, "I guess so."
"It's about being proud of what you've got, Tony. Most guys your age would never admit it, but they'd kill for your looks, they'd give anything to be maturing as young as you are, getting a treasure trail like that, already, and they would love, more than anything, to have a penis and testicles as big as yours are already at your age. I know you're feeling shy right now, but if anyone out there on the beach notices, they will only notice what a little stud you are already. Be proud, Tony. Don't ever be embarrassed. Own your looks and your gifts. Pretend you aren't shy or embarrassed, and no one will know you are. And soon, you won't be."
So, even though I would have given anything for a pair of big, loose boxer trunks, I wore that bikini, and soon, didn't even think about it. Well, that may be an exaggeration. I always thought about it, but I got used to it, and by the time we went home, I was comfortable with my oversized 13 year old package. I was even starting to like it, showing big meat and all.
Of course, I was also starting to feel the increasing drive of my newly raging hormones, jacking off a lot, and usually in front of the mirror. After that one-sided conversation with my dad, I accepted that I was handsome, and I began to realize that the new hair growing in was really starting to excite me. And I also accepted that I was really big for a guy my age. I measured my dick, and found books to read about how guys mature through puberty, and I discovered that my 6 inch boner was typically average for a 16 or 17 year old guy, when his dick reached its full growth. The books didn't mention much about thickness, but my dick looked downright fat compared to my friends'. I began to have a bulge in my pants, no matter what kind of underwear I wore. And my dad was right. They did tease me. But I knew, because of him, that they were just jealous, and that made me feel good. Kinda cocky. Ha!
So, fast forward. I go into high school as the supreme stud. Seriously. By the time I was 15, my dick boned to 9 inches, real thick, and hung bigger soft than most guys' boners, and my balls were starting to hang down real big when my buddies still had these little tucked up kidney beans. I was showing a major package in my pants by then, whether I wanted to or not, but I was really getting to like how that felt, and I just let it show. In fact, I wore briefs to get my stuff all bunched up front and center, right out there under my pants, pushing out a bulge that totally showed I had some big meat in there. No more shy guy.
That trail spread up my abs, and hair started to sprout in the center of my chest, then around my nips, and then at the top of my chest where it showed over the tops of my tee shirts, all real fast. No guys my age had chest hair yet, or even much ab hair. It all made me feel like I was turning into a real stud. I started working out hard, and was getting a pretty cut up jock bod. The thing was, I was getting extremely aware of all that, how I was looking, how it made me feel so mascline, so grown up, so totally studly, really enjoying it all, just like my dad encouraged, although he began to joke that he was creating a monster. I was rich, great looking, hung big, getting built and growing really great body hair, and I was only 15.
By my senior year in high school, I had filled out, had a full chest of hair, the kind that lies flat and silky and swirls in patterns up to my shoulders, out to my pits, in to the center, and down the center of my abs where it makes a thick, heavy trail. And my dick was still growing, even though I was almost 18. It hit almost 10 inches, and was still filling out, like my muscles, to be real thick and heavy. Was I conceited? Nah, I just knew I was the biggest stud in town, hot, hairy, muscular teen, and rich enough to have whatever I wanted, do whatever I wanted, and get away with about anything.
I was a fun guy, a total party dude, and getting a big reputation. Everyone loved me, because of that charm I got from my mom, but they all said I was so wild, I would do or try anything, and they were right. I would get naked anywhere, anytime. I loved getting naked in front of people. Sex was a constant, way beyond the constant jacking off. I would fuck anyone, girl or guy, didn't matter, as long as they were into my body. I tried anything, played around with every way of getting high and having sex. If anyone asked me, I would get naked and dance, totally show off, flop around my big cock, let them get off on my body, jack off while they watched, even let other people jack me off when they would get so into my big dick. After all, my dad always told me it was a gift. Oh, he shook his head now and then at my antics. But basically, he thought I was a pretty cool guy, and he pretty much let me get away with anything. In fact, He pretty much encouraged it. He told me I wasn't doing anything he wouldn't do in the same circumstances.
Right about then, I started taking these supplements my dad got for me. He took me to the doctor, a friend of his, and they put me on some kind of stuff that my dad said would make the most of my natural gifts, just like my mom had always said I should do. I accepted that, and figured, what the hell, if it would make me more of what I already was becoming. What that might be, I didn't know. More handsome? I was already killer good looking, but I could handle being more handsome. I wasn't sure how I would feel if it made me hairier, but when I thought about that, I got a hard-on. I really kind of hoped he meant maybe my dick would grow bigger. Funny, how you can have a really big dick, and still wish it were bigger.
What I did notice first, and pretty soon, too, was that I was getting hornier all the time. I mean, seriously horny. It got to be where I was thinking about sex all the time, and everything was turning me on. I was jacking off constantly, even in school. I had to. I'd just start boning up in class and have to go to the bathroom and jack. It was a good thing I was almost out of high school by then, because I started getting these feelings in the locker room and showers in gym class. I wanted the guys to look at me, which they did anyway, but now it was really turning me on, and I would just start to bone up and not even care. They'd stare at my big cock, and I wanted them to check it out and think how hot it was to have such big meat. The last day of class, when I didn't think anyone could do anything to me, like kick me out of school, I let myself totally bone and jacked off right in front of the guys. It felt so totally fucking hot.
All summer, I was getting to be even more of a totally wild guy. On a dare, I wore a Speedo to the community pool, and after that, even though all the guys wore long, loose trunks, I wore Speedos all the time, loving how it felt to have such a big bulge showing, everyone always checking it out. I thought about that time in France with my dad. I was working out harder and heavier all the time. My dad was really pushing me now, encouraging me, even telling me I could enter some bodybuilding contests in the teen division if I worked hard enough. The supplements were really helping. I was feeling so good and looking so hot. I was getting muscular and loving it. My body hair was filling in more, and as it got better, it made me feel even hotter. And, I hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking, I swore my dick was still growing.
By the time I went to college, I really got into the bodybuilding. It was the next step in the totally falling in love with myself. I stayed home, went to a local school, a top university, so staying home was no sacrifice, and talked my dad into installing a full home gym downstairs. Even he was amazed by how I was developing. His 8-1/2 inch dick looked average compared to mine, and eventually he admitted to me that he was jealous. Mine kept getting bigger all the time. He said it was the supplements. My boner was over 11 inches, and it got so hard it stood more than straight out, it pointed up, and it ached it got so hard, but it felt really good. I could hang a wet towel on it. I was hot all the time. My bodybuilding went really well, like I was made for it. My muscles were filling out fast, and soon my clothes got tight, and when I got bigger sizes, I still looked muscular in them. I was getting big. Everywhere. Really big. Hot big. Now I knew it was the supplements, and it got to where I woke up jonesing for those pills every morning. I'd wake up hard, jack off thinking about them, and as soon as I took them, I'd have to jack off again.
I just turned 18 when they decided it was time to enter a contest. I hadn't really realized how much my dad and the doctor were into my development, probably because I was so totally into myself. The only time I paid attention to other people was when they were adoring me. All I cared about was how I was developing and sex. I didn't even question it when it was guys that were keeping me turned on all the time. After all, only guys really understand about a guy's body, what the sensations of muscle and cock and big balls and all that is like. I didn't even question when my dad said he'd have to shave me for the contest. I didn't like the idea because my hair turned me on, but it also turned me on to think about him doing it, and what I would look like smooth, my big, thick muscles glistening, oiled down.
My guns were up to 20" by then, my chest was 56" with wide, thick lats and huge broad pecs. The drop from my cantaloupe delts and my cobra hood lats down to my 31" waist was so dramatic, with the flare back out from my narrow hips and perfect muscle butt when I flexed my 32" quads. I had the genes, man. I was fucking gorgeous.
It was the only contest I ever entered. I took first place in the teen heavyweight division. At not quite 6 feet, I had gotten up to 243 lbs. contest weight, cut, shredded, and totally fucking beautiful. But I had to prove to the judges that I hadn't stuffed my poser, because my dick and balls had grown so big they didn't believe it was all me in there. Of course, showing them was no problem. I just whipped it out and showed them. You should have seen their faces. Later that night, I had all the young male judges. Some party. But now I had no intention of stopping the supplements, and so we decided it would be better just to leave the contests to the other guys.
I let my hair grow back in, and it came back thicker, and I loved having it back. I spent more and more time in front of the mirror, often with an audience, or partner, or partners. My dick kept growing. By my 19th birthday, it was hanging 12" totally soft, fat as shit, and when it got hard, my fucking boner hit 15". It was getting so big that most guys screamed when I rammed it into them, but I was so fucking built and beautiful, they wanted it anyway. I could suck myself off, which I did often. My dad loved to see me do that. I was turning into a muscle god and a muscle animal, but I had to have those supplements. I had to have the feeling they gave me, growing, feeling so totally hot all the time. Out of the sea and the son of the devil. I should have known what was up when they told me they were going to start giving me injections instead of the pills.
Truth is, I probably guessed, and didn't even know how addicted I was by then. I can tell you that the shots are more intense. I can tell you that when I wake up every morning, I almost regret what I'm becoming. I'm so freaky now that people stare at me wherever I go. I'm a mutant. I think of being a regular, good looking, built rich guy, like I was for a while, and I could almost wish I could go back, turn it all back. Shit, I can barely fit behind the wheel of my Porche. But there is just nothing like that feeling. The intense up, so hot, totally energized with pure sexuality, each time more deeply masculine, more erotic, more released. I've come to love the pain that sets into my muscles as they expand and thicken just a little more, the ache that throbs in my cock as the hormone flood forces it to grow just a little thicker, a little longer. Sometimes I just sit there for the first couple hours after the shot, like now, like right now, feeling it, and feeling the regret slip away as I feel that total body arousal take over, stimulating me, so hot, oh God, making me fucking love my body, watching it grow, loving the feeling. I don't care if I'm a mutant. I want to be a total mutant. I can't go back, only forward, now. Maybe my cock will hit 18 " soon, and my guns will grow from these puny 23"ers to something really fucking hot, like 26". Maybe 28". Fuck.
My dad will come in to watch, and I'll show him what a totally fucking hot muscle animal dude I am, man, show him these muscles, this cock. My name is Tony, man, and I'm not even twenty years old, and I'm the biggest fucking stud there is, man, and I know you fucking love my muscles and my huge cock, don't you, man? Aww, yeah. Want to fucking see me grow and get bigger. Yeah, fuck, aww, man, feel that. Fucking love this mutant teen huge muscle cock hairy fucking animal, dude, getting so fucking huge, don't you man? Because I sure as fuck do. Awww, yeah.
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