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|This was fun. It's great when your partner is so into you, even when he's a paying customer. His hands moved across my body in reverence and wonder. I started thinking that maybe we'd never get to fuck, that he was too turned on just by the sight of me and cream his jeans too soon. They were tented and there was an evident wet spot where his cock was pushing hardest for release. From the look of things, he was hung pretty decently, which is a nice benefit for me but not something I need. My ass accommodates anyone and anything, from a guy a little lacking to a two-foot double-ended dildo. I grab hold and give them all the ride of their life.
I was trying to be careful, here. His hunger for muscle was insatiable. I knew all I had to do was ultimate out, just blow the roof off the sucker and swell all the way to my impossible proportions, but that could wait. That was always afterwards, when he was spent and it didn't matter anymore how big I got.
For now, I looked down at his elegant hands holding onto the measuring tape, noted his appreciation of my nips and made a mental note to augment those a little fuller, and read the number with him. He saw it and said "Fuck," almost in a whisper, and I decided to give him another treat. The heat was intense as my chest swelled outward. 57 inches. 60 inches. 64 inches. Bigger and bigger and bigger. The tape tightened against my skin because I wasn't gently swelling, I was bulging fast and hard. My waist stayed tight and slim as I developed an impossible taper, 30 inches around as my pecs mounded bigger still.
66 inches. 70. Slowing now. 71 inches. Then, finally, 72 inches. Six feet of prime, hard, packed man tit. And my nipples, pointing almost straight down now, were as fat as thumbs. He looked like he was gonna faint. Man, I fucking rocked.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. His chest was growing under my hands. The heat was like a furnace. He wasn't gently swelling, the guy was growing so fast that I could watch the muscle develop. Muscle spilt and spread and split again. Muscle on top of muscle. Ribbons of power, cables of it. Hard and plump, and that surging heat and sense of power building and building right along with it.
He looked so beautiful, so huge and perfect. His cobblestone belly stayed slim and hard as his upper body grow wider and fatter. His pecs, though, were the most amazing thing. Round and firm, muscled pillows I wanted to knead and caress, fat, juicy nipples wanting to be sucked and nibbled, and the tape told the story before my disbelieving eyes. In seconds he'd grown over a foot larger. The tape was at its max, unable to contain him any more, and I let it drop to the floor between us.
He was still smiling his secret, sexy smile when I looked up to his face again, above the huge globes of power hanging off his chest. I swallowed hard into a dry throat, so severly turned on by this that I could feel by prick tingling with need of release. I had to step back from him, to try to calm myself before I blew my load before I even had my clothes off.
I think I was still breathing. I think that's what I heard in my ears, but maybe it was blood rushing from my brain into my crotch to feed the hungry monster. I was so hard I hurt. There wasn't any time left. I closed my eyes to shut the site of his muscular perfection from me for a few moments and started unbuckling my belt.
Finally! I enjoy a good growth session as much as the next Auggie fan, but I knew this guy could only take so much more before we'd both call it a night, and there I'd be, all morphed out with a hungry butt and an angry dick looking for some action.
There are places we go, us Growers. Truth be told, I do it with regular guys for the money. I've met a couple that really had it going on, fuck-wise. I mean they had killer technique and didn't need anything but their talented hands and tongues and dicks and asses to show us both a good time.
On the other hand, my main squeeze Jason isn't a Grower or even an Auggie. Hell, he's not even particularly muscular, just nicely built with a hell of a cock on his tight little bod. He's an artist, which is how we met. He paints and sculpts these highly erotic images of men. Very lifelike, truly beautiful. He's always looking for models to perfect his craft and help him realize the ultimate expression of masculine power and beauty, and what could be better than a guy like me who can conform to whatever your physical wishes might be?
So we hook up and I strip down and he's sort of molding me, or sculpting me might be more accurate. He was placing his hands to my naked flash and telling me in precise terms where to develop, and how, and how much. He'd get me to a state of amazing physical beauty and take some photos from every angle, literally. And by the end we were both so turned on that the simple photo session turned into one of the hottest nights of sex ever! The guy was and is the best lover I've ever had. And every time he looks at me, I get chills at the realization of what he sees in me. I never have to be special or do anything to make him hard, and he loves me for everything about me, not just what my body can do.
And let me tell you that there's nothing so sexually charged for me as a guy who knows what to do with his hands. When he lays them on me and starts whispering dirty words in my ear, I am gone. Every once in a while I still model for him, and I still get as excited and horny as that first time. It may be hard for you to image it if you aren't a Grower, but the idea that a guy can take control of me like that and make me look better than I can look myself without him, it's like a deeper physical connection than sex.
Man, I love that guy. Sometimes it hurts.
Couple of times these aug-free bodybuilders contracted me. One wasn't into the growth so much as the hardness. His challenge for me wasn't to get bigger, but harder. I showed up at around 6' 6" packing a good 250 pounds on my frame to measure up to him. He was gorgeous, so that's a plus. Some ex Mr. Something or Other, prime manflesh with a horse cock and a face that would make grown men weep. Sort of German looking, with this beautiful olive skin and his muscles toned to a balance and perfection that showed hours and hours and hours of dedication. And he clearly enjoyed being a man. He wasn't competing now – there was no need what with the Auggies stepping up and changing the idea of muscular development. Oh, sure, some hardcore muscleheads insisted on still doing contests, but the fans were more interested in what we had to offer – namely, more muscle and non-stop size.
Anyway, rather than going to seed, this guy was no longer shaving off all that delicious soft fur and looked like nothing short of male perfection. He was in his 40's and the muscle was aged to perfection and hard as steel – but he had a dream, something he felt incapable of achieving. So he hired me to show him what he wanted.
He wanted me to get hard as a rock. Not bigger, just harder. He wondered if it was possible, and frankly so did I. But I concentrated, gave him the usual schpiel about `if I grow, I can't shrink until I sleep' so in case I did it wrong, we both knew I couldn't go back. He said he understood, I said I wouldn't charge him if I fucked it up, and then I began.
It was a weird feeling, to develop but not grow. I figured I had to pack on the density but somehow keep it all from swelling. Took a lot of concentration and I wasn't entirely successful that first time, kept getting to a point and then, oops, growth. But after a while I recognized the subtle difference between development and growth and I've seen him a few times since. Now I can get my muscle so hard I doubt a knife could cut me. It's pretty cool, actually. I look almost like a statue. For some reason my skin gets shiny as the muscle tightens and when I walk around, hard as steel, it's pretty impressive.
Other guys have other distinct desires. Bigger cock is popular, of course. Usually they want to see it grow and swell really slowly as if I'm not augmented, as if I'm just this built dude with a regular cock but when I get excited, it grows bigger and bigger, ripping its way through my shorts and jeans, and bigger and bigger, swelling from this little four-inch cutie to a monsterous, beer-can thick, veiny beast with a purple swollen helmet and two balls so heavy with cum that they're drooping with it.
Then there's the Grower Clubs. You've probably heard of them, and maybe been to one. Growers meet up there on their own looking to hook up with other Growers. I mean, let's face facts, I wouldn't have gotten this huge if I weren't turned on by it. Same with the other guys. So occasionally we meet up in these places and the paying public comes in to watch us fuck, or whatever. Some guys have pose offs, challenging each other to get bigger and bigger, comparing their parts and then swelling to Ultimate to see who's the biggest swinging dick in the place. Others, like me, just go for the sex.
Jason doesn't care, he knows it's just the fuck and not love I'm looking for. He never goes to the Clubs, and when he hooks up with someone else it's usually one of his models or some regular guy he picked up in a bar. He's very conservative. But me, I get off on fucking another huge guy and we're both sweaty and grunting and growing huge with power, as if the fuck is doing it. Like we met up as ordinary men and then, as we fuck, something magical happens and we start to grow.
Both of us know it's a fantasy, and neither of us says anything about it. It just happens. We meet up, maybe we're about 6-foot or something because the smaller we start out at the bigger we're gonna get and that's a big part of the whole act, the growing as well as the fucking.
And something about this guy told me that he was looking to fulfill the same fantasy.
He was bigger than the tape. It was time, before I lost it, before he was too big to get any bigger and I'd lose the dream that I was paying so dearly to realize.
I had to admit that Titan was a lot more than I thought. I was looking forward just to the physical, but he was sweet and kind and seemed to be able to anticipate what I wanted before I wanted it. At least, I chose to think that, rather than believe I was like every other Auggie fan and he did this for everyone.
I undid my pants and pulled them off, slightly embarrassed at the wet patch on my Calvins. I looked at him sheepishly but he was smiling broadly and wiggled his brows when I uncovered myself. I felt a thrill rush through me again, feeling like I was falling in love with this man. He folded his massive guns across that impossible chest, making his upper torso wider still so that his waist looked impossibly small. He was already seven feet high and God knows how much he weighed. Those muscles could grind me into powder, but there he stood, looking at me and smiling, waiting for my orders.
Fuck I was turned on!
I practically ripped my underwear off and stood there, naked, my 9- incher hard as a rock and throbbing with every beat of my heart. I felt small and weak in front of him, something I hadn't anticipated. I worked out like a dog to get muscle, and I had a nice defined body with a flat stomach and decent pecs. But compared to him, I was nothing.
But he was mine, tonight. And I was going to fuck him even bigger.
He said, "You have a beautiful body," and he sounded like he meant it. His eyes burned against my skin as he scanned every inch, lingering on my hungry dick. "And it looks like you want something."
I huffed out a laugh, the fucker was certainly charming. There was a brain under all that brawn, which was an even bigger turn on suddenly. I said, "Just you," I answered. "All of you." I looked at him for a minute and asked him to strike a double-bi for me.
He did it achingly slowly. He unwrapped his arms and brought them to his sides. The muscles running the length of his limbs swelled and flexed, bulging even in a relaxed state. He straightened and adjusted his stance, his big cock flopping and his thighs bulging in echo of his arms. I could see every muscle in clear detail, long wedges of power cabled along every inch.
As he bent his arms, the biceps began to gather in on themselves, balling up tight and full until the muscle had to do something to give itself room, and the head split in two. His eyes never left mine as he flexed his hugeness to the awesome and unbelievable extreme. Bigger than anyone, 24-inch arms and a 72-inch chest, packed to overflowing with nothing but muscle, muscle, muscle. A trickle of sweat wound down his wide lats from the hairy, dark depth of his armpit and I wanted to be in there to sniff his masculine scent into my lungs. His skin shone with silky beauty and his face was carved like a God's.
I discovered I was stroking my stiffy as I watched, and I found myself growling "Now turn around and bend over. I'm going to fuck your ass and make you bigger than any man who ever lived."
Funny thing was, I actually believed it.
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