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|I knew that we were sitting in a lecture hall, and that we were not supposed to be making out, but Luke was almost irresistable on a bad day, and now that he had grown, now that he WAS growing right in front of me, there was no way I could keep my hands off of him. I traced the outline of his pecs with my tongue, followed the steadily deepening crevice between the two bulging mounds of muscle, while he kept nibbling at my ear, stroking my crotch with one hand, and applying just the right amount of pressure on my firm and increasingly muscular butt with the other. I was aware that the muscles on Luke's legs were beginning to fill out his bathing trunks, and I could feel that my clothes, too, were struggling to contain my growing body.
Luke pulled me closer, and I could feel his hips moving rhythmically, pushing against mine, just as I could feel the rhythmic pulsing of the muscles on his frame, which were still growing, pushing outwards, thickening, become stronger and harder with each passing second. My angel's lats spread like wings, and while I could see his shoulders broadening, I felt my arms being pushed further away from my body because of my own growth. My biceps rose higher and higher, I felt my neck thickening and my pecs pushing against the fabric of my shirt. Through the cracking and crunching noise that accompanied our growth, I could hear a ripping sound and noticed that my quads had become too big for my jeans and were now slowly tearing them apart at the seams.
Professor Smith didn't seem to mind that Luke and I were making out in the back, slowly growing larger, changing into huge, gorgeous muscular hunks right in front of everybody's eyes.
While I felt my hard-on grow in my pants, feeling how more and more muscles were being piled on my already increadibly huge back, a guy in the front row commented on the story we had read and said that he always liked a good mystery. He was wearing a polo shirt, and I noticed that he, too, seemed to be affected by the growth. The outline of his pecs was starting to show through the fabric, and his forearms were definitely thicker than they had been just a few moments ago. While he said something about how the suspense was killing him, he absent-mindedly flexed his right arm, as if half-consciously showing off his ballooning biceps to his appreciative classmates.
Max Viaman, who sat behing him, told him that he was very hot, and that he would like to know how it feels to grow. As soon as he had said this, he started to break out in a sweat, and he fell back in his chair. After a few moments, however, he seemed to feel better, and he started to feel his torso with his hands. He took of his shirt and revealed a set of nicely defined pecs and a sexy six-pack, which was slowly but surely turning into an eight-pack. He started flexing his pecs, and each time this movement seemed to add yet more muscle onto his chest. He struck a double biceps pose and amazed the others with an impressive show of magnificent and steadily growing muscle.
Next to Max, our exchange student from Austria, too, had developped into a truly amazing hunk, but he seemed not yet satisfied with his growth. "Great beginning," he muttered, and, with a pleading tone, added: "Please continue soon..." Apparently, his wish was granted, because all the muscles on his body started expanding at an incredible rate now, his lats flaring outwards, his shoulders broadening. Also, his chest was becoming hairier, making him look like one of those strongmen you sometimes see on TV, only much bigger and more masculine and handsome. He rubbed his pecs, which kept pushing outwards, and obviously enjoyed running his fingers through the thickening mat of hair on his chest. He turned towards Max, and the two guys started a flexing contest, admiring each others bulging muscles.
"O tempora, o mores!" The guy sitting behind them raised a sarcastic eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear and quite obviously enjoying the display of male muscle growth around him. Not one to stay behind for long in such matters, he got up and slowly raised his left arm. He flexed as if in slow motion, but his biceps rose in real time, higher and higher, straining the sleeves of his shirt, which also had to struggle against his ballooning triceps. He seemed to love the way in which what was happening tied in with Professor Smiths lecture, and he definitely liked the sound of fabric ripping as the sleeves finally exploded to reveal a beautifully defined biceps. Some guys watched in awe as the head of his biceps started splitting, still rising higher and higher, and they gasped when his back tore through his shirt. While he had weighed 148 lbs before, he was now well past 190 and still gaining pound after pound of muscle.
In another row, four guys were following Luke's and my example, feeling each other's growing bodies, hugging their bulging muscles, flexing and pushing against each other. One of the guys - I think he was Canadian - couldn't get over the size of his arms, which would indeed have dwarfed even those of a professional bodybuilder like Lee Priest.
My buddy Vlad, whose constructive criticism I appreciated very much (especally when I had to write something), was conscious of the irony of the whole situation, of a whole class losing themselves in a muscle-growth frenzy during a lecture on erotic literature. He didn't seem to mind too much that there was a bit to much mingling of different realities here, though, but instead was his usual, straight-forward self, pushing the others further, encouraging their growth while revelling in his own. He pulled the guy next to him closer, showing off his increasingly massive body, giving him a teasing look: "From Colorado, hm?"
The guy nodded and tried to slow him down: "Hey, take your time - there's no need to water it down." Having said this, the guy started posing very slowly and sensually, moving his body to an inaudible erotic rhythm which seemed to emanate from his muscular frame, watching himself grow, feeling the pressure of the growth inside of him, feeling his incredible and continually increasing strength.
The guy next to him agreed: "Yeah, take your time. It's great as it is, but if you take time and care it becomes a sort of porn for the brain, which, you know" - and here he smiled one of the most devastating smiles in human history - "is a much more superior form of entertainment."
Luke and I were torn between the desire we felt for each other and our voyeuristic impulses which told us that we should not miss the sight of our classmates bursting out of their clothes, growing into huge muscular freaks right in front of our eyes. Although the growth had started with us, we felt that now they, too, were part of it, and that, without them, it would not continue. I felt Luke's amazing quads against mine, felt his hard-on through his bathing trunks. I felt my own muscles increasing in size, biceps so huge that they were starting to push against my forearms when I flexed, making it impossible for me to complete the pose I had intended to strike, growing and growing, pushing outwards like everybody else's. I heard fabric ripping, heard classmates roaring with strength, saw them lifting each other from the floor, hugging each other and flexing their gargantuan muscles, heard Luke whisper how much he loved me and knew that, perhaps, this was the perfect moment, now that we were all together in this living fantasy of growth. We were growing and growing, becoming more muscular and more handsome by the minute, and I knew that I would always remember this great muscle-growth experience we had all gone through together, that we had made possible together, vainly hoping that, maybe, it would never have to end.
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