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Hanazin Warrior Academy, The
|Sean had never slept better. He dreamed of flying and running faster than he ever thought possible, his muscles growing at will, things crashing into his giant pecs and crumbling to pieces, and most of all, Professor Pierce.
Sean never thought of himself as gay—in fact, he never thought of it at all. He assumed he liked girls, but never had any interest in romance, dating, and all that other stuff because of his horrible self-image. But all that changed along with his body. Sean began to realize that it wasn’t just a physical change, but a change of many things—Mental, Social, Spiritual. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what all that meant, just that things were simply different.
His dreams of Professor Pierce were filled with events he never thought he’d do, but things he SO wanted to do when his Guide was standing in front of him. How he wished that Professor Pierce would’ve just grabbed his cock when it was right out in front, reaching down with his manly, powerful, hands and stroking his 15 inch shaft with all his might. Sean longed to rub his fingers across the ripped peaks and valleys of Michael’s (that was Professor Pierce’s first name, and that’s what he called him in his dreams) shoulders, and tracing his fingers across the bulging veins of his arms—and all those things were made real to him, at least in his dreams.
In his dreams “Michael” would ram his cock into his mouth, Sean barely able to wrap his lips around its girth. He had never seen Professor Pierce’s package, of course, but he had to assume that it was bigger than his fifteen-incher. Sean would try to swallow every drop of Michael’s cum, all of his blasting loads, the torrents of excess dripping from his chin and onto his hard body, his muscles growing as if it were some powerful nourishment. Professor Pierce would let Sean smash anything he wanted against his steel hard chest, and always it would feebly crumble. Even in his dreams, Sean felt his Guide’s power radiating into him, making him stronger, giving his muscles a new strength—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Sean, get up.”
Sean blinked the sleep from his eyes, revealing the tent his cock had made before him in his blankets. Sean didn’t know how much of his load he had blown in his sleep, but it was quite substantial from the looks of it. He threw the soaked sheets off of his naked form and got out of bed.
As if the massive cock tent wasn’t enough assurance, Sean would look down at his right hand every morning since Professor Pierce had left to check on the silver ring—just to see if it was still there, and every morning of the three weeks that had passed, he was glad to see it was.
His dad had let him borrow a pair of sweats, seeing as nothing Sean owned would fit him anymore. He put them on, tightening the drawstring against his chiseled six-pack, and went downstairs for breakfast.
His little brother Ken was gulping down his usual favorite, Coco Puffs, and his father sat near him at the table reading the morning paper in his shirt and tie, ready for another day at work—CEO at his own Marketing Firm.
Sean went to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, shattering it to pieces between his fingers. Ken jumped at the noise.
“You have to be careful now, Sean,” Max said, standing from his chair. He crossed over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass for Sean. “Try two-fingers for the time being,” he said with a smile.
Sean went for the fridge door—
“Uh uh,” Max said, stopping his son. “I’ll get that.” He opened the door and got Sean the Orange Juice.
“I’ve figured out how to control my powers enough to open doors, Dad,” said Sean, his pecs jumping up and down as he moved his arms to grab the juice (he still loved that feeling).
“—Regular doors,” Max said. “Bedroom doors, the front door—though it took you a while to get that one right—but refrigerator doors are different…you have to tug on them, and I’m afraid you probably would’ve sent the door clear into the opposite wall.”
Sean shrugged. “Not that you can’t fix it.”
“Still,” Max said. “I’d rather not have to keep doing it, ya know?” He smiled, and patted his son on his muscled traps. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a wad of bills. “Why don’t you grab something to eat? You can stop by the mall and buy some extra clothes as well.” He handed the wad of money to Sean. “That’s $500.”
“I just want to make sure you have enough,” Max said. “You’ll be starting school in a week, and, though people don’t really wear clothes all that much there, I think you’re going to need something every now and then—oh! And don’t worry about sweaters and warm stuff. You don’t need it anymore.”
“Is the weather hot at the Academy or something?”
“No,” Max said. “You just don’t need that stuff anymore—unless you’re going to try to fit into human society during the winters, like myself—anyways, your body will adjust to any and all temperatures naturally. So just buy whatever you want.”
Sean gulped down the rest of his juice and placed the glass on the kitchen counter…just a little to hard—
Max sighed, raised his palm, and the two broken glasses fit themselves back together as if they were never broken.
Sean got to the mall by running the whole 3 miles. Not once did he break a sweat, and it took him only about seven minutes. Sean was immediately greeted with gawking people. He could almost hear them thinking, most wondering how a young kid had the well-developed muscles of a champion athlete. Sean made a point to wear one of his father’s smaller t-shirts, black with sleeves that stopped at upper-bicep, allowing a view of his pumped arms. Veins surfaced the longer he let his arms hang down, the single and y-shaped cords on his biceps almost throbbing, snaking down the lean muscle to meet the vessels that wrapped and channeled around his forearms and powerful hands.
He passed a couple college girls who whispered in each other’s ears as he walked by. Sean waited for just the right moment to make his pecs jump under his tight shirt, the girls’ giggling turning to squealing and whooping. Sean also made it important to wear his father’s best fitting jeans—the ones that would accentuate his ass the most. He had a good feeling his careful choice of apparel was paying off, catching both men and woman staring at his backside more than once.
He stopped at Abercrombie and Fitch, scoffing at the buff male-model in the entrance mural. He never received any help at A&F before, so he never shopped there, and still nobody approached him—probably too intimidated. Sean grabbed the biggest shirts he could find, a couple smaller ones just for fun, and a good few size 28 shorts (cargo and other). As he passed the underwear, he made sure to grab the low-rise cuts and as many A-Shirt wife-beaters as they had. He then brought them to the counter.
“Can you hold these for me?” Sean asked the sales associate.
The sales-boy didn’t respond for a good two seconds, only able, apparently, to stare in awe at Sean’s chest traced into the tight fabric of his shirt.
“This underwear,” Sean repeated. “Can you hold onto these for me? I want to try this other stuff on.”
“S-sure,” the young man said. “I can do that. Let me get you, um, get you—a um…room—fitting room.”
Sean nodded, aware of what was wrong with the young man, but still finding him strange. He thought of flexing just to make the young man cum right there in front of his female associate, but decided against it.
“Watch the floor, Mary,” the young man said to the girl.
Sean followed the young man passed the fitting rooms.
“Where are we going?” Sean asked.
“To a…um…private fitting room,” said the young man. “I thought you might need help trying those on.”
Sean grinned menacingly, and snuck into the back room with the young man, who locked the door behind them. Sean immediately pulled his shirt off with both arms over his head, making sure to go slowly to allow the young man to mentally take in his body. First, stretching back to accentuate the perfect, chiseled form of his washboard abs, while pulling the shirt up over his face, allowing a good shot of the lean, striated muscle of his pecs. Sean slung the shirt in the boys face, the two of them laughing a bit.
The young man handed him the first shirt—a sleeveless tee with the numbers 69 patched on the front, an A&F patch near the bottom right corner. “Try this one,” he said, shakily handing it to Sean.
Sean put the XL shirt on over his muscled torso, his chest still tightly protruding to the front, almost like it was etched into the fabric, the valley of his pecs visible under the 69. The young man led him to a mirror and Sean stood there amazed and excited by what he saw. He looked like a fitness model at his top form, his tanned skin seeming as if he spent hours at the beach. It went well with the light blond hair that covered his head and body.
“This is perfect,” Sean said.
“I was going to say the same thing,” said the young man. “Would you like help getting it off?”
Sean chuckled. “Sure.”
The young man approached slowly from behind, wrapped his arms around Sean, making sure to push his hard cock up against his ass, making certain to rub Sean’s massive shaft under his shorts as his hand passed to grab the bottom of the shirt, and lifted—more like rubbed—the shirt off of Sean’s body and over his head. “You’re one big boy,” the young man said. “In more ways than one.”
Sean turned around and again made his pecs jump. The young man went silent then, and seemed to have trouble swallowing. Sean would fix that.
“Why don’t you try this one,” the young man said, grabbing a red muscle tee, “—try this one on?”
Sean took the shirt from the young man and put it on over his head. It was a stretch fabric, also an XL, but for some reason it felt too tight. Sean moved his arms about, front and back. It was fine, no ripping. Then he did a flexed chest pose, and the shirt tore from his skin, back to front.
“Holy shit!” the young man said.
“Sorry,” said Sean. “I’ll still pay for it.”
“Yah, you will,” the young man said, approaching Sean once again, this time from the front. “But not with any money.” He placed a shaking palm on Sean’s steel hard chest, running his fingers over the light blond fuzz, into the valley and over the ridged striations. His tongue worked slowly over Sean’s right nipple, licking then turning to sucking. Sean grasped the back of the young man’s brown haired head, guiding him.
Sean pulled him up to be face to face, the young man’s eyes a beautiful sea-green, his cute face like that of Hayden Christensen (Sean’s favorite actor). They kissed, their tongues rolling over each other’s, the young man seeming to want to eat Sean’s chiseled features, rubbing his tongue over Sean’s chin stubble.
Sean tore the young man’s shirt right off, the buttons flying in all directions, hitting the walls and low ceiling of the backroom. Sean was rather impressed to see the young man actually had a nice lean body, almost like his own after the initial transformation. He easily lifted the young man up, cradling him in his brawny, ripped arms by the small of his back. Sean returned the nipple favor, the boy moaning in ecstasy as he worked his tongue over the ellipse.
Sean could feel his cock begging to free itself, the fifteen-incher pushing the fabric to its final limits, shredding his father’s shorts. He put the young man back down. Sean was now completely naked, and the young man wasted no time in grabbing his slick, shiny pole.
The young man fitted his mouth over Sean’s cock, the girth almost threatening to rip the boy’s jaw off, but he managed. He wasn’t going to let the size of his mouth stop him from a dream cock-suck. Sean pushed the back of the young man’s head further up his shaft, the boy gagging a bit, but all the while moving up and down Sean’s cock at a steady pace. After a good 5 minutes of the young man sucking Sean’s massive cock, Sean grasped young man’s skull, held tight, and blasted his entire load in his mouth, the young man gurgling, but swallowing all that he could—excess flowing from the sides of his mouth, down his chin, and plopping in blobs onto the floor. The walls were shaking again, boxes were falling off the shelves, clothes were dumping onto the floor, but Sean’s cock continued spewing his hot cum into the young man.
When the cum stopped, so did the quake, but Sean wasn’t ready to stop. He tore off the young man’s jeans, underwear and all, and pulled him up to his feet. “I’m not done,” he said, shoving his cum covered cock up the young man’s ass.
“HOLY SHIT!” the young man screamed. “OH FUCK! OH JESUS!”
Something took over Sean’s mind. He didn’t know if it was lust, or the sheer excitement that he was in control. He repeatedly rammed his cock into the young man, their skin slapping together, echoing in the room, the sound only muffled by the boy’s moans of ecstasy. The young man didn’t seem to care if anyone in the store heard them, nor did Sean.
He continued his madman like fucking, feeling his face turn to ferocity like his mind. He picked up the young man and slammed him into the adjacent wall, continuing to push his iron rod into the boy. Sean was fucking him so hard that the stone under the young man’s hands began to crack. It only made Sean that much more excited. His rational mind had turned itself off and he didn’t care if he took down the entire building.
“FUCK ME!” the young man shouted.
Sean didn’t need to be told twice. He ramped up the speed, the slapping of his crotch against the young man’s ass almost indistinguishable to count, stone powder falling from the wall, painting the young man’s hands white. And then, the power surge—the one like before.
Sean saw the veins in his forearms bulge as he held onto the boy’s waist. He watched again as the fat seemed to melt under the skin and the muscles of his arms became bigger, his hands growing thicker and meatier. He felt the muscles of his legs grow both in length and width, lifting he and the young man further up off the floor. Sean’s chest looked as if it were reshaping itself, pushing his torso further apart and filling itself with blood, veins, and powerful muscle fiber. The mirror lay close enough so Sean could watch his transformation, though he hadn’t forgot about the young man. He saw that the Serratus muscles became more defined from his chest’s reshaping, the lats of his back widened, and his traps were growing as he watched.
The muscle growth made him extremely horny, and he was ready to cum again, feeling his cock engorged with blood, pushing against the walls of the young man’s tight ass, its girth and length growing along with the rest of his body. The young man was left only to his whispers, but shortly after he came, he surprisingly went back to screaming ecstasy (YES! OH FUCK!)—the room began shaking again, the stone powder falling from the building’s foundation, the fluorescents popping, making the room dark, the last bits of Sean’s transformation taking place, etching out the muscles of his abs, more veins forced to the surface at the lower parts, when Sean began the same bellow like before. He felt his ball-sack swell, pumping and ready. The power, the fucking POWER!
Sean blasted the young man’s ass with every last bit of cum he had, the overloaded parts rejecting the hot fluid onto Sean’s ripped quads. The shaking slowly went to a rumble, then died away, Sean’s rational mind returning.
The room was dark from all the lights exploding, though Sean could still see just fine. He pulled his cock out from the young man’s ass with a slimy sound. The young man lay still, and Sean checked his pulse. He was still alive, breathing and all, he’d just passed out.
Sean grabbed up his clothes—the one’s not covered in cum—and put the 69 shirt on with one of the pairs of shorts. It was hard to stuff his still erect, though retreating, cock into a pair of boxerbriefs he’d grabbed off one of the shelves. Sean slowly opened the door.
Everything was black, and the voice of the girl could be heard saying, “Is everybody okay? We just had a small earthquake, everything will be up and running in a few moments.”
Sean cursed himself, and returned to the back room. He grabbed up all the clothes he wanted to buy and an empty bag. He crushed all the alarm sensors in his hands, and left $200 dollars on the floor. He thought it would be enough to at least cover the cost of the clothes.
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