Muscle Growth Journal

Muscle Growth Journal

By now you’ve seen several of these. Like all the others in the series, this video is shot against a blank blue background, one camera, full-on view of an athletic looking young man in running trunks, no shirt, standing next to an outrageously muscled man with a mike in his hand. The man with the mike is the usual interviewer, an unusually tall Asian who wears a tight stretch sleeveless t-shirt. His deltoids explode out from the sides and his biceps bunch up as big as his head.

“Tell us your name,” the man with the mike says and then shoves the mike in front of the youth next to him, who almost looks sickly in comparison.

“Clay,” he says. He seems a little uncomfortable in front of the camera.

“What brings you here, Clay?”

“I play football. I’m a quarterback. I’m in my senior year and I’m applying for a football scholarship, but the scouts tell me I’m too small.”

“How much do you weigh?”

“I’m one eighty-four. Five foot ten.”

“Have you been lifting?”

“Four years now. I eat like a pig and lift heavy but I just can’t put on size like the other guys.”

“So you heard about the program here. How we guarantee you put on twenty, thirty, even fifty pounds or more of muscle in a matter of minutes.”

“Yeah, all I gotta do is sign the waiver to be photographed while it happens. Kinda kinky, but it don’t matter to me. I just won’t do any of that faggot stuff they asked me about. I like girls. Not that I have a steady girl right now. I like to play the field, if you know what I mean,” Clay looks at the interviewer and the way he’s been looking him up and down. It is plain to him that the interviewer doesn’t have a clue what he means, at least when it came to girls.

“And they gave you the shots and you drank the nutrient drink?”

“Shit, I feel like a fucking pin cushion. A pin cushion full of fluids. It’s a fucking miracle I’m not springing a leak.”

“Do you feel any different yet?”

“Now that you mention it, I feel pretty great. Like I could whip the ass off a gorilla. Maybe even take you down,” Clay grinned.

“Do you fight, Clay? What other sports do you play?” As usual for the video series, the MC keeps the interview as bland as mashed potatoes.

“I don’t box or wrestle, if you mean sports. But I’ve whipped my share of ass,” Clay braggs.

“Flex your arms for us, Clay.”

Although he might have been intimidated by the size of the interviewer, Clay is feeling cocky. He raises an arm in front of his face. The camera zooms in tight. He looks at his arm and then into the camera lens. Then he smiles and tightens his biceps. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. It is obvious his arm is noticeably bigger than he has ever seen it before, even if it is still not that large. Clay lifts his other arm. The camera zooms back enough to capture his full frontal double biceps flex. They are full, round and well peaked. Clay grins as he admires them.

“It’s already begun, Clay, and this is only the start,” the MC says, but he is off camera. The video is all about Clay now.

Clay drops his arms into a crab squeeze, a most muscular. His traps and his deltoids jump out around his veiny neck. His chest rises.

“Try the weights, Clay.”

Clay picks up a pair of fifty pound dumbbells from the rack at his side. He smiles when he realizes how light they feel. Just a few minutes ago he would have struggled to hold them. He curls one, then the other. You can see his arms swell bigger and bigger with every repetition. He presses both of them over his head. His torso is a tight network of fibrous muscle supported by twin towers of ab muscle, widening from the top of his waist up to his broad shoulders.

No one has to tell Clay to try a heavier weight. He drops the first pair at his feet and picks up the one hundreds. Curling them is a struggle the first couple times, then more manageable, and finally as easy as it had been to lift the fifties. He is seriously big now. His arms almost twenty inches and his shoulders wide and rounded like cannonballs.

The camera zooms back again as he sets down the hundreds and reaches for one fifties. His lower body is huge as well. His glutes are stretching his trunks tight and his thighs are like oblong wheels of muscle. Even his calves are pumped up full.

“How do you feel now?” the MC asks as Clay pumps out an easy set with the one fifties.

“Fucking awesome!”

“Is that all?”

“No, man. I’m fucking HORNY! I’m so horny even you’re starting to look good to me. I’m so boned it hurts!”

The camera zooms in on Clay’s shorts, stretched tight around this thick thighs and huge glutes, and tented by an enormous erection that juts from between his thighs and bows out around his hip. Clay’s tool is so thick it is hard to believe it could even be a cock. It jerks and strains for freedom. Clay peers down at it around his thick chest muscles. He grabs and squeezes it a couple times and grins from ear to ear. “Fuck, even THIS is bigger!” It bucks again and tears free of his trunks, poking straight out, over a foot in front of him. He thrums it and it bounces like a diving board. “Help me out, here, man. Suck it for me?” he asks the MC.

“I thought you wouldn’t do any faggot stuff,” the MC says.

“But we’re both so hot! Suck me! Please! Hey cameraman! You suck me, alright?”

The camera wobbles. Then it settles down, like it’s been set on a tripod. It swivels into full body shot of Clay standing naked, his massively muscular chest heaving excitedly as his bat-sized prick throbs and bounces in front of him. He is still visibly growing, but he is almost as big as the MC now. The cameraman walks into the scene. He is wearing bulky sweats, but it is obvious that even he is gargantuan. The skin of his monster forearms is stretched to bursting. He brushes off his baseball cap and settles down in front of Clay’s cock, guiding it to his mouth with a well-muscled paw. He kneels slightly to his side, conscious of the camera and making sure that it catches him slowly working his wide open mouth down Clay’s monster, swallowing inch-after-great-fucking-inch.

When he’s engulfed the whole thing deep in his muscular throat, he sucks hard all the way up, until only the head is inside his mouth. Then he dives down hard, forcing it deep into his chest.

“Aw, FUCK, I’m cumming!” Clay holds the cameraman’s head tight against his groin and bucks his hips, fucking his face forcefully. You can see Clay’s thick cock stretching the guy’s throat as he fucks it. The camera man bucks as he chokes, and soon his lips are leaking cum.

The cameraman forces his way free and hocks a load of cum on the floor, then drives down again on Clay’s hard dick, sucking harder.

“Aw, I gonna cum again!” Clay shouts.

The cameraman force feeds himself on Clay’s swollen, purplish cock as Clay’s knees begin to buckle. His balls are drawn up tight against his cock, visibly squeezing out jizm. The cameraman slides Clay’s cock out of his mouth and jacks it, watching it fire several feet over his head, then points it into his wide open mouth and fires it at his throat, swallowing deeply, then lets it fire into the air again. When it finally stops both Clay and the cameraman are coated with sweat. The cameraman stands. He tugs at Clay’s wet, swollen dick, and he kisses him hard on the mouth, sharing the cum, then sucking Clay’s tongue.

Clay grabs his ass with both hands and squeezes. He slips his hands under the waistband of his sweatpants and fingers his asshole. The cameraman pulls his sweatpants down exposing a pair of well-muscled legs and a great, bobbing dick, larger than Clay’s. He pull off his sweatshirt. His back and his chest are as large as the MC’s. Clay squeezes one of his pecs and sucks on his nipple.

Clay turns the cameraman around and rubs the head of his cock between his ass cheeks. The cameraman winces when he slides inside, then gasps as he drives deeper. Slightly off camera you can see the MC doing something. There is a thump as he sets down the mike.

The cameraman bends over as Clay fucks the shit out of him. His club-sized dick is stiff and curled upward, wagging as his body jerks with the force of Clay’s fucking. His huge arms hold on to his bent knees as he braces himself against the onslaught.

Then from the right, the naked figure of the interviewer walks on camera. He stands behind Clay, a good three inches taller than the young football player. He lays his hand on Clay’s shoulder and positions his cock against Clay’s anus. As he enters him Clay is so overwhelmed he falls on top of the cameraman. No matter. The cameraman is strong enough to support them both. Clay hugs his wide back as the interviewer begins his vigorous thrusting.

Soon Clay finds his strength again and coordinates his thrusts to the interviewer’s as the two of them put their full weight and strength into fucking the cameraman. In less than a minute the cameraman’s cock is spurting hard against his abs and chest and all over the floor. Clay’s face twists in ecstasy as he empties his third load into the cameraman’s ass. And the interviewer fucks on, oblivious to either of them, losing himself in his own pleasure without concern for either of the other two.

Then the camera crashes to the floor, as the three of them knock into the tripod in a fucking frenzy.