Dial - Part 1

Dial - Part 1
© 2020 Josef Howard

“You dial in your transformation with this,” he said. As he turned the knob tiny silhouettes of a naked body slid by the view window, first progressively leaner, then more muscular, yet none so far as muscular as him. “You see?”

I put my hand where his had been and clicked through the images myself, imagining what it might be like to look like each, from Captain America size to Hercules to the Hulk and beyond. I spent most of my time at the outrageous end of the dial, astonished at the immensity of the images. I must have spun the dial two, three times around, but there didn’t seem to be an end to the progression of super human muscle monsters. Once you got beyond irrationally large, between the thick thighs that crowded against each other, down at the quads, an elephantine penis began to show, drooping lower and lower. My peripheral vision faded. The room around the dial seemed to dim. My eyes could see nothing but the dial. I could barely breathe.

“Now let’s turn it on.”

His beefy paws toggled a switch, a light blinked red and the console hummed. A back light illuminated the silhouette in the view window, now an embarrassingly accurate outline of me and my skinny-fat physique.

“Give it a spin.”

This time as I bumped up the dial one step I felt a jolt in my chest. My teeth clenched. My eyes shut tight. My breath caught in my throat. It was over in an instant.

“Trippy, huh?” He nudged my hand from the dial. “It’s best to take it quicker.” He clicked through a dozen images on the dial. Staccato convulsions pummeled my body. When they stopped my eyes opened wide. My arms strained the sleeves of my dress shirt as I raised my hand to feel the thick stubble that had sprouted on my chin. The top of my shirt was stretched tight. The buttons held, but between them tight chest muscle peeked through. I dropped my fingers to my stomach and felt the crevices of my abs, the snug fit of my pant legs.

I smiled and took control of the dial. No longer afraid of the pulsations, I turned the dial just to feel them, closing my eyes, knowing that with each jolt I slid deeper into the pit of hyper-masculinity I craved.

I heard buttons burst free, fabric split and felt cool air against my bare skin. The remains of my shirt hung in tatters around the slope of my traps and the bulge of my delts. My narrow waist was still wrapped inside the buttoned shirt, but through the cotton I could feel my abs etched in two stacks of five ridges. My thighs exploded out of my jeans, and my bunched up cock had burst the buttons of my fly.

My shaggy, blond guide and teacher grinned at me.

When this ridiculously muscled young man had stopped me on the street, I was certain his spiel was a come-on, a scam, but I listened to him just because he was so nice to look at. Pale blue eyes, tiny nose, wide lips, effervescent teeth, the smooth skin of his cheeks and his stubbled chin, and beneath the chin, a neck as thick as a bull’s. He wore the largest sized polo shirt I’d ever seen, yet it hardly contained those shoulders, and his biceps bunched the sleeves up above them as he motioned with his hands when he talked. The fact that he was a few inches shorter than me, made him more endearing than intimidating. I would have dropped to my knees right there in Union Square if he’d asked me.

Instead he only wanted me to follow him back to this place, deep in the interior of a low-rise office building, nearly empty on this Sunday afternoon.

His promises were preposterous, but there he had stood, living proof that the body he promised was achievable.

And now, as I flexed arms almost as large as his, with biceps that bunched up like cantaloupes,   I had realized my fantasies.

My guide tugged at the remains of my shirt and tossed the scraps on the floor. “It’s a good start, but there’s a lot more dial.” He reached for it with a thick, hairy blonde forearm and hands as meaty as paws. He spun it like a roulette wheel, and each click felt like a firecracker detonating in my groin, blowing up my muscles and forcing heat up my chest into my arms and down my legs to my toes. My pants split at the thighs and tore down to my ankles. Thick hair sprouted from my chest, arms, legs and face.

When the dial stopped I was gasping for breath and I could have sworn I had smoke coming out of my lungs and my ears. I could barely stand, off-balance from the sudden increased mass and redistribution of my weight. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. My chest heaved. I threw back my shoulders, tightened my erectors and abs, locked my knees, rediscovered stability, my new resting posture, and savored the sensation of boundless strength.

My eyes opened. My teacher stood inches from me, his eyes slightly lower than mine, grinning, sharing my delight.

“What now?” I asked.

“That’s up to you.”

Personal Story

by Josef Howard

(c) 2020

“I think you’re really hot. I like tall, intelligent, shyly sexy older men, especially hot looking ones like you,” Dante said, leaning over the small restaurant table. 

“So you’re into daddy’s,” I said. I tried keeping my eyes on his face, but his biceps were bursting under his short t-shirt sleeves. Even relaxed they were enormous.

Dante demurred, “I guess. Do you mind?”

“I can’t be the top.”

“You won’t even try fucking my muscled, bowling-ball glutes?” Dante grinned, teasing. 

“It’s a medical condition,” I said, then added assurance, “It’s not contagious.”

“Well, there’re all kinds of ways to top a man without fucking him with your dick.” 

Dante’s eyes dropped to his cocktail as he spun the swizzle stick around. “Besides I’d like to be around you for the long haul.” He looked into my eyes plaintively. “I’d like you to let me train you.”

That he was a trainer was thoroughly believable given his cuts and his girth, but that wasn’t what he was doing when we met at the gym and he chatted me up. It had been quite casual in the moment; he complemented the design on my t-shirt, asked me my name. Then a few minutes later, after I’d moved on, as he was leaving, he asked what I was doing for dinner. 

“So, you’re a trainer. You’re chasing clients. Luring them by coming on to them, distracting them with your body.” Although he’d come on to me, I wasn’t blind to the disparity in our looks.

“Wow, you’re a cynic.” He leaned back. His eyes widened. “It’s not like that. You see I’m a member of a club. A junior member actually. The older guys that belong have a cheat, a secret advantage that makes them grow big. It makes them explode. But it only works on guys older than 50. Takes a few months though.” He leaned back in and studied the skepticism on my face.

“This is rich. You take that angle out of one of those muscle fetish stories on the internet?”

“Suit yourself. It doesn’t change how I feel about you or my plans for tonight.”

***

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to ask me in!” he said as he followed me through the front doorway.

“I hardly know you.”

“I bought you dinner. Made nice conversation. Told you about my family.”

“Look at you. Men your age that look like you don’t fall for guys like me. You don’t really know anything about me. We just met this afternoon. You allude to some kind of muscle growth magic in casual conversation like maybe you hacked my browser history and found I read a lot of muscle growth stories, and that I’m single, and live alone.”

Dante closed the door, and stood close. A light scent of sweet sweat from his moist skin. A grin exposes his toothy smile.

“I know you’re tall and blonde. You’ve got strong, studly jaw, a heavy brow, and after I chatted you up at the gym your eyes lingered on me longer than usual. I told you I like older men.” Dante pressed his crotch against mine. “That and I know you make me hard.” 

He pulled against me. The firm, bulge from his groin to his pant pocket pressed against my cock. He brushed his thick lips against mine. His wet tongue separated them. I welcomed it between my lips, over my teeth. He walked me backward breaking the kiss. His heavy, solid chest pinned me to the wall. His hands lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips. 

“I just want to make you feel good.” His lips grazed my stubbly chin. “Real good.”

I could no longer focus on fears or insecurities, only his mammoth body enveloping mine, safeguarding me for the moment from everything else, and allowing me to focus only on him and the feelings he gave me.

***

We were both breathless when he finally entered me, tugging my thighs against his crotch, pulling my ass into him, slipping quickly inside. 

“You okay?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Not many guys let me get this deep.”

Not many guys had been that deep. Once, not long after I had come out, I went home with a pool player I met at a local bar. Long, thick. I felt so full. Content. Possessed. It ended too soon. He left early the next morning without a reprise. 

Propped up by his thickly corded arms, the veins in his chest popping with every thrust, I couldn’t believe the sight of him above me. I couldn’t believe the joy of him inside me. My ass clenched around him, especially as he fucked me faster.

Dante laughed. “Well, I know I can’t be hurting you. You’re grinning from ear to ear.”

On top of me, around me, inside me. Possessed by him, delighting himself by giving me delight.

***

Deep inside my ass a wave of ecstasy mounted until it became a tsunami that washed over my lower body, sweeping away all other senses. I felt like couldn’t hold my bladder anymore, but instead of piss, a fountain of cum sprayed from my cock. As I convulsed, Dante locked lips, thrust his tongue in my mouth, swelled inside my ass and sprayed inside like a hose. We held each other tight, slick with sweat and cooling cum, reluctant to part.

***

In the warm morning light Dante picked up his undershorts.

“Stop.”

“What?” said Dante.

“Stop putting that on.”

“Why?”

I sat up in bed.

“I’m not through looking at that. I’d don’t ever want you to cover it up again. I want to see it every time I look at you. I want to touch it whenever I have the urge. Like right now.”

I reached for him. He stepped closer. I put my hand around it and felt it’s thickness. I tugged. It thickened a bit. Dante lay his hand on the top of my head. I took it into my mouth and felt it expanding as I licked the ridge around the tip. I sucked it like a straw as is stretched into my throat.

“When can I see you again? Tonight?” 

“Not tonight. I work late,” I said. 

“Listen, we had a really great time together. Not many men please me like you. No man has ever made me feel that good. Maybe you think you’re not exciting because you’re older and out of shape, but you’ve seen what you do to me. This is not normal for me.”

Dante put his thickly muscled arms around me. 

“I know how much you like me, and I won’t let you get away from me. You’re mine now. Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in, but you’re going to do what I tell you to do from now on. I’m coming back at six.”

He was right. In his arms our roles were reversed. I was a little boy held by daddy. Loved. Safe. Willing to do anything to stay there.

“I’ll come by after you get home. Text me. There’s someone you need to meet.”

“A friend?” 

“More than a friend. A member of that club I mentioned.” 

***

Standing on the other side of the door was the biggest man I had ever seen. Tall, over six and a half feet, but that’s not what I mean by big. He was outlandishly muscular, in a way no other man was, not the freakiest Mr Olympia, hell he was bigger than muscle morphs. Inside a tailored suit that should have looked like a tent, but hugged every muscle most agreeable way. He offered his hand, a bear paw.

“Carl? I’m Isaac.”

I stared. Paralyzed with awe and desire

“Can I come in?”

Dante helped me step back out of the doorway.

“I don’t think he can process all this,” Dante said to him. He motioned Isaac to the living room, where he filled-to-overflowing a love seat opposite the couch. Leaning toward us across the coffee table, his elbows on his knees, his neck which blended into his deeply sloping traps, was constrained by his necktie. Thick, bushy silver hair framed his face. Smile lines on either side of his mouth and dimples near his cheeks. 

As he spoke I fixated on his darkly stubbled jaw which was freakishly large, even for his head, until my eyes drifted lower, between his legs, at the nest his tailor had left for a coiled phallus whose size could not be disguised.

“Dante tells me you might be a good addition to our club. Our club is for men only, men with rather freakish tastes, which we are thankfully able to indulge completely. Outsiders think we look like monsters. But we couldn’t live any other way.”

He gestured as he spoke, and the bunching and rolling of his biceps, triceps and forearms distracted me from his words.

“Tell me, Carl, do you find my appearance disturbing?”

“Yes.” Frightening because in his presence I couldn’t think. I couldn’t converse in the usual way, keeping up a cool front, holding this stranger at a distance. I couldn’t hide my feelings. I couldn’t control my actions. My mouth watered. I swallowed to avoid drooling.

“Then I think we’ve just inducted our newest member. Bring him to the club for dinner on Wednesday, Dante.”

***

Five of us sat at a round table in the center of the club restaurant, dressed in suits, surrounded by dozens of other similarly dressed men. Almost all of them were the size of Isaac. Those that were smaller were at least as large as Dante, who was seated beside me, perhaps just to steady me, because being surrounded by men like these I unable to speak. The other men made small talk, laughed at each other’s comments. I couldn’t process what they were saying, I was so overcome by their presence. When one of them spoke to me, then paused, staring into my eyes, I just nodded. He grinned and laughed and exchanged knowing glances with the others around the table.

I don’t remember ordering. 

As our plates were set, Isaac, who sat on my right spoke to me. His eyes locked with mine, my being belonging only to him in that moment, I understood what he said.

“The secret,” Isaac said, “is a root vegetable, you know. Shaped rather like a penis - an  enormous penis, with a pair of giant round lumps at the top, rather like testicles, and a hairy looking stalk above that. We don’t know how, but something inside it, when ingested, causes rapid, runaway masculinization. Muscle, hair, penis. Extraordinarily fast, completely uncontrollable. No idea before it ends just how far it will go. Men gain one hundred, two hundred pounds of muscle, more. Lot’s more.”

He began eating his steak. I took a bite of my food.

“It’s a one way ride to a place you can’t even imagine. If we gave you a choice, you might not agree to do it.” He gestured to my fork. “You’re eating one now. The white tender carrot like thing sliced into medallions.” 

They were large, the diameter of a burger. I’d already eaten two.

“That’s the shaft. Eat up! I promise you’ll never regret it.”

As I chewed the next one, I began to notice the sweet musky taste, the toughness, even after cooking. I started to eat faster as I thought about what Isaac said. I became ravenous, devouring it like a savage, slurping it up, sauce mixed with saliva dribbling from my lips. 

Inside my pants there was a party going on. My crippled cock was stone hard and quivering. My balls swelled and I felt my dick start to straighten and grow. Thicker, longer, the head bold and meaty. It was wetting my pants as precut gurgled from the tip. 

The others at the table, the entire restaurant faded to black. My legs, my arms, my chest, I was no longer conscious of them. Nothing for me but my prick

“Fuck!” I shouted.

I pulled open my pants right there at a table in the center of the club restaurant with 50 men as large as Isaac looking at me, smiling, grinning, overtaken by primal thoughts, no self-control. My dick flopped up out my open pants, a foot long and still swelling with every heart beat.

“Fuuuuck!”

I grabbed it at the root with my sweaty hands and squeezed, completely focused on nothing but my pleasure. I pumped it and stared in awe at the flesh pole that sprouted from between my legs. I looked up. Through the darkness faces came into view. Men from other tables were standing around our table slack-jawed, enraptured, watching me masturbate, proud of myself in front of them, proud of my enormous dick and awed at the thought it could be mine. 

My heart pounded. Blood beat inside my skin like a bass drum. Cum sprayed from my piss slit like from a hose, straight up in the air over my head and shooting like a fountain, landing all over me until I was drenched. The convulsions ceased, yet it continued to gurgle. I changed hands so I could lick it off my other hand.

For a minute my heart rate dropped, a sliver of awareness returned. I looked at my audience and laughed.

Then the pounding came back. I shivered with raw heat, my eyes closed and I began to beat again. 

This time the sensations were even more overwhelming. I grabbed myself with both hands. I squirmed, I bucked. My balls were electric. Transcendent. Out of time. Out of space. 

The second orgasm put the first to shame. More force. More cum. Longer. More crippling. 

The rhythm continued: pause, astounding lust, blistering climax. The repeating acts began their own kind of Nirvana.

Until a longer pause, a moment of sufficiency.

Then a shiver, a tremor. I stumbled to my feet. Drew my back straight, my exhausted arms limp. My muscles clenched. My teeth chattered. Buttons burst, seams split. I broke free of my shredding clothes as though hatching from an egg. Muscles swelling, devouring adipose tissue, thinning skin as it helplessly stretched over steely bulges that finally became so large they took away the sight of my lower body. 

All at once a flooding awareness of immeasurable agency. Indomitability, invincible, unassailable. A divine creature, at ease, a proud product of the root, and a member of the club.