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Big is Better
There Ain't No Mountains High Enough
|Sam turned around and moved over between two massive stacked piles of concrete road dividers. Each pile contained four tiers of neatly arranged dividers, forming a giant cube about 10 feet high. Each tier was made up of four dividers set tightly side-by-side. The tiers were stacked at 90 degree angles on top of each other like giant Lincoln Logs, interlocking and stabilizing the entire cube- shaped pile. The two huge cubes each sat on it's own skid constructed of steel I-beams welded together. An industrial-sized chain was hooked to each corner of the skid. The four corner chains formed the outline of a pyramid as they came together over each cube where they all connected to single massive chain at the pyramid's visual apex. My eyes followed the two larger chains up to the ceiling. They each passed over a sturdy wheel rim apparently manufactured for some large vehicle. The rims were mounted on axles, allowing them to freely rotate. The axles were welded to roof girders overhead. It was all a pulley system, but on a gigantic scale. I followed the two larger chains as they ran along the parallel girders. They passed over another rim and then descended down to the floor on either side of a `table' of sorts; a large, flat- surfaced platform the size of a big door. This table was inclined about 45 degrees, supported underneath by another custom-made triangular frame of welded I-beams sitting on the floor.
I watched Sam loop each chain under another pivoting rim on either side of the `table'. Their axles had been set directly into the poured concrete floor, making them look a bit like big lollipops sticking up. The end link of each chain was perfectly circular and larger than the others, measuring 8 inches in diameter or more.
Sam stepped up to the table and turned facing away from it. He leaned back spread-eagled on the slanted surface until his shoulders were firmly supported in that semi-reclined position, then he reached down on each side and took one chain in each hand. With his arms wide open, Sam closed his eyes. The chains rattled as Sam bent his elbows, taking up the little bit of slack until both chains snapped absolutely taut.
Only moments after that, the giant skids piled high with concrete blocks were lifting clear of the floor and their speed of accent was accelerating, too. Blastoff!
Sam started pounding out flies with mechanical precision, as if just warming up with the pec-deck at the local Y.M.C.A. His form was textbook perfection: his rhythm unwavering, even though he was lifting enough concrete to make a large bunker. I listened to sound of the chains loud clattering as they rolled back and forth over their respective `pulleys' and watched the two huge piers of concrete rise and fall hypnotically. Again, Sam's occasional low gutteral groans were more reminiscent of pleasurable sex than any particular discomfort or pain.
In no time at all his pecs were beginning to pump up stupendously - and it was stupendously arousing to witness his man-melons mushrooming right before my eyes. I began rooting him on louder than maybe I should have. The fact is that Sam was pushing my over the edge... taking me past some point of no return... and I was losing the little control I'd had.
"Go, Sam. You're showing that concrete who's The Boss. Wow! Your chest is MONTROUS!" And as he continued pumping out repetition after repetition, they became monsters indeed - total freaks of nature – and this was all about to only get freakier in ways I could never have anticipated.
With each rep, the armor plates on Sam's chest were still getting thicker. Like twin warrior's shields, they pumped to such mythological proportions that the straps of his tank top were rising clear off the fronts of his massive shoulders. When his gargantuan pec mountains peaked at the top of each contraction, I could have easily passed my hand through the gaps beneath them. And the striations in his pectorals were so numerous and deep that the separated bundles of muscle fibers could even be counted. His tank top was progressively stretching thinner across his upper body - though not quite as thin as my rubber now was. That was approaching its elastic limits and getting uncomfortable. Who'd even invented these things sure never consulted me. But Sam's incredibly erotic display of absolute and total inhuman strength so enthralled me that it was easier to forget the discomfort of this penile strangulation a little while longer.
Sam glanced at my groin and, seeming to gain inspiration, actually increased the speed of his repetitions. I also spotted his heightened state of arousal, something I would have never expected under these extraordinary circumstances. It's possible that I hadn't noticed before, having so many other big muscles vying for my attentions. Now another one needed to be added to my list of incredible distractions. Maybe it was just more obvious to me now that he was semi-reclined on that benching table. I rationalized that Sam, always true to his word, was attending to every physical detail and making sure that he was getting his entire body pumped to perfection.
What Sam was doing to his physique though - and especially to his chest muscles at the moment - was forever redefining for me what it means to `get a pump.' It was almost as if they were actually being filled with compressed air and might suddenly even burst like balloons. His tank top was in about the same condition as my rubber. The cotton material was losing it's opaqueness and his magnificent dark areolas were visible through it. As his tanktop stretched evermore thinly, the straps were now the only remaining parts of his shirt with any more elasticity left to give. But their former width was disappearing as they pulled ever tighter. The skin over his outrageous twin domes took on a bluish and semi-translucent quality. The extraordinary muscular force Sam must be exerting to lift two building foundations simultaneously - and the internal pressures that must generate within his mighty pectorals - were both beyond my imagination. And those small, telltale red lines began appearing under his skin again. Micro-capillary blood vessels were exploding; testimony that at least some of the Laws of Physics still applied, though Sam seemed to be able to miraculously bend other rules more or less to his will.
Truthfully, his pectorals had now achieved such gargantuan proportions that they no doubt would have been completely grotesque to some guys. In my own eyes however, they became evermore erotic with each additional millimeter they gained in size. They were twin muscular impossibilities that both chilled and thrilled me to the bone. And whether Sam actually ever intended this to happen I didn't know, but because of him, I nevertheless found myself on an incredible voyage of self-discovery. The depths of my nature as a man were being revealed to me. I was discovering within myself the incredible sensual power of `freaky' and reveling in the potent erotic beauty I found in the `extreme.' Unknown to me however, the evening held in store other insights into my nature and even wilder erotic spectacles that would surpass the surreal.
I noticed small, darker spots slowly forming in the material around each of Sam's large areolas. At first I thought that it might be just sweat collecting, though admittedly in a rather peculiar way. But as his repetitions continued, the spots grew a bit larger and darker as the material absorbed more. But more of what? At some point it dawned on me that this stuff was leaking from Sam's nipples - and with that realization, my cock suddenly stiffened more. It actually bothered me momentarily that I found myself further aroused by such a bizarre thing, but it turned me on nevertheless. But my damn rubber wouldn't tolerate or forgive much additional excitement. It was getting tighter than hell and less easy ignored. Still, I'd postpone the inevitable as long as I could for Sam's benefit.
The size of the dark areas gradually increased as the cotton absorbed more liquid. I stood up wobbling a little on my legs, and moved closer to watch his rising volcanoes with this strange lava now oozing from their cones. Sam looked down at his own pectoral behemoths and observed them while he continued doing chest flies like some unstoppable machine. I was sure their immense pump would have prevented Sam from being able to see any part of his body below them.
Still showing no signs as yet that he was fatigued, Sam nevertheless just suddenly let the giant piles of concrete come to rest back on the floor and released the chains.
He remained there, almost motionless and utterly silent, reclined on the table-sized bench and staring down at his own chest. Sam seemed to be just as contented as I was to watch his two mountains simply rise and fall slowly with each breath he took.
Sam forcibly expelled all the air from his lungs and then began to slowly inhale - and I mean DEEPLY - so amazingly deeply, in fact, that it seemed to me that he would eventually draw all the air in the room into his lungs. This muscleman had an astonishing lung capacity! I wondered how long Sam could actually hold his breath underwater and then speculated that it would be as long as the current world free-diving champion. But then again, this was Sam I thought, so perhaps even longer.
As he slowly pulled more air into his giant bellows, his chest kept expanding outward until the straps of his tank top, now pulled thin like guitar strings, simply couldn't take it anymore. With sudden twangs like the sound of bowstrings snapping, both of his straps simply vanished. The front of Sam's tank top forcibly blew right off his chest and fell down over his thighs, leaving his two magnificent heaving, undulating monsters now fully exposed. I assumed this was all intentional because Sam then lifted his head off the table slightly to get a better look at his own absolutely freaked-out pecs.
After some considerable time passed, Sam slowly turned his eyes upon me as if perhaps thinking, "So what `cha think of these, huh?" If Sam could have read my mind at the moment, he wouldn't have understood my thoughts. "Gut gebaut" were the only words running through MY mind. Roughly that meant, "built like a brick shithouse in the chest" - which in Sam's case was still an extreme understatement.
Sam remained relatively motionless otherwise with his arms resting my his side, except for his occasional head movements. He still seemed quite immersed in his strange altered-state. He bore no discernible facial expression and his eyes were eerily vacuous. But even in his strange condition, Sam was still sporting a truly spectacular boner, though I doubted that he was even aware of it - or much of anything else for that matter.
I followed his eyes as he returned his blank gaze back to his immense muscle-domes. Sam couldn't possibly see directly his own areolas or the liquid steadily oozing from his own nipples, slowly forming into droplets. As each drop became large enough, it ran down and collected underneath his lower pectoral shelves like bats hanging from a cave ceiling. There, they combined with other drops and then randomly fell off, dripping on to his rippled abdomen below. From Sam's viewpoint, his deep cleavage must have appeared totally stunning, like looking down through a steep gorge between two Himalayan-sized mountains of muscle.
I found myself ogling his two heaving beasts just as Sam, himself, was doing as well. The areolas around each nipple had grown even larger as his pecs had increased in size. They were dark in color and big - the size of silver dollars - and like big painted bulls- eyes, they drew my eyes automatically to the nipples in their centers.
As if being directed by an invisible hand, I found my head circling ever closer to Sam's pecs. As I hovered some inches above one areola almost salivating over that mammoth pectoral god, I turned to glance at Sam's face. I was surprised to see that he was watching me even though his expression was ambivalently detached.
Keeping his eyes right one me, he slowly began another deep inhalation, as if intentionally thrusting his huge, juicy pec closer to my mouth. Involuntarily, my mouth just sprung open. Sam's greatly-augmented lung capacity did the rest as he pushed the massive giant up until my mouth was directly over his big, glistening-wet areola. I extended my tongue and began to gently lick the drop of mysterious fluid that hung suspended from it, slowly playing with its taste on my tongue - a taste unexpectedly pleasing and strangely reminiscent of something, too - but I couldn't remember what.
It was some moments later that I first noticed some odd sensations. I felt almost a desire accompanied by a gnawing sensation in my stomach. Not thinking much of it, I sampled a little more with my tongue and played with it in my mouth. Not 20 seconds later, the sensations became noticeably more pronounced. This desire became almost euphoric while at the same time the gnawing emptiness in my stomach turned decidedly uncomfortable. I felt a strong urge to sample larger amounts of Sam's mysterious juice, no longer feeling satisfied with just little dabs of it on my tongue. His areola seemed suddenly hypnotically inviting and irresistible and I moved in to completely encircle it with my opened mouth. His fleshy pec felt wonderfully warm and yet hard as rock on my lips. I began lapping his areola voraciously, making sure I gathered ever morsel of juice available. Then I covered every square inch of the surrounding area seeking more. It was as if I was suddenly on a determined quest for the Holy Grail. I licked along the underbelly of his massive pec looking for any previous runoff that might still be clinging to that great muscular cliff face.
Then my mouth returned to the source - the spring from where all of this goodness had flowed... and I starting to suck on it hard. Very hard. I was rewarded for my efforts quickly with a little renewed, fresh flow. I'd only managed to collect a teasingly small sample in my mouth before a noticeable tremor suddenly moved through Sam's entire body. I turned to glance at Sam's face as I swallowed that small amount of his delicious pec-beverage.
He was already shaking his head around as if to clear out the cobwebs, and his arms and legs were becoming reanimated as well. Sam was reverting back to his old self again, but this time more quickly than before.
It wasn't too long before I heard Sam say in a surprisingly normal- sounding voice again, "Hey there, big boy. What `cha doin' there? Now that was some REAL liftin', wasn't it?"
Apparently, I'd distracted Sam enough when I'd started mouthing his pec like a Hoover vacuum to draw him out of his self-induced `altered state.' That was sufficiently prolonged contact to do the trick. And I also felt rather stupid now because somehow I'd completely forgotten this.
Oddly though, Sam's unexpected `return from the other side' wasn't making much of an impression on me at that moment. My eyes were being drawn back again and again to his incredibly hot pecs; those big nipples irresistibly enticing me with their strange wonderful man- brew. I felt a fiery tingle all over my skin and the visceral, painful emptiness right in the pit of my stomach was impossible to ignore. I felt increasingly strange - and this craving to attack Sam's megalithic pectorals with my mouth seemed to be stronger, too. These urges seemed to come in waves, building, ebbing and then intensifying again.
At the crest of each wave, the strange desire I felt was powerful. It was all I could even think of doing; the only thing that mattered to me. I'd only briefly tasted small samples of Sam's strange pectoral fluid, but I sure wanted more of it – a great deal more. In fact, I could easily picture myself sucking and swallowing huge mouthfuls of his masculine elixir, if only I could. It was as if I sensed that only this manly cocktail would satisfy the awful emptiness in my stomach. My eyes feasted ravenously on one of his luscious monsters as I considered the best way to go about getting that enormous pec all in my mouth at once.
"So, am I big enough now, Pete?" Sam asked, seeing if he could draw my attention.
I did glance at Sam's face. His eyes were clearing and brighter again. There was even a slightly impish grin on his face.
"Those are most magnificent pecs in the whole world, Sam. They look freaky! Your chest is hot. Hot, hot, HOT!"
Sam looked back down at his own chest. Then with some surprise in his voice, he said, "Damn! Those IS really freaky big now, ain't they!"
Sam then noticed the shredded tank top hanging over his thighs, still tucked into the waistband of his shorts. Grabbing the ragged remains, he snapped it off and tossed it aside in one quick motion. Then he started to look himself over very thoroughly.
"Boy, I think I'm mighty big and presentable now all over, don't ya think?"
He ran his hands over his biceps admiringly, then extended his arms to check the state of the horseshoes, and finally explored his own outrageously pumped pecs.
"I love it when I get a great pump like this!"
I couldn't respond. I could even take my eyes off his chest now. I was spellbound by their size. I might have even been in love. If I was a Mormon, I'd have had to marry them both.
After gawking for a few moments more, I impulsively blurted, "And that stuff coming out of your nipples - Wow! That stuff is great!"
My last comment caught Sam's immediate attention. He studied my face for awhile as if he was looking for something.
Then he said with some concern, "Say Pete. Your eyes look kinda funny to me. Ya didn't get any of my pec-juice in your mouth, did ya?"
"Yep, you bet I sure did," I said, making a big `yummy' with my tongue and lips. "I thought maybe that's what you wanted me to do, but it was kinda hard for me to know for sure. Don't you remember? It was an offer I just couldn't refuse!"
Sam suddenly did not look too happy at all. "Oh, shit. I don't remember doin' that. I wanted to tell you more `bout me.... Other things - like that pec stuff, too - before you ever.... Shit! It's just that I woulda wanted you to know other things about it ahead of time, so's you would've at least had the choice. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I'm so stupid. I didn't want it to happen this way. Now it might be to late already," he sighed, "but I needs to find out for sure."
Sam wiped his index finger under each nipple, picking up the glistening dewdrops still clinging there. Then he put his finger directly in front of my mouth and just held it there - and watched me closely. My eyes became immediately glued to his finger. The sensation was as if I'd been in a desert for a week without water, and Sam's finger was an oasis. Licking my dry mouth, I anticipated the taste of those watery droplets passing my lips. The look on my face alone must have told Sam whatever it was that he wanted to know.
"Yep. That's what I was afraid of," he said, nodding his head as if acknowledging to himself that his suspicions were true. "Well, it looks like the genie's already out of THAT bottle now, too. It's already too late. I suppose, Pete, that you really wanna have some more of this again, don't `cha...."
He held his finger closer, bringing it directly in front of my lips. "Here ya go, Pete...."
Involuntarily, I closed my eyes and engulfed his finger with my mouth. I thoroughly sucked and licked every square millimeter of his finger, intent on removing every last trace of those precious dewdrops from every pore and microscopic crevice. Sam continued talking, leaving his finger there in my mouth.
"Pete, this is my fault. This here don't happen to me often at all. The conditions gotta be just so, and they's pretty rare," he said. I assumed he was referring to this strange pec juice. "First, my pecs be worked real hard - right to the max - just like they is now. And second, I gotta be turned on at the same time. I means really fired up! It's that there second condition that's almost always missin'."
Sam chuckled, seeming a little amused at what he was going to say next. "Seems the Lord made these giant muscular hooters of mine so that they can sorta cum too, sometimes - just like my cock!" Then he added a more serious-sounding postscript.
"But Pete, this muscle-milk o' mine... it just affects a man...."
Cum? I realized only at that moment what had seemed so oddly familiar about the taste all along; a taste I only experienced a few times in my distant youth. It was the taste of a young stud - the taste of Gabe's very fresh spunk! But Sam's pec ejaculate was scrumptious - and strangely, also deeply satisfying; more like a premium Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
Sam finally extracted his finger slowly from my mouth, realizing that I would just keep sucking until there was only a stump left. I opened my eyes again, tilting my head back and forth like a contented puppy and grinning idiotically. Sam continued scrutinizing my every reaction.
"Your eyes are gettin' even glassier now. Your pupils are startin' to dilate, too," Doctor Sam informed me, updating my current medical prognosis. "I ain't seen that look in a guy's eyes for... jeez, I can't even remember when. Boy, I'd forgotten how even just a little bit this stuff affects a guy so powerful-like."
He continued probing his hypothesis. "Even though I got all of these big muscles pumped up special for your birthday, I'm thinkin' that right now anyway - ya just really fancies my big muscleman-hooters, don't `cha, Pete. Ain't that right?"
In fact, it seemed impossible to make my eyes look at anything else. I could have gawked at them open-mouthed for the rest of my life and have been totally contented. No one would have to bring me food either. They would even feed me.
I responded to Sam's question almost worshipfully, "They're so... I mean their size is... God, they're huge. They're real... sexy... you know, when they're all big like that...."
Sam's eyes twinkled a bit. "Yep, I was thinkin' that you'd were feelin' that way `bout `em. They's just extra good-lookin' to you right now, huh? I bet that you's even feelin' a powerful thirst right about now - maybe kinda tingly feelin' all over, too? Ain't that right, Pete?"
I proceeded to answer his questions, but I also didn't seem to grasp any of the possible implications at that moment.
"Yes, I'm certainly real thirsty - and I don't feel normal at all either. My stomach's feeling awful empty, and I've got these pins and needles all over my skin. How did you know that, Sam?"
"Like I told ya, Pete, this stuff affects a man. Just that little bit ya tasted is already affectin' you."
Sam then reviewed aloud this unexpected whole turn of events, but perhaps talking more to himself actually than to me.
"Oh Pete – what am I gonna do now? What AM I gonna do? I never shoulda asked ya take off your clothes. I know'd that'd turn me on. I just shoulda know'd better. I shoulda know'd that I'd start gettin' other urges comin' over me. I never meant to encourage you though - honest, I didn't. But it's a little late now to be cryin' over spilt milk, I guess." Then he glanced down at his own chest again, and chuckled at his own unintended humor. "Well, seems there ain't nothin' I can do now but just go with the flow."
He suddenly chuckled again loudly, then turned his attention squarely back on me.
"Pete - well you's still gonna have a great birthday party! I maybe needs to change the order of my birthday presents a little bit, that's all. I know's which one you'd be appreciatin' the most right now. The truth is... so will I...."
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