Jock-Cow

Hey there Coach. I think I found you another candidate. He meets all of your specifications. He’s young, eager to get stronger, single, and lives alone. I’ve told him to stop by Saturday morning for a one-on-one introductory session with you. I mentioned you were the reason I’ve been getting so big this year. Hopefully he’s what you’re looking for. If so, that should count as a ‘referral’ for me, giving me a month’s worth of free product.

Davis’s text message piqued my interest. He was a project that I had been working on for a while now. I gave him a training plan and the occasional one-on-one session, along with a steady supply of Jock Chow. He was coming along quite nicely, and part of our deal was that if he wanted to get some Jock Chow for free, he would refer any possible candidates to me. Plenty of guys would see his gains and would ask what he was doing, usually thinking that he was on some sort of steroids. That wasn’t quite the case, although the truth was usually more complicated than that. He had already done well, helping me find two guys to join my private gym. I was looking forward to seeing whether or not this new meat would make a good recruit.

I showed up to the gym, bright and early at a quarter to six on Saturday. I always got up early on weekends, even though most Fridays I went out and got my dick wet. Years of strict discipline kept me in great shape for my early forties. My body bulged with muscles, although it looked more like a powerlifter’s build than a bodybuilder’s. I ate healthy, but I wasn’t looking for aesthetics, just pure manly strength.

The man who showed up on time, just as Davis said he would. He was a little on the thin side, tall without looking gangly. He had the beginnings of a goatee, and looked like he had a bit of body hair from what I can see under his tank top. He looked a bit out of place, but I could smell the desire to grow bigger on him. I figured he had worked out or played sports a lot in college, and was looking for a shift in his fitness that so many guys go through after working for a few years.

“Hey there. I’m Rob. You can call me coach,” I said, sticking out my hand.

He shook it, his grip firm and collected. He didn’t look anxious about the early training, he looked hungry. That fire in his eyes, a desire to get stronger and grow, was exactly what I wanted.

“All right Coach. I’m Brandon,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you Brandon. Davis told me you had asked him how he was getting so big, and I think you would be a great candidate for the program that I started him on,” I said, turning and walking towards the gym’s entrance.

“Yeah man, that would be awesome. I’ve always struggled to put on muscle. Now that I’m going to turn thirty soon, I wanted to find a way to beef up and stick with a gym plan as I get older,” Brandon said.

“I get that. As long as you’re willing to work hard and listen to what I have to say, I think we’ll be able to see results. I just need to make sure your desire to get bigger matches the amount of effort you’re willing to put into this,” I shot back.

He nodded his head eagerly, the lust for a bigger body blazing in his eyes, as we went and changed in the locker room. Soon we were on the floor, knocking out a quick warm-up row and series of stretches to get the blood flowing. I could already tell I was getting worked up, both from the exercise and from this eager boy. Already I was starting to work up a sweat, feeling the dampness in my underarms. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had put on deodorant. I didn’t want anything blocking my Musk.

“Did you used to be in the military or something?” Brandon asked as we finished up the shoulder press. I suppose the fact that my muscle shirts had a camo pattern might have given him a hint. Plus, the crew cut and no-nonsense attitude were a strong indication.

“I used to be, a long time ago. Then I actually worked for a pharmaceutical company for a while. I was their staff trainer for over a decade. Now I do my own thing, since training is what I really love. I do some consulting on occasion, but mostly I just try to stay in shape and help others do the same,” I said as we lifted.

I walked Brandon through a series of basic strength exercises. It didn’t really matter what we did to start since I was gauging his experience and persistence. So long as we were lifting and sweating, I was content to keep pushing the boy. He followed my instructions well, not complaining when I made him re-do reps if his form was poor, and doggedly persevering if I cut the rest interval short. I had a good measure of his abilities, and I wanted to work him just short of his failure level.

We had been at it for an hour already, and still he kept at it. I could see his nose twitching more and more as we lifted, watching him inhaling more and more of my musk. It was still early in the day, and the gym wasn’t particularly busy. That’s why I love Saturdays. You never knew quite what you could get away with. In this case, it meant I could really let my scent pour off me, something that would be more challenging if more men were lifting in the free weight area.

I decided to end this training session with some bench press. I knocked out mine, lifting in sets of ten, but I casually and intentionally forgot to wipe down the bench afterwards. Brandon didn’t object to laying in my sweat, allowing me to step closer and spot him. I took an extra step forward, my crotch just inches from his face as he pumped the bar up and down. I saw his eyes get glassy, and he worked on autopilot. He knocked out five reps, ten reps, then fifteen reps. I stopped him just short of twenty, helping Brandon guide the bar back onto the rack as he shook his head, clearing the musky haze from his brain.

“Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. It’s just easy to get into the zone I guess,” he said, chuckling.

“I totally understand that boy. Now, let’s hit the sauna and go over what I want you to do for the week. I only have time to meet with you on Saturdays early in the morning, but so long as you stick to what I tell you, you will see results in less than a month,” I promised

He was so eager for those future gains that Brandon didn’t realize how close he stood next to me as we stretched out to finish. His body was subconsciously trying to move his face closer to the source of my musk. It was already sleeping into him, massaging his brain to make him more pliable and easier to change. My cock throbbed in my shorts as I contemplated what exactly I would do to him.

After the stretching, we tossed our things into our locker and went into the sauna. We took off our shirts and grabbed a fresh towel, ready to let the heat loosen our hard-working muscles. I flipped the sign from open to closed, wanting some privacy. I cranked the heat up, letting my already dripping body go into overdrive. I wanted to bathe Brandon with my musk, filling him with it and letting it warp his mind.

It took three minutes for him to get hard, five minutes for his head to slump and his eyes to shut, and nine minutes before he was pressing his face into my pits. I gave him easy access, letting him sniff to his heart’s desire. His own healthy endowment pulsed in his shorts, and I pawed at his hard cock through the material. I like to reinforce the positive sexual feelings that come from getting a guy drunk on my musk, making them start to crave the sensation.

“You did a good job today Brandon. You want to get big, and you want it more than anything. I can see that in how you lift. I’m going to help you. But I’m going to need you to do something for me, something very important,” I said in a powerful, commanding voice.

He just nodded dumbly, droplets of my sweat on his face as he pulled away long enough to listen to me. I can see from the way his dick and nose were twitching that he desperately wanted to get back in my pit, letting my scent empty out his brain and make him feel good.

“I’m going to give you some instructions to follow. It will feel good to obey them. You will want to do them, following them to the letter, especially meeting me here bright and early on Saturdays. Your waking mind won’t remember these instructions, but you will internalize them. You’ll remember everything I say and take it to heart, since listening to Coach makes you feel good,” I said in a steady tone, letting my words fill his empty mind.

I talked, giving him some basic instructions for the week. A simple workout paradigm to follow, some changes to his nutrition, instructions to hydrate and get plenty of sleep were all components of Brandon’s new fitness regime. I wanted to start building habits now, to see just how far he would obey me. I repeated my words, telling Brandon how good it felt to listen to me, letting him take sniffs of my pits as positive reinforcement.

I also gave him a few other commands. He was to chuck his deodorant out, and switch to unscented soaps. When he jerked off from now on, he wouldn’t be able to finish unless he was sniffing his own pets. He already loved my musk, and I wanted him to start liking it in general, especially his own brand. He was also to shoot me a picture every time he jacked off, deleting it afterwards and forgetting that he had done it. I loved seeing pictures of my jocks-to-be painting their chests with their loads, and the thrill that Brandon wouldn’t remember why he did it was half the fun.

I rewarded his compliance with more of my musk, groping his shorts until I felt him starting to shoot. His cock was decently sized, a bit thick, and his balls emptied themselves inside his underwear. I made a mental note to instruct him to change that later, since I wanted to see his growing ass in a jockstrap to better frame it. I made sure to talk to him repeatedly as he came down from his sexual high, elevating him from his musk-fueled trance and making sure my instructions stuck.

“Good boy. Now, let’s get you cleaned up. And remember, you’ll just recall relaxing in the sauna with me. You won’t need to remember any of the specifics here,” I repeated to Brandon as we stood up, taking care that he wasn’t dripping through his shorts onto the wooden benches.

Brandon showered in the stall next to mine, the water helping to bring him out from his musky trance. He returned to normal fairly quickly, and then we went over some of the details for his workout plan with more specificity. I promised to send him some nutritional information, and he left the gym excited to have better guidance for reaching his muscular future.

He’s perfect Davis. Everything I need him to be. He’s already taking to it quite well. You’ve more than earned your Jock Chow. You can pick up a case sometime later today.

The week passed quickly. I would receive updates from Brandon almost every day, pictures of his belly covered in spunk, showing that my hypnotic suggestions persisted strongly. He texted me occasionally, getting clarification about some of the recipes I gave him. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he would be able to do all of the meal prep I had chosen for him to up his protein intake and reduce the processed foods he snacked on. By the time he showed up the following Saturday morning, he had been working out, eating well, staying hydrated, and sleeping better. He hadn’t noticed any of the hidden changes yet, but I could tell that he had done a fantastic job of laying the groundwork for me to build on. I could also tell her that he hadn’t bothered to use deodorant, and the more natural diet was really improving his own musk.

“Looking good man. I’m glad you’ve been sticking to my plan. With a good foundation, you’d be surprised how quickly you can reach your fitness goals,” I told him

“I’m already on my way, Coach. I’ve got way more energy than I had before, and I’ve been really looking forward to more one-on-one training,” Brandon said with true enthusiasm

We changed again, going through a longer warm up before starting to lift weights. I had knocked out a light jog while waiting for Brandon to arrive, and I was already sweating up a storm. He dropped into his musk trance even faster than before, his mind open and empty before my scent. He went through the motions of the workout perfectly, adjusting his form where I corrected him, and trying to stay as near to me as possible, inhaling my musk and dripping into his underwear.

Afterwards, we hit the sauna again. I did the same trick as before, and the wave of hotboxing musk made Brandon drop into an even deeper state of empty-headedness. He dropped deep and fast, needing no words from me, just the powerful odor wafting off of my body. His cock was just as hard as before, and he had done well to conflate the smell of musk with arousal. I gave a slight nod, and he attacked my sweaty pit like a man possessed, grinding against my underarm and huffing like had just finished a marathon.

“You’re doing really well boy. I’m so glad to see how eager you are to empty your mind out and let me fill you up. Next week, you’re going to come over to my town house and work out with me and my garage. I want the privacy, and leaving this gym will help improve your focus.”

This time he nodded while his face was buried in my pit. It was what he had been craving all week after all, and who was I to deny this dumb jock his prized?

“I’ve also got a new shake for you to take. It’s a special product, for a company that I’ve consulted for, called Jock Chow. You’ll want to drink an entire bottle of Jock Chow every day, right after you work out. You should be getting five good workouts a week at this point, so I’ll be giving you five bottles. You will grow to love the taste, especially when you realize that you will grow with every shake you drink,” I said smoothly and steadily, letting my voice reverberate in the small room, penetrating deep into Brandon’s brain.

“And from now on, all you’ll want to wear are jockstraps. You’ll love the way they hold your package, and the way they frame your ass will feel fantastic. You’ll only get cotton pouched ones, the kind that absorb your scent and trap in whatever your dick leaks. I expect to see you sniffing those along with your pits as you jerk off and grow bigger for me this week boy.”

I didn’t even need to touch his dick this time for him to shoot. Just the thought of him growing bigger, coupled with my stink, pushed him over the edge. I helped him get cleaned up, gave him his shakes, and sent him on his way. He kept moving his hands to his waist, and I could see the irritation his plain briefs were causing him. He opened a bottle as he got in his car, and I drove away with a hardon knowing how much farther he would go this week.

Brandon still sent me his daily updates, which were now occurring every day without fail. He messaged me to tell me how much you loved Jock Chow, and I couldn’t help but get hard when he waxed poetic about how good it was. Each sixteen ounce shake bottle was filled with all sorts of protein powders and supplements, along with two very special unique ingredients, and it did much more than just help a man pack on muscle mass. It also encouraged increased libido and sperm production, while dampening the drinker’s mental faculties.

In moderation, it was a fantastic way for someone to bulk up. But in excess, it would make the person irrevocably addicted to it, making them grow hornier and hornier as they got dumber and dumber, eventually turning into sex crazed, growth obsessed pigs. The hormones and chemicals would build up in the drinker, altering their bodies beyond simply adding mass, depending on the characteristics of the person overusing it.

Brandon came over to my home gym that Saturday morning and I could already tell that he had gotten visibly bigger. Five shakes, coupled with his nutrition and healthy lifestyle had caused him to gain seven pounds of muscle, and three pounds of fat. It looked like Brandon would have a great body type to be a powerlifter, once he had worked more on my training. My home gym was a little more sparsely laid out then the one we went to before, but it wasn’t really about the quality of lifting, just the quantity. It was about getting in a small, hot room. It was about assaulting Brandon’s mind with my musk, watching him start to turn down his higher brain processes as he lifted.

Eventually he finished a set of bent-over row and just stood there, drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth as his cock stuck out in front of him like a divining rod. I checked the analogue clock on the wall, nodding. Forty eight minutes in a closed off, non air conditioned garage gym while lifting hard was how long it took to fill Brandon’s brain with so much musk, from both him and me, that his brain just shut down. He stood there, an empty vessel, waiting for me to give him commands. As deep as the hypnotic suggestions had gone, mixing in Jock Chow took it to a whole new level.

“How are you feeling boy?” I asked, emphasizing the word boy.

“Good Coach. Tired, and horny. I’ve been horny all week. I just want to sniff your pits and jerk-off,” Brandon replied in a slurred voice. “ I wanna lift and stink and stroke and grow.”

“That’s okay boy. Don’t worry, I think we’ll have some time for that today,” I replied, palming my hardon through my gym wear.

“Work’s been a little harder. My boss is worried that I’ve been a little sick, but it’s been harder to focus on things recently,” Brandon responded, like he hadn’t really processed what I said or how obviously I was palming my package.

“That’s okay boy. In fact, that’s good. You should be happy that you’re getting dumber. After all, you won’t need to be smart once you have a huge body. From now on, whenever you get worried about your mental faculties, you’ll envision your brain is shrinking as your body grows and it will feel good,” I replied authoritatively. This was a delicate part, where his negative emotions about his cognitive abilities could derail the entire operation.

Brandon paused, the gears in his head turning slowly. He was clearly thinking hard, although from the way his nose twitched I knew it was a struggle. The damp spot on the front of his gym shorts wasn’t just from sweat though, and his arousal was steadily growing as he paused his gym work to talk. The whole time he was breathing in huge lungfuls of both of our musks, letting those strong pheromones go right to his sluggish brain.

“Yes Coach. I understand. Big muscles, small brain. Size over smarts,” he said, grinning a big, dopey grin as though he just solved a challenging puzzle.

“I want you to repeat after me. Dumber is good. Musky is good. Horny is good,” I stated, reinforcing the conditioning.

“Yes coach. Dumb and musky and horny is good.”

“That’s a good boy. It might feel uncomfortable to grow, but I know how bad you want it. No pain, no gain right? If some of the pain comes from your head, then so be it. Any sacrifice is worth a big, beefy body,” I said, adding power to the last few words.

With that, I let him shove his face into my pits as he dry humped my body, feeling his cock grind against me. I could tell it was a little thicker too. All according to plan. I let him grind up against me, feeling his body tense as he dumped a load into his underwear while servicing my right pit. I didn’t give him a chance to recover, and switched him over to the other pit. His dick sprung back at attention again, and he resumed servicing my sweating body. I really shoved his face in there, giving him a direct blast of my musk inside my garage. I could feel his body straining, but sure enough he was shooting again. Two loads in less than ten minutes. Excellent progress for someone that had only been drinking Jock Chow for a week.

“That’s it. Just keep sniffing Coach’s pits. Keep giving me more and more control. It feels good after all. Submitting to me feels just as good as sniffing my pits. You love my musk and you love the sound of my voice. You love being told what to do, and it makes you horny to know that I am changing you,” I lustfully intoned, adding another layer to Brandon’s conditioning. He moaned against me, and this time I couldn’t help it. I sat down on my lifting bench and pulled my shorts down. If he thought my pits were musky, my nuts would send him into overdrive. He went crazy licking my sack and dick, grunting and snorting and huffing my crotch musk like it was the tastiest thing imaginable. I let him taste his fill, and then I guided his mouth to my hard cock. Soon he was bobbing up and down on my shaft, head empty and wanting nothing more than to sniff and pleasure me.

The sight of such an obedient jock in training tripped my wires, and soon I was flooding his mouth. He swallowed every drop, and relaxed as my dick deflated in his mouth. I didn’t have to look down to know Brandon had blown his load again, his jockstrap and shorts a soggy mess. After he licked my shaft clean, he pulled away, licking his lips to make sure he consumed every drop..

“That tastes kind of familiar Coach,“ he said, his voice slurred like he’d been drinking.

“Of course the boy. After all, spunk is a key ingredient in Jock Chow. It has everything you need to grow bigger and stronger. Of course, there’s no way a guy like me could possibly make enough to give you that all the time. That’s why you need the shakes instead of sucking me off after your lifts,” I said in a husky tone of voice as I enjoyed the glow of my orgasm.

“And how do you manage to have so much of it coach?” Brandon asked, some power returning to his brain.

“Don’t worry boy. You’ll see, and sooner than you think. In fact, why don’t you have some more. Right now.”

I pulled out one of my extra strength Jock Chow bottles from a mini fridge behind a weight rack. This bottle was bigger, a full twenty four ounces, and not available for distribution. This was fortified, and even higher concentration of it was fresh spunk. It was also incredibly dangerous to take without diluting it, intended to be mixed in with large barrels of sports drink to get a little to entire sports teams discreetly. Of course, I just gave it to Brandon and told him to drink straight from the unmarked bottle.

I watched him chug it down, my dick is throbbing as I saw his stomach start to distend. That one bottle had enough calories to add five pounds to his body after it was digested and processed. It seemed to follow the same distribution as before, with the majority of it being muscle, but a healthy percentage adding fat to his frame. I could also see his nutsack growing bigger, while his cock became just a hair shorter, but got wider. His crotch was changing and repurposing itself for my future needs.

“I’m going to give you these bottles this week instead of the other kind. And you’re going to forget about taking a rest day. With this stuff, you won’t need one. I want you lifting every single day, drinking an entire varsity-style Jock Chow, and focusing only on growing bigger. Do you understand that? Other than doing enough work to get by, I only want you lifting, eating, and jerking off,” I commanded.

Brandon just nodded slowly, his face gravitating back towards my sweaty crotch and underarms. I let him give me a tongue bath, blowing his load a couple more times as he served me, before sending him home. I also decided to send him some inductive files to listen to as he lifted, to really hasten the process along. He was taking to my scent and my authority so well, desperate to be obedient and grow for me. I knew he’d change in record time, and be ready to get shipped off very soon.

Brandon stuck to the updates regularly, sending me dozens of pics of his hairy, spunk-drenched belly. His shots were getting bigger and heavier, although he wouldn’t realize it since he couldn’t compare the old photos to the new. He got up early, going for a morning jog before work, and then struggling to get through his day in the office. He took every break to hide away in the toilet stalls to get off, his arousal and spunk production going up and up the more Jock Chow he drank. He would send me pictures every time he got off, face stuffed into his polo clad armpits, craving size and scent and submission.

He was unfortunately asked to take some time off on Thursday. His intelligence was dropping faster and faster, especially with my files on repeat whispering into his ears as he worked out. Brandon was struggling with his work, since his critical thinking was evaporating as he focused on obeying task related work instead. Luckily, he wasn’t an arrogant type, so he didn’t develop some of the cockiness that came from his growing size. Regardless, his boss noticed that he had somehow managed to put on thirty pounds of muscle and fat in less than a week, and sent him home to recover. Instead, I just told him to come over to my garage the following day in nothing but his jockstrap.

Brandon showed up, bright and early. His old gym clothes looked comical on him in the photo he sent me Friday, and he looked much better in a good black cotton jock and lifting shoes. His bloated torso was straining inside his tank top, and his thighs and large package made the gym shorts look painted on for his previous workout, and I figured I would enjoy watching him lift in practically nothing anyway. He just grunted at me as he came in, having jogged over to work up a sweat.

I let him indulge himself with a couple sniffs of my pits as he had what was certainly not the first orgasm of his day. Globules of jizz soaked through the pouch of his well filled strap and ran down his legs, mixing with the sweat as it dripped down onto his socks and shoes. We did a couple lifts, more for the sake of steaming up my gym than anything else, but soon Brandon was on his knees, mouth stretched as he slurped on my cock. I told him to flex for me as he blew me, admiring my handiwork as he sucked me off.

He was really blowing up. Muscle and fat were piling on his frame, soon to reach the fifty pound mark with my assistance. His nuts head swollen up immensely, reaching the size of mangoes, and pulling down his sack. His cock was now barely over four inches long, but had grown massively in girth. He hadn’t had the foresight to keep up with his personal grooming, and his body hair was starting to grow all over his beefy form. Coupled with the lack of deodorant or scented soaps, he was starting to look like a huge, stinking, horny beast.

“I think we’re reaching the end of your training Brandon,” I said, getting ready to finish down his throat. “After today, I’m going to find something more suited to your new interests. Something that’ll make you feel good all the time. Something that you can do to pay me back for all of the Jock Chow you have been slurping down.”

He didn’t stop or slow. I grabbed a hold of his head, fucking his face until I blew my load down his hungry throat. He licked my cock clean, switching instead to servicing my nuts as I continued to talk.

“You’re soon going to be too dumb to do much of anything, and your addiction to both Jock Chow and musk is going to become unbearable. But don’t worry. We’re going to go somewhere that will make you very happy,” I said, not needing any of my cadences or tones for him now.

I helped him up into a sitting position, rubbing my nuts all over my hand and smearing it on his face. I returned with a funnel and tube, eyeing him as he stared at me, empty-headed and willing to do whatever I said. He had remained on his hands and knees in front of the bench, his subconscious mind reminding him the importance of submission and obedience.

“We’re going to be heading over to your new home tomorrow. I have six bottles left of the extra strength Jock Chow, and you’re going to drink every last one. I want them all gurgling away in your muscle gut before bed. You want to do everything I say, and you’ll need to work hard to drink all of this down,” I informed Brandon as his nuts throbbed in his jock.

Brandon fought against his musk instincts as I stood, naked before him, getting him into position to pour the Jock Chow down the funnel. He wanted very badly to suck it out of a very different type of tubing, but unfortunately my balls wouldn’t quite keep up. I adjusted the funnel,making sure everything was sealed tight, before getting it into his eager, open mouth. I reached down and managed to rub his bloated sack with my foot. He moaned in pleasure, mouth open wide, as I poured the first bottle of thick, viscous protein shake down the tube. I chubbed up again, watching it slowly drain down the tubing and into Brandon’s hungry stomach.

“Excellent. Normally it can take a guy months of Jock Chow before we can get this far, but with how easily you submitted to my stink, we’ll get you into your new home in under a month,” I said as my cock started to rise as I watched Brandon pig out, the thick goo bypassing his tongue and heading straight to his growing gut.

I alternated back and forth between pouring the Jock Chow down the tube and rubbing his nuts with my foot. His sack expanded along with his stomach, expanding bigger and bigger as his gut bulged outwards. I heard a sound of straining elastic as I began pouring the second bottle in, and before long Brandon’s growing sack shredded the jockstrap. It was keeping pace with his beefiness, his nuts expanding along with his sack, dripping precum in massive globs as he drank like a college frat boy at his first party.

We made it through three bottles before he simply couldn’t drink anymore, and I let him recover with his face in my pits. I spent the rest of the day feeding him the shakes and letting him service my sweaty, stinking body in my garage. He made me feel like such a stud, dumb and horny and growng in front of my eyes. It wasn’t until after the sun had set before he polished off the sixth bottle, round beach ball size belly sticking out in front of him. I knew it would take his body a while to finish digesting it, and the fat came on quicker than the muscle.

I was astounded by how big his nuts were now. Each bigger than a football, and a sack of that hung below his knees. His dick was now dripping pretty much continuously, and I felt a little bad at how much of his spunk was getting wasted. It wouldn’t be long before he was at the facility though. His musk was almost as strong as mine now, and our combined scents would be eye watering if we were back at the main gym. Brandon’s brain was pretty much mush now, able to follow orders and communicate easily enough, but he no longer held any higher thoughts. His mind was focused on flexing his expanding muscles and satisfying his immense lust, and both took up most of his mental processing power.

He also looked ready for a powerlifting competition. His biceps bulged, massively muscled and prevented his arms from hanging easily down his sides. His thighs rubbed together when he walked, and with his massive nutsack, meant he had to move with a waddling gait to get around. His pectorals were gigantic, big slabs of thick muscle jutting from his body. His traps had grown substantially, giving him the appearance of having a much smaller neck. The star of the show was Brandon’s gigantic muscle gut, a huge keg of still-digesting Jock Chow that jutted in front of him like a beach ball. It didn’t sag, but stuck out like a turgid sphere of solidness and strength.

He passed out after coaxing the fourth load of the day out of my cock with his mouth. He had done another round of lifting while I was having my dinner, and the flurry of changes affecting his body had worn him out. Between drinking Jock Chow, servicing me, and lifting his body was tapped out. I moved his huge form onto the futon in my guest room, the one covered in thick washable play sheets. I knew he would sweat like crazy as his body finished processing its creamy bounty, and left plenty of water for him to refuel.

“Sleep well boy. Tomorrow’s a big day. It’s gonna be time to take you to your new home.”

I didn’t know how I managed to maneuver Brandon’s massive bulk into my SUV the following morning. He gave me a slow, grunting blowjob the whole way over, speech seemingly having fled his mouth as he sucked my cock and sniffed my pubes. I had skipped my morning shower, letting him revel in my sweat. His stomach had shrunk considerably, and now he looked the part of an out-of-season powerlifter. He was huge, and all of that concentrated Jock Chow had done a number for his body hair as well.

Brandon had two full inches of beard growth, and his chest and legs were so covered in fur it looked like he wore an animal pelt. His back and upper arms were quite hairy as well, and coupled with his immense beef, he looked more beast than man. His giant sack was too big to fit into even the largest of sweatpants I owned, so I simply kept him lower in my cab, grunting and slurping away on my pole as a distraction.

It took an hour and a half before we reached the facility. My old office and labs, Grizzly Pharmaceuticals, looked the same as I had remembered it. I ignored the main offices, driving around back to the service entrance. This massive complex was labelled a warehouse, but it held much more than goods to ship out. I pulled up near a loading bay and several men were waiting for their newest tenants. A pair of other large cars were also parked, one I recognized as a fellow coach bringing a freshly transformed jock. We managed to get Brandon out of my car and helped him trundle down the hallway to his new home, his giant sack swinging back and forth between his muscled, beefy legs.

His dorm and quarters would be set up later, but his huge dripping cock needed to be put to work immediately. We followed the sounds of grunts and followed the stink of working, sweating bodies as we got into the milking facility. There were dozens of reinforced chairs next to scientific equipment, most of them filled, covering the floor of the large gymnasium-sized room. Other enormous men were sitting down, huge nut sacks contracting and expanding as the massively muscled jocks were milked.

Vacuum tubes were over there short but girthy cocks, pleasuring them as load after load was sucked off, pulled away to be mixed and turned into fresh Jock Chow. Their balls were massaged by small rotating fixtures that kept the testicles constantly stimulated, maximizing the growth value of the sperm provided. No restraints were needed, as the big boys were floating on cloud nine as they had orgasm after orgasm, their beefy bodies and overflowing ballsacks providing an endless flow of jock jizz.

I helped Brandon get situated in one, letting him sniff my pit when he made noises of anxiety. As soon as the milker was working though, he just snorted in pleasure, watching the first of many loads get sucked off to the processing facilities. I pulled a sweaty jockstrap out of my back pocket, pressing it over his face. He sucked on it and sniffed, already shooting towards another climax.

“I kept my word boy. Less than a month, and you’ve gained just shy of a hundred pounds. Most of it is muscle, too. Of course, now you’re a musk-addicted pig. Your nuts are so big and you’re so addicted to the taste of a man’s spunk that you won’t be able to function in society again. But lucky for you, this is the perfect home for that kind of man.”

I gestured to the other men strapped in chairs.

“All of these are guys that were created for the purpose of making more Jock Chow. You’ll have a place to sleep, the best equipped gym money can buy, and plenty of other men just like you. You’ll put in two shifts a day here in the milking room, but otherwise you’re free to indulge in each other’s scents and juices. A beefy guy like you will have no shortage of ball sacks to lick and cocks to service. You’ll get all the fresh cream you can drink, and all the musk you could ever want,” I said, tenting my shorts with my erection.

Already I could tell he was keying into the myriad mix of different aromas wafting throughout the room. I could tell he wouldn’t need my jock back after the milking session was done, when this strong mix of musks finished dumbing him down all the way, permanently. There was no going back for Brandon. His entire existence now would be a milk maker, growing ever larger as his gargantuan sack was milked for its precious contents. He would help other aspiring lifters grow, and might even be one of the lucky few whose spunk would let other men like him turn into hairy, gigantic jock cows.