Everyone has heard about the man who unexpectedly gained several tons of muscle and grew so large he became completely immobilized by his own flesh- they even made a TV movie about him- but there is a part of that story that only I know. Everyone thought it was caused by a genetic mutation, or some kind of disease. But I know why.
Oh, and don’t tell anyone else, would you?
I was a couple years out of high school, soon to graduate from the local community college and (hopefully) on to a better school. My grades were never terribly good, but I don’t think I worked as hard as I could have anyway.
One of my favorite hangouts was a big park right next to the high school I went to. Grassy lawns, huge trees, picnic tables, the whole shebang. One sunny spring day I came out with Shakespeare and Cliff Notes in hand to prep for a test. I came around some bushes to my favorite table, to see that it was already occupied by someone doing their own homework. He looked up and suddenly my eyes were arrested by the most beautiful male I’d ever seen. Tanned, dark, strong mediterreanean good looks; powerful jaw, curly dark brown hair, green-gray eyes. Around the same age as me 20-25 He could be anywhere in there. And he was shirtless. His body was as tanned as his face, testifying to the frequency of his showing off a body just as beautiful. Beautifully proportioned, smooth flawless skin, and big muscles. This guy was a football player- or hopefully- a bodybuilder.
I realized that we had been staring at each other for- um, I don’t know how long. I put on my “cool and nonchalant” act (even though there were butterflies in my stomach) and said, “Hi. Mind if I use part of the table?”
He smiled and squeaked out, “Sure,” (wow, I think he blushed, too!) and moved some of his books over to make additional room. I slid down on the bench. Soon we got to talking. His name was Drake, and he was attending the high school. He had a beautiful rough, deep voice, and he laughed at my jokes. I helped him with his English work. Jeez, what was this stuff, 7th grade? Must be remedial…
Soon we where behind the bushes, making out without our shirts. Drake was about 5’10”, shorter than my 6ft even. I was in heaven. He was so pretty, and nicely muscled too. After a bit, he paused, and blushed, and put his hand on my bluejeaned crotch. “I’ve never done this before, but you’re so handsome…” Now it was my turn to blush. I undid my pants, and he pulled my hard cock out of my underwear. Then he smiled up and me and started to put it in his mouth. With a sudden jolt I came to my senses and thought, “Oh, my god! What will happen to him?!”
Now, I imagine that seems like an odd reaction to the offer of a blowjob. Let me pause for a moment and tell you why.
Way back in eighth grade, I had the hots for a very pretty, but manipulative ego-princess named Haley. She actually consented to go out with me once (surprising, since I’m much lower down on the food chain than the jocks she seemed to prefer), and she was my first. And we discovered that my spoo made her breasts grow. That’s right. I don’t know why. Nobody knows. I guess I could make a million bucks with it, but the why is a total mystery. For a teenage boy, however, it’s just a dream come true. And for a while, it was- we had amazing threesomes for ten months- me, Haley, and her best friend April, until their boobs were the size of watermelons. Seriously, they both so chest-heavy they could barely stand upright. Then they dumped me. I was bitter. And had never had sex with anyone again- until now.
Drake sucked me off, and my brain was flooded with pure bliss, driving all worrisome thoughts away.
We arranged to meet again the next day at the same place and time. Again he was shirtless. He was shockingly beautiful. And with another shock I perceived that he seemed to be a little more muscular than yesterday. I asked him how his muscles were doing, and he said “ I woke up this morning and they were pretty nice and full, but I haven’t been to the gym in a few days.”
That made me smile.
Afterwards I would help him with his course work. Drake was pretty, but not so smart- he was in every lowest-level class, and struggling even then.
By the end of the week, Drake was carrying ten pounds of new muscle on him, and he was amazed and ecstatic when I told him what was happening.
He was like a puppydog now, coming over to my home, buying me stupid little presents, always wanting to be with me. Sometimes we’d just stare into each other’s eyes for hours on end. He was shockingly, achingly beautiful. And really starting to put on muscle weight. I loved every minute with him, but deliberately spread out our time. Once Drake was as muscled up as he wanted, I was afraid he’d leave me. Plus Drake was not a good conversationalist. Actually, he was dumb as a rock. When his beauty faded, he’d have nothing, I thought sadly. I wanted someone with a brain, too. So I dated other guys here and there as they came up, nothing terribly serious- but Drake was always there for amazing sex.
By the end of summer Drake had grown another inch in height to 5”11, and had a deep, deep all-over tan, and weighed 275 pounds. He was huge. He looked like a pro bodybuilder. He didn’t run across the football field, he lumbered. I would watch his football practices, watch his huge chest bouncing. That huge body in action was amazing. He was playing offensive line now, the biggest guy on the field.
By Christmas he was up to 6ft even and 300 pounds, none of it fat. He was so strong that sometimes when we met he’d just pick me up and carry me away off somewhere private before even saying anything. I looked into those gorgeous eyes when he asked me for more muscle, and smiled, “You’re huge now. How much more muscle do you want?”
“I want to be really, really, really big!” he blushed. “Would you make me really, really huge, Dave?”
Well, how could I resist such a beautiful man? And I would love to see him with freakish muscle mass. If he wants to carry it all around, I’d help him out in a second.
”Sure,” I told him. “I’d love to help you get super massive.”
He giggled with delight and started kissing me all over.
That spring, Drake graduated from college. Even with constant tutoring by me, he barely scraped by. He moved into a house with five of his friends from high school, and got a job in construction. He also got an evening job being a strip dancer, and was very popular for it. He got teased about having so many girls ogling him, and when asked if anything ever happened, he smiled and looked away and said, “sure,” but he never seemed to have any dates.
As for me, I got accepted at a four year university a few towns over. When Drake sadly waved goodby to me as I drove off, He was 6ft 1 and 330 pounds and still as insanely handsome as the day we met.
My life got busier, with jobs and school, but I stayed in touch with him, and we visited each other when we could. Each time, he would ask me to make him more muscular. Each time I smiled and said, yes. And then we’d have sex like rabbits for hours. Over and over I’d pump spoo down his throat, or into his ass, and the next day he was even more muscular, which of course made me hard again…
That fall, he was 6 ft 3 and weighed 400 pounds. It was amazing to watch him walk. He waddled noticeably, as those mammoth thighs fought for space to move around each other. His chest bounced with every step, and his arms stuck out from his sides. Every time he moved it was a concert of jiggling, bouncing and flexing that made everyone stare. He was actually starting to look a little ridiculous- too much of a good thing. Still, he asked for more, and how could I say no to such a god?
After a while, as he got bulgier and bulgier, his huge muscles started interfering with his life. His strip dancer gig dried up- fewer and fewer girls wanted such a ballooned-up monster to try to dance for them. Try to dance- he was just too slow and heavy. Watching him try to dance was like watching an elephant try to foxtrot. I thought it was very sexy, but then I have unusual tastes.
Several months later he lost his job at the construction company. He was so pumped up the ladders wouldn’t hold him, he couldn’t squeeze through doorways. He was more than strong enough- he lifted huge loads around with ease- but was sluggish as molasses and couldn’t keep up with the work, couldn’t fit into spaces on the jobs he needed to. They tried giving him a desk job, but he just couldn’t handle the figures. He was sad that evening, as I comforted him and pumped his ass with my cum. We didn’t know how much he weighed any more, but we guessed around 500 pounds.
”Why do you want to do this to yourself?” I asked him. “You’re getting so big you have problems moving.”
He looked shyly at me, and said, “I love it. I love the feel of it all. want to keep gaining. Don’t you like it?”
Of course I liked it. My hardons seemed to get harder and faster the bulkier he got. I loved watching that beautiful boy waddle awkwardly around, loved sleeping with that mountain of tanned meat, loved looking into those amazing green-gray eyes. And I could never take my hands off those massive bulges- and Drake was always receptive to my fondlings- always.
He got on unemployment or disability, and moved into the garage of the house to save money. It was a cold and dreary space, but Drake lit the place up with his presence like a bonfire.
Part of me wanted him to become a ridiculous, useless meat balloon- if he really wants it, I thought, give it to the stupid boy. Teach him a lesson. I started saving my spoo in little bottles and mailing them to him. He loved that. Every time I visited he was bigger and rounder and bulgier than before.
One day I came by and took him out for a little hike. At this point, he barely would fit in the car- he had to have one arm sticking out the window and one in my face, and the seat all the way down and back, and I had to help him and belt him in, and he was spreading out nearly over into the driver’s seat. He could barely walk. Drake hadn’t worn a shirt even once for over a year now- not only did he love showing off, there were now no shirts that could fit him. For pants he wore some cutoff stretch sweatpants that nearly snapped when we (I had to help- he could not really dress himself anymore) pull them on. Shoes? Well, let’s just say that flip-flops and slip-on sandals are his normal shoes now- I had him try to bend over enough to touch his feet, and was totally turned on watching the overbulked boy try and fail, pushing and heaving vainly against his ginormous bulk. For today I tied the laces for him.
We only went a few miles, but for him they might have been twenty. He puffed and grunted with each movement. He tottered as his mammoth thighs rolled widely around each other, and his foot would awkwardly drop to the ground only half a foot from where he’d lifted it. His muscle boobs sagged to his belly button, and bounced massively with each little movement. His arms stuck out at near-ninety degree angles from his body, and bounced up and down when his flesh jiggled with each step. His back was about two or three feet thick with solid muscle, and flared out as wide as his elbows on each side. People stared and gawked, but he seemed oblivious. Or was he enjoying it? Not sure.
“Why do you want to be so freaking big?” I asked him.
“You like it, admit it! You want me to get bigger! You like it!” he teased.
“Yeah.” I admitted. He smiled and we continued on our way.
A few months later I had to borrow a pickup truck and put him in the back to take him to the beach. Even with some large wooden steps he could barely get into the bed; every movement of his now was an battle against his immense muscle bulk. He was immensely strong, but the muscles were so big they got in the way of everything he tried to do. Once we got there, I realized that while I’d put shoes on the guy, we totally forgot about any more clothes than just the underwear he already had on. He was such a freak show that he, I, nobody we ran across cared.
When we got to the beach he struggled and struggled and got out and went only ten feet before he wanted to fall over, panting with the exertion. But I made him go another fifteen feet until we were behind a bush. I rubbed suntan lotion all over his copious meat balloons and we had more sex. The truck scale on the way home said he weighed 1200 pounds- he was carrying a half a ton of excess meat on his gorgeous body. When we got back, since he was too big to fit in the shower I got the hose and bucket and washed him like a car in the driveway. He really couldn’t bathe himself any more, either. This was ridiculous.
That was the last time he went out for a walk.
A few months after that I go to visit him again: I find my beautiful boy laying in his dank garage. He’s a freak. Naked. Still so beautiful- and astoundingly huge. His body is so sexy, even though it’s a bizarre mountain of excess flesh. He’s on his stomach- or, more accurately, chest and thighs. His arms and legs are forced out, away from his body by all that bulk, like a gigantic overweight X. His head hangs down, a few feet over the mattress. Arms are down and out, but he cannot touch the floor. Legs are forced away from each other at a hard angle, and his feet likewise cannot touch the floor. Back muscles several feet thick ride herd on him and force him into submission. No bed can hold him- his mattress is straight on the concrete floor. The little cum bottles I’d sent him littered the floor around him, open and emptied like vodka bottles around an alcoholic. He smiles at me. He always smiles for me.
When I’m in the kitchen getting cleaning stuff, one of the other housemates, named Juan, thanked me. For helping take care of him.
“We’re his friends”, Juan said “We help him out, but he really needs someone to care for him now, like a nurse- we all just can’t keep up with it. And thanks for for cheering him up. He always loves it when you visit. hopefully there will someday be a cure for the disease that’s pumping him up like a balloon, yes?”
I thank him for his kind words, and agree- yes, it’s a strange disease or condition, all right.
I go back to my bloated beauty and order him to roll over onto his back.. He struggles. Struggles hard. He moans and that gorgeous face contorts with effort. Bloated muscles ripple and flex powerfully, but impotently, for all their strength, they go almost nowhere because there is simply no room on his frame for them to go anywhere. Sobbing with effort, he at last he managed to roll over onto his back.
His back is so thick that his head is unsupported, dangling uncomfortably several feet off the mattress- I get some crates and a pillow he can lay his head on. He is so thick that laying on mattress on the floor, he mounds up well over my head. His arms go straight up and out; his legs push out from each other at a ninety degree angle. His muscle boobs are blocky watermelons four feet high, and thrust up like huge fat hills of pure sex flesh, potent with power just waiting to be called on. My beautiful boy was the sexiest thing possible.
I went up to him reverently, soaking in the sights and fondlings of such an amazingly overmuscled body. We smiled at each other. “Hi, Dave. Would you make me even bigger?”
“You won’t be able to move at all! You’ll just sit here in this garage staring at the ceiling! You can’t even take care of yourself!” I whispered urgently into his ear. So beautiful, he was…
“Dave, I love being huge. And I want to get huger. More muscle than I can possibly imagine! I don’t mind…” he trailed off sheepishly, but kept imploring me with his eyes. This manwas dumb as a rock. Fine, let him be a meat balloon. I crawled up on him, and stuffed my cock down his willing throat. Serves you right, I thought silently. Silly man. Here’s what you wanted. I imagined poor Drake laying here, immobilized by his own excess muscle flesh, unable to move, getting cold at night and unable to pull a blanket over himself, unable to feed himself, unable to do anything at all for himself, utterly at the mercy of others. I came and came and came and came and lost track of how many times I came into his joyfully sucking mouth. The trap closed. For my beautiful boy there was now no escape. He was entrapped by his own flesh.
The next morning I think I could visibly see how much bigger he was- at this stage of development, that’s saying a lot. And he could not move. Drake was strangely happy, laughing and talking. He tried to move but the best he could do was a little wiggling and hand waving. That was it. It was a great show, watching him flex all that meat. He was a small mountain of meaty bulges and balloons, and completely helpless. It was bizarre, but also very sexy. We sealed the cell door behind him, and had sweet, sweet sex all day long as I pumped him up even more. Playing with that rippling, jiggling, firm, fibrous muscle landscape was the sexiest thing I could possibly think of. By the time I left that evening my dick was completely exhausted.
The next few months I kept away from him; I wanted him to realize the ridiculousness and impracticality of his situation. Also, I was busy with work. I landed a pretty good job, and had to travel. I also had a couple of boyfriends Sam, a tall handsome former swimmer, who after several nights at his place, had begun to grow into a bodybuilder, and Troy, a jacked gym bunny who wanted to get much bigger…. Neither were quite as good-looking as Drake, but not complete dullards in the conversation department. Then I started to feel a little guilty. Or was it lonely? I missed him, I realized. I went to visit.
One of the housemates let me in. His condition has stabilized for a bit, she said, but of course it comes and goes. He’s got a part-time nurse to help him, and we help him, but it’s really kind of sad.
There he was! Laying on the mattress in the semi-darkness, even bigger than I remembered, feet and hands sticking out from that personal meat prison rising up over eight feet off the floor and maybe 13-14 feet across. He was so happy to see me. I can’t imagine the boredom of doing nothing but staring up at the ceiling all day, I thought sadly. He was pale- his tan was gone- there’s no sun here in this garage. His hair was getting long, and unkempt. But he was still so beautiful my brain still nearly turned off looking at him. I washed him, shaved him, and trimmed his hair, and brushed his teeth. And of course we had sex. I would rub up on some part of his bloated anatomy, feeling up the mammoth muscles, losing myself in the musclescape, then moving around to his head to feed him still more of the muscle-growing cum.
I realized that he was just a beautiful body and nothing more, but somehow I missed him. For some reason, even though he knew nothing about the world, history, science, had never traveled, etc. and was just incapable of any sort of deep conversation, I still enjoyed being with him. So I visited more. And of course he grew even more ridiculously large. Soon, he could not even wiggle anything at all- muscles flexed, but they were so tightly pushed against each other that they didn’t go anywhere at all. Drake was so muscular that he could not move in the slightest bit. He was meatlocked.
After a visit from a doctor (who was quite concerned about Drake’s size and the strain his organs must be under to support so much living flesh), the cause of his problem was obvious once it was pointed out- his pecs were crushing his rib cage. I didn’t want my gorgeous boy to suffer; and especially since he kept on nagging me for more muscle bulk, this problem would have to be rectified. I got some car jacks and steel beams, and enlisted a welder (who did the job for free as a charity case, woohoo!) and raised the muscleboy onto an incline, so part of the enormous weight of his boobs lay on his thighs rather than straight down on his chest. The doctor said not to raise him up too much since having him slide down and have his immense bodyweight come down on his splayed-out legs would surely injure him.
His thighs stuck out seven feet and sagged almost to the floor; his chest stuck out six feet, and rested on his thighs; his back was twelve feet across, eight feet thick and sagged to his knees; his calves were five feet across and rested on the floor. His biceps were four feet across and firmly pressed into the side of his head, and his triceps were five feet thick and pressed firmly into the sides of his lats. His body no longer looked even vaguely human, but just a weird collection of creamy-skinned muscle balloons, visible muscle fibers running here and there all over them. And on top, framed by his biceps and hemmed in by traps that mounded up two feet high, that gorgeous face. And still he wanted more. He continued to grow. He was one sick puppy.
I had to curtail my visits for a few months, since my job was nearing a critical point. And then we went public, and I got the big promotion, and a big raise. I had bucks. I got myself a new BMW. And I knew what I wanted to do: I rented a nice big home with a huge three-story living room with a huge wall-door that opened out onto the garden. It was perfect. Steadily other men kept coming into my life. Sam grew and grew during our casual dates. His 190 pound frame blew up to 250 after just two months, then bigger still. He loved his new size, but didn’t want to get too huge. I grew Sam up to a full, beastly 340 pounds by the time we broke it off. He was getting too big and didn’t want to get bigger, even though I liked him a lot. It was sort of bittersweet.
Troy, on the other hand, was thrilled to hit 350… I worried he’d be as obsessed with the growth I could ignite in his muscles that he’d end up like Drake. Troy and I kept it loose, didn’t want people getting too suspicious, so over the months I’d only allow him a dose of my cum here and there. Sure enough he’d blow up bigger and bigger each time… 400 pounds was going to be his max, at least, thats what he told me. He was 370 and thrilled with his size.
I had Drake moved out of that dismal, dark garage. It was even on the news- local man with mysterious muscle-growing disease moved by truck! It was difficult- even though he’s heavy as sin (and we detoured to a truck stop weigh scale- 2,400 pounds!), he’s delicate- of inhuman size, but he hurts and bleeds like the rest of us- and, the doctor warned, very easy for all that weight to break his bones if he’s put in a position where his poor little skeleton is forced to try to hold it up. At one point one of the straps on the crane broke and Drake rolled out of the slings (fortunately, only a couple of feet off the ground!). The helpless meat-boy rolled like a sack of potatoes, fleshy balloons rippling and bouncing. He came to a stop with a big slap of meat on concrete, and cried, “Ouch!” Fortunately he was not really hurt. We shoved him upright and continued.
I must admit it was very sexy to see all that meat in such extreme motion. It was a shame he was too big to move. But while he was on the truck being driven to my new home, his muscles were in constant jiggly motion. We both liked that a lot. I secretly wondered what other men would join him at that size… what other men I knew might face a similar “growth disease”... Troy had just recently hit the 400 limit he had set for himself and was still hitting me up and wanting to “hang”....
Once installed in the huge living room, I made up for lost time. Drake grew fast. He was ecstatic and loved it. He piled on the bulk. His thighs now rested on the ground, as did his calves and back. In fact, he was lifted up by them- the outsides of his feet were barely visible, tighly squished in between calf and thigh meat, riding two feet off the ground. His pec were the size of very small japanese cars; his back the size of a very big pickup truck. He was thoroughly ridiculous, and loved it. It was actually easier for him to breathe, and less of a strain, now that he was so big- we adjusted him so he was upright, and rather than trying to carry the weight on his body, it all just sagged onto the floor.
A year after moving in, walking into my living room then, one would see a vast, strange thing in the center. Thirty feet across, 15 feet high, it was totally unlike anything people had seen before- they’d stop with a shock, and stare, or even start backing away. It’s covered in skin. Human skin. Lots of it. Covering muscle bulk that was simply insane. It’s flesh! For in lots of places, the fibers of his muscles were visible, running for 10 feet or more, and sticking out by several feet. A few veins stuck out, too. Visitors would have to be helped in identifying the various body parts, but once they got he idea, they could figure it out- “oh, this must be the back muscles- and this (six-foot deep) crevice must be where the spine is!” His frame was about six feet off the floor now, riding the slow flesh expansion upward. I could just barely dig into his flesh crevices to touch his foot, at eye level, overwhelmed by the bulk. Maybe Drake would be dozing, and he’s awaken at the gropings of his body, and even though they were told beforehand, telling and experiencing are two different things- visitors would be sometimes very surprised that this immense, warm, firm, jiggly thing was alive- without climbing up, his head wasn’t visible from the floor- he was an anonymous mountain of muscle meat. He’s naked, of course, although that never seems to occur to visitors. The only thing he wears sometimes is I’ll throw blankets over the top of him in the evening if it’s going to be unusually cold.
From the front, he had the appearance of four flattened meatbags- his thighs, and his pectorals above, curving away towards the ceiling. On the underside of his pecs, just before they met with his thigh flesh, you could find his nipples, no bigger than they were before he started growing, tiny little sexy details lost in the vastness. And in the center of those four meatbags was a dark gap, and it was just possible to wriggle through, pushing through the warm, firm meat and get to his two-foot thick ab boulders, and reach below them and get to his genitalia. I had installed a little suction thingey that was normally on his penis that ran down through the floor, for his peeing, but sometimes I’d crawl in there and jack him off. It was a strenuous crawl through that little muscle passage, though, and the line below where his thighs pressed together was an ever-present threat below me- like quicksand. It was easy to get a body part into the crevice where any of Drake’s muscles pushed up against each other, but the further in, the tighter the press of the muscles became, and the harder to pull oneself out. One day I had got myself nearly crushed between his boobs when I had climbed up on top and gotten too far into his canyon of cleavage. It felt amazingly good at first, but then I realized that my movements were slowly working me further and further into the crevice, and getting tighter and tighter. There was nothing to grab onto to pull on- just two blank walls of firm, bouncy meat, and it was starting to really compress my lungs. Drake was frantic, and crying, but of course there is exactly nothing that a meatlocked guy can do- nothing. Fortunately I had my bluetooth phone on my ear to call for the fire department.
Climbing up his rubbery flesh to get to his head was not easy, so I got a special telescoping ladder that went up, and out, so I could clamber directly onto the top of his vast boobs or back muscles. There, down in the middle of those mammoth sacks of meat, Drake’s beautiful face would smile at me. His head was, except for his face and forehead, completely and tightly enclosed by his back, lats, delts and biceps. In front, twin boob mountains rose, filling his field of vision- Drake spent his days looking at his own chest meat. And like glaciers, as he continued to gain bulk, his boobs mounded up higher and higher, with a more and more extreme angle- if things kept going this way his head would be swallowed up by his flesh.
I hired some construction workers, and we managed to get some cables under his pecs and lats and hook them to a winch in the ceiling. Then, with huge industrial vibrators set up all around him, the whole pile of meat was set to vibrating and jiggling, and we gently, carefully, lifted Drake’s frame up, so that he was higher up in his meaty mountain, and so that more of it sagged down than bulged up. This was partially successful- muscle isn’t pliant like fat, but it bought him more time and space to grow. And he really enjoyed the vibrating- he said he came multiple times while the machines were on.
On a typical evening, I’d come home, make dinner for the two of us, climb up the ladder and kiss and greet my man, and feed him, wipe his mouth, brush his teeth. Fortunately, however my cum did its magic, Drake didn’t have to eat to grow or maintain his bulk- there was no way his stomach could process that much food, anyway- so he just ate about the same as I did. I had set up a television screen up near the ceiling, so we could both watch TV as I sat or laid on his vast meaty pillows. Sometimes on the weekend I’d just sleep up there, too- he loved when I did that, although the feeling of laying on his flesh was so sexy I would barely sleep. He was always happy when I was around- like a puppy. And of course we had sex, and of course I kept ramming my spooging cock into the helpless boy’s willing mouth, and of course he kept getting bigger and bigger. And, of course, Drake wanted still more muscle.
I loved going around, exploring the hill of meat that was my friend- digging into the tight crevices between the bulges, hitting the meat to see if ripple and jiggle, caressing it, hugging it, kneading it, humping on it. He would laugh and exclaim and flirt with me as I played with his body, and I would climb around to his face and kiss him. He was the sexiest guy in the world.
I had to admit, I did need actual sex from time to time, so Troy and I kept seeing eachother here and there. His body showed the effects of our steady visits. Over that year our sporadic visits caused him to grow and grow, from freaky huge heavyweight bodybuilder to inhuman. From 400 pounds to a full, overblown 650. He was now the second documented case of the man with the muscle growing disease.
I started selling my cum on the black market that year to bodybuilders… and I was raking in cash. Soon there were bigger and bigger bodybuilders contestants showing up all around the country. I had to get out of the situation with Drake before people traced it all back to me.
So after our year together, I left Drake again in the care of two well-paid nurses.
So here I am now, alone again. I miss Drake. I miss my immobile muscle freak. I live a quiet life. Sam has come back into my life to help me out supplying my cum to lifters around the country, and I repay him. Despite the fact that he said didn’t want to break 350, he’s well over 400 by now. Like Troy, who I deliver to for free, I’m worried both are soon going to end up like Drake. I Don't need two more immobile monsters… but I’m not sure they can help it, I think this growth is addictive. Last week I heard Troy was up to 800 pounds. Maybe I should visit him again…
So anyway, do you want to try a free sample?