Jack entered the dressing room with a cocky stride that had been refined over years of compliments and praise. On one hand, he did just come from makeup, where he had spent the last hour or so being given a touch-up job on his tan, getting his hair cut down into its trademark buzz-cut, while also getting numerous blemishes on his otherwise impressive body covered up. The make-up team did their jobs well, somehow making the burly man into even more of an adonis than when he woke up that morning. This meant he had some small justification as to why he walked into the room wearing nothing more than a bright red jockstrap that did little to hide his assets; he had been instructed to stay in his jock for a little longer, just to make sure none of the makeup or fake tan smeared. But really, that simply justified Jack's desire to prematurely strut his stuff.
"Afternoon boys," he said in that husky voice of his as he slumped down into the folding chair before a brightly lit mirror. He took a moment to admire and rub the thick stubble that peppered his face and neck. That was one thing the make-up crew didn't need to adjust; Jack was damn proud of his facial hair, always keeping it at that appropriate level of ruggedness. It felt a little like steel wool to his co-stars, and they generally didn't complain about it.
Clyde and Sam exchanged a brief look. It was a conflicted expression they had shared every time they had worked with Jack previously. It was a mutual feeling of annoyance from the older man's cocky and disrespectful attitude, mixed with some level of awe that they were able to work with a veteran that they shamelessly admitted to enjoying their work with. "Get caught in traffic?" Clyde asked absently as he looked past Sam to watch Jack, who was seated at the far end of the three chairs.
"Just a bit. Hope I didn't hold you guys up," Jack replied with a cocksure grin. It was hard to tell whether or not he was being sincere, and he knew it. "You two already in costume or are you just having a casual Friday?"
Sam looked down at what he was wearing. It honestly did look like something out of his own wardrobe, as opposed to the usual attire he wound up acting in. Both he and Clyde were dressed in loose fitting shorts (emphasis on the short) and equally ill-fitting tank tops that paradoxically managed to show off their lithe, muscular builds.. "These are our costumes, man," Sam said with a slight tone of annoyance tinging his Californian accent. "You haven't read the script for today?"
"I skimmed it," Jack answered with a nonchalant shrug. He leaned forward to snatch a fairly thin booklet of papers hastily stapled together, printed with the words "Boys Blown Up" on the front. "But I usually try not to think too hard about this stuff, mm? Dunno if you've noticed yet, but Salvador ain't the world's most original writer. Either way, one of you guys is gonna wind up bent over and getting plowed, huh?"
Clyde rolled his eyes as he got up out of his chair. "Hey, I'm not complaining. If your dick's my ticket to the big time, I'll ride it from here to Hawaii," he said as he picked up some wrapped clothes from a nearby bench. He tossed the package over to Jack, who tore it open to pull out his costume; more gym clothes, but tighter and less preppy. Designed to show off the bulk he had over his costars. "Shoot was meant to start fifteen minutes ago, so you might wanna take another look at the script man. 'S a bit weird today."
Jack scowled at the word 'unusual'. "Fuck, is Salvador really going down the whole ‘expand our audiences’ road? I'm all for pandering to kinks, people pay a fortune for stuff that really gets them hard, but Sal's got some weird tastes. He's been putting Axa through some food stuffing clips lately, guy's packed on a solid ten pounds. Been bitchin' about how he has to do extra cardio now."
Sam and Clyde exchanged another look, this one incredulous. They could tell Jack had barely even skimmed the script by this reaction. The two of them had to double-check with Salvador just to make sure he wasn't playing a prank. "Nope!" he had said with a lecherous grin. "You just stick to the script, boys, and things'll be fine."
"Boys Blown Up, huh?" Jack mumbled absently as he read the title of the script once more. "This some muscle worship stuff then? That'd be good. Gettin' all sweaty and pumped up, having two cute guys like you rubbing my big, strong, muscles..." He shot the younger men another cocky grin, the sort usually reserved for the cameras. "You guys just need to relax and enjoy this, huh? You don't want to get burned out so early in your careers. Porn's a rough industry, but I wanna show you two the ropes, really get you started."
"'ppreciate it, Jack," Sam said with a genuinely grateful nod. He then, without much of an attempt to hide what he was doing, pulled Clyde to the far end of the room while Jack got to work tugging on his costume. "So. Big Jack hasn't read the script. So he hasn't seen what we're supposed to do to him. Or the big fat lines that just say 'IMPROVISE'. Reckon we should tell him?" Sam murmured conspiratorially.
Clyde glanced back at Jack, who was now posing in front of the dressing room mirror and admiring the way the lycra bike shorts clung to his thick thighs and firm rump. He smirked a little, then looked back to his costar. "You know what? Nah. This is gonna be funny as hell, whatever happens. And this is right up your alley, isn't it?"
Sam blushed visibly at that last comment and was about to tell Clyde to shut his mouth before it was shut for him when Jack hollered across the way. "Hey, cum dumps. If you're done jawin', how about we get out on set?" Jack gave the two younger men a cocky grin as he thumbed over his shoulder, towards the door. Sam and Clyde trudged out of the room and Jack followed, flicking through his script absently as he went.
The set was a fairly familiar one. A rough approximation of a large gym room, complete with mirrors lining one wall for the vain and scatterings of weight equipment and cardio machines about the place. Of course, one wall of the room was non-existent to facilitate the cameras and lighting, not to mention the fact that half the machines were non-functional, but the set designers knew they didn't have to be totally convincing for this sort of flick.
When the three men in gym attire walked onto the set, Sal hustled over to greet them. He was a thin, greasy man who looked like his hair had far too much oil combed through it every morning. His tiny glasses made him look more like a librarian than a porn director and writer, but these sorts of jobs were always held by those you suspected least. "Ahh, so nice to have you with us Jack!" he snapped.
"Hello to you too, Sal," Jack drawled, doing his best to not look the slightest bit interested in what the director had to say. "Look, I know I'm a little late but I'm here now, all right?"
"Just... Get on your mark, okay?" Sal waved across the room, to where a few exercise balls were gathered around an air pump. Jack twisted his lips and seemed to contemplate arguing, but apparently realised it was a further waste of time and trudged off instead.
"Hey Sal, can we talk to you for a second?" Sam asked, before the director could hurry off to the comfort of his chair.
"Sure Sammy. You got a problem?" Sal said. For someone who made them fuck on film, Sal got along pretty well with both Sam and Clyde. Maybe it was the fact that they were still fresh enough that they hadn't become jaded to the job, or overconfident like Jack, so they were still willing to take direction. Or perhaps it was the chemistry the two had; two college roommates who found themselves in the porn industry. You couldn't write a set-up like that. Well, Sal could and did. The college dorm room was another set Sam and Clyde were quite intimate with.
"Jack... Hasn't really read the script," Sam said with a rueful smile.
"Well shit." Sal took a moment to glare over at his star, who was kicking around one of the exercise balls while being told off by the set designer. "Actually, you know what? That makes this even better. It'll be a good surprise for him. Teach him not to fuck with Sal. Besides, the fact he never bothers to read the scripts is half the reason I wrote this little doozy…"
Clyde smirked and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him in close. "Hey, you know Sam here's into this shit, Sal? Hasn't stopped talking about this shoot since he got his hands on the script."
Sal laughed and grinned at Sam, who was currently scowling up a storm at Clyde and trying to jab his friend in the stomach for retribution. "That so, Sammy? Hey, I'll make sure to keep you in mind for my next script then. Reckon I could make a series out of this. Untapped niche, a hole in the market just waiting to be filled."
"I'll take whatever work you've got, Sal," Sam muttered bitterly, having fought his way out of Clyde's grip.
"Ttch, never write a man a blank cheque, kid. Now, how about you two get to your places? Don't worry about Jack, if he hasn't read the script he'll just have to listen to me for once." Sam and Clyde gave the director a quick nod before they wandered over to a chest-press machine. Clyde sat down at it and put it at a nice, high weight. Someone from costumes came over to spray them both with a layer of fake perspiration. Then, the set was cleared.
"All right Jack!" Sal called from his director's chair. "We're gonna keep this nice and simple. You're a gym employee. You flirt with the gym bunnies, offer them a drink from that bottle you've got there-" Jack found a large plastic bottle being stuffed into his hands, full of a thick blue liquid, while Sal kept shouting. "You offer to pump them up the ass with your air pump there. Got it?"
Jack looked at his director with a dumbfounded expression. "Is... That a euphemism or something Sal?"
The director shook his head. "Not at all, Jack. Just trust me on this, the boys know what they're doing."
"All right Sal, whatever you say..."
Bright lights burst into life. Microphones were put in place, cameras shifted into position. Salvador's booming voice counted down ‘til the moment filming would start. For a second, silence blanketed the set.
Clyde grunted with exertion as he pushed and relaxed the grips on the chest press machine. Beads of fake sweat dripped down his temples and the muscles in his neck bulged from exaggerated exertion. "Eighteen... Nineteen... Twenty! That's the third set man, time to move on," Sam said, slapping Clyde on the shoulder.
"Thanks babe. How about we get you on the lat pull down? You know I love seeing you work those arms of yours," Clyde replied with a wink and a grin as he clambered off the machine and wiped his forehead with a towel that had been conveniently placed nearby.
"You two better keep it up and you might get as big as me some day, you know that?" Jack said cockily from the other side of the room. He pulled the end of the pump hose from the valve on a big, black exercise ball and started to strut across the room to join his costars. The man was well-versed in showing off for the cameras.
"You been enjoying the show?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning on the chest press machine nonchalantly. Clyde folded his arms and watched Jack saunter over with a look of disdain. It was a familiar dance for them; Sam, eager and willing for some sexual escapades. Clyde, reserved and haughty. Ironic, considering it was often the other way around in real life.
"Yeah, I gotta say, quite impressive boys," Jack murmured as he quite shamelessly groped the firm bicep that Sam had leaning on the machine. Sam smiled in response at the small muscle worship. "But you know what? I reckon you could do with a little pumping up." He winked at the two younger men.
"Huh. You offering us steroids?" Clyde asked with a cocky smirk. "Wouldn't surprise me. You're a damn bull."
Jack returned the smirk, turning his attention to Clyde now. He put down the bottle he was carrying and let his now free hands wander over Clyde's toned body, fingers slipping in and out of the openings offered by his loose clothing to feel the bare flesh. Clyde kept his arms folded and expression even, but underneath his acting he couldn't deny that Jack's rough hands felt good on his smooth skin.
Meanwhile Sam, as per the script, picked up the blue bottle that Jack had put down. "Doctor Pump's Inflator-ade. Just Gulp and Blow!" he read from the label, nice and clear so the microphones would pick him up. "Doesn't sound like any kind of steroid I've heard of."
"That's because it's not just any juice," Jack murmured, giving Clyde's ass a squeeze. The script had just specified flirting, but Sal's nodding head from off-set told Clyde he should just stand there and enjoy it. So he did. "Why don't you take a swig and we'll find out?"
"If it means getting big..." Sam said with a wide grin. It was hard to hide his excitement as he unscrewed the lid from the bottle and took a deep gulp of the blue liquid. It was rather unpleasant, like a rubber-flavoured thick shake. But Sam had read the script and knew what it would do to him. It was all he could do to just drink one mouthful of the stuff, but the script had been clear about how much he was supposed to drink.
"Damn, I feel weird..." Sam murmured, rubbing a hand over his chest. It wasn't a lie. As soon as that liquid hit his stomach, he felt a rather pleasant warming sensation spread throughout his body, starting in his chest and ending at the tips of his fingers and toes.
"That means it's working," Jack said matter-of-factly with a sharp grin, watching Sam even as he continued to shapelessly grope at Clyde's musculature. "Now then, if you boys are ready to get big, come over here..." The cocky man crossed the floor back over to where his air pump sat, followed by both his costars and the camera. There, Jack found a small bottle of lubricant that had been provided by the props department. "All right kid, tug those shorts down a bit and let's have a look at that ass of yours..."
Sam was more than happy to comply. Jack's dominating nature was one thing, but the prospect of what was about to happen had his prick hard in his jocks. He tugged down his shorts just enough to expose his firm, smooth ass, framed by two black straps. Clyde watched on, arms still folded as he kept that haughty expression on his face, even as Jack began to knead and grope Sam's cheeks.
"Nice and firm... Good to see you've been working your legs," Jack admired, giving Sam's rump an appreciative smack before he opened up the bottle of lube and began to squeeze a good amount of it onto his fingertips. In a well practised motion, he slid a hand between Sam's asscheeks to rub the lube against his hole, even pushing his fingers a little way in to tease him. "Tight too!" he commented with a lecherous grin. In reality, Sam was no stranger to penetration, but he was capable of giving the impression otherwise.
Sam groaned a bit as his asshole was slicked up. Once the job was done, he saw Jack attach a different tip to the end of the air hose, this one round and rubbery rather than the needle he had used to blow up the exercise balls. Sam was grateful that Jack had the sense to realise which of the two attachments left by the air pump was more appropriate for the task. He felt his asscheeks being spread apart a little, and then the cool rubber pressing against and pushing into his hole, spreading it apart. The strange nozzle was small enough to cause no discomfort, but it certainly caused stimulation as it sat tight in his ass.
"And now for the fun part..." Jack promised with another grin as he went to switch the air pump on. It had been rigged with a simple dial that went from 1 to 10, currently set at 3. When the machine rumbled to life, he heard a distinctive hissing sound. Sam tensed up and let out a gasp at the sensation of air flooding into him. Whether by design or by accident, the stream of air was shooting against his prostate as it was pumped in, making Sam moan in pleasure. A genuine moan at that.
"You trying to blow him up like a parade balloon?" Clyde asked as he watched Sam's pleasured expression with a wry smirk. As skeptical as he was about the direction Sal was taking this shoot, Sam certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Yeah, we're gonna blow this boy up!" Jack exclaimed, putting on a forced grin.
It took a few minutes before anything noticable happened, minutes that would likely be cut out in post production, but Sam quickly felt a tightness building up inside him. It started in his stomach, a growing pressure, before soaking throughout the rest of his body, giving him the sensation he often felt after a couple hours at the gym. Then he heard Clyde say "Damn, you really are blowing up...". Sam followed Clyde's gaze and looked at his bicep, which had slowly started to swell.
Jack, too, was amazed at what was happening, but did his best to conceal it. "What did I tell you? Inflatable muscles! And it gets even better..."
Clyde and Jack watched on in real wonder as Sam slowly but surely swelled up. It was as if someone had taken the efforts of a year's hard work and put it on fast forward. From an outside viewer's perspective, Sam's muscles were steadily blowing up, going from lean and toned to utterly bloated in appearance. It didn't take long at all before Sam was rivalling Jack in sheer bulk, and he was still going. The feeling of the inflation was utterly orgasmic to Sam. He wasn't growing any heavier, despite his new bulk, but that pressure under his skin was steadily building, and it felt amazing. He wouldn't have been surprised if he was visibly dampening his gym shorts.
But then, at Sal's cue from offstage, Jack turned the air pump off. He found a few fat, rubber plugs clustered around the machine, more gifts from the prop department. After a quick deduction, Jack eased the hose nozzle out of Sam's asshole and replaced it with one of the plugs to prevent any air from escaping. He stood back to admire his handiwork; Sam looked more like a powerlifter than a swimmer now, particularly thanks to the slight distension of his stomach, like a ‘roid gut. The young man's once loose outfit was now utterly plastered to his bloated muscles, the straps on his tank top looking ready to burst at any moment. "How's it feel, big boy?"
"Amazing..." Sam gasped in a voice that didn't quite suit his new body. There was an intense pressure all over his body, particularly focused around his midsection, which wasn't helped by the restriction of his clothing. His hard prick felt like it was trapped between his bloated thigh and his shorts, but he didn't mind at all. He was big and inflated, and that's all that mattered.
Clyde marveled at his friend's inflation. He wasn't really a big fan of the whole expansion idea, but he couldn't deny that Sam looked fantastic. So he didn't hesitate at all when he spoke his next line in the script. "So, my turn now?" he asked, turning to Jack with a small eyebrow raise.
Shaking himself out of his shock at the sight of his co-star blowing up into a bodybuilder, Jack put on his best smile and held up the bottle of strange liquid. "Damn straight. You're falling behind in terms of size."
Smirking, Clyde took a generous swig from the bottle, making sure that he didn't drink more than necessary. Despite both him and Sam drinking from it, the bottle was still three-quarters full. So, with as much dignity as he could muster, Clyde slide his shorts down to expose his ass and was promptly rewarded with his own inflation. It was a bizarre sensation to Clyde, and not entirely unpleasant, particularly when he saw his own muscles pumping up. In just a few minutes, he and Sam had matching builds. Two swollen studs.
Jack let out a low whistle of appreciation as he admired his handiwork. "Damn. You two looking fucking amazing now! Not quite as good as the real deal, but it's damn well fun for a while."
"So, how about you give it a shot?" Clyde suggested nonchalantly, occasionally shooting glances at his blown-up build in the nearby mirrors. "Brawny guy like you should be able to blow up even bigger, I reckon."
Jack hesitated for a moment. This is where his knowledge of the script petered off. From here on out, he was well and truly improvising. But when he glanced off stage, he saw Sal giving him an encouraging nod, so he quickly replied "Hell yeah man, let's make this into a real pump party!" Following Sam and Clyde's lead, he grabbed the bottle of odd liquid to drink. But unlike his costars, Jack wasn't quite aware about the importance of carefully measured doses of the concoction. Gritting himself against the strange taste, Jack gulped down from the bottle, making a real show of it for the cameras, til it was almost empty. No-one tried to stop him.
He lubed himself up nice and slowly. Jack wasn't used to taking it up the ass, but that didn't mean he couldn't show off doing it. He made sure the cameras got shots of him from his best angles as he spread one ass cheek to the side and gently kneaded some lubricant onto his asshole. Once happy that they had enough footage, Jack tentatively inserted the hose nozzle into his ass. He flinched a bit in the process, and then again when he flicked the air pump on. For the third time today, a man experienced the sensation of air pumping into his ass and his muscles blowing up like balloons.
Clyde was right; Jack was beefier than both of his co-stars, which meant that when the pressure in his body increased enough, the swell of his muscles was more noticeable to begin with. Much like Clyde, while the idea of inflating didn't really do it for Jack, the sight of his muscles growing before his eyes was quite appealing. So he made sure to do some more posing and flexing for the cameras, while both Sam and Clyde watched on, occasionally reaching out to prod a swollen muscle. It didn't take long for Jack to reach the bloated powerlifter look that the other two had achieved, but he wasn't willing to settle for that. No, inflated or not, he was determined to be the big boy.
He did, however, find that as he kept on inflating, it was getting uncomfortable. While things were improved somewhat when his shirt finally gave up trying to cover his torso, snapping off to reveal bloated pecs and a muscle gut to match, Jack found that, as the muscles of his limbs inflated to the point that he was starting to resemble a photoshopped muscle man, his arms and legs were also becoming rather stiff. At this point, Jack decided he had had enough. "All right, I reckon I'm just about done," he grunted, nodding towards the air pump, his chin bumping into his tremedous pecs in the process. "Shut me off boys so we can see what these muscles can do!"
Sam looked at Clyde, and Clyde looked at Sam. They shared a mischevious grin. "Y'know what, I reckon you can take a bit more, big man," Clyde said as he crouched down beside the air pump. He felt a bit clumsy and stiff thanks to his own inflation, but as per Sal's script, he turned the flow of air up a few notches. "It's all about size, isn't it?"
Jack grunted in discomfort as he felt the air flowing into his ass suddenly become just a little bit more intense. There was actually an audible hissing sound now, as if it was a balloon being filled rather than a stud. Worried as he was, Jack trusted that his co-stars, who had actually read the script, knew what they were doing. "Hell yeah boys, let's see how big I can grow!" Jack mumbled.
And grow he did. As Jack's muscles swelled and swelled, losing definition in favour of sheer volume, he was starting to resemble one of those cartoon muscle men, the sort with absolutely exaggerated size. Jack actually had to spread his stiff legs apart in order to support their swelling, each one feeling as thick as a fire hydrant. His bloated pecs were actually pushing into his chin without him looking down, meaning that Jack suddenly had a new found head rest in his cleavage. That pressure in his stomach was mounting though, growing more and more intense until... There was a distinctive 'pop!' sound. Jack feared something had burst, but in reality, his ab-quilted muscle gut had suddenly expanded into a ball belly that jutted out even further than his pecs.
Sam and Clyde watched on in awe at Jack's monstrous inflation. Occasionally, they stepped closer to grope the swelling bull, feeling his bubbled ass cheeks as they pulled away the shreds of his shorts that simply couldn't cling to his legs any more. His flesh felt taut, and was growing tighter by the second. Jack actually seemed to be squeaking and creaking whenever he made a feeble attempt to move, perhaps trying to remove the hose from his ass, but his limbs were so stiff he might as well be immobile. At best, he could awkwardly waddle in place. His head look stranded on top of a mass of round, swollen muscles.
"All right guys, that's it..." Jack muttered, starting to genuinely panic now. The fact he could hardly move was becoming very concerning, not to mention the fact he was so big yet so light. He just wanted to get the shoot over and done with so he could tear Sal a new one for putting him through it. Jack was quickly turning into a huge hairy sumo-wrestler on steroids.
Neither Sam nor Clyde made any move to help Jack. Sam, for one, was utterly mesmerized. Jack hardly looked human any more, approaching the realms of cartoonish size. His round, hairy ball gut looked like it was approaching the size of a fitness ball, and a similar shape to boot. The air was rushing into his body to fill every nook and cranny possible; even his fingers and toes were swelling into fat sausages, and the man’s cheeks looked puffy and bloated like a chipmunk. “Turn it off…” Jack groaned through plump lips.
“No way man, this is awesome,” Clyde replied with a wicked grin, walking around his inflating co-star to get a better look at him. “You’re blowing up so huge!” He wasn’t far off with that taunt, either. His ‘roid gut and round pecs were quickly blowing up into two gigantic swells, while his wide back puffed to give the torso the appearance of an impossibly muscular ball. A ball that was propped up on thick, trunk-like legs which were growing thicker and wider with every passing second. His limbs were so bloated that he could hardly move them.
There was a horrible moment where, almost simultaneously, Jack felt himself lose balance to the new overblown size The blimped up stud seemed to roll backwards, until his gigantic ass pressed into the floor beneath him. He kicked his hypersized bloated legs back and forth in a feeble attempt to move, but all that did was rock his now inhumanly huge body back and forth. When he let out another cry for help, any attempt to adhere to a script discarded long ago, no-one responded. Everyone, from Jack and Clyde to the film crew, were too entranced by the bizarre sight of Jack’s transformation into a huge, series of muscular spheres of hairy flesh. Like huge beachballs cascading into eachother.... Every muscle was so inflated they looked impossible, virtually unrecognizable as human.
Sam was awestruck at the sight of his fantasies come true sitting right before his eyes, occasionally letting out a groan of discomfort or an indignant swear. As far as he was concerned, he would be happy to keep on inflating Jack til he was the size of a blimp. Clyde, on the other hand, was significantly less aroused by the spectacle (more amused than anything else) and remembered his cue from the script. “Damn, that really was an impressive show,” he taunted with a grin, crouching down to turn off the air pump. Jack let out a sigh of relief when the increasing pressure finally stopped. He had been worried that, any minute now, he was going to burst into shreds on camera. “Must be those nice big muscles of yourself, letting you blow up big!” He laughed and slapped Jack’s round hairy belly, listening to the hollow vibrations rippling throughout his inflated body.
“So… So what do we do with him now?” Sam stumbled, trying to dredge up the memories of his lines from his lust-riddled mind. He stepped forward, feeling his bloated thighs rub against each other slightly, to run a hand across Jack’s body. The skin felt warm and tight, like rubber stretched to its limit.
“Well, let me see…” Clyde murmured aloud as he picked up the last plug the prop department had left scattered around the air pump; a thick, rubber stopper, as big as a soda can with a ring pull attached to one end. After applying a generous layer of lubricant to the plug, he rolled Jack forward onto his massive front, so he could better reach the air hose trailing into his asshole. Two supersized ass cheeks curved out in front of him. Hemispheres too big to be human. In one deft tug, Clyde pulled the hose out and replaced it was the slick plug, letting just a few seconds of air slip out from Jack.
“No, pull it out!” Jack protested. “Deflate me, or I swear…!”
But unfortunately, he was in no position to bargain, helpless as he was. “Hey, go across the other side of the room and we’ll see how well this huge ballooned up muscleman rolls,” Clyde suggested to Sam. Soon, Jack found himself being rolled between the two swollen studs for the camera, a hand or foot occasionally getting rolled against the ground in a rather uncomfortable manner. Every time Sam caught the round man with open arms, he let out a small moan of pleasure as Jack bumped into his tented erection. “Y’know, I reckon he’ll make for a better balloon mascot than a fitness nut now!” Clyde called from across the set.
It wasn’t much longer before Sal was crying “CUT!” from his director’s chair. The shoot had yet to reach the point of outright sex, but that was never the intention. Cameras and microphones were switched off, crew members started to scurry across the set to get to work on clearing everything away.
Jack’s face was beet red with anger when Sal marched up to him with a smug smirk, the overinflated, immobilized muscle man being held in place by Clyde and Sam on either side of him. “You’ve had your fucking fun, now get that plug out of me and put me back to normal!” Jack snarled.
Sal’s reply with a short, barking laugh. “Hah! Back to normal? Oh boy Jack, have I got news for you…” With a smirk, Sal stepped forward to smack his inflated star, leaving a red mark on his tight skin. “You're not done yet. You see, these two boys have another thing to drink before they're done.... boys!" Sal called "Come drink this... It'll make this mass you gained real"
Clyde and Sam sauntered over and took a green vial from Sal. Cylde took the first sip, and Sam took it shortly after.
"So this is gonna turn into real muscle mass?" Clylde asked. "Thats right big guy. You're both gonna keep to keep those big beefy muscles, and now they're gonna be the real deal"
Both men could feel it working. Slowly and steadily both men's inflated muscles transformed into solid off-season mass. The two flexed and proded their newly solid, hard muscular bulk. Their footsteps became heavy thomps as both of them crested over 300 pounds.
"You see? Now these two boys dont even need those plugs. They're gonna stay nice and big for the camera, permanently.... You, on the other hand? Well, you're so damn big if I gave you that green stuff you'd get so big and heavy you'd never walk again. I don't even know what to do with you now! We can try to deflate you slowly, but You're not even going to come close to been twice your size. You'll be lucky if we can get you under 400 pounds once this is all said and done... because like it or not, fat, muscle...that air's gotta get replaced with something... "
Jack’s eyes went wide as saucers at that. “Fuck…” he gasped. “Fuck! What the hell, Sal?!”
“Hey, that’s business, Jack,” Sal said with a smug smirk. “You’re a big star and all, but… Well, Sam and Clyde are well on their way to replacing you as our most popular actors. And to be honest, I’m sick of you comin’ in late, not learning your lines, demanding more money… Basically, it’s about time you learned your place. Which, for right now, is the prop department. I reckon this inflation kink could be a great market to bust into. With Sam as the star, of course."
Sam grinned wide at that prospect. “Seriously Sal? My own series? That’s… That’s fantastic, thank you!”
“And I figure Clyde can replace Jack in his upcoming planned roles. He’s not really in any shape to be acting anymore, so it’ll work out well,” Sal said, giving Clyde a nod.
"After a few days you'll deflate a bit on your own, we gotta keep that plug in for now... but once you're down a bit more... maybe half size of where you are now, I'll give you the last of the elixor so you can have real functioning muscles again....It’ll all work out nicely, I reckon. Now, get Jack to the prop department. He needs to be catalogued while I work on his next script…He's gonna bit a hit with the inflatation kink crowd, I reckon.”
With Jack still swearing like a sailor at the top of his lungs, Sam and Clyde used their huge, powerful new muscles to roll him off set to follow some of the crew members from the prop department. Listening to the ex-porn star’s indignant cries and curses, Sal couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he turned around to oversee the deconstruction of the set.