This choice: You snag a pill for examination. But who to take it to? • Go Back...Chapter #8The Body of Your Dreams by: oldshep   You toss and turn in your sleep. Well, if you were horizontal, you’d be tossing and turning. You were always quite a lucid dreamer. You move through your dream like you would in real life, the scenario more real than most dreams. You walk through the hallways of Reed Giles Hall, ready to get to your masterclass.
As you take a seat in the studio room, you shakily set down your double bass. You much preferred the bass guitar, however, there weren’t many music programs or orchestras that offered spots for an electronic instrument. You take a look to your left, Yasser, a stern jackal and the principle bassist sits beside you. He was an alright guy you suppose. On your right are the others in your program; China, a sassy poodle who allegedly crushed her last boyfriend/fuckboy’s balls after he cheated on her; Ping, a polite, diminutive Chinese crested who never really understood her poodle friend’s name; Jeremy, a very quiet goat, built similarly to Rob, and your upperclassman; and Mercedes, a waifish, boyish eagle girl and your best friend outside of your roommate groupies.
“Hey, Meche,” you call to her. She smiles and takes a seat next to you, the faint smell of cinnamon on her feather.
“Heya, Batsy,” she chuckles. Her voice was always friendly. Her hand shoots down and touches yours and you blush. You always did have a thing for her. Maybe it was her smile, the way she smelled; light and sweet. You had a one night stand with her once, you thought it could have gone further, she didn’t. At least she made pancakes in the morning and you’ve stayed good friends.
The door to the studio opens and you expect the instructor to come in. However, a built, jacked wolverine enters. Your jaw drops to the floor as you realize it’s none other than Logan. However, he looks nothing like the short, puffy ball of anger you’re used to. The man stood at least 6 feet tall, broad and proudly proportioned. His pectorals hung a good 6 or so inches off his ribcage, a display of pure, raw masculine prowess. His arms bulged with so much muscle they stretched the grey sleeves of his t-shirt to the point of breaking. His jeans were painted on, a healthy bulge tenting out the front of his pants. He was a hunk in every word, probably 300 or so pounds of brawn.
You watch with trepidation as Yasser stands up, propping up his bass and makes his way over to the titan of a wolverine. To your amazement, the normally reserved jackal makes his way behind Logan, his thin arms wrapping around Logan’s powerful frame, his hands groping Logan’s massive, meaty pectorals, the thick nipples protruding through the fabric, spilling through Yasser’s fingers. The musclebound wolverine shudders.
Jeremy moves up next, the goat casually resting his hand on Logan’s abs. Without any words, he slips his hand underneath the shirt and begins to peel it upwards, exposing the corrugated wall of muscle underneath. Logan breathes heavily and brings his giant arms forward into a crab pose, the shirt splitting along his back, revealing the heft of his chest and the pure strength of his shoulders. Mountains of traps frame his head. Jeremy helps to peel the remains of Logan’s shirt off. All the while, Logan leans over and starts making out with the goat. The sight almost takes your breath away, you never realized how handsome Logan was without all that fat on his cheeks. You start to get aroused, almost as much as Jeremy was, the goat sporting a full chub in his pants.
Next, China and Ping walk up to caress Logan’s lats and biceps. The colossal wolverine huffs lowly and raises his arms into a freakish double biceps pose. You swear he’s getting even larger the more the girl’s worship his megalithic arms, the wolverine getting even freakier, even larger. Now he’s exploding into the new norm of bodybuilding, a massive monster of 600 or so pounds of brawn, a wolverine standing at over 7 feet in height, arms thicker in circumference than you are tall. He could stand among the pantheon, slowly outgrowing the Kuznetsov brothers, outgrowing Steven Collins, crushing the Finesteins underneath his boot, growing into something else. A god.
Mercedes gets onto her knees before the huge god of a wolverine and peels his pants down. If this wasn’t a dream, there was no way any clothing could possibly survive Logan’s new size. The eagle peels off the layer of his pants first, then makes her way through his underwear. Twin melons of flesh spill out and Meche licks at them sweetly, groping at the mounds of testes in front of her. Logan tilts his head up, momentarily breaking connection with Jeremy’s mouth. The hulk of a wolverine lifts the goat up and sits the little guy on his titanic cock, now slowly inflating into a spire that would kill anyone if he tried to penetrate them. The two dogs bury their faces into Logan’s musky pits. Yasser bends over and stuffs his snout into the crack of Logan’s ass, eliciting a streamer of pre-jizz out of Logan’s epic length.
“Batsy,” the wolverine-beast rumbles, his voice shaking the entire dreamscape. “There’s only one spot left,” he chuckles darkly, bobbing his cock with his inner PC muscles.
***
“Huh!” you gasp as you awake from your vivid dream. Your heart beats a million times a minute before you look at your dark surroundings. “It’s just a dream,” you say aloud, trying to convince yourself. Your slowly reach down at the guiderails inside your closet-bed and flip yourself down as you dismount your ‘bed.’ You try to shake the sleep out of your wings and rub it out of your eyes.
You take a sniff at the air, a familiar musk filling your nostril. You squint and look down at your roommate, a grumble growing in your throat. Logan was slumbering peacefully, a paw behind his head, the other on his jiggling belly. However, you see his chubby, flaccid cock protruding from the fly of his boxers, a couple heavy ribbons of cum sprayed out onto his sheets, a particularly big wad seeping into his pillow, just an inch away from his head. He must’ve had one hell of a wet dream to make that much seed. You realize that it must’ve influenced your dream, your sensitive nose sending cues to your subconscious.
You continue to stare at Logan, your eyes tracing along his figure. It wasn’t that obvious at first, but he was noticeably slimmer, maybe a good 20 or so pounds less than usual. Jeez, just what was in those pills? You notice something in the corner of Logan’s bed, the guy kept his side of the room like a pig-sty, things were always turning up.
It looked like a note. You pick it up and bring it to your corner of the room. You fish around for your cell phone and use it as a flashlight. Your eyes light up as you read the contents:
Merry Christmas ‘Lil Bro,
Take once a week max. These bad boys should add 20 or so pounds per dose if you exercise and eat well. DO NOT OVERDOSE. DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN ONCE PER WEEK. And for God’s sake Andy, don’t let these get into the wrong hands!
Your ‘big’ bro,
Tim
Well, shit, who the heck was this Tim? You move up to Logan’s side of the room once again and take a pill from the bottle. Twenty pounds, eh? You try to imagine what you’d look like with another 20 pounds on your frame. It almost excites you to imagine what a 120 pound bat would look like. You would probably have some wiry arms, but it’d be better than what you had now; nothing. Maybe it’d give you the confidence to ask Meche out again, maybe she’d fall for a more muscly bat? Maybe you and Logan would become huge 600 pound beast together, writhing with muscles, gods to be worshipped?
That was enough to pull you out of your fantasy. The thought of becoming a Steve Collins sized monster kind of scared you. Hell, you’d probably freak out if you got to Corey’s size. Even scarier, what if Logan managed to get to that size? Emma was right, he’d probably go power-mad. You hop onto your laptop and try to figure out what you could do about the situation.
You try a couple of searches, coming up on a lot of bodybuilding sites. To your disappointment, there was a lot of ‘bro-science’ on these forums, rehashes of actual science. ‘Don’t cum for a week and boost your test levels, bro.’ ‘Masturbate before a workout maximizes testosterone, bro.’ Well, which was it? Finally, you come across some conspiracy theories. ‘What created George Kuznetsov?’ There were pics of a scrawny looking, weedy, little grey wolf. The pictures were side by side with what was possibly the biggest wolf in the world, over 650 pounds of lupine brawn. ‘No one gets a bigger package like that!’ ‘Roids don’t make you junk grow, mate.’ Indeed, the wolf’s junk had gotten huge. Some reports say it’s over 2 feet long (‘No homo.’). You almost gag at the thought.
You look over at Logan, the wolverine not even stirring as he continues to sleep. You wonder if that’s what the pills are doing to Logan. Were these pills the same thing that turned George Kuznetsov from a runt into the largest bodybuilder in the world? You look up more. There were case files on Jared Kuznetsov, showing a male model (you swoon, he’s gorgeous as a trim white wolf) and then a picture of a snarling, muscled monstrosity. Steve Collins, a beefy ferret, his after photo a top-heavy behemoth. How were they all connected? This pill in your hand, it could be the key. You start looking up professors in the science department, looking at their research interests. You had very little knowledge in the sciences, having failed highschool physics, but you tried searching through the biology profs first.
However, you hear something stirring behind you. Logan.
"Aw shit," he huffs. "Damn, I shouldn't have taken that second pill before going to bed." There's a scary lust in his eyes.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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