Virtual Reality Muscle Growth

My passion for computers exhibited itself through an advanced degree in computer science with a concentration on virtual reality and artificial intelligence programming; for sex, as a young, horny, red- blooded gay man; and for muscle, as a throw-back, unapologetic, pumped-up, muscle-junkie-freak. I had perhaps the only surviving, and certainly the largest, collection of bodybuilding magazines and videos from the last half of the twentieth century and one of the only practitioners of the sport left, much to my sexual frustration.

I had made the breakthrough in allowing virtual depictions that were synthesized and extrapolated from existing information creating realities that had never existed before rather than merely reproducing stored images. Not only was synthesis possible for external stimuli but internal ones as well. And, I hoped, that with the vast library I had collected of gay pornography and images of the old sport of bodybuilding, I could create any combination of images and sensations that I desired.

The programming became easier and easier as I downloaded the libraries of images. With each new set of videos or set of scanned images I found, it seemed as if the computer knew what I wanted and was prepared to give it to me. But then, that is what I was programming it for. I found and culled huge amounts of fiction to inform the machine of the fantasies I preferred and of course I wrote many, many scenarios of the sorts of situations and men I liked.

Finally all the bugs were fixed and I was ready to test some of Virtual Reality scenarios I had created. I started with a simple, unaugmented scene out of 1970s Venice Beach, or as I preferred, Muscle Beach. I entered the scene near the weight pit and called for a random set of people to fill out the scene. As the various muscle men and onlookers appeared, I started a workout. I had entered the fantasy without any personal embellishments to my body or any of the more surreal aspects that I had programmed into my virtual reality program. As a practitioner of the sport of bodybuilding, I had a large, defined physique, more muscular than anyone I knew but not as big as the men populating my fantasy.... and I was starting out slowly.

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As my workout progressed, I garnered many admirers who shyly admired my body and subtly cruised. My program was running flawlessly. I left the pit for the bathroom and the muscle man I desired followed me. I went to a urinal to take a piss, my anticipation causing me to get hard as I knew the bodybuilder was approaching. He stepped up to the urinal beside me and without any pretense of pissing himself, just stared at my dick and my body.

"You dig my body, man?" I asked, having studied the dialect.

"Yeah, man, you're fucking huge! I'll do anything for you, if I can touch you."

I turned toward him and let him at my now hard cock. (Again, unaugmented, but I had plans.) He looked a little nervous, but I pushed him to his knees assuring him that we wouldn't be disturbed. And we wouldn't be, unless I desired.

He was a damn good cocksucker and I indulged myself on his muscles, feeling his hardness, telling him to flex first his arms and shoulders, then his lats and chest. His hands were running over my body as well, feeling my muscles, moaning when I flexed for him and working that much harder on my dick. When I was getting close to cumming, I had him hit a double biceps posed as I fucked his face. Hard biceps under my hands and a mouth on my dick, man! I blew my load as he pumped his guns, big muscle flexing and relaxing under my hands.

The VR program worked flawlessly so far and I was ready to try the advanced features I had worked on so hard.

The bathroom and my friend disappeared as I desired and a well-equipped gym of the late 1990s took form around me. I conceived of appropriate clothing and took an appraising look in the mirrors that lined the walls of the gym. The spandex tights gripped by body and the over- sized t-shirt showed off my upper body. Now was the time to test some of the augmentation subroutines I had come up with.

As I desired, a sense of raw strength filled my body and the small amount of fat that I still carried disappeared. The mirrors reflected instantly the changes I had envisioned. My program responded quickly and smoothly to my desires and I took a deep breath and began to indulge myself.

I hit a double biceps shot and admired my reflection. I now resembled a heavy-weight bodybuilder, and now with the definition I had created, certain to take any prize. I ran my tongue over my biceps and the sensation coursed from the muscle to my dick and back again. With the new subroutines, I could have an intense orgasm just by licking my hard biceps muscle. Talk about intense. I resisted the urge to infuse my arms with huge amounts of muscle and get off then and there.

I populated the gym with my favorite heavy-weight bodybuilders: Mike Matarazzo, Paul Demayo, Mike Mentzer, Paul Dillet, Bob Paris, and Mike Francois, just to name a few. Of course, they were in their best ever shape when the were their biggest and hardest and they were working out intensely trying to get bigger and harder. My muscle growth subroutines allowed them to realize their goals at an incredible rate, much faster than they had ever imagined and suffused the gym with some intense homoeroticism and narcissism. After each set they would pose in front of the mirrors. Matarazzo's biceps were pumped up to 23 inches and he couldn't get enough of watching his arms in the mirror. Demayo finished a heavy set of squats and had almost ripped off his shorts in his excitement in seeing his quads bigger than ever, incredibly massive and defined.

I climbed on an incline bench and joined in the workout. I pumped out 100 situps as quick as I could, not without some grudging respect from the bigger men. I moved then to a bench and started loading a bar. Dillet was working with 300 hundred pounds, so I loaded on 400. Slowly and methodically I pressed out a set of 8 intense reps. By this time, all of the men had seen me and were shocked at what I was doing.

I continued with a very heavy-duty work out. I worked each body-part and lifted incredible amounts of weight. My subroutines allowed me to lift heavier and harder than any of the heavy-weights occupying the gym. The huge bodybuilders were amazed at what I was doing and redoubled their own efforts pumping up their bodies. Then I set my growth subroutines to work on my muscles.

I felt an intense pump in every muscle and the fabric of my shirt stretched almost to the breaking point. My abdominal muscles felt harder as my growth subroutines kicked in making the cuts between my massive six-pack deeper and deeper. My intercostals burst into high relief through my shirt as the pump surged though my torso. I flexed my pecs and they exploded through my shirt. I felt tears along my back, around my shoulders and under my arms as the muscles grew and grew. My shirt hung in tatters off my enormous body. I got up from the bench and tore off the shredded shirt, revealing my pumped torso.

I gasped as I saw my reflection and the results of my subroutines working overtime on my body. I had gained 50 pounds of freaky, defined muscle and my chest and abs were massive and defined, my pecs stretched the skin almost to the bursting point. My dick got hard again and I wanted to play more with this!

The bodybuilders had taken their shirts off as well and were flexing and pumping outrageously trying to get my attention. Ignoring them, I grabbed the set of two hundred pound dumbells that I desired. Staring at the mirror I watched myself blast out rep after rep of mind- blowing curls, my biceps growing bigger and harder with each rep. I slowed down the exercise and concentrated on my biceps, savoring the sensations as the muscles swelled, the veins appearing and expanding. My arms grew half an inch with each rep!

I was getting so excited as my shorts became tighter and tighter, my legs growing massive in sympathy with my arms. My dick ached and grew longer. I felt a surge in my thighs at the sight of Demayo coming up beside me and flexing his quads. The harder Demayo flexed his legs, the bigger my legs grew, my quads became insanely thick more than 35 inches around and shredded to the bone. My dick throbbed with sensation and pleasure. My thighs were stretching the spandex to the breaking point, the quad muscles and veins were bulging obscenely over the constriction of the fabric. Then I heard the fabric begin to tear as my thighs grew more and more massive. I watched the tears shoot along my freaky quads towards my waist. The shorts looked as if they had been run through a paper shredder with only the waistband remaining intact. The massive bodybuilders surrounded me, their own clothes in tatters, burst at the seems by their freaky, shredded muscles flexing and growing.

As Paul Dillet moved toward me, flexing his outrageous muscles, I felt myself growing as tall as he was but my muscles were already much much more massive than his. Dillet flexed his pecs at my side and my chest expanded hugely, the vascularity appearing like a relief map of the rocky mountains, like a river flooding its banks. I caught a glimpse of Mike Mentzer and suddenly my forearms were as vascular and thicker than his.

Matarazzo flexed his biceps in the mirror and I dropped my dumbbells as I felt the orgasmic sensation of my biceps swelling at the sight of all that muscle, so much like the way my cock had always grew when I saw biceps that monstrous, that massive. My cock, now harder than ever and swelling to an insane 14 inches and stood straight out as I hit a double biceps, my arms now much bigger than Matarazzo's, reaching 30 inches around. Matarazzo began rubbing them and licking them, getting off on the huge biceps like I had always wanted to do to him. I flexed and posed in the mirror surrounded by bodybuilders that I had surpassed in size, in definition, in sheer mass!

I was huge, well over 350 pounds of solid, defined freakish big muscle. My skin was practically see-though and veins covered my entire body. All of my muscles bulged as if they would burst through my skin. My shoulders were the proverbial yard wide and then some, my massive deltoids were like bowling balls. I ran my hand over my pecs and abs, amazed at the thickness of my chest and the insane taper to my muscle packed waist. My waist was still only 30 inches! My quads were incredible, 40 massive inches and shredded to the bone with insane veins barely contained by my thin skin. And my calves, man, they were huge, over 28 inches of muscle flaring around my leg. I flexed my back and lats, the muscles were like giant slabs of beef. I hit lat spread, and I just got wider and wider and wider. I was taller than the men surrounding me, heavier, more defined, more massive, more freaky.

They all began worshiping the body parts they had inspired, Demayo my massive quads, Dillet my outrageous pecs and Matarazzo my huge guns. My dick strained as Matarazzo sucked on my pumped arms, the bicep job better than a blow job. My biceps reached 33" around, my chest hit an amazing 70" and kept on expanding. Harder and harder they rubbed and massaged my freaky massive muscles. I flexed and posed and grew for them, hitting any pose they wanted, flexing the muscles they wanted to worship.

I reveled in the feeling of their hands on my incredible muscles, their hard dicks grinding against me. Our moans filled the gym getting louder and louder. Finally I could hold out no longer and hit the most amazing, massive, outrageous most muscular pose ever seen making the bodybuilders surrounding shoot their loads, showering me with their hot cum. My muscles soaked up their muscle cum like sponges and I grew and grew until I felt as if I would explode. I came with a shout and a shudder that shook the gym like a earthquake, knocking over the equipment, shattering the mirrors.

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