Chapter 2: Total Submission
The wet, slick schlop echoed obscenely in the room as Justin withdrew. It felt like being gutted, a sudden, brutal emptiness that left me gasping, raw and aching on the carpet. Tears blurred the view of his massive calves, dusted with coarse blonde hair. Before I could even draw a shaky breath, a hand like a steel vise clamped onto my hip.
"Over," he grunted, the single word a command that vibrated through the floor. He flipped me onto my stomach with terrifying ease, my face grinding into the coarse, sweat-dampened carpet fibers. The lingering scent of sex and his exertion filled my nostrils, suffocating.
I lay there, trembling, exposed. My torn jeans were bunched around my thighs, my ass throbbing, pulsing with the memory of his impossible girth. Panic clawed its way up my throat, cold and sharp. Then I felt his weight settle back onto me. Not lying down, but kneeling. Straddling my lower back.
His hands slammed down beside my head, knuckles white, biceps swelling until they blotted out the light. The thick cords stood out like steel cables under skin stretched impossibly taut. His shadow engulfed me completely.
"Fuck... yeah," Justin breathed, low and guttural. It wasn't directed at me. He was staring at his own reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the bed. "Feel that fuckin' pump."
I could feel it. The pressure on my back intensified. It wasn't just his weight shifting. He felt... heavier. Denser.
He sucked in a massive breath, his lats flaring outwards like unfolding wings, pushing against the sides of my vision. A deep, rumbling groan started in his chest, building, vibrating through the floorboards beneath me. The sound was primal, like tectonic plates grinding.
He was flexing. Not posing. Growing.
The muscles under his skin didn't just contract; they seemed to swell, inflating with terrifying force. The veins on his arms, already thick as ropes, pulsed, then thickened further, bulging out like blue-black pipelines under the oiled surface. The pressure on my spine became crushing, forcing the air from my lungs in a ragged wheeze. I felt his massive quads, pressed against my thighs, hardening, expanding. They felt like hot boulders being pressed against me.
"Jesus Christ, Justin," I choked out, my voice muffled by the carpet. "What... what are you doing?"
"Shut up," he rasped, his voice deeper, thicker than before. "Watch."
He shifted his weight, driving his knees harder into the mattress of my thighs, forcing my legs wider apart. He pushed himself up higher, still kneeling over me, his torso rising. The ceiling seemed lower. The room smaller. I craned my neck, trying to see the reflection.
The man in the mirror was... bigger. Significantly bigger. His shoulders were broader, filling the frame. His chest was thicker, deeper, the striations carving deeper valleys across the mountainous pecs. His biceps strained against his own skin, the peaks climbing higher, harder, veins crawling up them like thick serpents. The sheer mass of him was terrifying. He wasn't just muscular; he was becoming monumental. Colossal.
"Fuck yeah," he repeated, a savage grin spreading across his face as he admired the expanding reflection. "Feel that fuckin' density, Danny? You feel it crushing you?" He deliberately pushed down, grinding his pelvis against my aching lower back. The pressure was immense, threatening to snap bone. "Gettin' big. Real fuckin' big for you."
He reached down, his enormous hand engulfing my entire bicep with insulting ease, his fingers meeting around my arm. "Pathetic," he snorted, giving me a squeeze that felt like a hydraulic press. "Stay still, fucktoy. Time to measure."
He released me and shifted his weight again, settling his immense ass directly onto the small of my back. It felt like being pinned under a fallen oak. He reached for the flexible measuring tape discarded nearby – the same tape we'd used before. My humiliation burned.
"Start with the arms," he commanded, holding his right arm out in a front double biceps pose. The sheer size of it now was unreal. The biceps peak was a ridged mountain, the triceps a thick, hanging slab.
Trembling, I reached back, fumbling with the tape. My fingers brushed against the granite-hard swell of his bicep. It was like touching cooled lava rock – hot, unyielding, veined. I wrapped the tape as far as it would go. My eyes widened.
"Twenty... twenty-eight inches," I stammered, the number sounding ludicrous even as I read it. Cold dread washed over me. This wasn't possible. It was monstrous.
"Fuck yeah," Justin growled, pure narcissistic pleasure in his tone. "Keep going. Chest."
He slammed his hands behind his head, flaring his lats impossibly wide and thrusting his chest forward. The pectorals were like twin shields, thick and striated, the deep cleft between them shadowed. I stretched the tape across the widest part. My arms weren't long enough to reach easily from my pinned position. He watched my struggle with amusement.
"Sixty... sixty-two inches," I gasped. The circumference was more than my height.
"Quads," he ordered, shifting his massive thigh beside my head. It was like a tree trunk, the sweep of the vastus lateralis bulging obscenely, veins thick as fingers snaking over the dense muscle. I measured just above the knee. "Thirty-five inches," I whispered, feeling sick.
He chuckled, a low, dangerous rumble. "And the main event, bitch. The fuckin' weapon." He shifted his hips, grinding his enormous groin against my back. I felt the hard, hot length of him press insistently against my spine, thick and demanding even in its supposedly flaccid state. My own cock, trapped and aching beneath me, gave a traitorous throb. "Measure my cock. Now."
He lifted his hips slightly, giving me just enough space to reach back. My hand shook violently as I fumbled for the tape. He grabbed my wrist, guiding it roughly to the base of his shaft. The heat radiating from it was intense, the skin like hot velvet over pure steel. He was already thickening rapidly under my tentative touch.
"Measure it, Danny," he hissed, his voice thick with anticipation. "Measure every fuckin' inch of what's gonna split you open again."
I stretched the tape along the burgeoning length. It was pulsing, thickening by the second, veins swelling like gorged worms under the skin. The flared head was already pushing against my knuckles. "Eighteen... nineteen..." I choked out, disbelief warring with a sickening coil of arousal tightening in my gut. "Nineteen and a half... Holy shit, Justin, twenty... twenty inches?"
He roared with laughter, a sound of pure, unadulterated power. "Fuck yes! Keep growing, you beautiful fucker!" He slapped his own monstrous erection, the sound like meat hitting a countertop. "Look at it! A goddamn masterpiece!" He stared at his reflection, utterly enraptured by his own enlarged physique and the thick, veined pillar jutting from his groin. He was easily 7'6", a mountain range of pulsating muscle weighing down on me, the very air around him feeling thick and charged with raw testosterone. 458 pounds of pure, narcissistic power.
He leaned forward, his immense pecs pressing against the back of my head, trapping me. His hot breath washed over my ear. "You see what you did, Danny? Watching me... wanting me... It makes me grow. It makes me fuckin' huge." He ground his hips down, the thick shaft grinding along the cleft of my ass, slick with pre-cum. "You love it, don't you? Love being crushed under this? Love seeing how fuckin' massive I get?"
I couldn't speak. Terror and unwanted desire warred inside me, a volatile cocktail. His sheer size, his overwhelming dominance, the impossible reality of his growth – it was terrifying, humiliating... and viscerally, shamefully exciting. My cock leaked helplessly onto the carpet beneath me.
He grabbed my hips with hands that now felt like they could crush stone, his fingers digging deep into my flesh. He hauled my ass up into the air, my chest and face still pressed into the carpet, my lower body completely at his mercy. My torn jeans were roughly yanked off my legs.
"Gonna fuck this tight hole again," he declared, his voice thick with lust. He spat, a thick glob landing directly on my exposed, tender hole. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. "Gonna feel how fuckin' big I am now. How deep I can go." He positioned the thick, blunt head of his now monstrous cock against me. The heat was searing, the pressure immense even before he pushed.
He didn't wait. He didn't ask. He just slammed forward with the full weight and strength of his enlarged body behind him.
The scream tore from my throat, ripped raw by the carpet. The stretch was catastrophic. Agony exploded inside me, white-hot and blinding, tearing through the fragile, already abused ring of muscle. It felt like being impaled on a telephone pole. He grunted, a sound of immense effort and pure satisfaction, forcing the impossible girth deeper, stretching me wider than I thought conceivable. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the carpet beneath my cheek.
"Fuck! So fuckin' tight!" Justin roared, his voice echoing like thunder in the shrinking room. His massive biceps bulged as he held my hips immobile, driving relentlessly deeper. "Take it! Take every fuckin' inch, you muscle-slut! Feel me growin' inside you!"
He bottomed out with a final, brutal thrust, his swollen balls slapping against my taint. I felt impossibly full, stretched to the breaking point, utterly speared by his gargantuan cock. He paused for a second, letting me feel the sheer, terrifying mass buried inside me, pulsing with his heartbeat. Sweat poured off him, dripping onto my back like hot rain.
"Look," he commanded, his voice thick and distorted. He forced my head to the side, making me stare into the mirror. The reflection was monstrous. His colossal frame, veins like roadmaps snaking over every bulging muscle, completely dominated the image. My own body looked small, broken, impaled beneath him. His face was a mask of narcissistic ecstasy, eyes locked on his own reflection, on the sheer power he wielded. "Look at that fuckin' size difference," he hissed, grinding his hips, making me whimper. "Look at my fuckin' cock buried in your ass. You see it? You see how deep it goes?"
He started to move. Slow, deliberate, grinding thrusts that felt like they were rearranging my insides. Each withdrawal was an agonizing drag, each slam back home a fresh wave of searing pain and overwhelming fullness. The wet, meaty sounds filled the air, mingling with his groans and my choked sobs. He shifted his grip, one huge hand pinning my wrists to the small of my back, the other grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to arch my spine painfully.
"Gonna fuck you till you break," he promised, his breath hot on my neck. He pistoned harder, faster, his colossal thighs driving into me with piston-like force. The bedframe groaned as his immense weight shifted. The mirrored wall seemed to vibrate with the impact. "Gonna use your hole to get even fuckin' bigger. Feel it? Feel me growing?"
I could. It was insane. Unthinkable. But I could feel him thickening inside me, stretching me even wider, the already impossible girth becoming even more punishing. The pressure was becoming unbearable, a constant, grinding agony that blurred the edges of my vision. The heat radiating from his engorged cock was like a branding iron.
He pounded into me with relentless, crushing force, his eyes fixed on his reflection, lost in the spectacle of his own overwhelming power and size. His grunts turned to savage growls. "Yeah! Fuck! Feed my growth, Danny! Take it all! Be my fuckin' muscle-puppet!" His thrusts became shorter, harder, grinding deep, his swollen nuts slapping against me in a punishing rhythm. The pressure inside me built to an excruciating peak. "Gonna blow... gonna fuckin' flood you... fill your guts with my fuckin' growth juice!"
His roar shook the room as he slammed home one final time, burying himself to the hilt. I felt the hot, molten pulse deep inside me as he came, thick ropes pumping into my violated depths, each spurt accompanied by a tremor that ran through his entire colossal frame. He held himself there, grinding, milking every drop, his muscles locked in a final, triumphant flex.
Slowly, shakily, he pulled out. The sensation was indescribable – a tearing, gaping emptiness combined with the hot mess of his release leaking out of me. He collapsed beside me, his enormous body making the floor shudder. He propped himself up on one elbow, staring down at me, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his ridged abs, a look of profound, arrogant satisfaction on his face. He flexed his colossal biceps casually, the peak almost touching his ear.
"Fuck," he breathed, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his lips as he traced a thick finger over the still-swollen vein on his arm. "That was fuckin' epic." He reached down, his massive hand engulfing my battered hip, fingers digging possessively into the bruised flesh. His eyes, glinting with a dark promise, met mine. "Get ready for round two, muscle-bitch. I ain't done growing yet." His grin turned predatory. "Smile wide, fucktoy. We're just getting started."