Date: Thu, 7 Mar 2002 13:45:32 -0500
From: XH4M <xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com>
Subject: BIG IS BETTER 23

BIG IS BETTER

By XH4M

This story is a fantasy.  All characters in this story are fictional with
no resemblance to any real persons implied.  Any reader with objections to
graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have
reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or
national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read
further.  Copyright (c) 2002 XH4M.  All rights, implicit or implied, except
for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual
downloading the file, are reserved.  Inquiries regarding publishing rights
for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com


PART 23 - PATERNAL INSTINCTS

I looked up again into his piercing iridescent eyes and smiled.  When I got
his attention, I looked down at my crotch deliberately.

"Besides Sam, you're not the only one here who God seems to have made a bit
different, remember?"

Sam's eyes followed mine down.  I rubbed my palm suggestively around the
crotch of my sweatpants, emphasizing my point.

"Believe me - this scared guys plenty, too.  Like you, there are some
things that I can just do.  So you see, we each break the normal rules,
Sam."

Sam's eyes glazed over again as he watched my roving hand.  "So - how big
are you really, Pete?"

Sensing this sudden promising change, I went along with this new topic
without directly addressing his question.  Instead, I gave him a very
abridged discourse on the subject of 'The Origin of The Genitals';
specifically, my own of course.

"Sam, I think a part of me never wanted to know that.  I've never measured
myself.  Someone told me once that's just a form of self-denial.  Maybe by
keeping myself in the dark about that real number, I can always tell myself
I'm not 'all THAT big'... that I'm not THAT much of a sideshow freak.
Honestly - I really don't know."

Sam caught me unexpectedly with one of his blunt and often topic-twisting
questions.

"Can I put a tape measure on it sometime?  I sure wanna know, even if you
don't!  That'd be so hot!  I promise I won't never tell ya either, if you
really don't wanna know.  It'll be a secret."

Just the thought of my being 'taped' instantly brought up old feelings of
humiliation, which I tried to counter by remembering that Sam also saw
'size' as a gift, not the curse I typically did.  But I still flushed with
embarrassment nevertheless and continued as if I'd never heard his
question.

"... and my dick doesn't seem to even work the way that other guys' do.  I
remember telling you some of this before, Sam.  Getting a big boner seems
to take me longer.  If I get too excited too fast, I get really dizzy."

"I went to see a doctor once just to ask him why 'all of this,'" I said,
squeezing 'the bounty' in my hand. "But what I didn't tell you was that I
hated the size of all this stuff.  I was hoping that medical science
could... well... do something to make me more like other guys.  That doctor
did a lot of tests on me.  He told me that I had an excess of certain
hormones.  He explained that some of these hormones control how hung a guy
gets when he hits puberty.  It's all something I genetically inherited, I
guess.  Sam, I started growing these balls when I was just 9 years old for
Pete's sake!"

Sam interrupted me.  "Maybe you grew 'em for Sam's sake, Pete.  I'd like to
think that maybe that was the Good Lord's plan all along.  You've got some
terrific genes in them jeans!  If I was the judge, I'd certainly be givin'
those big melons of yours ALL the blue ribbons!  That means they's the
biggest and best!  So did that doc tell ya 'bout why you get such a whopper
when you're turned-on?"

"Yeah, he did, actually, if you want to know.  He said that the size of a
man's erection depends on the amount of something he called 'spongy
tissue.'  The amount that develops during puberty is controlled by some
hormone.  I've forgotten the name of it, but anyway... my cock's got more
of that spongy stuff than most guys - a real lot more too, I guess.  There
were other unusual things about me that he'd mentioned that I don't
remember now.  But the bottom line was - there's no safe medical procedure
that could make any of me smaller.  He even laughed when I'd asked him if
there was such a thing as a 'dick-reduction' or a 'ball-tuck' for men.  In
fact, his words were something like, 'You're Superman, Pete.  Enjoy it!'
Well I've tried to, but that was easier said than done, Sam."

Sam was acting lustfully intrigued with this new topic of conversation.  I
suppose that he was just trying to make me feel good in his own way, but
his results would be somewhat mixed.

"Gives me the shivers Pete just thinkin' that you woulda even considered
doin' that to yourself!  I sure treasures every bit of what The Lord done
gave me - and what He gave you, too!  I bet it feels mighty great fuckin'
with such a big pole, right?"

Sam's last comment knocked me slightly off-base again.

"It's... it's something I sure dream about all the time, anyway.  So yes.
I think so," I responded hesitantly.

Sam picked up on my uncertainty.  "Don't ya know?  You must've fucked
before, ain't that right, Pete?"

Gees, hit a man when he's down, why don't 'cha?  That was a sore spot with
me.  Perhaps it was only because I was under his handsome spell at that
moment - the influence of still being firmly surrounded by that big arm of
his, too - that I told him the real story.

"Technically?  Well sorta... maybe.  Don't laugh, but I think I did it once
- with a woman.  It was kinda quick though.  The first time was last year.
My roomy John decided I needed to officially get laid.  He got me drunk and
brought me to a whorehouse.  I was shit-faced - but horny to the point of
desperation.  That lady had a set of GIGANTIC tits though, Sam.  They were
so oversized that I think I even got turned-on feeling them.  That whore
really had to work hard though, even with that professionally-sized pussy
of hers.  I was so horny that I was shooting my load off in 3 seconds.  But
she had some intense orgasms herself while I was cumming.  She even said
that I was some kind of first for her.  She took a couple snapshots.  But
she really liked me a lot - told me to come back anytime I wanted.  She'd
take care of all my 'manly needs' free-of-charge."

Sam began alternately running his fingers playfully through my hair and
stroking my head again with his massive paw.  I was beginning to really
like that particular habit of his, too.  It sure made me feel amazingly
warm inside.  And judging from that sexy bulge in his own sweatpants, my
appeals to Sam's more primitive hormonal instincts were also beginning to
work.

"I can surely understand why she did," Samson said, gazing down at my groin
with a renewed twinkle in his eyes.  "So - did you ever fuck a guy, Pete?"

I suddenly regretted having started this conversational ball rolling.  I
might have even welled up just contemplating the sorry truth, but I was too
prideful to ever let Sam see me cry.  I swallowed those feelings hard and
responded in the most matter-of-fact, 'coolest' way that I could.

"Guys have certainly tried, but technically - the answer is probably no,
not really...."

"Ain't no such thing as too big.  The bigger, the better.  Your big
equipment is sexy, Pete.  It's the sexiest I ever seen on any man -
anywhere - anytime - ever!  Those big 'ol balls - they make me go all weak
in the knees.  Seein' your cock just blowin' up like one of them clown
balloons - nothin's ever turned me on that much.  You'd make any of them
male porno stars green with envy.  You's one in a million, Pete.  I've
never felt my blood boil like it does when I'm even near ya.  Hey, I kinda
like that Superman handle your doc gave you, too.  It's sounds positive - a
lot better than freak.  It fits you!  Would ya mind if I called ya
SUPERMAN?"

I should have been flattered, but the idea also seemed so immediately
ridiculous that I fought not to laugh.  I usually avoided looking at myself
in my bathroom mirror any longer than was absolutely necessary.  Even when
I used the mirror for grooming purposes such as shaving, I'd focus only on
the task at hand without looking at myself at all; in fact, I'd raised that
to an art form.

And now I couldn't help but look over at the reflection of Sam and me
standing literally side-by-side in that mirrored wall.  It's said that
mirrors don't lie.  Our reflections spoke a stark truth which I already
knew intellectually.  I just never wanted to see the actual photographic
proof.  Well seeing is believing, and what I was seeing stunned me.  The
mirror reflected without bias the true magnitude of our physical
differences - and the extremes were actually comical.  I'd always been a
runt, but at least I'd come to regard my body as still better than average.
I had a beefy build, with wide shoulders and a trim waist.  My lack of
height may have even exaggerated these characteristics to my benefit.

But gazing at myself beside Sam in that mirror - it was impossible not to
make the inevitable comparisons.  The critic in my head started to have a
field day, wreaking havoc with my tenuous self-esteem.  The mirror showed
me a Side Show couple.  The giant and the dwarf.  Compared with Sam's, my
masculine physique was essentially amorphous.  The delineation between man
and boy was shockingly evident.  I glanced over at the velvet masterpiece
of Sam's parents hanging on the wall, the one I'd assumed was a portrait of
a father with his daughter before I'd noticed the similar ages of their
faces.  At least proportionately, a portrait of Sam and I would have looked
virtually identical and equally bizarre.  And standing right beside him, I
could easily be mistaken for his offspring, too.

"Just take a look at me standing next to you over there, Sam," I said,
gesturing towards the mirror.  "Hell, I'm not even 6' tall on my tip toes!
Look at the size of me compared with you, too.  See your arm right there
next to mine?  It's bigger than my whole leg!  You're could fit 4 of me
inside of you!  I don't think Superman fits me.  Other guys would look puny
next to you - but I look like a kid, and a little boy at that.  You are the
MAN, Sam...."

Sam's face beamed a little, and he was getting friskier again.

"Yeah, maybe I sees your point, least when you're wearin' clothes anyhow.
But I think you's really a genuine wonder, boy.  Say, how's 'bout Superboy,
maybe?  Is that O.K.?"

I knew we were just kidding around with words, but I suddenly felt
something more was going on.  Call it a different kind of energy.  And I
was starting to enjoy this boy-man dialogue - almost getting off on it a
little.

"You can call me that... or just boy, if you want, Sam...."

Sam raised one eyebrow.  "You sayin' that you'd wanna be my boy, Pete?
Like we's sorta related by flesh 'n' blood?"

"I mean we can't really be - but yeah - sure.  You can pretend if you want,
right?  Besides, who wouldn't want to be YOUR boy?  I sure would
anyway...."

I was being - quite literally - patronizing. But Sam seemed remarkably
receptive to this craziness.

"Ain't no one ever said nothin' like that 'bout me.  That there's real
special, Pete, what you said.  Wow.  That's sorta givin' me the shivers.
It's a strange feelin', but it's kinda nice!  Wow...  'My boy.'  That's got
a powerful ring to it!  Makes me feel... woof... real protective, and
all...."

The big arm draped across my back suddenly swept me around to the front of
his massive body.  Sam pulled me in tightly, nuzzling my body firmly up
against one very manly boner indeed.  Apparently the shivers weren't the
only thing this unexpectedly sexy name game was giving Sam.  I figured it
was a safe bet that he didn't understand the almost incestuous
implications.  He might not even know the meaning of the word - and I
definitely was not about to be educating him either.  Sam was
uncomplicated, and I liked that quality about him.  Eventually I'd grow to
even love that part of him very much.

"So if you're MY boy, then who am I?"  Sam asked, squeezing me
affectionately a few times, hoping to entice me to respond in the spirit of
this new game.  Sam's little expression of affection felt more like being
under a car when the jack slipped though, forcing the air right out of my
lungs.

I hoarsely squeeked, "Well, I guess that makes you sorta MY Dad, huh?"

"Yep, I guess it does at that," Sam grinned.  "I'd be a mighty proud Dad
havin' a Superboy like you.  I'd want everybody to know how super my boy
really is, if he'd just let me measure!"

I had to give Sam major points for relentless perseverance anyway, but I
shot him a look communicating in no uncertain terms my lack of amusement.

"Oooo, sorry," he replied with a meek grin. "You can't blame me for tryin',
Pete, can ya?  So where was I?  Oh yeah - I could be your Dad... or even
your big Muscle Dad if you want."

Yep - that'll definitely work, I thought to myself.  This word game was
getting as strangely hot as it was increasingly juvenile.

I pulled back from Sam so he could see all of me.  Then I put my hands
around my crotch, pulling the baggy material taut by pressing it back
against my thighs, revealing the full contour of my well-camouflaged
basket.

"Do you mean that you'd want your kid to walk around in public looking like
this?"  I grinned, just fooling of course.

Sam didn't seem as amused as he did more spellbound.

"That's one big, beautiful, sexy bulge.  W-O-W!  You must be murder on a
jock!"

Ouch!  An old memory stung me again momentarily.  But since we had some
positive momentum going - weird as that was - I thought it best not to get
into my high school jockstrap stories.

"So how big did you say your cock really gets again... boy?"

When Sam latched onto something, he was like a bulldog on a bone - and in
this case, mine.

"I didn't say... Dad."

Just referring to Sam as 'Dad' aloud sounded surprisingly playful and sexy
to me.

"But like I told you before, the longer I can hold off cumming, the bigger
it gets.  Other guys are at full mast in less than a minute.  I don't know
how long it honestly takes me to set all my sails fully.  I never waited
around to find out - and besides, no guy ever wanted me bigger than I was
already."

The new tenting in Sam's own sweatpants told me this was working.  I was
slowly learning that any discussion concerning my cock, no matter how
seemingly dry or academic, just arouses him instantly and automatically.
Reciprocally, Sam's physique had the same power over me, though I wasn't
sure that he yet understood how uncontrollably.

"Pete, I ain't never been no Dad before to anyone... but I sure wants to be
the very best Muscle Daddy you ever had!  If you could choose a Dad - I
mean, like he'd be everythin' you ever wanted - what would he be like?
That'd help me know how I'm supposed to be around... my boy."

This seemed more like the child educating the parent, but I realized it was
also an unexpected opportunity to deliver the 'coeur de grace' to get my
party on track again.  Of course I'd have to somehow manage to keep a
straight face while embarrassing myself at the same time.  My plan called
for making a powerful appeal to my particular Muscle Daddy's best - and
unusual - fatherly instincts.

"O.K, Sam.  Well, I guess this would describe my ideal 'Dad.'  My ideal Dad
is a real Muscle Daddy.  No other guys have muscles as big as my Dad's -
and he's amazingly strong, too.  That makes him really special.  And
nothing excites me more than just watching my Dad lifting weights.  When I
see my Dad's muscles getting hard and enormously pumped up, I almost go
crazy with excitement.  I get an enormous boner.  That makes my Dad feel
really good too, knowing that his boy gets a big cock just from lookin' at
him liftin'.  My Dad makes me just HUGE.  My Dad's goal is always for both
of us to get even bigger.  He's always lifting more and more weight -
breaking new records - so naturally I'm setting new records of my own.  And
when my Dad's done with his workout, he gets off on showing me his big,
hard muscles.  He just enjoys flexing for me, I guess.  Being a Muscle Dad
just comes naturally to him.  I like to squeeze my Muscle Dad's enormous
pumped bi's.  They take my breath away, and that always makes my cock pump
up even more.  I like that part especially - while I'm feeling his enormous
arms, my Muscle Daddy feels my big muscle and plays with my big balls.
That always gets him real excited too, so we both get big hard-ons!  Then
my Muscle Dad spends a lot more time with me, making sure I'm getting a
good, proper sex education, too.  I've got incredible stamina just like my
Dad, so he can really teach me a lot of different things at once.  Then we
practice them over and over again ... all night long...."

I had enormous difficulty at times maintaining a straight face while I was
delivering that juvenile monologue.  But far from laughing himself - Sam
was just staring at me in total silence and looking surprisingly smitten
with it all.  The prominent hard-on visible through his sweatpants also
gave supporting testimony to his enchanted state of mind.  And Sam's
erection was astonishingly perfectly proportioned relative to his immense
body.  That had never been the case with other of the bigger guys I'd seen
in the gym locker room on occasion.  Sam's endowment would more than
impress any man.  In absolute terms, it was a very big cock.  That slab of
beef I saw now in his pants was as Grade-A Prime as the man who owned it.
I took that as a very good sign that the my party was getting back on
course again.

"Maybe this parentin' stuff ain't so hard after all!  Bein' your Dad sure
ain't gonna be nearly as tough as I reckoned, Pete... err... I means 'boy.'
I'm a qualified great Muscle Daddy!  And right now - this Dad wants to get
huge for his boy.  I mean that.  Huge-er than your wildest dreams.  But I
want ya to remember a few things I'm gonna tell you before I start,
O.K. boy?"

I affirmed that with another nod of my head.

"These are sorta 'the rules,' Pete.  You can talk to me, but don't do a lot
of yellin', OK?  Try to keep the volume down.  Yellin' distracts me too
much.  If you grabs onto me real hard - or shakes me - anything real
physical - that distracts me, too.  So ya probably'll wanna think about how
much you go touchin' me."

"I got it, Sam.  I understand."  I reciprocated by reaching up to mess up
his own hair now.  "That'll be torture, but I'll hold off... well, as long
as I can stand it, anyway."

Sam smiled broadly.  "Well, it's just so's I can be real presentable when
ya finally grabs me, boy.  I wanna get 'specially enormous-sized for your
birthday!"  His eyes were twinkling steadily again like stars in the night
sky.

I smiled as I offered Sam a similar word of caution.  "Well Sam, don't
touch me until I'm presentable too, O.K?  I'm going to try to get as big as
I can.  It's not something I've ever set as some goal before, but this time
I will - for you."

"I just know that I'm gonna remember this night for the rest of my life,
boy," Sam replied with a smug confidence.  "You can follow me around here,"
he said gesturing around his private gym space, "and watch all ya want.  As
a matter of fact, I'd like ya to stay close by me, so's I can see you!"

Then Sam suddenly hit me with one of his trademark specialties from right
out of the blue.

"So you can get naked now, boy...."

"What? You mean right now?"  I felt that nauseating wave of
self-consciousness again, exactly the same as when Sam asked me to just
'drop trow' up in his living room some hours ago.

He grinned. "Yep - now would be just fine.  I'm gonna be doin' serious
heavy-duty liftin', so I'll really be appreciatin' you motivatin' me to the
max."

Reflexively, I attempted to dissuade Sam's interest. "I thought you didn't
pay much attention when this 'thing' is happening to you."

"Oh, I can see everything.  I might not look like I'm payin' attention
sometimes.  But trust me, boy.  That hot body of yours W-O-W-S me!"

Yeah sure.  Right.  That did it.  I burst out laughing, leaving Sam looking
a bit bewildered.

"What?  Ya don't believe me, Pete?  You just don't get it yet, do you.
You're HOT.  See, you're the guy that I been seein' in my dreams.
Everythin' 'bout you - your body, that bulldog build, your face, your huge
totem pole - Pete, you light up my furnace!  But I can't see nothin'
through them damn sweats of mine that you're wearin'.  Believe me - I wanna
be t-o-t-a-l-l-y inspired."

Then a light bulb went off in Sam's head as he thought up the final,
convincing logical argument.  Well it was 'Sam style' logic, anyway.

"Besides, it's your birthday, boy.  You should be wearin' your birthday
suit to the party!"  With puppy dog eyes that were saying, 'please, please,
please,' Sam gently tugged on my sweatpants a few times just to make sure I
understood his wishes.

Well my reticence faded fast.  Sam was mighty persuasive in his own unique
way.  He could also sure stroke my wavering ego at just the right moments.
I kicked off my sneakers, pulled off my socks, and then awkwardly fumbled
to undo the knotted clothesline still tied around my waist.  The bigtop
plummeted to my ankles as soon the knot was released.  Sam did the rest.
He reached for the arms of my sweatshirt, then started to pull them up.  I
yielded, lifting my arms high over my head so he could complete the chore.
And there I stood, dressed in what Sam considered the perfect Birthday
Party attire - nothing at all.

Sam surveyed my buck-nakedness with unmistakable relish.  My cock was at
least in a perpetually semi-aroused state whenever Sam was in my sights
anyway, so it already hung robustly between my legs.  In short, I had 'das
Schwein.'  That's what I called a hog or a 'semi' back then, anyway.
Conveniently for Sam and embarrassingly for me, my groin was also spot-lit
by an unfortunately-positioned overhead light.  Sam knelt down to get a
closer look at Porky and the Twins which brought us still not quite
eye-to-eye.  Sam stared at my illuminated privates with his mouth partially
opened for awhile, occasionally running his tongue around his lips.

I was becoming more aware that Sam had an unusual but very consistent way
of making me feel good about my size, once I got over my old built-in
reticence about exposing myself.  Maybe it was partly in the way his big
eyes opened wide.  Maybe it was they way they always got glassy.  Maybe it
was the way he quietly gurgled and cooed with such obvious pleasure and
approval.  Maybe it was the way he commented bluntly on the size of my
equipment with such undeniably lusty admiration.  But whatever the reasons,
all I know is that I sort of enjoyed showing him my equipment like this,
because it clearly excited him just as much as his incredible physique
excited me.

"Wow.  That's already what I calls serious motivation," he said
approvingly.  "Now I'm gonna make sure you knows without a doubt who's your
real Muscle Daddy!"