Date: Wed, 9 Sep 2015 03:21:51 +0000 (UTC)
From: Benjamin Puddles <author.puddles@yahoo.com>
Subject: Miracle Grow Boys: Aiden and Jack 9

Disclaimer: this story is fiction with elements of fantasy/extreme sex. All
semblances are coincidental. You must be of age to be reading this.
Authors note: thanks so much for the emails of encouragement! I love
hearing from readers with their comments/suggestions, so please don't
hesitate to shoot me a quick message with your thoughts! I'm at:
author.puddles@yahoo.com

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~~~~~~~~~~~

The cellphone pitched a cold glow under Cross' chin in the darkness of the
pool's locker room. There were windows, but the sun had yet to rise and he
had been careful to disable the motion sensor lights when he broke in. And
so Cross sat in the dark, a huge form bustling with muscles, hunched over a
small screen that showed an hourglass. And he waited.

The phone buzzed. A message flared forth from cyberspace. Cross pulled the
phone close to his face and felt his traps tense, his massive pecs contract
against one another. He was so hopped up that the letters jumped around.
But these letters were going to be his avenue back to sanity. These
letters, a code, would give him his next instructions.

The sequence was short. Only a handful of symbols. Cross memorized it
quickly and cast away the phone. Then he hauled a duffle bag onto his lap,
unzipped the waxy seal, and dug into its confines. Out came a large case,
cylindrical and gleaming, and Cross quickly rotated it to the lock
mechanism.

The bag was from the lab. The case was from the lab. Cross got the packages
rarely, but when he did it was never for his benefit. That's why they sent
him the codes; so that he could only open the cases when ordered to. He
was, after all, only 19, and what sort of high-secrecy laboratory trusts a
teenager with body-modifying technology?

Cross checked the phone one more time. It was still early, but he had only
1 hour until the swim captains got her for their Captain's Practice.

Cross entered the code and the vessel hissed apart, emitting a glowing
steam that smelled of the labs clinical smells, with perhaps a hint of
floral at the edges. The inside of the vessel was lined with LED strips so
that the dark room was again awash in electronic light. Cross reached into
the glow and pulled out his newest toy.

He smiled.

*******


Sam always thought there was something sick about making the captains show
up two hours before the rest of the team for Saturday practices. He
especially believed this now, as he sleepily pulled into the pool parking
lot, because didn't a growing boy need his sleep? And, yawning, he could
imagine nothing worse than throwing his body into a frigid lap pool at
6AM. At the water was chlorinated; there would be none of that weird
sickness that was going around the soccer team.

Quentin, Nick and Ralph were already here, it looked like. Their cars were
ticking in the morning chill as Sam shoved towards the front of the
building. Idly he let his thumb graze the bulge under his sweatpants, as he
always did right before these practices. It was rare that he had the energy
to jack off this early in the morning, and something about putting on his
tight speedo at home always seemed to sustain his morning chub right up
until he got in the water. He fondled his semi-hard cock--a curled, fleshy
mound under his sweats--and contemplated jacking off at one of the
urinals. It was just the three of them, after all, for the next hour and a
half. Would they care? Sam didn't think so, but it was too early to think.

*****


The sounds of splashing rang off the rafters of the indoor pool. The three
captains had hooked up a stereo to blast acoustic sunrise while they did
their warm up. Cross lurked beneath the pool's bleachers, which were always
pulled out.

An hour ago, Cross wouldn't have been able to fit beneath the bleachers. He
would have bent the struts of metal on accident. But as he was now, he fit
just fine. He was his usual muscular self--perhaps a bit bigger--with much
of the miraculous growth sucked out of him.

Literally. Cross held in his hands the device from the lab. It was a
suctioning, plexiglas mouth that fed into an opaque tube, which was rooted
in the cylindrical vessel's machinery. It had fit barely onto the tip of
his massive cock, but once it got going and began to extract his cum, the
fit became more and more manageable. Cross had been struck by the
bizarre-ness of it all; it wasn't often that he got to see himself being
milked, at least not by something besides a hot mouth or ass; but part of
him was intrigued as he watched the glowing, supercharged semen surge from
his shivering cock and pour down into the vessel. He had feared he'd
overflow the thing (which was easily able to contain multiple gallons, but
the mixture of genetic material from Aiden, Jack and Cross, all combined in
Cross' body, was much more than a few gallons) but then Cross saw the
wonder of the machine. It was, somehow within its clicking confines,
compressing the substance. Pressurizing it. And, when he was glistening and
sweat and breathing hard, and his balls were spent, the machine made a
purring tone, dinged, and a small chamber popped open at the base. Hands
shaking, Cross reached in and pulled out a small, golf-ball sized rock. It
had a nascent finish, and was cut like a crystal. He fondled it weakly
while his phone lit up with more instructions.

Instructions he was carrying out right now. The small rock was still in his
fist as he watched the boys make their methodical laps. He grinned and
brought it to his face, inhaling greedily, savoring the musky, sweet
sent. Then, when all the captains were splashing to the far side of the
pool, he ducked down and cast the rock across the tile. It clicked, it
bounced, and with a plop it was in the pool.

Dissolving. Spreading.

****

For once, it felt amazing to be swimming. Sam kept thinking that to himself
as he cut through the water. His long limbs felt wondrous. The water seemed
to glide over his smooth skin. His body felt powerful.

He focused on the kicking feet of Quentin ahead of him. Quentin, muscles
molded to a wiry frame was fast, a sprinter like Ralph, but Sam's freestyle
was better. And so was his distance. He could lick any of the other boys
when it came to stamina. But that's because he was built for it; broad,
thick in the chest, with a kind of pudgy middle and powerful legs. Sam was
proudest of his arms, which had dragged him to more than a few easy
victories. But he sometimes envied Nick, the other stamina swimmer, who had
a back that would put Atlas to shame.

But that's why Nick was the star of the butterfly. No one could compete
with that gargantuan wing span, those crashing strokes. And it was no
mystery where that butterfly kick came from, because Nick had one of the
nicest asses Sam had ever seen.

Nicest?

Sam was pulled from his thoughts by a bubbly commotion ahead of him. He
pulled up, only halfway through the lane, nearly ramming into Quentin.

"What is it?"

Quentin blinked behind his goggles and ducked under the surface. When he
came up, his dark skin glistened in the wavering light of the pool. He was
looking for something. Then, not finding it, he shucked his goggles and
said, "Saw something in the water."

"What?"

"A cloud."

"What?" Sam ducked under and peered around. Sure enough, there was a
fogginess to the water that he hadn't noticed before.

"Probably just extra chlorine," called Nick from the edge. Ralph, besides
him, grinned, and his dimples made Sam's heart flutter.

What?

They resumed their warmup, but now that Quentin had pointed out the opaque
water Sam couldn't help but wonder what it was. It was there, and then it
was gone. He decided not to think about it, to indeed believe it was just
the usual dump of chemicals in the pool, and soon enough he was again
sinking into he pleasant power of his body as it stretched, pulled, cut,
swam. Warm ups ended and they began a few drills, mostly doing some light
sprints, and before long Sam noticed that their times were remarkably
better than they usually were for this sort of practice. He reasoned,
without much evidence, that the other boys were feeling the same high he
was feeling. He wished that swimming could always feel this way.

And then Sam got a cramp like he'd never gotten before. It was probably
because he was pushing himself too hard, too early in the morning. It was
in his leg, the left one, and it felt like his muscles were dry freezing
together. As he always did, he made a show of hoping along the bottom of
the pool, and then dragged himself onto the edge to stretch.

Only to find himself besides Nick, who was also nursing a cramped leg.

"Shit," Nick swore. "I was feeling great, too."

"Same," Sam commiserated. He bent over himself and pushed his weight into
the cramp, trying to find its center.

"Here," Nick offered, and he took Sam's foot into his lap. His hands
quickly found the sore spot and pressed, tenderly. Sam sighed, eyes
closing, and let the other guy kneed his pain away. He leaned back to give
Nick a better angle, promising himself he'd make it up to the other boy
just as soon as he got his turn over with, but then Nick's hands froze.

"Dude, don't get the wrong idea. I'm just trying to help you with your
cramp."

Sam blinked away his dizziness. "What?"

Nick's hands were on his shin, tense, and his eyes were on Sam's
crotch. Sam had been so focused on his leg that he hadn't even felt the
gradual hardening of his cock, yet there it was. A huge mound snuggly
rounded beneath the glistening skin of his speedo, which, in its wetness,
left very little to the imagination.

But that wasn't quite right, Sam thought. He wasn't hard. He was on his way
there, but right now he could feel that he was barely even stiff. Yet right
there, inching beneath the silky fabric in a determined path towards his
hip, was a bulge well beyond the anything he'd ever seen between his two
legs.

"Dude." The disgust was gone from Nick's voice, now replaced by
envy. "You're fucking hung."

Sam tore his eyes away from his groin to look at Nick, and almost
automatically he then looked between Nick's legs. A similarly huge bulge
was swelling there, except Nick's still limp cock was curved over the mound
of his two, baseball-sized balls.

"Dude," Sam mirrored. "You too."

Nick blinked, noticing the strange sensation for the first time, but still
transfixed with his buddy's bulge. He watched as the material of Sam's
speedo seemed to vacuum itself around a now-hard, veiny cock, which vainly
tried to right itself against the suites elasticity. Without much
thought--or perhaps still along the line of logic he'd innocently pursued
when he'd decided to help Sam out with his cramp--Nick leaned in and pulled
down Sam's speedo. It took two hands: one to pull up the boy's plump cock;
the other to peal away the drum-tight fabric.

Sam let out a sigh of relief as the cool air touched his burning cock,
which jumped another inch from the release. He barely registered the sight
of the thing, a log jutting from his pelvis, because his own eyes had never
left Nick's package. Always a teammate, Sam scooted closer to return the
favor to Nick.

And that's how Ralph and Quentin found the two co-captains: a knot of legs
and arms moaning on the side of the pool, hands fighting for good grips on
each other's pre-cum-coated cocks.

"Umm," Quentin began as Ralph joined him, both too shocked to do much more
then stare. But, even as their minds raced with a mixture of hilarity and
hysteria, their bodies continued to steep in the altered pool, and they
felt themselves begin to change.

"Guys?" Ralph's voice nearly cracked. "Your....your balls. Are they...are
they okay?" He paddled closer, his heart hammering. Nick's nuts were
jiggling with the rapid jacking of Sam's big hands. They jiggled and
sloshed audibly, and Ralph felt his mouth begin to water. He'd never seen
such huge balls--like two swelling balloons in their ridged sac. They were
covered in a light fuzz of hair and, as though sensing Ralph's curious
gaze, they shivered even larger and the gurgling noise in them
beckoned. When Ralph pressed a wet hand to them, steam rose away and the
inflating flesh pushed between his fingers. His palm was full, feeling the
vibrations in time with Nick's moans. His other palm was next as the balls
continued to expand, until Nick's sack plopped onto the lane grate right
before him.

Groaning, Nick slid from the edge down onto the grate so that he sat in a
few inches of water. This was what Ralph wanted, because now he could act
on the urge he had been surprising since he laid eyes on those balls. With
a grin he sloshed forward, his tongue unrolling from his lips and dragging,
slowly, devilishly, upon the underside of Nick's cock. Eyes closed, he felt
Sam's hand remove itself, which meant that glorious cock and those glorious
balls were all his. And, now giddy, he began to give head like he never
knew he could.

Quentin, of course, was busy doing the exact same thing. Sam and Nick
fondled one another's swelling pecs while their tongues pushed together in
a wet kiss, and moans echoed off the high ceilings of the pool between the
strums of the acoustic sunrise radio.

******

In the lockers, Cross wheeled through the contacts in the boys' phones,
finding a few teammates and reporting a closure at the pool. The Agency
would do the rest, as far as the actual pool staff was concerned. All
anyone would know was that the pool was closed for some emergency repairs,
and everyone was on paid leave until it was scheduled to be fit for
re-opening, probably a week later. Until then, practice would be held at
the old pool, near downtown.

Cross sat back on the bench and watched several replies come in, including
two from the coaches. Practice would be canceled for the day, which meant
that Cross' newest additions had quite a few hours to sort themselves out.

Pondering this, Cross pawed at his own hefty package. He tossed the phones
into their respective bags, snuck to the locker door, and peaked out. He
didn't want to miss a minute.

*****

By now the quartet had progressed beyond simply enjoying their newfound
growth. Enchantment had only lasted for the first few loads. And now,
fifteen minutes later, panic was settling in.

"Fuck, man, it hurts," Groaned nick, his hands clapped to the underside of
his massive balls. "Don't stop sucking, man, please! I gotta cum again!"

Ralph, lips red and slick, made a noise between aggravation and
pleasure. He was half out of the water now, his whole body bobbing up and
down on Nick's cock. He was past choking; that had been two loads ago. Now
he just needed to get as much cum into his stomach as possible, but the
rapid swelling of Nick's balls was tough to keep up with.

They were, Cross estimated, the size of grapefruits.

Sam and Quentin, similarly distressed, had taken a few precious seconds to
innovate a new solution. Splashing and dripping, Quentin dragged himself
from the water and onto the tiles. His body, usually fit, was now a cobbled
display of muscle from all the cum he'd been hoovering out of Sam, but it
was clear that Sam needed a quicker release. Sam's sack was nearly too
heavy for the muscle-bound distance-swimmer to stand, and it swayed like a
wrecking ball between the poor jock's legs. His dick, red and angry, sagged
with its own wait. Even the momentary lapse in release caused the cum to
build up, coursing through him and puffing out the muscles of his back, his
neck.

"Hurry, man!" he groaned. Quentin, too horny not to oblige his teammate,
scooted onto the lane's starting block and pulled his ankles up. He'd never
taken a cock of course, but his mind was not operating on his normal
programming. His mind was rapidly unlocking its deepest, most carnal
fantasies, and his body was adapting to see them made a reality.

Quentin winced only a little as Sam's cock spread open his hole. Then the
cum did its job and, like an elastic putty, Quentin felt his ass go from
tight hole to accommodating cunt in a matter of seconds. The stretch felt
amazing, but even more amazing was the almost instant feeling of white-hot
cum spurting into his guts. He watched, amazed, as his stomach rose and
fell with Sam's desperate fucking. He groaned, incredibly turned on as he
felt his bowels balloon with semen. He even let a playful smile caress his
lips when he realized that Nick and Ralph had taken up the exact same
arrangement, one block over, so that Quentin had the dual vision of
watching himself get fucked while watching Nick get turned into a hot, jock
cum dump.

But Nick and Sam's balls wouldn't stop growing, and now Quentin and Ralph
were feeling the cum's growth take hold of their own bodies. To anyone
watching it would be a scene without a spec of reality; two boys hitched up
on swim blocks, legs spread, cocks twitching and holes gaping, while two
massive mates thrust away, their own legs spread apart by balls so swollen
with cum that they'd settled, plumply, onto the cool tile.

"My balls!" Ralph cried out. His body jerked and fitted as his ass was
spread further and more cum was dumped into him. "My balls! They're
growing! They're growing! Nick...wait!"

"I can't, man," Nick said, his eyes manic. "Your ass is so fucking good,
man, I can't stop cumming. I gotta keep cumming or else...."

Quentin and Sam were having a similar debate as the tides began to
turn. Quentin felt the hot cum course into his veins, building out his
muscles so quickly that the block beneath him began to squeal from the
added weight. But even despite his hammering heart his body couldn't
distribute such an onslaught of cum fast enough, and sure enough his own
cock and balls began to rapidly double in size. A mix of horror, glee and
pleasure slapped him as he watched his cock grow more and more, so much so
that it blotted out his vision of Sam looming over him and forced the two
nearly apart.

And then it happened: the epiphany. It occurred to Quentin and Ralph at the
same time, with the same precise, undeniable urgency: I've got to cum, or
else.

The reversal took mere seconds. By now Quentin and Ralph, the two bottoms,
had absorbed so much magic cum that they were much larger than their
tops. And Nick and Sam were both encumbered by such large nuts that it
looked like either sat atop a aerobic balls made from their own
flesh. Yelping from the surprise, Nick and Sam rolled over themselves until
they hit the bleachers, and then both began to claw up the polished
wood. They knew what was coming next and, because deeply they knew they had
to accept it as good teammates, and so they only put up a small fight as
their legs were pushed apart.

Quentin and Ralph sported dicks each as long as an arm each, and
practically as thick as a can of paint. But so full of magic, morphing cum
were their mounts that there was little resistance to be had as the second
round of fucking began. There was little Sam could feel beyond the
pressured swelling happening in his nuts, which he straddled like a great
inflatable pool toy, but somewhere deep in his gut he felt the massive
stretching of his asshole as something hard, wet, and ever-growing pushed
into him. Something massive that would leave him sloppy and
leaking. Something that would deposit even more cum into his cum-filled
body. Using the rotundness of his massive sack, Sam slid himself backwards
so that the massive dick was buried to its hilt, and with an audible surge
came the first blast of cum.

Then again, and again. And between the blasts Sam found Nick's arms --
carved with new muscle and nearly inoperable from their growth --and the
two clung together, their tongues messily wrestling across each other's
stubble as their balls continue to balloon, as their bodies continued to
bulge with greater and greater gains.

None of the boys noticed Cross approaching. Cross couldn't even hear his
own footfalls on the bleachers over the racket of lusty moans and music as
he approached the grotesque, morphed quartet. Then he cleared his throat
and four pairs of glassy eyes looked up at him, all of them hungry, all of
them curious. Cross knelt down and adjust his cock in his sweats, and
pulled Sam's spit-strung lips to his own mouth for a greedy and aggressive
kiss. Then he said, "You guys lasted fourteen minutes in the bath."

The quartet blinked. Cross could see that Ralph and Quentin were eager to
keep fucking their mounts.

Lovingly, Cross cupped Sam and Nick's throats, a hand upon each. He said,
"Take another dip, will you?" And he shoved the rotund twins off the
bleachers. They rolled backwards with little resistance, taking their tops
with them and striking the pool with a mighty splash.

Cross ignored the wildly frothing water as he knelt at the pool's edge to
dip his hand in. Cupped in his palm, the water was opaque and smelled of
sweetness and semen. Cross tipped it back into his throat, then took two
more handfuls. Standing, he adjusted himself again, and felt the extra
inches pack on as he exited.

END

Thanks again, readers!
BPauthor.puddles@yahoo.com