Hungry for Gains - 3. Hunger

Lucas woke up with a foggy mind and a strange heaviness in his limbs. He blinked against the harsh sunlight filtering through his bedroom window, stretching to get the soreness out of his body. But this wasn’t his usual post-leg-day ache. His muscles seemed weak, powered out, empty. His stomach ached.

Groaning, he pushed himself out of bed, still a little dazed. What happened last night? He remembered the gym, the usual lifting routine, and—what else? Ethan’s smile flashed in his mind. The twink with the freaky attitude and the sharp gaze.

Stumbling into the bathroom, Lucas caught his reflection in the large mirror. For a minute, he simply stared. “What the hell?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes widening at the sight of his reflection. He looked pregnant. 4 months, easily. That‘s probably why his stomach ached, but he had no idea why. On the other hand… the chest looked a bit less bulky, but way more defined than normally. His traps still bulged, but looked sharper, and the striations of his biceps… Wow!

It’s like he’d gotten the results of 12 weeks of cutting overnight. He turned to the side, inspecting himself, flexing in the mirror, ignoring his belly. “Damn…” He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face as he shifted position, trying every possible angle. The rush of adrenaline from seeing his own progress overwhelmed whatever soreness he had.

But then, he noticed some very light discolorations on the skin. He had to look really hard to even notice them at all. A flicker of memory surfaced—Ethan’s hands on him, the massage getting rough, pressing, squeezing, hits and bruises, like he was a slab of meat, being tenderized for cooking. Something incredibly sharp digging into his nipples. Urgh, where did these images and feelings come from?

Looking again, he couldn’t really make it out anymore. Guess the light must have played tricks on him, he couldn’t see any clear visible marks.

Lucas shook his head. “Probably just a weird dream,” he muttered, still flexing, turning to admire his back in the mirror. Maybe the strange pill he took caused it.

His stomach growled and his knees almost gave way. Damn, he was hungry. He dimly remembered he managed to fix himself a protein shake or something last night, but right now he wanted another one, needed one.

***

The kitchen was total pandemonium. Packs of food, shredded to pieces, crumpled chips bags, empty family packs of cookies… the sight alone made him nauseous. Where did it come from?

No matter. Let’s do a proper breakfast, he thought. Eggs, bacon, lots of carbs, lots of… everything. He did good at the gym yesterday.

Unfortunately, breakfast didn’t help much. So he grabbed a milk from the fridge and fixed himself a huge whey shake. He used all the milk, even putting in a lot more powder than normal. It tasted amazing, like cold, clear spring water in the desert, a lifesaver. He gulped the thick mass down, almost in one go. He swallowed and swallowed, couldn‘t down it fast enough, some of the gunk dribbling down his chin onto his chest. He burped.

Filled to bursting, he put the shaker down. Ouch, he should not do that. But he needed it. He scraped most of the dribble off his chest and licked it off his fingers. Delicious.

His stomach protested and his belly actually looked even more stretched… it hurt. Nine months, now? He dragged himself to the sofa to lie down again, just for a second. Thankfully, it was the weekend. Just let the mind fog clear a bit more and the shake slosh through the stomach.

***

When he woke up again, his whole body tingled excitedly. He bounced to the kitchen. Sure, it was a mess, but he quickly put the empty bags into the bin, wiped the counter down and all was back to normal. Sometimes, weird stuff just happened. He felt great. Patting his flat stomach absentmindedly, he paused and looked down.

Wait!

What the… ?

No belly at all, just…

Again, he hurried to the bathroom and stared into the large mirror. The incredible definition from earlier was not quite there this time, but man, it still looked crazy shredded and, no shit, he‘d now visibly bulked up.

He stared into the mirror, flexing, turning. Strike a pose, hunk, turn, strike another. Yes. He absolutely admired his incredible physique, a specimen of human perfection. His body, a landscape of hard-earned muscles, each one defined and distinct. Countless hours of dedication and discipline do that for you. His skin appeared youthful and smooth, a living canvas that showcased every ridge, every valley, every sculpted line of his physique.

He had never truly seen himself before, not like this. Not in the raw, unfiltered light of day. His own reflection seemed like a stranger, and like a voyeur in his own right, he explored his body with a curious, almost innocent fascination.

All the hard work, and with the help of that little pill, it paid off big time. Ethan said it wasn‘t so much the pill but mostly his mind, anyway. Just a little help. He deserved it. Others did far worse shit. He grinned like a mad man. A very sexy mad man.

Feeling frisky, he grabbed a bottle and poured some baby oil into his palm. Starting at his broad and powerful shoulders, he rubbed the oil in with slow, circular motions, coating himself in a slick film that glistened golden against his tanned skin. Each touch sent tiny sparks of pleasure coursing through his body, as he contoured every ridge of his shoulder muscles, his biceps and triceps, every tendon, every vein down his forearms beneath his fingertips. It was a sensation unlike any other, a sensual awakening that both exhilarated and overwhelmed him.

His hands traced back up to his shoulders, reaffirming each sensation. Sliding over the mounds of his pectorals, he spread out the oil, his skin glistening with sharp highlights and shadows glowing in polished bronze. He lingered at his nipples. The sensitive nubs hardened immediately again under his touch, but a memory of pain like a thousand needles flashed through his mind. Sharp, vivid, so alive.

A soft gasp escaped his lips. Surprise and pleasure. He was discovering erogenous zones he never knew existed, his body responding in ways he never thought possible.

As his exploration continued, he traced the ridges of his abdominals, each one hard and distinct. He dipped his fingers into the deep V of his hips, a shiver running down his spine as he touched the sensitive skin there. His breath hitched, his body aching with a need he couldn’t quite understand.

He turned, admiring the play of muscles in his back, the way the light caught the curves of his biceps. He rubbed the oil into his thighs, powerful and thick, and his calves, tight and defined. He was a study in contrasts, power and grace, strength and sensitivity.

He poured more baby oil into his palm, more than he intended, but he was too enthralled to care. He reached behind, his large hands cupping the rounded globes of his buttocks. He marveled at their fullness, their hardness, the way they felt firm yet yielding under his touch. He massaged the oil in, his fingers kneading the taut muscles, his skin shimmering under the golden light. The oil was too much, too slick, and it ran down, pooling in the cleft of his ass, dripping into the crack. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, before he slowly trailed his fingers through the crevice. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down his spine, a moan catching in his throat. He lingered at the puckered skin of his hole, the lightest touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. It was intimate, it was intense, it was a sensation he never wanted to end. He was exploring uncharted territory, and he was loving every second of it.

As he straightened, his eyes met their own reflection. There was a hunger there, a raw, primal desire. He was no longer just admiring his body. He was appreciating it, worshipping it, reveling in the sheer sensuality of it. It was a side of himself he had never known, a side he was suddenly eager to explore.

In the golden light of the afternoon, he stood there, a god in his own right, a man discovering the depths of his own desires. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated sensuality, a moment that would change him forever.

He closed his eyes. With his slick hands, he brushed down his neatly shortened pubes and his inner thighs. He fondled his heavy balls that drew tight against his body. He explored his shaft, every vein of his now rock hard dick, every fold of skin, stretched tight around his weapon. It felt heavier, larger, mightier than ever before. Oh yes, he was dangerous.

His thumb rubbed over the tip of his monster as he moaned and gripped himself harder, as if he wanted to choke it.

Pain. Images of an all devouring hole. A giant sandworm bursting from the desert, a dark abyss with thousands of needle-sharp teeth, sucking in his dick and snapping shut. The fleshlight version of an iron maiden. Pain.

His eyes shot open again. Shaking his head, clearing his mind, he concentrated on the mirror, staring perfection in the eyes. Pure perfection. Yes, that’s better.

Slowly first, lazily, he started to jerk off. His eyes never left their reflection as he stroked faster, ever faster and harder… perfection now and getting even more perfect… Determined, he was determined. Faster, harder. He’ll gain even more mass, more definition, thanks to the training… thanks to the program, to Ethan, fucking genius Ethan.

Lucas sensed the cliff approaching and sped up even more… Ethan just smirked in Lucas’ mind as he crashed over the edge and his knees shook.

Moaning, panting, he still grabbed his dick hard with one hand and steadied himself against the mirror with the other. Cum flowed down his chest and over the ridges of his abs. Aftershocks wrecked his body.

He wanted more. He needed to talk to Ethan.