The Program
Part 1
I saw the ad on a huge billboard walking home from school. This was about a year ago. It featured a huge, muscular man with giant traps and a rack that burst over the expanse of the billboard. He didn’t look much older than me (16, at the time), but seemingly possessed all the attributes I lacked: charm, charisma, self confidence, and of course a killer bod, to boot. Above his head, a huge banner read “Pure Muscle Mass”. Beneath his stunning body shot read the caption “We’ll make you Huge: Results Guaranteed”, and below this, in smaller print, “Now recruiting future varsity players: become the local star”. Below this was a telephone number. Now, I had never had an active interest in playing sports, besides the usual teen fantasies of being crushed on the field by a trove of hot, sweaty bodies, or having a mild fascination for schoolmates with well-developed physiques. Something about this ad, though, struck a chord, and I instinctively wrote down the number.
When I got home, I called the number and was given a menu of choices. I picked the choices most appropriate to me. I was asked things like my age, my sex, height, weight, eye color (?), what sports I wanted to “excel” in, and how much I was looking to “gain”: The last questions were puzzlers, but I just made something up. I tasked “football”, and “30 lbs” for these. I was then, to my great shock, transferred to an operator, a youngish sounding man with an inoffensive tone. He proceeded to ask me a few questions, mostly the same basic things the prompt had inquired. He then referred to the two last answers: “Ah, great, it looks like you’ve chosen to become a ‘local star’ in football”, placing emphasis on the “Local star” part, which made me recall the huge, muscular youth in the poster, and, which, quite frankly, gave me an almost immediate raging erection. I stammered in the phone, as I switched it around to the other ear, “yes”, and the operator fellow, tasking something on his end, then responded jovially “thirty pounds of ‘pure muscle mass’ should be a realistic goal for someone with your stats. When do you want to come in?” The reference to the ad lingo again communicated to an even further stiffening of my already constrained member. I again switched the headset to the other ear, fumbling awkwardly with an answer. Before I had a chance to piece some words together, the jocund operator suggested “We shouldn’t wait to see such impressive gains in an ambitious young man like you. How’s about Thursday at three?” I stammered my affirmation. He gave me the address, which I nervously scribbled down, and it was all over.
I immediately took a cold shower and jerked myself off, thinking in furious heat of that huge, muscular body in the billboard, and toying in my mind with the tantalizing prospect of looking like that guy.
The next two days at school went by in a breeze. I noticed myself checking out more of the school athletes, sizing them up and scrutinizing their builds. For the first time, I became fascinated with the idea of joining the team, but I decided to put it off at least until my fated meeting with the guy at Pure Muscle Mass. I must have jerked off thirty times in that short span, often times in the school bathroom.
Thursday, I woke up with a huge erection. I tried to tuck it in my pants, with moderate success, and hopped on my bike and got on my way. The place was in a rather nondescript part of town, a medical complex of sorts. It looked a bit like a doctor’s office. I walked inside.
Inside, I told the male receptionist, a well-built fellow about thirty, who I was, and that I had an appointment. He looked in his ledger (how old fashioned) and nodded for me to sit down. Shortly thereafter, a second, equally well-built guy came into the waiting room, introduced himself as Todd, and beckoned me to follow him back. I recognized his voice as the operator from the other day.
After we took seats in his office he mentioned to me there would be some paperwork to fill out, and after it suddenly dawned on me that there had been no mention of money or payment or costs, I asked about this. “We actually have a sponsorship program, so there’s no need to worry about that. You picked, let’s see, football as your sport, and thirty pounds of pure muscle mass as your gain. Those are enough to qualify you for our trial program. All costs associated will be covered, half by the school district with whom we signed an agreement to recruit and train top athletes—so” looking up. “you’ll be guaranteed a spot on the starting string of the varsity team after you’re through with the program, which will take about a year. The other half is covered by the pharmaceutical company who’s responsible for developing the phenomenal regime we’re about to put you through, that will see you make such impressive gains guaranteed.” I absorbed all of this quizzically, but not without a significant bit of arousal. In fact, the stiff erection I had woken up with that morning had not for one moment subsided. Both the receptionist and the man sitting in front of me had probably seen it. “All you have to do is fill out the forms”, said Todd.
We went through the paperwork, and he explained to me that, since everyone reacts differently to the program, they would start me out on a routine where I’d be closely supervised. The first week, I would have daily appointments where my reaction to various drugs would be checked, supplements administered, blood levels tested and my progres gauged. If need be, I would then start an intensive in-house routine on premises, where the resources were on hand to balance all the various aspects of the training.
I agreed, signed, and we proceeded to a small lab where a standard physical was performed. I got undressed, and my body was measured, blood samples were taken, etc. I was then administered my first dose of the medications that would help me make such huge gains, as well as being fitted with a harness that I wore like a pair of underwear. The harness looked like an extremely skimpy thong with a sort of tube attached to circuitry in the front, through which my dick went. There were many nodes visible in it, and the tube had a strange looking tip that looked a bit like a valve, which was covered with a gray plastic dome shaped lid. “This is to regulate your testosterone levels” said Todd, with a very serious look in his eye. “It’s centrally controlled, and we sync it with the medications, as well as your circadian rhythm, to optimize bodily growth and muscle mass gains.” All of this was making me giddy. My erect cock brushed against the plastic tube. Todd touched a few dials on the front of the harness, and my erect cock seemingly burst from its former hardness, and became a titanium rod. I felt a sense of primal lust wash over me for a split second, accompanied with a momentary desire for Todd’s rippling body. It faded as soon as it had appeared, but my dick remained impossibly hard. “Now, this will take a day or so to reach an equilibrium state, but in the meantime, don’t remove the harness for any reason.” Because I would still need to piss, Todd told me, he was preparing another harness I could take home with me, which would sort the urine, and convert it to power to run the harness. He left the room, and I sat bewildered, and erect, on the bench.
I left later, my butt a bit padded with the second harness, with a catheter tube connecting through the gray dome. My dick remained hard the whole way home, and I fell asleep almost as soon as I got back, took my medications and got into bed. When I woke up, I felt a desire to break a brick wall with my sheer hands. Todd had said I would feel this, and had given me pills to take that would help. He had also given me directions to a gym where I was to go to begin my training. I got on my bike and rode to the gym, a brick shed on the outskirts of town. The attendant was a huge, bulking guy, and, after explaining I was with the Muscle Mass program, he looked at me welcomingly, almost as though I were family. He pointed me to the dressing room and told me to get changed and come back. I did so, and he pushed me through the first workout of my life. Of course, we used low weights, but the burn came in quick, and I soon lost that desire to fight a brick wall I had woken up with. One thing I hadn’t lost, however, was my erection. My dick had turned into a permanently solid steel tube since they harnessed me that morning. I touched the plastic tube to adjust myself a couple times, not realizing my junk had been encased in a space age contraption that pumped me full of muscle building hormones.
I got through with the workout, and the rest of the week went the same. I went to the Muscle Mass compound every morning, and worked out every afternoon with Sam. Towards the beginning of the next week, I started noticing, in addition to my huge boners I woke up with, a slime dripping from my nipples. It looked strangely like semen, and, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed my pecs had already made impressive gains. They almost bounced, as I rubbed and pinched my dripping nipples. I took a cold shower and tried to squeeze all the dribble out, but to no avail.
I got on my bike and rode to the complex. When I met Todd, I showed him the wet spots on my shirt, and he wrote something on a clipboard. He suggested that “around thirty five percent” of clients respond by lactation, and it’s from the medications regime. I needed to do the residency program, and he had me fill out some more forms. He then showed me back into another part of the compound, which looked a lot like a hospital ward. A couple of people were milling about, and I could see through the windows that some of the rooms were occupied. All of the men I saw were incredibly built. The guys in the rooms were attached to some sort of contraption, but I couldn’t make out exactly what it was doing. I studied one of the guys as Todd guided me down the hall. He was black, and incredibly built, with a set of abs that you could crack a beer on. It looked like tubes were attached to the nipples that donned his massive pecs, and a third went to his pecker. As I walked by, he stirred ever so slightly, bucking his hips. Whatever it was, it looked extremely hot, and my erection would have gotten harder, were that possible.
We continued down the hall. I could hear weights clanking at the other end of the hall. We finally reached an empty cell. “This will be your room” said Todd.He had me hop on the bed, take off my clothes, and he examined my npples very briefly. He then had me lie down, and proceeded to grab a hose from the machine at the end of the bed. “Your body is simply producing too much testosterone” he said as he began fastening the contraption to one nipple, reaching back to grab a second. “This machine extracts the excess and stores it”, he continued. He untwisted the gray cap on my harness, and fastened the third, thicker tube over my dick. After he’d screwed it in place, he suggested. “The resulting mix is so potent, we give it to the guys who are struggling to meet their goals. As it turns out though, so much is produced that we have excess. This, we sell as a supplement at GNC. This further helps reduce costs, which is why we are able to offer you this chance of a lifetime at no cost” As he said this, he cut on the switch. The machine began humming, and a most sexy sensation took hold in my cock and nipples. Todd then pushed a few buttons on my harness, and a heat spread over my cock. The nodes attached to it all over glowed.
I was being milked!
Todd gave me some pills, and I drifted off with the sensation of the jizz from my cock and the drool from my chest being sucked up by the machine. Shortly before I drifted off, I felt the first orgasm ravish my body, as I bucked my hips and unloaded an inordinate amount of sperm into the tube.