"A massage sounds awesome..." Rick agreed, looking at Brad's thick, muscular forearms.
Brad grinned, knowing he had one on the line. "Nobody gives massages like me," he boasted, squeezing his thick pecs, which bunched up under his tight deliveryman shirt.
Rick grinned back, and pulled out his wallet. "Here's ten for the pizza. And another fifty in tip." He handed the three twenty dollar bills over to Brad, who grinned as he stuffed them in his pocket.
"You just bought yourself half an hour with the strongest hands this side of town," Brad grinned, sounding a bit cocky, as he put the pizza down on the counter. "Where do you want it?" He flexed his big hands, the corded muscles of his forearms rippling.
Rick smiled back, trying not to show just how excited he was. "In the next room, please." He pointed to the guest room that was down the hall, and walked down to it, the big pizza man following. Rick slowly pulled off his clothes, and lay down on the narrow bed. His body wasn't in horrible shape, but years of research and long nights in the lab had taken their toll. He sagged in a few places, and had gone soft in others. He was unable to suppress a gasp when Brad pulled his clothes off.
Brad was a beast of muscle. Although his pizza uniform had been unable to hide his muscularity, his nude form was more magnificent still. Brad's muscles were thick and powerful, hard like stone, veins covering each mighty bulge. His chest was especially impressive, jutting majestically, attended by arms nearly as big as Rick's legs. Brad's own legs were thick and powerful, well-defined, and reminded one of tree trunks. Between them, and below his cobblestone eight-pack, rested a cock of unsurpassed size and beauty. Rick couldn't believe his luck - Brad's brother had been endowed, but Brad himself was hung like a draft horse! Rick was glad that he was lying face down, because he was definitely becoming hard.
It was all that Rick could do to stop from moaning as the big man straddled him on the bed, working his powerful hands into Rick's shoulders and back. Brad was so strong that it hurt. But at the same time, Rick could feel the tension in his shoulders melting away, pulverized by the huge man who was pressing down into him. Slowly Brad moved down Rick's body, working out the tension in his arms and legs, his back and shoulders and neck, and even working his ass over at one point.
When he was finished, Brad dismounted. "And that's half an hour. Sorry I can't do the front side, man, but that'd be another fifty." He grinned coyly.
As Brad turned to pull his clothes back on, Rick quickly downed the vial of gas, as he finished dressing himself. He walked over to Brad, who was pulling his tight shirt over his big torso. "Maybe we'll meet another time," Rick said, grinning, as he softly exhaled the mist. Brad turned, and inhaled, sucking it into his lungs. "Yeah, most of my clients come back..." he began, but his words were interrupted by a cough, as the mist irritated his lungs. Brad let out several more coughs, his big chest shaking, as he nearly doubled over. Rick grabbed the big man's shoulders, steadying him, and allowing him in close enough to suck up every last bit of mist. Rick inhaled greedily, feeling the mist enter him.
Gradually, Brad's coughs subsided. He straightened, a bit woozy. "What the fuck was that?" he asked shakily. Rick held him up, unable to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. He could feel something inside... some new source of power... deep within, slowly growing, rising... It was getting easier and easier to hold Brad up, as Rick's strength increased.
Rick walked Brad down the hall, holding him until the still dizzy pizza man was able to walk on his own. Rick showed him out, and then turned back, his grin even wider than before. He could feel it... the power... Rick padded across the room, feeling his body tingle. "Oh fuck yes..." he panted, his voice becoming a little lower as he spoke, trailing off into a soft growl. He could feel his clothes getting tighter, as his body slowly grew. Most of the strength was already his, and now the body was catching up. Rick couldn't help but laugh as he felt his shirt become skin tight, stretched to its limits by his swollen pecs, his thickening lats, his powerful arms. He walked into the bathroom, and gazed into the mirror, raising his big arms and slowly flexing, the thick biceps rising up, hard and round and powerful, straining the sleeves of his shirt. "Oh yeah baby, look at those guns!" Rick growled, flexing harder, watching with delight as his arms grew even more, tearing through the fabric of his shirt, ripping the sleeves completely.
Rick laughed, his voice a low bellow, and brought his arms down, flexing his big chest, then spreading his widening lats. It was satisfying to hear the popping of the seams, as he tore through the shirt with ease. Rick grunted in satisfaction, and gripped the shirt with his big, strong hands, and pulled it from his body. Beneath it, thick pecs sat above hard, powerful abs, each a deep-cut stone. Rick laughed deeply, and flexed his thick legs, which throbbed in his skintight pants, then slowly pushed their way through, forcing the tough material aside. With a contemptuous laugh, Rick reached down and tore them from his body, tossing the ruined bits of cloth aside. "Oh fuck yes..." he drawled, admiring his freaky reflection. His underwear was so tight, it looked almost like a posing strap - how appropriate, he laughed. They caressed his powerful ass and mighty thighs, and were barely able to contain the huge cock and balls that filled the front, a package to match his freakish physique.