Might Be Time To Trade In. These Wheels Are Getting A Little Too Big For These Wheels.

Might be time to trade in. These wheels are getting a little too big for these wheels.

He started working out to help with his lifelong insecurity over his height... perhaps he took it a little too far.

He's got more muscle packed onto his 5'7" frame than any other man, regardless of height.

He's wider than he is tall, but only if you measure from his head to the floor instead of his delts.

He can just barely maneuver himself sideways through normal doorframes, the profound crevices of his pecs and glutes providing just enough play to squeeze through.

He thinks he's still too small.

And here I sit, watching him fill the hallway with his impractical size, egging him on and telling him exactly what he wants to hear to keep going.

What's wrong with me? What's wrong with him? ...Or are we the only ones who are getting it right? ....No time to dwell now, he's due onstage in an hour so we better get going... That doorframe isn't getting any bigger, but he sure is.

BOOM

“Man... 6th place” Keone muttered to himself on his solemn walk back to his hotel room after just missing a top 5 placement at the Olympia. Waiting for him at the door, he found a small box, some sort of consolation prize he reasoned, taking it inside.

Like any good bodybuilder in a room with a mirror, he stripped back down to his stage uniform and scoured every inch of his crazy physique to see where he could have gone wrong. After a last defeated sigh, he remembered the box, awkwardly waddling the few steps over to it with his sweatpants still around his ankles.

The small gray box opened like a jewelry box, strangely barren aside from a small note propped up in the center.

Tough break, Keone. See you in the top five next year. Your friends at BOOM Genetics.

As he finished reading the note, he heard a small piercing noise before feeling a prick at the side of his neck. Before he had any moment to process, much like the company’s namesake, BOOM he instantly doubled in mass.

It was all part of their plan to shake up the bodybuilding industry, similar transformations happening to other 6th through 10th place finishing competitors all across the event, giving the hungriest few a more than ample head start over the newly crowned and instantly dwarfed former top dogs.

The next year was a frenzy, the new beasts not content to sit on their laurels continuing to pack on more beastly mass with the help of their new exclusive sponsors. Everyone else in their own frenzy, attempting and mostly failing at catching up to the new elite class.

BOOM’s genetically modified freaks easily cleaned up in every class, leaving the already demoralized stragglers wondering why they even tried. But a new round of small boxes was sure to turn their woes around.

#28 watched in shocked amazement as the man in front of him in line blew up rapidly. This was no ordinary backstage pump, the mysterious shot administered by one of the show organizers being the first indication before the all too obvious massive result.

The man dropped the performative resistance band before starting a slow waddle to the stage, his arms barely dropping an inch as he let go. #28's gawking stare was only broken by the sharp call out "NEXT."

He took another huge glug of the muscle-building drink, waiting patiently for a few moments before the warmth of growth kicked in. He's been standing there sipping for hours, starting his first swig as a twig of a man.

Lost in the pleasure of his transformation he neglects to notice the can constantly refilling itself. Little did he know when cracking the seal that the muscular ride he was starting was limited only by his desire.

Joan