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Just a few more cycles before he goes from driving sports cars to riding on flatbeds.
Up another 112lbs... hoping to break 750 by the end of the year.
427lbs this morning… thanks for asking.
Goal achieved.
427lbs this morning… thanks for asking.
Bro... I told you I’m still natty. Why do you keep asking?
He literally can’t grow fast enough... he’s still so small.
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He hadn't been to the gym since before the pandemic, any progress he had made back then long gone. Looking at himself in the mirror while changing, he sighs at his gaunt frame. He turns on music to distract and pump him up quickly searching up a gym playlist and hitting play on the first result. The music starts aggressively pulling him in quickly with its pounding rhythmic beat. His muscles swelling in response, within minutes already larger than a pro bodybuilder. Buckle in, that was only track one.
God he was so fucked. Only just 19 and already packed to the gills with more muscle than a stage full of competitors combined. At a point in life where decisions about the future are made, his were made long ago. At this rate it'd be a miracle if he wasn't fully immobile inside of a year. He can't wait.
Oh hey, almost didn't see you there. I'd sit up to greet ya, but I haven't been able to do that for weeks. It's been a few months, how are ya?
What happened to me? Well I grew, duh...
Of course I'm not done, look at me, I'm puny!
—
See the previous series of morphs here.
Regan thought he would look huge in Korea compared to everyone else. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Might be time to trade in. These wheels are getting a little too big for these wheels.
“Damn, all of this from one scoop.”
15 minutes later...
The expansive living room of his apartment nearly full to the brim with pulsing, mounding, bursting flesh. Lying flat, immobilized by the growth provided by the contents of the canister. The vessel, inverted over his face as he desperately licks every last bit of powder, relishing even in the minute amount of growth it promotes.
He’s already dreaming about his next can.
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.
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.
He hasn't been able to pull himself away from the morphed image of himself in his phone for the past 15 minutes. Endlessly tweaking here and there all the while growing it bigger and bigger and bigger.
He's sculpted a decent figure for himself, but he always fantasied of more. When this app started popping up on his usual haunts, he decided to give it a try after seeing some of the photos people have been posting with it.
So amazed by the realistic image his phone his able to create, he neglects to notice that it's more than just a technological trick, with every change having a very real effect on his body.
Not until he feels something brush his ear, what he would shortly come to realize being his swollen trap, is he snapped back into reality. In his shock and clumsiness due to his sudden mass, he drops his phone, but the sound of it shattering as it hit the ground was the least of his worries.
In the mirror ahead he comes to grips with his unwitting enhancements. He had imagined the feeling of such swollen muscles as he pumped them up in the app, but the real deal is something else. Bulging all over, it's all so hot, and fuck wouldn't more be even hotter? but no... it's... way, way too much, right? how is he supposed to do anything normal as a lumbering muscle beast like this.
With a grunt he bends over to pick up what's left of his phone, noting as he does of how much less he can bend due to his thick abs and quads. Through the shards of pixels still managing to display a picture he frantically taps around hoping in vain to land on a setting to dial back the changes.
He sees himself growing in the mirror again and in frustration brings up his other hand to reinforce his grip and refocus on the task, but when it's stopped short inches from the phone by his colliding pecs, biceps, and forearms, his phone once again goes tumbling down, this time across the locker room floor.
He rushes over to grab it once again, or at least he means to, but the growth has shifted into overdrive and his swelling quads are limiting him to the slowest waddle. Each step is more difficult than the last as he covers less and less ground between them. Despite his dwindling field of vision over his pecs and his arms getting pinned in the air further by the second, he's still holding out hope that he can do something to make it stop... until, *crunch*
The growth stops at the sound, the phone was toast. His frantic thoughts give way to a wave of acceptance, at least for the moment, as he calms down enough to take in just how much more he had grown in the last few seconds. He's shocked, bewildered, and aroused. In the mirror was a muscular starfish of a man, so bulging with muscle that he could do little more than wiggle his hands and feet. A size he had only fantasized about now oh so real after the series of bizarre events.
Having not planned to blow up into an immobile muscle blob today, all he could do now is wait for someone to find him and see what happens from there. As he passes the time by inspecting his heaving muscle frame he hopes that app had backed up to the cloud, cuz there's a few more areas that could use some more tweaking now that he's fully taken himself in.
“I’m hoping to finally put on some real mass this year 💪”
#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 used the smallest shaker possible to 'make him look huge' blissfully oblivious that no comparison was needed to demonstrate the fact.
Lumbering Meat—Muscles so thick he can no longer move normally. Throwing his legs around each other in an awkward waddle. Arms bouncing off cushy lats to balance his bloated bulk. He's on full display just like he likes it. People stare harshly questioning 'are you big enough yet?' The answer of course, no.
No one asks any more what you do when they meet you. Even as fully clothed as you can manage these days, one look and it's obvious you spend your entire life juicing at the gym or at home resting and slamming protein.
Your muscles define you, they are your life and your career all rolled into one. Your corporate ladder made of weight classes, yet despite being at the top you cram more and more on.
People don't see you anymore, they see shadow-casting pecs, head-crushing biceps, waddle-inducing thighs and an overall wideness unnatural to the human body.
You've engineered a body that exists solely to train and display your unstoppable gains, any other more pedestrian activity performed in the most clumsy matter, if at all. You were man, you are muscle, you wouldn't have it any other way.