No reason

By Alakazam1988  Patreon Website
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• Latest update: 7 December. Next update: 21 December. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest post: Saturday Flashback: December 2015.

• Latest from BRK: “Flashmob”, Parts 9‑10.

 

Pascal slammed the gym door open. The guy behind the counter was greeting him, but he didn’t even hear it. A B-side Christmas song was blaring over the radio, but Pascal couldn’t hear that either. His eyes were glued to the locker room door. Maybe Pascal was breathing heavily because of the stairs—the gym was on the third floor of the old town’s market building. Or maybe because he was wearing not one but two hoodies. His already overblown physique was even more prominent now, and he could feel the eyes of the men on the gym floor following him as he entered the locker room. Pascal was pretty well-built, buff even, but in the last few months, he had really been packing on the pounds. He was still pretty astonishing to look at, but a bit rounder these days, and the two hoodies didn’t help. 

The door of the locker room swung open and Pascal entered the scene with a distracted look on his face and sweat dripping from his nose and chin. He glanced through the rows of lockers and his mood lifted as he realized that he was the only one there. Finding the most private corner of the locker room, he threw his gym bag on the floor and paused for a second to listen—but no, there was only silence between the rows of lockers. 

He was still panting, even though the stairs were far behind him now. Pascal looked at the full-length mirror on the wall and wondered what was going on. His face was red and glistening with sweat. His thick eyebrows rose a little when he saw his intimidating build in the mirror. Everything just screamed “huge!”: his size 13.5 US shoes, his grizzly-bear hands, his unbelievably wide back, his 6’4” height.

He touched his pecs and released them. The hoodies masked them pretty well, but he had added way more pounds than he’d thought. His bulking phase had ended three weeks ago, but obviously his body wasn’t finished gaining size. He tried cutting his calorie intake, lifting harder, doing more cardio—but none of it was working. The contest was only 8 weeks away, and it would be pretty hard to get his shredded body back in that short time. And then there was...this other thing.

Pascal doffed his first hoodie and the problem immediately became visible. Again, he looked around nervously, but no one was watching. There were two shadows visible on his chest in the weak light of the locker room. 

“Fuck,” he thought. He looked down and touched his round, newly-enlarged pecs again. 

“Normal-sized nipples wouldn’t be visible through a shirt and a hoodie,” a voice whispered inside Pascal’s head. He had first discovered them this morning in the bathroom of his cramped apartment. He knew that his pecs had been looking magnificent the last few weeks, and that his areolas in turn had become bigger too, but when he’d seen his nipples this morning, he’d known that something was off. 

He read about something like that as a result of steroid abuse. Something complicated about the rise of estrogen in the male body as a reaction to the higher testosterone level, resulting in a man ending up with boob-shaped breasts. 

Pascal pulled off his second hoodie, leaving only his t-shirt. His pecs, luckily, were still muscular and definitely looked masculine, even though he had to admit that they had become rounder. Much rounder, now that he looked at them in detail. His engorged nipples were alarmingly prominent now, like two thimbles hidden under the dark blue cotton fabric of his shirt. He pulled that off too and stared in awe. Pascal had never seen pecs that huge in real life. He let them jump a few times and felt how heavy and wide they were. He could actually hear the contraction of the muscle fibers under the skin. 

“This is nice,” he thought to himself, and rubbed his huge nipples, which in no time became hard and slightly bigger. “But I have to do something about it. This size…” he stared at the enlarged nipples between his fingers, “is insane.”

A shiver went down his spine, and for a second it felt like there was no air in the room anymore. Pascal had gently caressed his right pec, and the moment he touched his nipple it happened again. 

“Fuck…that’s intense,” he said dreamily, still looking down at his chest. “Focus!”

The wooden bench cracked under his weight and he dropped the rest of his clothes. It was hard work peeling the skinny jeans from his swollen thighs, but after three tries he got them off. He slipped inside his skin-tight gym pants (his bulge looked really fine in them, he noticed, even though his balls were still recovering from the steroid cycle) and into a 4XL tank top that was so loose that his nipples weren’t visible through the fabric. He left the locker room, water bottle in one hand, towel in the other, waddling slightly because of his massive thighs. 

Pascal tried to act confident, but it was hard not to feel like everyone was staring at his magnificent chest and his puffy nipples.

He liked to row as a warm-up, but when he got into the seat of the machine, everything felt tight and not built for his size. There was barely room for his ass, his thighs were crammed against each other, and his bulge (pressed outward by all that muscle mass) looked even bigger than before. Anyway. He grabbed the handle and started to row.

It felt easy, like child’s play, and Pascal wondered if this was a machine for newbies. He moved the pin and began rowing at the machine’s hardest level. Confidence surged through him, and his doubts about his appearance and his bodybuilding career were suddenly blown away. He rowed harder, his breath becoming shorter and his grunts louder. Sweat was dripping onto his muscle gut and his swollen thighs. His puffing and blowing became louder with every pull, and Pascal could feel his triceps, back, and chest swelling in pleasurable pain. Especially his chest felt sore and flaming hot. He looked down and saw in horror that it had grown bigger, and that both of his nipples had not only grown but worked their way out of his tank top and were now visible to the world. 

He lost his grip on the bar and the weights smashed back to the ground. He jumped up and tried to fold his arms to hide his enormous chest, but he had trouble. His once-loose tank top seemed to have shrunk and now looked even more painted on than his gym pants. Pascal waddled back to the locker room and stared into the mirror with shock. He pulled his top down and exposed his now inch-long dark nipples. What was going on here?

“It’s just the workout! The muscle is warm and full of blood. Hell! I’m a monster of a man and all I have to do is lose these extra pounds.”

He put his first hoodie back on, and even though it felt tighter now, especially around his gut, he left the locker room. 

Pascal filled his water bottle and drank it in a rush. Then he filled it again and waddled to the room where the real bodybuilding action happened, full of sweating men working hard on their dream bodies. Pascal could feel the water churning in his stomach as he started to lift. 

The tightness of his hoodie felt quite good at the beginning, but the more he lifted, the more worried Pascal became about it. He glanced in the mirror now and then, but he was nervous about what he was seeing there. 

His gut looked bloated as hell under the fabric. “Just the water!” he told himself.

His pecs were even bigger now, and soon they would touch his chin without his having to look down. “Just the pump from the training!”

Even his bulge looked bigger now, and because his hoodie pulled up every time he stretched, it was pretty much always on display, and he imagined that everyone was looking at it. “That’s…nothing. Just the lighting in here!”

Same for his more and more obviously puffy nipples. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?” he thought.

But none of these thoughts were visible outside of his mind. He just kept his cool and pulled his hoodie back down over his growing gut. It was exposed again in a matter of seconds.

Pascal thought long and hard about whether or not he should train his chest. But it couldn’t get any bigger than it already was, right? And he had to activate the muscle there to burn some fat. Maybe…maybe later.

He sat and grabbed some dumbbells to go on with the workout. With every rep, the hoodie felt like it was getting a bit tighter. The seams were already stretched to the limit and close to tearing. Pascal looked down at his left biceps, his chin nearly pressing against his chest, and he had to admit that it looked stunning. His arms were bulging immensely, beyond anything he had seen before. The hoodie, meanwhile, was saturated with sweat and clinging even more tightly to his furtively growing body. Watching himself in the wall mirror, a sudden warmth flooded through his body, and with growing angst he could feel it concentrating in his pecs and especially in his nipples. Immediately, he dropped the dumbbells, looked around to see if someone was watching (no one was), and drank another liter of water. It was the only way he could fight this fire inside of him.

*Glug, glug, glug* He dropped the bottle but felt still hot after drinking it dry. He touched the underside of his more and more prominent muscle gut—it looked like a bear belly now, but with insane abs. The surface of it was hard as stone and Pascal could feel the water inside of it. 

He’d never felt so heavy, so big, or so powerful. Every muscle of his body was blown up to the human limit. Walking was becoming harder because of his tree trunk thighs and his obscene package; looking down was becoming harder because of his insane pecs. His arms stuck out from his body. He was a waddling muscle god on steroids. 

Pascal could have lived with all of that. The pump, the size and even the strange, public growth of his cock and balls (at least, that’s how it felt)—but not with these insane and still feverishly growing nips. They got his attention after poking hard into the sweaty fabric of his hoodie. Even though his mobility was starting to decrease (not to an alarming level…yet), he grabbed the bottom of his pullover and lifted it, like a big-breasted girl at a very drunken festival, to see what was happening to him. His pecs were so big now that they actually drooped a little after he got the shirt off of them.

“That’s impossible … how is this possible?”

His pecs were way beyond melon size now, and his nipples were exactly as big as his thumbs. They had changed their appearance too, looking more like a pair of small erect cocks glued to his enormous areolas. They each had a clearly visible head and a thin shaft with veins. Pascal dropped his hoodie, his growing concern turning into panic. They were clearly visible through multiple layers of clothing—what would people think when they saw these freaky inhuman appendages? 

He ran as quickly as he could back to the lockers. He didn’t acknowledge the stares he got from the employee behind the counter or the other gym members, and he even didn’t even notice when he had to duck to get into the locker room. 

A quick look around…no one was there. He dropped his clothes and gave himself a look in the mirror. Pascal stopped breathing when he saw his body. His pecs were glistening with sweat and radiating a steady, growing heat. His nips looked even fatter now even than they had just a few seconds ago. His ass looked inflated; so did his still-sloshing gut, and under that slept his overgrown alpha package. Balls as big as avocados and as full as his gut. A cock so fat that it could only be held with two hands. It was soft at the moment, but the glans began getting bigger as soon as his shaking hands started touching it. From base to tip it was probably eight inches long, covered in pumping veins. Pascal dropped it and stared at his full reflection, mouth open. He grabbed his pecs and felt the muscle mass shifting under the skin. There was barely a gram of fat on them, and yet they were unimaginably big and round and heavy, and oh, god, touching them felt so intensely good. Sweat dripped from his 2.5-inch nipples, their heads bigger as ever. 

Pascal’s mind was on fire. Nothing made sense: he had stopped taking steroids weeks ago. The water he drank was just plain fucking water. He didn’t eat anything special, didn’t do anything special—nothing. And yet here he stood in front of the mirror, watching himself grow even bigger without doing anything.

It was only then that he realized he had to duck to see his whole body in the mirror. He looked around to see his body in comparison to the room and his stomach twisted as he realized that he was already at least seven feet tall, maybe more. 

It seemed like the only way out was forward. It didn’t matter how low his body fat percentage was—that had to be the cause of all the trouble, Pascal told himself despairingly. “I have to finish my workout before anyone notices I’m a freak!”

He tried covering up his gigantic frame, but his clothes seemed to have shrunk since he’d taken them off. He had trouble fitting his package back inside his gym pants. It had grown even more and was now so tight in his clothes that the base of his fat cock would soon be fully on display. His ankles and most of his calves weren’t covered by the pants anymore.

Pascal had trouble fitting the tank top over his head; his pecs and arms were so big that he’d lost some of the mobility he needed to do it. He tried covering his obscene nipples, but they immediately sprang out of his top again, glistening in the weak light. He muscled on the first, already sweat-soaked hoodie, and Pascal could hear it ripping under his arms. He raised his unbelievably heavy arm and stared at the huge hole that now exposed his hairy armpit. His nipples were still clearly visible, his pecs so overblown that cleavage had formed between them. He put the second hoodie on over the first, but it only made it more obvious how much he had changed. The new hoodie was already close to tearing around his round, bulging muscle gut, which fully exposed his belly button and his lower back, not to mention his stunning ass, now forcing its way out of his gym pants. The pants weren’t going to hold much longer either.

“I have to hurry, before it’s too late.”

Running was becoming harder and harder with every new pound his body added. The other gymgoers couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw Pascal returning. He paid them no attention.

He loaded up a bar, lay on a bench, and started to bench press more than he ever had before. The bar was actually bending from the weight, but Pascal wasn’t going to waste time thinking about that. As he pressed the weights up and down and up again, he kept his gaze focused on his pecs. He didn’t notice at first, but it soon became clear that his solution to the problem was actually making it worse at an even faster rate. He finished a set of ten reps, his arms shaking, his torso shuddering, and his pecs so big he couldn’t see beyond them. And on the top of them, packed and compressed, lay his nipples.

Another try, because he didn’t know what else to do. Ten reps later they were even bigger, now definitely pressing against his chin. He stopped, breathed in and out, and covered his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of his biceps pressing against his own monstrous pecs. For a moment he just lay there on the bench—it seemed like there was nothing left to do but accept what was happening to him. Pascal took another deep breath, making his pecs grow even bigger, and the outer hoodie ripped, right down the cleavage. Another breath—even though he didn’t want to—and the other hoodie tore under his arms, exposing his pits. The remains of the tank top looked ridiculous, barely covering anything of his upper body. He looked in the mirror, and against all odds, Pascal started to laugh. He couldn’t fight what was happening to his magnificent body—he was helpless. The reflection in the mirror showed a monster, 7’4”, sweat dripping from his insane nipples onto his round bulging gut, the base of his cock exposed to the world. 

More and more people started watching him as he continued to work out in spite of himself. 

“What’s happening to this guy?”

“Is he okay?”

“No way. Look at him! That can’t be normal.”

“Never seen something like this.”

Pascal could hear them. He was sitting in the seat of a butterfly machine, starting the next phase of his chest workout. His cock pressed tightly against the leather seat; it wouldn’t be long before it burst free. Pascal grabbed both handles, arms high, and tried pressing them together in front of him, but his pecs were so monstrously big that it was just impossible. He tried harder and harder, his face turning red, pressing the air out of his lungs as though it were his last breath.

“Is he growing?” asked someone from the crowd, but no one answered him.

Pascal screamed after 20 reps and stood up, sweat dripping to the ground, his pecs now seriously pressing against his chin. He flexed them a few times, making his body shake because his chest was such a big part of it now. He grabbed his exposed nipples like dicks and started to jerk them.

Most of the people had left the gym by now, unable to handle what was happening to this freaky stranger. When the guy from the counter came over, he couldn’t say anything at first, awed by the spectacle at the weights in front of him. 

“Bring me a shake. The biggest you have, little fella!”

His voice was like rolling thunder, and the man obeyed. A few minutes later he was back with a thick four-liter shake.

“Just what I needed.”

The moment Pascal started drinking it, he started to get even bigger, hitting the 7’6” mark in no time. The employee was hypnotized—this man was the god of his late-night dreams. While Pascal was still busy drinking and grunting, the other man started to caress his new friend’s enormous breasts. The muscle monster had bigger nipples than his own long, hard cock. They were veiny, as thick as a small bottle of water, and at least 8’’ long. He started jerking and sucking them and Pascal cried out in joy, dripping some of the shake over his chest and belly.

“Don’t you dare stop, little guy!” he ordered, and drank the rest of his delicious shake. The tiny man was working hard at his new job, and Pascal’s heart rate was rising. His whole body trembled, sweat dripping and breath shuddering. 

“Not so fast, little fella. This can’t be good.”

But the man didn’t stop.

“No, no, no! This is too much,” Pascal cried. Something was building inside his pecs, and they were ballooning at a speed and pressure Pascal had never seen before. At the same time, he could feel his dick was finally free, and hard as a rock. It grew to its new maximum until it was pressing against the underside of his still-inflating chest.

The shake had worked wonders. Pascal fell to the ground, his frame so massive that he was unable to stand anymore. The tank top had long since torn to shreds. His legs were splayed out, and between them rested a pair of enormous, full and hairy testicles. He lay on his back, unable to see anything but his pecs, slowly obscuring his vision.

A final cry broke the silence, and Pascal came against his partner’s back in eight huge fountains of cum. Shortly after that, his nipples did the same, and even more white-hot gold shot out of them both simultaneously. Pascal screamed in joy, and the small guy didn’t stop until Pascal was empty as a drum. 

When it was over, he lay there, out of breath again, his pecs and nipples slightly deflated but still unbelievably huge, wondering what had happened in the last couple of hours.

“So…how…how did you do that?” the other man wanted to know, and the only thing Pascal could answer in his baffled state was “Merry Christmas.”

He took his ripped hoodies from his locker and left the gym sprinting. 

As he ran through the night, he wondered how his life was going to change, and if this was going to happen again. It really shouldn’t, and yet here he was, 7’7” tall, and there had never been a reason. 


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