Musclesaber

27 Texas based kinky writer. Muscle Growth, Hyper Growth, Gainerism, Macrophilia and plenty more kinks. I write kinky smut on the internet. Very NSFW so no minors here. https://linktr.ee/musclesaber

[musclesaber]

Story Gallery

Here's a post for you to find all my stories and every part on my account.

Ongoing Stories

Don't Swim in the Seine

[Part 1]

Contains: Mpreg, Rapid Pregnancy, Belly Growth, Pec Growth, Ass Growth, Unaware Transformation

Growth Drive!

[Week 0] [Week 1] [Rob's 1st Report] [Week 2] [Rob's 2nd Report]

Contains: Marco Growth, Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Muscle Worship, Hyper

The Quest for Size

[Part 1 From Small Beginnings] [Part 2 Get The Party Started] [Part 3 The Hulking Himbo]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Gaining, Height Growth, Ass Growth, Giant, Hyper Cock, Cumflation, Fantasy, Magic

No Nut For You

[Part 1 One Ring to Stop Them All] [Part 2 The Morning After]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Hyper Muscle, Hyper Cock, Hyper Sex, Giant, Muscle Worship

Let's Play a Game

[Prologue] [Game Board]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Size Theft, Halloween

Spice Up Your Life

[Part 1 Making Plans] [Part 2 Freshman Year] [Part 3 Lunch Time]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Gaining, Height Growth, Ass Growth, Cumflation, College

Supersized

[Part 1 Experiments] [Part 2 A Discovery]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Giant, Hyper Cock, Cumflation, Super Hero

Doubling Device

[Part 1 A Sample] [Part 2 The Doubling Begins]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Ass Growth, Giant, Hyper

Completed Stories

Growth at the House on the Hill

Contains: Muscle Growth, Hyper Muscles, Cock Growth, Hyper Cock, Lactation, Height Growth, Macro, Lactation, Halloween

Serial Breeder

[Info Page]

[Part 1 It was a Dark and Stormy Night] Contains: Growth, Gay Sex, Hypnosis, Straight to Gay, Musk, Muscle Worship, Fraternity Setting

[Part 2 Preview Things that go Hump in the Night] Contains: Muscle Growth, Gay Sex, Straight to Gay, Hypnosis, Musk, Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Ass Growth, Size Difference, Himbofication, Cumflation

[Part 3 Preview Midnight Snack] Contains: Implied Gay Orgy, Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Hyper Ass, Hyper Cumflation, Hypnosis, Mind Control, Himbofication, Musk

[Part 4 Preview The Belly from the Beast] Contains: Muscle Growth, Hyper Muscle, Cock Growth, Hyper Cock, Ass Growth, Hyper Ass, Macro Cumflation, Straight to Gay, Hypnosis, Mind Control, Straight to Gay, Musk, Himbofication

[Part 5 Preview A Swell Situation] Contains: Cumflation, Inflation, Mpreg, Rapid Pregnancy, Muscle Growth, Hyper Pecs, Lactation, Ass Growth, Hyper Ass, Memory Loss

[Part 6 Preview The Next Generation of Alpha Sigma Zeta] Contains: Mpreg, Birth, Inflation, Cumflation, Rapid Pregnancy, Hyper Pregnancy, Hyper Birth, Rapid Birth, Hyper Pecs, Hyper Ass, Lactation, Straight to Gay, Cock Growth, and Muscle Growth

[Part 7 Preview Cum Does the Body Good] Contains: Mpreg, Cumflation, Macro Cumflation, Macro, Inflation, Birth, Rapid Birth, Hyper Pecs, Lactation, Cock Growth, Hyper Cock, Rapid Aging, Ass Growth, Hyper Ass, Muscle Growth, Hyper Muscle, Himbofication, Macro Sex, Straight to Gay, and Memory Loss

[Part 8 Preview An Explanation] Contains: Mpreg Domination, Magic, Macro, Huge Ass, Huge Pecs, and Plot

Merry ChristMASS

[Part 1 The New Santa] [Part 2 Santa's Workshop] [Part 3 Naughty & Nice] [Part 4 The Gift That Keeps on Giving]

Contains: Gaining, Blob, Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Hyper Muscle, Hyper Cock, Height Growth, Muscle Milk, Macro, Ass Growth, Christmas

Chest Cologne: Complete

[Part 1 The Gym] [Part 2 The Sizemologist] [Part 3 The Date]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Hyper Muscle, Cumflation

Commissions

Commission Request Form

Commission Terms & Conditions

BIGger

[Part 1 Not so Big]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Size Difference

H2GROW: Just Add Water

[Part 1 Move In Day] [Part 2 Syllabus Day]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Gaining, Height Growth, Ass Growth, Hair Growth, College

Batman Butler for a Day

Contains: Muscle Growth, Size Theft, Shrinking, Humiliation, Footplay, Inflation

Happy Birthday!

[Part 1 06/20] [Part 2 06/21] [Part 3 07/20]

Contains: Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Gaining, Height Growth, Ass Growth, Cumflation

Prize Pig Husband

Contains: Gaining, Belching, Height Growth, Belly Growth, Macro Growth

Drunk on Cum

Contains: Cumflation, Muscle Growth, Height Growth, Cock Growth, Height Growth, Belly Growth, Macro Growth

Ballooning Bros

Contains: Inflation, Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Hyper Cock, Transformation

[bodybeyondstories]

Majority of cases are mild - 13

Brock has some awkward encounters at work, including with a mysterious stranger who's oddly excited about his condition. At the bar later, things take a turn for the better as Kel stumbles into a meet cute with a gentleman admirer

1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 (Previous)

[ ass expansion // bubble butt ]

3246 words

+ + + + +

“Yes, I've received treatment for the virus,” Brock grumbled into his phone. “No, I'm not at high risk of rapid expansion. Not–not to my knowledge.” He sighed, swiveling his head around to make sure he wasn’t overheard in the maze of cubicles. “Have I been in contact with anyone who popped recently? Yeah I’m trying to reach him– yes, I'll hold.”

[Sai’s still not picking up his phone] he texted the groupchat from his tablet. [Tried getting through to his office at Phantasy Labs, no luck]. 

As if the mysterious scientific compound on the edge of town picked up on their name being mentioned in the digital ether (Which they probably were, Brock mused), the hold music was replaced by the saccharine voice of yet another part of Phantasy Labs’s seemingly endless bureaucracy. 

“Yes, this is Brock,” he began, his face displaying a hope that was quickly crushed. “Why do you need the circumference of my–” He turned back to his desktop as he heard footsteps approaching, pulling up his email inbox as he let his phone clatter face down on his desk. The hold music once again started leaking into the air.

“Brock, my man!” The masculine rasp of his supervisor, Jeff, who had materialized just outside his cubicle, brought him back to the muted earth tones of the small nonprofit. “You missed Susan’s going away party in the conference room. I snuck you some donuts,” he winked, holding out a small stack of glazed goodness wrapped loosely in brown paper towel.

“Uh, thanks,” he stammered, awkwardly scooting his chair in Jeff’s direction to receive the pastries. As much as he was glad to be free of Susan’s perpetual smirk of disgust and office wide ‘public health updates’ which were little more than conspiracy theories and thinly veiled cyberbulling, she did have great taste in local bakeries. “I was just…busy with a project. And anyways I’m trying to watch my weight these days.” 

His attempt at a friendly chuckle only produced a frown of concern on his boss’s face, and a hyperawareness of the cheeks audibly straining against the plastic of his office chair. He had never been enthusiastic about professional camaraderie, but office wide gatherings in the cozy conference room had become a nightmare thanks to his overinflated glutes. If he wasn’t squished awkwardly into a corner, he was practically knocking his co-workers over with his bulbous cheeks just to refill his coffee, producing a minefield of apologetic grunts as everyone pointedly tried not to acknowledge the recent developments in his posterior. No, it was easier just to work from home or, when he had to come to the office, spend most of his time in his increasingly cramped cubicle. So of course Jeff took it upon himself to check on Brock’s morale at every opportunity.

“Heyyyy,” Jeff’s head tilted to the side as he drew out the syllable. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, you know all bodies belong here. If anyone’s making you feel like your…” he leaned in conspiratorially, “condition is, uh, not welcome in this workplace then–”

“It’s fine,” Brock blurted with an attempt at a disarming smile.

“Not that anyone here has raised any concerns–”

“Really, I’m good,” Brock tried again as his eyes flitted to his phone.

“Because at the last all-team meeting I did cover the appropriate ways to share public health information over the listserv–”

“Much appreciated,” Brock muttered.

“Of course! As always, anything you need, my door is–”

“Well actually,” Brock interjected, “I was wondering where you were at with my accommodation requests?”

“You’re accomo–oh right!” Jeff seemed to suddenly become aware of how the cushions of Brock’s bubble butt were bursting out of his chair in a way that couldn’t be remotely comfortable. “You know, I’m pretty sure I just saw an email about those, uh, requests. It was a whole thing that had to go through HR and you know it takes the facilities guys forever just to acquire a, uh, double-wide chair or whatever.” He guffawed at his own joke, holding out a fist for Brock to reluctantly bump.

Works like a charm, Brock smirked to himself as his boss power-walked away. The one surefire way to get a break from Jeff's incessant check-ins and self-aggrandizing nonprofit inclusivity speak was to ask for actual material accommodations for your workplace.

Not that those accommodations weren't still an acute necessity. Though at this point he worked mostly from home, he liked spending some time in the office, but things were feeling more cramped and less accessible. As Brock wrapped up his tasks for the day and prepared to leave, he turned in a tight, practiced rotation around his small cubicle, careful not to send office supplies and stacks of folders tumbling to the floor or knock down the flimsy shared wall with Susan's old cubicle next door (a recurrence that had only worsened her office-wide health ‘concerns’). He gingerly shuffled sideways through the narrow opening, the generous curves of his spandex wrapped posterior threatening to take the whole cubicle with him. The nuBum ‘business casual’ slacks were little more than tights pretending to be a neutral tone corduroy, but they did the trick and kept the higher ups satisfied (and word in the HR world was that no one wanted to tackle a fight about dress code for the increasing numbers of unnaturally curvy men).

With a parting glance at his workspace his eyes fell on his office chair, damaged beyond repair, the back and armrests permanently blown outward from the seat. Maybe I should switch to a medicine ball chair, he mused, one hand resting on a heavy cheek. Or just start sitting on the floor.

Most of his co-workers had cleared out early after the office party, and he released a sigh of thanks to the universe when the sliding doors of the elevator revealed an empty space inside. He let his shoulders drop as he leaned back against the far wall, the round muscle of his glutes squishing across the metal bar while the rest of him stood closer to the middle of the metal cube. He whipped his phone out from his shoulder bag to check the groupchat, stopping short when a thin figure slipped through the closing doors, knocking the device out of his hands as they collided.

“Oh sorry,” he said to the disoriented looking man. He crouched down to grab his phone, stumbling slightly as the elevator rattled into its descent. He tried awkwardly to shuffle his huge bubble into the corner but found himself still standing more or less in the middle, the stranger settling into the corner opposite.

“Nah, you’re good,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I need to watch where I’m going, I could’ve taken you out.”

Brock smiled to himself, fully aware that his massive dump truck was much more of a hazard to errant pedestrians than they were to him. Not to mention the guy looked to be 130lbs soaking wet, swimming in a solid black hoodie and jeans. Probably one of the tech bros from that new startup down the hall.

“Doubtful,” he quipped, trying to shift into a more comfortable stance in the cramped space. “I guess I got used to having the elevator to myself.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, uh,” Brock muttered through a flash of embarrassment. “People usually…clear out when they see…me.”

“Interesting,” he said, with the appearance of gears turning in his head. “Wasn't there that guy a couple weeks ago that popped in the elevator in that building across the street?”

“Yeah, his name's Phil,” Brock chuckled with a sarcastic smile. “I don’t think it was as bad as they say, but apparently he…grew too fast for the other occupants to escape and then the doors were blocked and the fire department had to get involved, so of course EMTs showed up, and people always freak out with that stuff. It was a whole thing.” 

“Wow,” the hoodied man murmured. “Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Uh, okay,” Brock laughed nervously. “The other people involved were not…enthusiastic about the situation.”  

“They were all okay though, right?”

“Three hours later, yeah,” Brock rolled his eyes. He remembered Phil stumbling in late to the MGHD+ meeting that day looking sweaty and disheveled, his bare buns ballooning out of a pair of joggers that might as well have been assless chaps. “No one mentions it of course, but when they see me coming, they’re suddenly more inclined to take the stairs.”

“Huh. That must be so cool.”

“Hm?” Brock asked.

“Taking up space like that,” his eyes lit up as they connected with Brock’s questioning gaze. “Do you know how it feels?”

“How…what feels?” 

“When it happens.” His hands were busy in the pocket of his hoodie, like they were searching for something. “It must be incredible becoming so powerful, just…growing and expanding and–”

The ding of the elevator cut him off. The doors opened on the third floor to a gaggle of people waiting to get on. While they couldn’t see Brock’s new acquaintance from their perspective, their eyes immediately locked onto him. More specifically, the bodacious buns that were taking up a full third of the space. They stood in heavy, awkward silence, as if each was hoping for someone else in their group to be the first to make a move. It was broken by the ding of warning for the closing of the doors, which Brock took as a last minute excuse to leave. He barely noticed as the doors bounced off of his hefty cheeks, the gaggle of office workers hopping out of the way as he strode purposely through them, uncaring if they were bowled over by the momentum of his hips. 

I think I’ll take the stairs.

—

“They’re still talking ‘bout that ass, Phil,” Brock teased as he plopped down on a cushion next to Kel. The search for Sai’s whereabouts had moved out of the MGHD+ groupchat to their current watering hole, Randi’s. 

“Ugh, the elevator thing?” Kel sighed. “Didn’t they set some new policy after that?”

“Can confirm, unofficial occupancy rules are very much in place,” said Brock. His lonely elevator rides and cramped cubicle corral at work was a stark contrast to the sunkissed warmth of the breezy patio they found themselves in. Their options for social establishments were limited–for a number of reasons–and not only did Randi’s have a spacious outdoor section and garage doors but also went out of their way to make the space amenable for more expansive body types, from a diversity of seating options to strategically placed empty spaces where those with more severe cases could park themselves comfortably. 

“That can’t be legal,” Kel surmised, his mountainous cheeks shifting as he crossed his legs in thought. “Can we push for infrastructural improvements?”

“It’s a historic building,” Phil groaned into his beer. “And the elevator was technically undersized and overdue on regular maintenance–”

“According to current municipal codes,” finished Brock, lightly mocking his friend’s practiced line. “Not that they bother to even retrofit the newer buildings.”

Unfortunately, a place like Randi’s was an exception to the unspoken rule. It was an oasis in a desert of ‘fire hazard’ concerns, ‘max circumference guidelines,’ and ‘modified occupancy calculations’ that were making it hard for men affected by the virus to find welcoming places to share a pint. Randi’s had become known as the spot for guys like them, and even with the hypervisibility of gawkers and onlookers, it was a crucial community space.

“At least we have the mayor’s new ‘bubble’ cars on the subway,” Phil said sarcastically. “So we can get to work–”

“But not in the building!” A number of them exclaimed in unison, bursting into laughter.

“And speaking of, still no word from Sai?”

“Nada,” Brock sighed, leaning against the well cushioned wall of Kel’s ass. “My guess is that he’s probably crashing at work, but they keep making up some excuse about confidential employee information and suddenly I’m rerouted to some other vaguely humanoid customer service voice.”

“Hmm,” said a vaguely distracted Kel. “It’s a rough transition, he just needs time.”

“But he only has a limited time frame for accessing the city’s relocation funds since he most likely can’t get back into his current place. And I’m sure he’ll need help with moving and–”

“I know, I know, we’ll get through to him.” 

Brock couldn’t help but notice that Kel seemed uncharacteristically detached. As the group continued scheming about how to get a hold of their friend, his attention kept drifting to the other side of the patio. Brock put his weight behind a sharp elbow to his friend’s hip, which for Kel felt more like a playful nudge, just enough to catch his attention and bring his gaze down to the knowing twitch of Brock’s eyebrow. Kel blushed, wordlessly refocused on the task at hand, but his gaze kept drifting over to, Brock surmised, the distractingly buff daddy sitting across the patio with his buds. 

Nestled among some couches in the corner, the salt and pepper hunk was squeezed into his work clothes, looking like he had just gotten off a construction shift. He had a generous layer of padding over what looked like solid muscle, the cords of his forearms and biceps flexing across juicy pecs, his belly jiggling as he guffawed at some comment from one of his friends. He was massive, seeming to tower over the group even while sitting down. He was the center of their attention, looking like he was holding court as he leaned back and draped his powerful arms over the backs of his buds’ seats. Yet even though he was engaged with conversation with his immediate circle, he seemed to only have eyes for Kel.

“So are you just eye fucking or what’s the move?” Brock’s overly direct question shook Kel from the longing gaze he had fallen back into with the well built man across the patio.

“I, uh, what?” Kel said nervously.

“Dude, go talk to him,” Brock leaned in conspiratorially. “Make a move, it’ll be good for you.” 

“No,” Kel laughed. “He’s not actually…”

“Into you? He actually is.”

“You know people just like to stare,” Kel rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes for good reason.”

“Not all the time.”

“But this time.” Brock emphasized his comment with a firm slap against the side of Kel’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” Kel bemoaned, his voice catching as he caught the man’s eyes yet again. “It’s been so long since I’ve even…you know…like what would I even say?”

“Go sit on his lap, let him do the talking.”

Kel responded with an exasperated laugh.

“What? Live a little!”

“You know that’s a catastrophic idea. And besides, I’m more in the mood to just chill any…ways…”

Kel was suddenly lost for words as the man stood up to walk to the bar, a path that conveniently led right by their group. He was urgently trying not to stare, though it seemed like the occupants of the entire establishment had already failed at that effort.

Brock’s face broke into a beaming smile as he, and the rest of their crew, quickly realized that the blue collar daddy’s corner seat wasn’t a section of a couch but actually a pair of boulders that on a more normal frame might be considered extremely well developed glutes. The planetoids stuffed into his heavy duty khaki work pants switched back and forth with enough heft to make patrons clear a wide path of tables of chairs lest they end up with a concussion. His bulging hamstrings and tree trunk quads flexed through the material with every step, threatening to burst through his pants with barely restrained power.

“Looks like a pretty strong lap,” Brock mused. 

Kel shifted nervously as butterflies emanated from deep within his core. He allowed his eyes to catch the mystery man’s warm smile before dancing down to the name patch embroidered onto the work polo stretched taut across his powerful pecs and shoulders. Calvin…he mouthed, reading the stylized cursive lettering bouncing across his field of vision.

His mammoth cheeks seemed uncaring of the force of gravity as they hovered behind him at the bar. They practically blocked the walking path as he slowly hinged his hips back and leaned over to rest his arms on the counter. He glanced over a boulder shoulder to send a playful wink in Kel’s direction.

“He’s…cute,” admitted Kel. Desperately trying to play it cool, he reached for his drink only to grasp at the empty space where his glass had just been. He looked up to see Brock gulping the last of it down with a trickster smile on his face. “You’re not letting me sit this one out, are you?”

“I need a win today,” Brock answered.

“No promises,” Kel sighed as he coordinated his limbs to lift his bulk into a standing position. His massive cheeks trembled over the group as he shifted toward the bar, Brock reaching up to quickly brush off a flattened ornamental plant that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now it was Kel’s turn to part the sea of gawkers as he awkwardly moseyed to his gentleman admirer.

There was no point in pretending that anything else was worth looking at. The tall, overly stacked men reoriented the gravitational pull of the space. Calvin far outweighed him with his magnitude of well padded muscle, yet his powerful glutes still paled in comparison to Kel’s cheeks, which looked even more comically disproportionate on his lanky frame. They seemed to take up half the bar, casually unaware of the dumbfounded patrons trying to get the attention of the bartender without being blocked by a wall of ass.

But Brock was more interested in the tenuous conversation that turned to playful smiles that turned to belly laughs with light, friendly touches. They’re really hitting it off, he thought, as Kel went so far as to cheekily squeeze one of Calvin’s massive biceps. One could swear the burly, middle aged man was starting to swoon. Before long, both their glasses were empty and their hands were instead filled with their phones in the familiar choreography of contact information exchange. Calvin rested a hand on Kel’s lower back as he escorted him back to his seat and proceeded to return to his friends with an unmistakable pep in his step, his glutes bouncing back and forth with renewed vigor.

“Well??” Brock demanded on behalf of the group before Kel had even settled his gargantuan globes back on the ground.

“Well what?” Kel teased, his cheeks blushing. “We set a date–”

“A date?!”

“--to get to know each other better. Somewhere with a little more…room to breathe,” he smiled.

The group practically cheered, peppering Kel with questions about this meet cute and the date to follow. As they settled into dreaming up Kel’s first date look, Brock’s phone lit up with an incoming call, which caller ID listed as simply ‘PL.’

“Hello?” he answered, hoping it was exactly who he thought it was, but preparing for another round of customer service musical chairs.

“Brock?” came a blessedly familiar voice. “It’s Sai. Sorry I’ve been missing your calls, things have gotten…weird.”

“Weird is okay,” Brock stammered, his heart quickening. “Where are you? How are you? Are you hungry? Are you safe? What do you need?”

“That’s, well, complicated,” Sai laughed nervously. “Can we talk?”

[bodybeyondstories]

Majority of cases are mild - 12 (Interlude)

Cooper and his housemates have had to deal with big adjustments as they keep getting hit by waves of re-infection. When the latest one starts, he can't help but express his frustration over feeling like the only one taking their growing predicament seriously.

1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 (Previous)

[ ass expansion // bubble butt ]

3603 words

[Another interlude as I try to figure out what I'm doing with the main storyline. I love a slice of life moment lol]

+ + + + +

“There's something up with Cooper.”

“I’m fine!”

“What’s wrong with Coop?”

“Nothing! Everything’s fine!”

“He’s deep cleaning again!”

“I thought we just did that.”

“I’m doing it again!” Cooper yelled more at the kitchen floor than at anyone in particular, his voice muffled by the surgical mask strung tight across his face. He groaned internally at the sound of lumbering footsteps approaching.

“Hey bud!” Claude’s beaming smile appeared over the counter above Cooper, his short locs catching the ambient light to form a halo around his face. “I see you finally gave up on those ugly sweats.”

“I didn’t give up on the–”

“He did what?” came another voice from a couple of rooms over.

“He stopped wearing pants!” Claude’s voice boomed back across the house.

“Oh dude, finally,” came an excited voice from the garage.

“I didn’t…” Cooper began. “It’s just that all my clean pairs of pants, um…”

“Ripped?” Claude offered, levering himself onto his elbows to get a better angle.

“...I suppose, yes,” Cooper sighed in frustration. He took a break from scrubbing the floor to rest his thong framed ass on the balls of his feet. “Look, I don’t want to freak anyone out, but I think I might be infected again, so I’m sanitizing all the shared spaces.”

When they’d all moved in together a little under a year ago, Cooper had been thrilled. The crew of grad students had been fast friends since orientation, but it was Cooper’s incessant prodding, ideating, planning, searching, and negotiating that had secured the lease on this cute, if somewhat disheveled, historic house. It was creaky but quaint, boasting an abundance of natural lighting through oversized windows that highlighted how cozy it was inside. There was just enough space for the lot of them, and although at first it felt like they were constantly in each other’s way, they had settled into a collective flow that enlivened the space. That is, until the first infection.

“Mmmm,” Claude intoned with a knowing smile, “we coulda told you that.”

“Told him what?” Brad’s mop of red hair caught the glow of the lava lamp behind him as he peeked out of his doorway.

“Infected again,” Claude answered before Cooper could pipe up.

“Mmmm,” Brad agreed. “Yeah dude, we thought you knew.”

Brad had been the first to test positive. Cooper had been dutifully following the news of the outbreak, and knew that when Brad’s lanky 6’4” frame had suddenly gone from pancake butt to bursting through every pair of pants he owned, it was more than just his new leg day routine. He resolved that they needed to nip this in the bud before things got too severe. He had seen the news coverage, online forum discussions, and even clips of the ‘rapid expansion events’ that he still didn’t fully believe were real. The over the counter meds seemed to be working at first, but as the rest of the house fell ill, it was as if the combined viral load of the group was too much for any form of treatment they sought. When they thought they were finally out of the woods with each wave of infection, the next was right around the corner. He didn’t know what to do, and was too overwhelmed by coursework, teaching, and research commitments to get a handle on the situation.

So when someone from Phantasy Labs reached out, Cooper was relieved. They were conducting a study on ‘group infection dynamics and possibilities for small scale herd immunity’ or somesuch, and said that their humble abode was an ideal test case. Cooper, ever the information nerd, jumped at the opportunity, coordinating data collection from the entire group in the hopes that the lab might come up with something useful. And the hefty participant stipends certainly sweetened the pot, bringing much needed financial assistance for dealing with this crisis on their meager grad student funding. But that was two months ago, and after multiple waves of re-infection with no helpful answers, Cooper was again losing hope.

“I wasn’t paying close enough attention, I guess,” said Cooper, reaching up to grab the bottle of heavy duty disinfectant wipes. “You know the symptoms are always mild for me.”

For whatever reason, the virus’s impact had been the most manageable for him. By the second infection, his perky glutes had inflated into the unmistakable bubble of those touched by the virus, but he never had it nearly as bad as his housemates. While he could get away with sizing up his pants and switching to loose sweats, everyone else had made the transition to foregoing bottoms altogether around the house and investing in the latest releases from nuBum’s specialty clothing line, the nB logo displayed visibly whenever they were out and about. 

As conditions worsened, Cooper’s role as de facto house mother had taken on a new valence as he took on new and unexpected forms of care work for his friends, from mending seams to reinforcing chairs to switching rooms when Aiden was no longer able to make it up their narrow staircase without breaking the banister (again). He was fine with taking care of his friends. He just wished they would take the situation a little more seriously. As he emerged from the kitchen floor to do another once over across the countertops, he was met with a whistle of appreciation from Brad.

“Nothin’ mild about that, big dog,” said Brad, his head tucked against the top of the doorframe.

“I know right?” quipped Claude. He sent a conspiratorial wink in Brad’s direction as he climbed onto one of the stools stationed along the kitchen island, causing a light splintering sound to emanate from the wood as his bulbous cheeks completely smothered the seat. “You really didn’t notice all that?” He pointed to the pair of beach balls that ballooned from Cooper’s lower back, wobbling uncontrollably as he put more elbow grease into his cleaning project.

“I don’t know,” Cooper sighed. “I’ve been swamped all week. One of the postdocs had some huge dataset that he wanted me to clean up before we–I mean, they, all left for field work today, and it’s one of very few tasks I can actually do right now because they’re so concerned with lab safety and research travel liability whatever whatever.” They had all heard different versions of this rant from each other. Though they were in different fields, the virus was impacting their respective professional commitments and professional futures in ways that they couldn’t predict.

“Well you look great,” said Brad, giving Cooper a thumbs up as he let an arm droop across the top of the door.

“Thanks.” Cooper rolled his eyes, stripping off his rubber gloves. He warily eyed Brad’s bodacious buns framed by the soft ambience of his gaming setup and strip lights along the ceiling. “I need to get out of here and run to the pharmacy before this situation gets any worse.”

“Here, take my old running shorts,” said Brad, grunting with soft frustration as he tried to squeeze through his doorway. He had always been somewhat of a recluse, but in recent weeks had become even more of a hermit, and it didn't take long to figure out that the multiple waves of infection had made it difficult for Brad to comfortably navigate their home space. As his form emerged from the darkness of his room, he loomed over them, ducking his head and shoulders through before using his dinner plate size hands to push himself into the living room, his prodigious lower half steadily resisting. Cooper couldn't help but notice the worsening cracks around a doorframe that was never meant to facilitate anything resembling Brad's double wide posterior. 

“Didn't we talk at the last house meeting about it being a good idea for you to move into the garage?” Cooper recalled in his most generous house mother tone. 

“It's full,” Brad grunted, the muscles of his forearms and triceps straining with effort.

“What do you mean ‘full’? It's just Aiden and Dion in there, right?”

“Yeah, it's full of Aiden and Dion,” Claude chuckled.

Cooper could only groan in dismay, echoed by the sound of the house itself struggling against their growing bodies. How much longer could this go on?

“Don't worry, bud…” Brad muttered. “We'll figure…something…out.” After a minute of strained effort and multiple refusals of his housemates’ offers of help, Brad stumbled through, rising back to his full height, which seemed damn near close to the ceiling. He was definitely taller than the last time Cooper had really laid eyes on him, but he was more concerned about the cheeks filling more space behind him than a sleeper sofa. Brad held out the shorts with an encouraging smile. “They're nuBum, I think they should still fit you.”

Still fit? Cooper wondered with confusion as he gingerly accepted the crumpled silver fabric. “I don't think I need these,” he said, more to himself than anyone else in the room. “I still have some sweats somewhere that are an XXXL, I don't think the specialty brands would–”

“They might fit just right,” Claude interrupted. He laid his hands on either side of Cooper's round hips and gave his bubble butt a playful jiggle. They had all become naturally handsy out of necessity for maneuvering around each others’ voluptuous forms, but Cooper in particular appreciated how a casual caress helped him re-regulate in just the right way. “Besides, I need kitchen time to make my supp stack.”

Claude swung around the kitchen island and authoritatively used his hips to bump Cooper out of the way of the supplement cabinet. They had settled into a one-at-a-time rule in the kitchen out of spatial necessity with a de facto hierarchy based on whose cheeks were heaviest. Even with Cooper’s recent growth, Claude’s behemoth buns easily had him beat, in no small part because his workout routine had only become more relentless with each infection, and his exhibitionist tendencies only more eager. He was an early adopter of nuBum’s fitness line, rolling up to the gym in booty shorts bursting around a comically muscular posterior chain that looked powerful enough to push a city bus up a hill. So Cooper dutifully gave him the kitchen for fear of being accidentally bumped into the next room.

“...Fine.” He relented, waddled over to Brad, and stepped into each leg of the half tights with some trepidation. “But if they're Brad's old ones, they’ll be hanging…off…my…” he trailed off as the waistband was stopped in its tracks halfway up his backside, followed by his housemate’s strong hands peeling them up the rest of the way. Finally, the shorts snapped into place, fitting snugly around his waist and cradling his cheeks with a mix of comfort and support he realized he hadn't enjoyed in a while.

“They're perfect!” Brad exclaimed. “Keep ‘em.”

“No, I don't think I need–” Cooper caught himself in the full length mirror left leaning against a wall. His heart sank as he realized they did fit perfectly. Much better, he thought with dismay, then any pair of normal pants ever would again. 

“No, for real, you look great,” said Brad, giving one of Cooper's cheeks an enthusiastic, full palm slap, which he knew would send a shiver of pleasure up his friend's spine.

Cooper cut him a playfully annoyed sideways glance as he turned this way and that to get a good look. It was hard to get his whole circumference in the mirror, but he had to admit they did look good. At first he was terrified to see how the athletic shorts emphasized his enormous bubbles rather than downplayed them, but that anxiety was mixed with a tenuous excitement.

“I just didn't know it had gotten this, um…” he started carefully, using both hands to jiggle his globular buns in the mirror. 

“Bad?” Brad offered with a wry smile. 

“Well…severe,” Cooper corrected.

“Yeah, dude, your ass like doubled in size since Monday,” Claude laughed.

“We thought you knew,” Brad repeated with a more empathetic tone.

“Guys, I thought we had a protocol for when we think a new wave of infection is starting,” Cooper sighed. “I’d just like us to take this more seriously.”

“Can we take it more seriously after the gym?” Claude asked innocently as he sent a hefty scoop of protein powder into his shaker bottle. “To which, by the way, you never go with me anymore.” 

“And here I remember you being banned from the gym,” Brad teased. He took a seat on the floor by falling back onto his mammoth cheeks, chuckling to himself as the force of his posterior seemed to shake the creaky old house down to its foundations.

“Just from the squat racks and leg machines,” Claude replied with a roll of his eyes. “And the outdoor turf area during the busier times.”

“...And the sauna,” Brad reminded.

Claude scoffed, “You accidentally sit on one person…”

“Two people,” Cooper corrected.

“And not exactly an accident,” Brad clarified.

“They wanted to experience this lusciousness up close and personal. Now suddenly I'm the ‘safety hazard’ who almost ‘smothered the other members.’” The plastic scoop lolled in Claude’s fingers as he mimed dramatic air quotes.

“Which is a reputation I’m trying not to cultivate,” Cooper quipped, moseying towards the door.

“I think that ship has sailed, brochacho.” Brad gave a comical wince as Cooper turned sideways to shuffle awkwardly through the door, earning a death stare from his departing housemate.

“Looks like you're one of us now,” Claude called after him, eyes still glued to the ridiculous bubble stuffed into too tight shorts.

Cooper realized how real Claude's comment was as he walked to the pharmacy. For a long time, he had tried to get away with the illusion of normalcy, downplaying his growing posterior with all manner of fabric illusions and off hand comments about stress eating and weight fluctuation. He had convinced himself that his roommates’ fates wouldn't be his. That however chill they were about the situation, he would face it head on. He wouldn't end up like his friends who had allowed themselves to grow out of any expectation of a normal life. 

Yet each wave of re-infection chipped away at that hope, and he found himself adjusting to the shift in his center of gravity as his cheeks switched back and forth, threatening to knock pedestrians off the sidewalk if they weren't already inclined to give him a very wide berth. He could feel the flow of foot traffic parting around him like an island in a stream. Tried to convince himself that he was just imagining the cars and cyclists slowing down to gawk at the oversized orbs jiggling wildly behind him. His normal neighborhood path to the pharmacy had taken on a decidedly abnormal dynamic, a clumsy dance of navigating unaccommodating urban space and mitigating unwanted visibility. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed some sort of threshold, and had no intention of seeing how far things could go. 

—

“We’re all out of the OTC meds, you might want to try the clinic a few blocks down.”

“Well…good afternoon to you, too,” Cooper replied sarcastically, still processing the pharmacist’s dismissive comment before he had even made it ten feet into the establishment.

“Sorry,” said the mildly exasperated person behind the counter. “We’ve had a lot of requests for them lately and I just…assumed.”

You assumed right, Cooper moped to himself, turning to leave before the pharmacist gestured to pause.

“Actually,” he muttered, rubbing the scruff of his chin, “We may have just received our restock, if the delivery guys were actually on time today.”

Cooper could only answer with a pleading wave of his hands.

“Be right back,” the pharmacist sighed before disappearing into the stacks of pill bottles and paper bags.

Without the over the counter interaction to keep his focus, Cooper became acutely aware that the wagon he was draggin’ had become the center of attention as soon as he walked in. Arms crossed, he stood awkwardly waiting, trying to avoid the gazes of the other patrons raking across every curve of his excessively inflated cakes.

“Babe, those are those special pants I told you about,” came the voice of one half of a couple breezing by on his right. “Cute, right?”

The other half forced a loud guffaw, going so far as to slap one hand onto his belly while the other slid protectively across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Babe, I told you,” he drawled, performing a masculine reassurance, “I’m not gonna need those.”

“I don’t know, they’d look good on you, and you wouldn’t have to keep bringing extra pants for your wardrobe malfunctions at work and we need to get you new gym shorts anyways and–”

“You’re so cute when you worry,” he laughed, cutting her off with a peck on the cheek. He steered them out of Cooper’s line of sight as he steered their conversation elsewhere. As they turned a corner, he  glanced furtively back over his shoulder and made accidental eye contact with Cooper. His intense, worried stare quickly returned forward as he disappeared into the dark, oversized hoodie that did nothing to mitigate the sight of the pair of basketballs bouncing back and forth in his visibly strained sweats.

Sounds about right. The corner of Cooper’s lip twitched up in an ironic smirk. He had always enjoyed the attention garnered by his bubble butt, and even in the early stages of the virus the novelty of his round cheeks earned a satisfying amount of appreciation. But now he felt like some sort of failed science experiment as people gawked openly at his monstrous cakes, their eyes betraying a mix of fascination and fear. Is this how my housemates have felt for weeks? he thought, realizing Aiden and Dion would probably have trouble getting through the automatic doors. Maybe I should go easier on them, he resolved. We’re all doing the best we can, all things considered.

“No luck,” said the pharmacist, materializing behind the counter with a look of genuine disappointment. “Was that all?” Which was a thinly veiled invitation for Cooper to clear out of the tight space in front of his humble kiosk.

“Yeah, thanks anyways,” Cooper said. He turned to leave, trying to affect some confidence in his exit, but only succeeding in knocking over a shelf of rapid tests and high filtration masks. “Oh fuck, sorry, I can get those,” he stammered. As he bent over to pick up the scattered items, the globes jutting behind him collided with a tower of reading glasses and pill organizers, filling the store with the sound of plastic packaging clattering across the floor.

“I got it, you’re fine,” said a store attendant swooping in to prevent any further damage.

“Yeah, it happens…all the time these days,” added the pharmacist with a wry smile. “It can take some time to adjust.”

“...right,” Cooper muttered. Having become the undisputed main attraction for the other store patrons, he carefully navigated his way to the exit, hyperaware of the visual noise of shelved and hanging goods at risk of being knocked loose with every swish of his hips. Even a run of the mill trip to the store was becoming a claustrophobic ordeal, he realized, still wondering just how much time and how many re-adjustments it would take when all was said and done.

—

“Give me a hand?” Brad asked, holding out a silver tube of ointment that had been just about rolled and crumpled into oblivion.

Cooper, having just shuffled back in through their front door empty handed, had planned to mope quietly in his room and catch up on work, but came face to face with Brad’s mountainous backside as he contorted himself in the too small mirror trying to trace the contours of a fresh set of stretch marks.

“Sure,” said Coop. He grabbed the tube, squirted a generous dollop in one hand, and got to work. Peer to peer skincare had become another normal part of their distressingly abnormal lives. Brad’s colossal cakes filled Cooper’s field of vision, wobbling back and forth as he laid flat on his belly and rested his head on his hands. He waited patiently as his housemate applied the cream like he was making sure his back didn’t get sunburnt at the beach. “Is Claude still at the gym? I just realized I should test everyone to be safe.”

“Came back early,” said Brad. “Something about one too many ‘dress code violations.’”

“Sounds about right,” Cooper said sarcastically, channeling his frustration into his hands as he massaged the expanse of soft, jiggly ass flesh before him. “I just don’t get how we’re supposed to deal with all this, you know?”

“Hey bud, we’re gonna be fine,” Brad answered. He peered over his shoulder to better address his friend but saw only the top of Cooper’s curls over his own prodigious mounds. “Always remember rule number one.” He pointed to a whiteboard on the wall that listed their ‘Community Agreements,’ the first and most emphasized reading ‘Good vibes ONLY.’

“Should’ve vetoed that when I had the chance,” muttered Cooper, his smoldering worry settling into a prickling sensation along the constricting waistband of his shorts. He finally understood why all his housemates preferred the freedom of a pantsless existence, and felt himself yearning for that same groove of chill positivity. He hadn’t given up hope that they’d get some relief from their shared predicament, but the super stretchy reinforced seat only felt tighter and tighter as the days wore on. 

[bigmusclenm]

ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey everyone!

I wanted to make a quick post about something important. After giving it a lot of thought, I’ve decided to shut down this blog on June 1st, 00:00 (EST).

Bigmusclenm has been around since March 2022, which honestly feels wild to think about. And before anything else, I really wanna say thank you. Seriously, thank you to everyone who followed this blog, liked posts, reblogged stuff, left comments, sent messages, or just enjoyed the things I made over the years. I appreciated all your interactions, whether you were a regular or just checked in. Muscle content has never really been my main strength, so each interaction meant the world to me.

One of the best parts of creating this kind of stuff has always been knowing that something I made turned people on, inspired them, made them laugh, or just gave them something fun to enjoy for a few minutes, which always meant a lot to me.

That said, this isn’t me disappearing completely. I’ll still be posting morphs, but those will be moving exclusively to Bluesky instead. Stories will continue over on Patreon, since writing is still something I very much enjoy and plan to keep doing. And while I haven’t fully decided if I’ll start posting stories somewhere else, I’ll probably share them on my main Tumblr blog, Bigmpregnm, which will still be sticking around for a while longer.

There’s also the possibility that I’ll post drawings on Bluesky, even though I still draw at the speed of a dying snail. 😭 Lol.

Anyway, this blog has been a really fun little thing to do, and I’m grateful for everyone who helped make it feel that way.

Thank you for all the support over these last few years. 💙 Bye!

[juicedcatboy]

shirt tight, pecs juicy

[theradicalscrivener]

Gonna Be a Big Star! (Growth Drive - Final push)

The penultimate chapter of Ken's growth. Let's see how big we can get the guys. Rules are the same as before, but the weights adjusted to be proportional to his current size. 1 point = 1 mile height or .5 mile to muscle measured based on chest circumferance) or .5 mile to length of cock. ❤️ - 1 point. 🔄 - 2 point 💬 - 5 point 💲- 30 point.

Donations acceptied via [Ko-Fi]. Remember to avoid anything nsfw in your comments. To vote height, say Spotlights, for muscles, Flood lights, and for Cock, Mood lights.

[Here are other places to find me]

Support my work with [Patreon] or [Substar]

[Intro] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter (coming soon]

                Ken could feel the energy coursing through him as he sang. He still had no idea why this was happening. He still had no idea how this was happening, but the surge of endorphins he got from performing mixed with the euphoria of growth to drown out all thoughts other than how much he wanted to sing and grow and grow and sing.

                With each passing second, with each passing beat of the music, he could feel himself getting bigger. He wasn’t just getting taller; he was getting thicker too. With each passing moment, his muscles grew thicker and denser and heavier. It would have been a surreal experience even if he hadn’t been getting taller.

               His eyes were transfixed on his colossal cock and his massive pecs. He could see his pectoral shelf jutting out farther and farther in front of him. The massive mound of his delts now crested higher than his head and they were still rising. He could no longer lower his arms due to how massive his triceps were and how huge his lats were. He was completely immobilized by his own muscle, but he felt so good that he didn’t care.

               Ken’s view was impressive, but the view from the ground was even more amazing. Ken’s swelling nuts had spilled out of the auditorium and now eclipsed not just the auditorium but the entire parking lot, the parking lot for the nearby convention center, and even the convention center itself. His sack now eclipsed a cubic mile of the city.

               As Ken continued to sing and stare out at the expanse of his own pecs and cock, he could feel the air getting cooler and crisper. He was getting higher and higher above the city. He had risen above the smog layer, but he was still growing.

                Larger and larger he grew. One hundred feet. Two hundred feet. Four hundred feet. One thousand feet! Soon, he would have rivaled even the tallest towers in the city even without the added height he got from sitting atop his massive throne of a sack.

                The army of helicopters that swarmed over him like gnats were starting to look more and more like actual gnats by the second. It was hard for him to reconcile that these little dots that buzzed around him were vehicles, each housing a small squad of people. These things were larger than cars, and yet Ken could barely even make out their shapes and sizes. They were literal specks floating before his titanic eye. It was hard for him to wrap his head around it. If these helicopters were this small…

                Even without meaning to, his thoughts went towards how small that meant the people inside must be. They were literally microscopic to him. Buses were the size of ants. His childhood home could rest easily atop his fingertip. His neighborhood could fit in the palm of his hand, and he was still growing! He continued to get larger, and taller, and heavier, and thicker. Soon, he couldn’t even see the helicopters that flitted around him.

                It wasn’t long before his sack filled all of downtown. His cock jutted out so far into the distance that the tip of his dick now reached the neighboring town! The sheer notion that his dick now measured in miles left him a little light-headed, but the show must go on! He didn’t dare stop singing. The sheer fact that he was still growing meant that his fans were cheering him on, and he didn’t dare disappoint them! The show must go on!

                His song was reaching the finale. His voice crescendoed. His body trembled. His growth surged. Then… something odd happened.

                For a split second, Ken thought he had gone blind, but before he could panic, his vision returned and he realized what had happened.

                Clouds. Clouds were in his eyes. His head was now literally in the clouds. He was now so tall that he reached the cloud layer far above the city! And he was not done growing. He got taller and taller, and as he did so, the cloud layer sunk lower and lower along his body. Soon, he was so tall that his shoulders and pecs poked past the cloud layer!

               Ken took a moment to peel his eyes away from his beefy pecs and admire the view around him. Strangely enough, the fact that the clouds covered his cock gave him a small moment of clarity allowing him to take stock of the beauty of nature.

               As he looked out around him, he was greeted by a sight that he had only ever seen once – once when he had been on an airplane! He had reached cruising altitude! He was over thirty thousand feet tall! The sheer thought of it made him feel light-headed.

                As Ken stared down, he would catch fleeting glimpses of the ground below between the clouds. His body and balls were so huge and so wide that he now completely eclipsed the city. His cock was now thicker than the Mississippi River. His dick was so huge that it stretched past the suburbs and into the farmlands.

                Ken’s colossal cock gave a lurch of excitement. For a split second, Ken felt silly that he was so turned on, but he quickly shook the notion from his head. He shouldn’t feel silly. This was hot as hell! And he had no reason to be self-conscious. After all, he had only gotten this large thanks to the support of his fans. They wanted to see him get bigger. They wanted to see his massive, nude form, and given how much faster his cock had grown than the rest of him, they really wanted to see his fat cock in action.

                Ken’s colossal cock shuddered excitedly. A massive, lake-filling bead of glistening pre formed at the tip of his megalithic cock. At this rate he was going to flood the countryside with his seed! But… but first…

                Ken could no longer see his audience. They were all far too tiny for a titan like him, but he could feel their energy. He knew they wanted more. They wanted more music. They wanted more show. They wanted more Him! And he was more than happy to oblige.

                “Alright! Time for the finale! Are you all ready!?” Ken shouted. He had no mic. He had no speakers, but he no longer needed them. He was so huge that his voice echoed across the countryside. They could probably hear him across the entire state, but that was just one state. He wanted to reach the country. He wanted to reach the world! He wanted to reach the stars!!

                Ken’s gaze lifted towards the heavens themselves. Far above him he could see the midday sun and moon. The stars were still hidden by the light of the sun, but Ken couldn’t help but wonder. Would he break the stratosphere? Would he be able to see past the atmosphere of the Earth itself and look into the expanse of stars? Or would he get so large that he would join the very planets as heavenly bodies in the glittering sea of space.

                There was only one way to find out. Ken’s entire body trembled with excitement as he took a deep breath to steel his nerves and prepare his lungs for the next reverberating ballad.

[theradicalscrivener]

Gonna Be a Big Star! (Growth Drive - Part 3)

Continued Ken's growing performance.

We've passed the halfway point, and Ken is nearing a thousand feet tall. Time to see how truly huge we can get him. Based on feedback I have received, I have decided to add a new way to participate. Like, comments, and reblogs are tallied here, [FurAffinity], and [Bsky].

Likes = 1 point to height Reblogs = 3 points to height. Comments = 5 points to stat of your choice. Donations = 15 points to stat of your choice.

1 point = 100 ft height 250 ft chest or 500 ft cock

Muscle mass is now measure around the chest instead of shoulder to shoulder. This should prevent the exponential growth.

Donations acceptied via [Ko-Fi]. Remember to avoid anything nsfw in your comments. To vote height, say Spotlights, for muscles, Flood lights, and for Cock, Mood lights.

[Here are other places to find me]

Support my work with [Patreon] or [Substar]

[Intro] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter (coming soon]

                Ken raised the mic to his mouth. It felt so small in his hands. The entire mic – stand and all – was the size of a toothpick in his massive hand, but he didn’t need it to be huge, he just needed it to broadcast his singing.

                As Ken belted out his song, the nearby searchlights and spotlights turned their beams upon him. As the light washed over him, Ken felt the energy from before surge through him once more. He was growing, and the growth seemed even more intense than before!

                Ken began to creep up in size. He could tell he was growing even though it was hard for him to gauge his size. He no longer had the stage to serve as a benchmark, and most of his field of vision was now filled with his own enormous, beefy bod and his colossal cock and balls.

                He could feel his body swelling. He could feel his cock and balls surging in size. He could see his dick stretching farther out in front of him. He could see it getting wider and thicker as the growth of his cock continued to outpace his body. He could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into the cleavage between his two mountainous nuts as the two swollen spheres grew larger and larger around him. His cock and balls were getting to be so much larger than his body that it would have been easy for him to believe that it was just his junk that was growing had it not been for the bits of the city he could see spread out before him.

                Even from his perch atop his nuts, he could see nearby buildings and structures to help gauge his size. The height of his seat and the distance to the objects made it hard to gauge his exact size, but he could tell that he was at least as high at the roofs of the nearby mall. The mall in question was three stories tall, but the roof had enough embellishments that the façade easily stood one hundred feet.

                Ken was too focused on his singing to really let the reality of his size sink in. Had he had the bandwidth to consider it, he may have marveled that he now measured in the triple digits, but in the excitement of his performance and the rush of endorphins that accompanied his growth, all he could do was continue to sing and grow and grow and sing…

                He was now so massive and his balls so huge that his nuts filled the entirety of the auditorium and then some. From the back, his sack and the venue must have looked like a surrealist still life drawing - his balls like two oversized oranges nestled precariously atop a bowl that was too tiny to fully hold them, but as his cock and balls continued to grow, his nuts began to spill over the sides of the bowl-like outer walls of the auditorium. The walls cracked and crumbled. His nuts were still perched atop the crumbling rim of the auditorium, but the soft, sagging flesh of his ball sack began to droop over the side obscuring more and more of the crumbling walls.  Soon, his balls had grown so huge that the entire theater that he had been performing in was completely eclipsed by his swelling sack, and as his balls grew, so too did his cock. It didn’t take long for his dick to stretch out of the parking lot and press against the walls of the neighboring convention center.

                Ken couldn’t even fathom how huge he and his cock must be at this point. His dick stretched all the way from the theater to the neighboring convention center! His shaft not only crossed the entirety of the parking lot, but it stretched across four lanes of traffic and across the convention center parking as well! He had to have hundreds of feet of fat cock! Forget having a cock the size of a car, a bus, or even an jumbo jet! His cock would now rival even an aircraft carrier for sheer size!

                As he continued to sing, everything about him continued to grow and grow. Soon, his sack alone filled the entire lot that once housed the theater. His nuts now filled an entire city block and then some! They rose like mountains cresting hundreds of feet into the air! No doubt his cock and balls were clearly visible even from the outer suburbs. He wondered if his old schoolmates could see him now, and if they could see, if they even knew who or what they were looking at.

                Meanwhile his cock had shoved through the convention center and emerged onto the other side. The tip of his dick now jutted out into the nearby inlet. The shock of cold water against the sensitive tip of his rigid cock sent a shudder up his spine, but it was hard for Ken to tell if the shudder was from the cold or from the excitement caused by the knowledge of just how huge his dick had become.

                As his cock and balls grew larger and larger, Ken was lifted higher and higher into the air. Soon, he was looking out over the high-rise buildings of downtown. Even the tallest skyscrapers did not come close to towering as high as his nuts, but it was apparent that even without the added height from his perch atop his own cock and balls, Ken would be rivaling the nearby structures for sheer size. He was hundreds of feet tall by this point! He towered over the multi-level apartment buildings on the outskirts. He even loomed over several of the ‘smaller’ skyscrapers. It was only the largest cluster of towers in the dead center of downtown that would have given him a run for his money, but it was clear that even those would soon be outclassed by just his body.

                Just his body…?

Even as he belted out the song, the thought stuck in the back of his mind. It was hard to think that his body was now the smaller part of him. He was hundreds of feet tall and stacked with thousands of pounds of muscle, and yet his body paled in comparison to the sheer size and scale of his colossal cock and balls.

                Eventually, the song came to an end, and Ken was left gasping for breath. At some point, his mic had been fully crushed between his growing fingers, but it hardly mattered. As he grew larger and larger, he found it easier to project his voice the old-fashioned way. He was so massive that even without a microphone or speakers, his voice carried for miles and miles. His voice easily reached the suburbs on the outskirts of the city, and his voice wasn’t the only part of him that had begun to escape downtown.

                By the time his next burst of growth tapered to a halt, Ken was nearly fifty stories tall. Even without his cock and balls, he would have towered over seven hundred feet tall, but his cock and balls now absolutely dwarfed even his titanic body. Ken’s nuts had filled several city blocks. Ken’s cock had stretched into the bay and across the water until it hit the ports on the opposite side. He had lived in this city for most of his life. He knew downtown like the back of his hand. He knew how far the bus ride was from the convention center to the port. His cock had to be over a mile long and as wide as three city blocks!

                As Ken marveled at the sheer size of his cock, he heard a faint buzzing sound around his ear. He reached up and was just about to swat the annoying fly away when he snapped back to reality. He managed to stay his hand just in time.

                This wasn’t a fly. It was a helicopter! And judging from the numeral emblazoned on the side, this was a news helicopter, no less! The entire thing was barely bigger than his thumb! The people inside appeared to be half an inch tall. These were full-sized adults, but to Ken they were the size of literal ants!

                A voice crackled from the megaphone on the tiny helicopter. Even with the amplification, it was hard for Ken to hear.

                “How did you get so large?” The reporter asked.

                Ken shrugged and replied, “I don’t know, but… I think I was always meant to be a huge star.”

                There was a pause where the interviewer seemed to be mulling over what to do with this info and how to respond. However, as they delayed, others were gathering to ask questions of their own. Soon, the sky was swarming with helicopters the size of houseflies. Some were news, some were police, some appeared to be military. Whatever affiliation they held, in Ken’s eyes they were all an audience.

                “Looks like you all want an encore!” Ken cheered.

                By this point, Ken knew he no longer needed a mic. Not only would his voice carry for miles and miles, but he was surrounded by cameras and microphones. He was going viral! His image and voice would be broadcast around the world!

                Ken took a deep breath to ready himself for the next track. As he did so, he felt the same surge from before. The lights from the countless helicopters now washed over him much like the stage lights had done before. Ken’s manager had been right. His real audience was not the people in the theater, but the world at large, and Ken was going to give them a show they wouldn’t soon forget.

[Intro] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter (coming soon]

[Donations accepted via KoFi]

Remember: Don't mention anything nsfw. Please specify which lighting you want to increase. Spotlight (height). Floor lights (muscles). Mood Lights (bulge). If you donate without specifying a lighting style, the points will be applied to height.

Stage 3 will end Thursday April 2nd. There will be 4 stages.

[michverdun]

He's not wrestling competitively anymore due to being way out of the weight class for it, but he still likes to put on the college singlet while it still fits. He'd probably wrestle with you if you asked, too. Sure seems like he's... eager for it.

[theradicalscrivener]

Gonna Be a Big Star! (Growth Drive - Part 2)

Stage 1 is over.

I want to thank everyone for their participation. One thing I quickly realized was that I made a mistake with the muscle formula. Not only did I set the growth rate way high, but it was more of an exponential growth than a linear one. But I said what I said and chose to play the ball where it lay. However, since he reached immobile sizes way earlier than I had anticipated. I'm gonna pause muscle growth for now as I look at how best to restructure the growth mechanic so that people can chip in and feel their votes matter while still making it something that I can effectively describe the changes in size.

Same rules as last time, but the growth rate is higher. Each point of height will be worth 2 feet. (roughly the same growth rate as last time but adjusted to his current height). A point in dick will be half a foot. (so each $ will be 2.5 feet for dick 10 feet for height)

Likes on here or Bsky are worth 1 point. Reblogs are worth 2 points. Each dollar is 5 points.

Remember likes/reblogs on here AND Bsky both count. [Link to Bsky post.]

Donations for the cause will be taken via Ko-Fi. Remember, to vote for height say Spotlights. For cock say "Mood Lights" or something similar enough that I know what you are asking. Avoid any mention of NSFW.

[Here are other places to find me]

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Tip acceptied via [Ko-Fi]

[Intro] || Next Chapter (coming soon)

As Ken sings his first song, the cheers of the crowd wash over him as does something more magical. It's as if his body is absorbing power from their cheers and the energy from the stage lights...

                The cheers of the crowd were intoxicating. Whatever reservations Ken had quickly melted away as the voices filled his ears. The cheers were so loud that they almost drowned out the beat for the song that he was supposed to sing… almost.

                As the intro built, the cheers faded away, but the rush of excitement that the crowd had given him remained. Ken grabbed the mic, took a deep breath, and then began to belt it out with all his might. Once the singing started, nothing else mattered. His love of singing took over and filled his entire body. He began to hop and dance as he crooned to his new fans, but as the song began to wind down, he began to notice something strange.

                There was an energy he hadn’t felt before. This was more than just the thrill of the crowd. This was more than his love of performing. It was as if his body was humming with power. It was almost as if that low mechanical whine of the overloaded audio input was seeping into his body. He felt a little lightheaded almost as if he was in the throes of an intense bout of tinnitus, but that whine wasn’t echoing in his head. He felt it in his bones, his muscles… and even his cock.

                As Ken belted out the final note, he could feel the energy surging through his entire body, and as his note trailed off and the cheers of the audience returned full force, the energy surged outward.

                Ken’s body felt warm, and it wasn’t just the activity of his performance. It was as if he had begun to absorb the light from the stage lights. The bright white of the spotlight, the golden glow of the stage lights, the deep purples of the ambient lighting. Each color washed over him and seeped into his body.

                As Ken stood there gasping for breath from the intensity of his performance, the sweat dripped down his brow, and his chest rose and fell. With each heave of his chest, he could feel the fabric of his shirt rubbing against his sensitive nipples, but there was something else at play there as well. It wasn’t just that his chest felt sensitive. The shirt felt tight! Far tighter than it had been mere moments before.

                Ken glanced down and stared curiously at what he saw. There was a defined outline of pecs pressed against the front of his shirt. He could not understand it. He had never had muscles to speak of. He was a small, scrawny twig of a man, and yet… as his chest rose and fell in time with his heavy breathing, his thick slab of pecs strained against the front of his shirt.

                As Ken stared on, he realized that it wasn’t just his pecs that were growing. His shirt began to pull out from beneath his waistband. His shirt was suddenly too short! He was getting taller! But how was that possible?

                The din of the audience grew and grew. It was as if they, too, could see him swelling, and they wanted to spur him onward. As their cheers rose, Ken’s body began to burn even warmer. He felt like he was absorbing more and more of the energy from the stage lights. They felt less like bulbs and more like fonts of magic that were surging into him.

                As he stood there overwhelmed by the cheers and the energy seeping into him, he could feel his clothing straining hard against his swelling body. His clothes were so tight that they were beginning to hurt, but the larger he got, the stronger he got. There came a point where his clothes stopped straining to contain his swelling mass and instead began to pop and fray.

                The buttons on the front of his shirt were the first to go. They flew off like rockets as his swelling pecs grew to be too big for them to handle. Then, the sleeves of his shirt began to shred as his bulging biceps grew to be too thick and too strong for them to hold back. At the same time, the stitches on the sides of his thighs began to pop and tear. Large swaths of exposed skin along the sides of his swelling quads began to show through his failing slacks.

                Ken could do nothing but stand there in silent awe as his clothes burst leaving him clad in nothing but his briefs. In the split second where his body was revealed to his fans, time seemed to freeze, and in that seemingly eternal second, Ken took stock of his beefy bod.

                Ken looked like he had just walked onto the stage of a Mr. Olympus competition. His biceps were now as big as his head, and his triceps were nearly as huge. His forearms were wider than his neck! His chest was two thick slabs of sculpted brawn. Either impressive pectoral was the size of a standard pillow, and below his burly pectoral shelf were eight, sculpted mounds of abdominal muscles. Each individual ab was the size of a football, and below those rested a thick, sculpted band of an Adonis belt. The dense muscular V pointed downwards, but as much as Ken wanted to ogle his thick thighs, his gaze was locked on the bulge in his struggling briefs.

                Ken’s bulge was obscene! He had never had the most impressive dick. It was on the lower end of average, but now… now, the thick sausage straining against his briefs was nearly as wide as his neck. His two enormous nuts were the size of soccer balls, and they were still growing!

                His briefs were beyond stuffed. His cock and balls so thoroughly filled his briefs that the base of his cock poked out above the waistband. The sheer mass of his bait and tackle shoved the front of his briefs forward so hard that the back of his briefs had been forced deep into the crack of his beefy, brawny ass. From the back, he appeared to be nearly nude, and from the front, he was no less obscene.

                Ken’s briefs soon followed the rest of his outfit. With a loud, rending tear that echoed through the auditorium, his briefs tore and his cock and balls spilled out. Ken now stood as naked as the day he was born, but despite this, he could not bring himself to cover up. It wasn’t just that he was too stunned to move. As his cock spilled into view, the cheer of the crowd grew louder and louder. Everyone here seemed excited to see his massive, muscular body exposed for all to ogle, and Ken didn’t dare disappoint his fans!

                Ken continued to watch in awe as his cock grew and grew. Soon, the tip of his dick grazed the floor at his feet. At the same time, his massive nuts rested solidly on the ground. As his cock and balls continued to swell. Unable to hang lower, his nuts seemed to spread outwards which caused his swelling cock to angle further and further forward.

                Ken’s dick shoved against the mic stand threatening to knock it over. Ken instinctively reached down and grabbed it, but as he did, he couldn’t help but marvel at his tiny it looked in his hand. The mic itself looked more like a dry erase marker than it did a microphone, but what really caught his eye was where the mic was angled before he grabbed it.

                The mic was pointed right at the base of his dick.

                He had left it in the same place it had been when he had ended the previous song. Mere moments ago, the mic was level with his mouth, but now it was level with his crotch. He had doubled in height! But more importantly, if his dick now filled every inch of space between his crotch and the floor, that meant his dick was now larger than he had been mere moments before! His cock was over five feet long!

                Ken marveled at his swelling body. His pecs were now larger than couch cushions. Each individual ab was larger than his head. His massive quads were thicker than an oak tree. The dense mound of muscle between his shoulders now pressed against the base of his skull. His lats flared out beneath his buff, burly arms so far that he was having trouble lowering his arms, but more than his muscles, what amazed him was his dick.

                His nuts had swollen so fast that they now crested as high as his midriff. Even though his fat cock rested in the valley between his two swelling stones, his huge rod draped up and over his sack so high that it was beginning to block his view. Unsure what else to do, Ken crawled forward, up and onto his nuts. As he ascended onto his own sack, his cock was free to flop directly onto the stage in front of him. No longer needing to drape over his nuts, the tip of his dick now stretched all the way to the edge of the stage.

                Ken was overcome with a strange sort of vertigo as he stared down the length of his own enormous shaft. It wasn’t even fully hard and yet the pre-drooling tip hung over the edge of the stage. Warm, viscous liquid dripped from the tip of his dick into the mosh pit below. Fans rushed forward and reached up to stroke the head of his cock and let his pre wash over them.

                Ken sat there in silent awe. His nuts were now so massive that they worked like a couch. They were so enormous that even his incredibly dense, broad, burly body did not feel heavy enough to hurt them. His sack was so huge and so soft that he felt like a doll on a pillow, but he knew that the comparison was only apt when compared to his own appendages. His body had been growing and swelling. With each passing moment he had gotten taller and thicker and heavier and stronger.

                It was hard for him to fathom just how huge he had gotten. His nuts looked the size of a bungalow. His cock looked the size of a bus. His massive pectoral muscles were each as wide as he was tall. They looked to be the size of full-sized mattresses, but that was only by his reckoning. The tiny toothpick of a mic in his hand made it clear he had grown exponentially. He was so tall that even had he been standing upright, he would have been eye level with the balcony seats. He had to be easily fifty feet tall!

                As he continued to grow and swell, his nuts grew so large that they pressed against the ceiling of the auditorium. The rafters strained and groaned against the onslaught of his swelling sack. His massive cock stretched farther and farther into the audience. It wasn’t long before the tip of his colossal cock was pressed all the way against the far wall. He had hundreds of feet of fat cock. His dick was bigger than a 747. His fans now crawled over the fuselage of his monolithic cock like ants on a forgotten hoagie.

                The roof strained against his swelling sack. The far wall groaned against the onslaught of his growing cock, but the structure still stood. It was only thanks to Ken’s cock still being mostly soft that the walls held. If he popped wood, he would easily bulldoze the building. Something about the knowledge of how huge and how powerful just his cock was sent a shudder of excitement up his spine and a lurch of delight through his cock. That lurch caused his cock to slam against the wall, causing the entire structure to shudder.

                The impact caused the lights hanging from the rafters to creak and plaster to fall from the ceiling. Ken wanted to shout for the audience to evacuate. This building was not designed to handle someone at his size, and if he kept growing, the whole building was sure to crumble beneath his bulk, but when he opened his mouth to cry out, a moan of orgasmic bliss escaped his lips.

                His cock gave another lurch of delight. This time, the far wall did not survive. His cock bashed through the concrete and spilled out into the parking lot. Fortunately, the wall collapsed outward. The audience was safe from the debris, but the same could not be said for their vehicles.

                By this point, Ken’s nuts were so massive that the building pressure of his balls against the ceiling was beginning to get uncomfortable. At this rate, his nuts would be so thoroughly squished inside the auditorium that either it would begin to hurt or the auditorium would collapse from the outward force of his swelling stones.

                Fortunately, Ken was given a brief respite. A bright light began to bleed through the center of the roof. At first, Ken thought the ceiling was about to collapse, but the narrow band of light spread wider and wider. Soon, Ken’s eyes began to adjust to the sunlight, and he realized the roof wasn’t collapsing. It was folding! The large domelike auditorium was equipped with convertible ceilings!

                Ken now found himself lying atop his own sack, staring out over the bustling downtown. His sack was so huge that it filled the entire auditorium. The walls of the auditorium only reached about halfway up his sack making his nuts look like two oversized eggs spilling out over the sides of a concrete nest.

                Meanwhile, his colossal cock spilled out of the auditorium and across the parking lot. His cock was easily four hundred feet long at this point. His dick was every bit as large as a commercial cruise liner. The audience members who had jumped onto his swelling shaft for safety now looked like gnats against his gigantic rod.

                A few of the more adventuresome audience members had run towards him during the action. There were a literal handful of groupies huddled under the massive shelf of his colossal pecs for safety. He couldn’t help but reach down and scoop a few up to admire how small they were in his hands. They were so tiny that he could easily get three or four in his palm. They were so small that they were only roughly as tall as his middle finger. A full-sized adult looked to be roughly three inches tall, but Ken lacked the skill in math or even the ability to think clearly enough to try and ration out how large he must be.

                Now that the growth had stopped, Ken was free to take stock of his muscles. His broad, burly body was so wide that he felt a sense of vertigo just looking at how broad his body was. Each pec was wider than he was tall by a good margin. Even just his thick quads looked wider than his shoulders had been mere moments ago, but of course, he was no longer five feet tall which meant his quads wouldn’t be that size either. He now towered four stories tall. He loomed nearly eighty feet tall, and that was not counting the added height from the colossal set of nuts he now found himself riding atop.

                Ken sighed and slunk back into the massive, plush seat that was his own enormous sack. It had been fun. Even if he had only gotten through one song, he was glad for the chance to perform. He just wished he could have done more. He would have loved to go on tour or something, but now, it didn’t look like he was going anywhere.

                However, before Ken could sink too deep into his own thoughts, he heard a sound – a voice, actually. The soft voice of one of his tiny fans shouting something he couldn’t quite make out, but the fan’s shout was joined by another and another. Soon, there was a booming, echoing chant that even reached Ken’s titanic ears.

                “En! Core! En! Core! En! Core!”

                As the crowd cheered, a couple massive search lights from the nearby airport turned towards him. Then, a moment later, the multicolor spotlights outside the nearby convention center turned to point directly at him. Ken found himself once more in the spotlight both literally and figuratively.

                Ken smirked and looked down at the tiny tic tac sized mic which he held pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. He had only done one song, after all. It’d be a shame to stop now…

[Intro] || Next Chapter (coming soon)

[Donations accepted via KoFi]

Remember: Don't mention anything nsfw. Please specify which lighting you want to increase. Spotlight (height). Mood Lights (bulge). If you donate without specifying a lighting style, the points will be applied to height.

Stage 2 will end Friday March 27th. There will be 4 stages.

[theradicalscrivener]

Gonna be a big star! (Growth Drive!)

The last few months have been #Rough and I owe a few k in medical bills for both myself and my dog. So, in the spirit of Macro March, I figured I'd try a growth drive!

There are three stats that can grow. Height (self explanatory). Package (should be obvious) and Wingspan. This is the width of his chest which was chosen as an easy numerical bit that I could adjust that will scale his entire width aka muscle mass. Figured this is an easier unit to visualize as opposed to just doing raw muscle mass (which would have severe diminishing returns the larger he gets.)

Like will get 1 point to height. Reblogs will get 2 points to height. Each $ will get 5 points to the stat of your choice. Additions to his cock/muscles will be calculated in relation to his base size. So say he gains two inches in dick but doubles in height, he'll effectively gain 4" to his dong. Likes/reblogs/comments count both Here and on [BlueSky]

Important note: I'll be accepting donations via Ko-Fi so keep all comments SFW. The theme for this story is a music concert and in the spirit of it, points will be purchased as stage lighting. These lights are"

Spotlight: each point in spotlight gives 1" to height.

Floodlights: Each point in floodlights gives .5" to wingspan

Mood Lighting: Each point in mood lighting gives .5" to dick size.

[Here are other places to find me]

Support my work with [Patreon] or [Substar]

Tip acceptied via [Ko-Fi]

                Ken fidgeted nervously as he waited backstage for his cue. He still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He still couldn’t really wrap his head around how it had happened. It was more than just a dream come true. It was like a literal answer to his prayers. He had always wanted to be a performer. He loved singing, and he dreamed of singing in front of a crowd, but he was so meek and timid that he doubted he’d ever be able to make the jump to actually performing. That was… until a friend of his said he had a hookup. He knew a guy who knew a guy who prided himself on being a good judge of talent.

                Ken had gone through the motions at first. He went along with the momentum as his friend called the guy up, and then he arrived at the meeting expecting little and planning for less, but the talent agent seemed excited. He said he saw something in Ken – a spark. A glimmer of potential that could be cultivated into something huge.

                “I see big things. Very big things. I can see it in your eyes. We just need to give you the right setting to really shine,” the guy had said.

                Something in the way he said it caught Ken’s interest. He sounded more than just earnest. He sounded eager. There was more than truth to his words – there was a desire to make it real! For the first time in his life, Ken dared to dream that he might actually be a star!

                Sadly, that high didn’t last. He got quickly swept up in the action after that as his new agent made deals and plans. Things were set in motion, and it was all Ken could do to keep up as he got swept up in the tempest of activity.

                A large hand clasped around Ken’s shoulder snapping him out of his reverie and back into the present. It was his agent – the same talent scout that had sold him on this idea in the first place. The guy had a huge, toothy smile that seemed to say, ‘everything is going perfectly.’ He looked so earnest that Ken really wanted to believe him, but Ken couldn’t shake the jitters.

                “You ready for this?” his agent asked.

                “Not really, no…” Ken replied.

                “You’ll do great. Once you take the stage, your instincts will kick in. You’re just too trapped in your own head at the moment,” the agent replied.

                “I’m not used to performing in front of such a large crowd,” Ken replied.

                Truth be told, the crowd was only half of the issue. The other half of the issue was the lack of a crowd. It was a large venue. There were countless people there to watch him, but they were nowhere near max capacity. The people who had shown up were not there for him per se. They were all there because they were curious or bored and a free concert seemed like a good waste of time.

                “Don’t worry about them. They’re not your audience. They’re just set dressing,” the agent explained.

                “I… what?”

                “Your real audience is in here,” the agent said as he pushed a huge finger into Ken’s chest, and then he pointed out towards the open doorway leading to the back alley behind the venue and added, “and out there.”

                Ken wanted to push for more answers, but he was too anxious and confused to formulate words. He understood the ‘your audience is inside’ part. That seemed like your average pep talk nonsense, but his audience is outside?

                The agent seemed to pick up on his confusion. “Perform for yourself. It’s what got you here, but remember, this isn’t your stage. The world is your stage. This venue can’t hold you. You’re going to be huge. Someday soon, I can see it. When you are, the whole world will be your stage!”

                “I… Ok?” Ken sputtered.

                The agent seemed to take that as an agreement or at the very least, an acceptance. He placed a hand on either of Ken’s shoulders, spun the guy around, and shoved him out onto the stage.

                Ken staggered forward. He stumbled awkwardly a few steps before regaining his footing. When he looked up, he realized that he was now standing directly in front of the mic.

                Ken stared out into the audience. He suddenly felt so small and so insignificant. The auditorium seemed to stretch out for miles as a sort of vertigo took hold of him, and the image of himself reflected back at him on the monitors around the venue did little to help this sensation.

                Ken looked as small as he felt. It wasn’t just that he lacked stage presence. He was just a naturally small person. Slight build, small stature. It was hard for someone like him to demand attention. In that moment, he wished he was bigger. He wished he was the kind of person who could command the stage.

                As if in answer to his prayer, a series of loud thooms reverberated through the auditorium as stage light after stage light came on and shone down on him. As the light washed over him, his view of the audience faded. The solitude was reassuring somehow. He no longer had to see the crowd. He was free to perform as if he was all alone just like he always did, but there was something else at play too. The light felt warm and soothing against his skin. It felt reassuring in a way he never anticipated. He could feel something welling up inside of him. It was as if his very body thrummed with energy, but he had no idea what this could mean.

                Ken took a deep breath to steady his nerves, reached up to lower the mic to his level, and then, with all the bravado he could muster, shouted out towards the crowd. “Are you ready!?”

                The intensity of the cheers caught him off guard. It sounded like the whole world was cheering him on. In that moment, he started to believe. Maybe… just maybe… he could really be a big star.

[Donations accepted via KoFi]

Remember: Don't mention anything nsfw. Please specify which lighting you want to increase. Spotlight (height). Floodlight (muscle). Mood Lights (bulge). If you donate without specifying a lighting style, the points will be applied to height.

Stage 1 will end Friday March 20th. There will be 4 stages.

[strongbois]

[musclesaber]

1000 Followers

Hey there yall. Just saw that I hit 1,000 followers on this account and wanted to say thanks for the love even though I haven’t written anything horny in over a year.

If you have any questions or ideas about muscle growth, macro, gaining, mpreg, etc. feel free to throw me an ask!

AMA today😉

[bodybeyondstories]

This was a short prompt about rapid ass expansion. Kit, a college gym goer tries a protein shake that promises to boost his glutes. As he moves through his leg day routine, his posterior chain kicks into overdrive, giving him an out of control pump that proves to be much more than he--or his gym crush--expected.

In some divine timing, I just this morning finally talked to my thiccest gym crush lol. Thanks to @futuristicscissorsbatpainter for sending the idea!

[ ass expansion ]

2210 words

+ + + + +

Kit grunted through his last set of deadlifts, enjoying the stretch and pull of his glutes and hamstrings as he fought gravity with each rep. With a relieved sigh, he let the weights crash back to the ground and followed suit, plopping down onto the bench and wincing as a tight muscle spasm went through his posterior chain. As he took a moment to breathe, he reveled in the burn throughout his lower half, yet as he turned to grab his phone and log the last set, he found himself doubled over in abdominal pain. The device clattered to the ground as his stomach gurgled and cramped, the discomfort worsened by another intense spasm from his glutes. 

Need to stop working out on an empty stomach, he thought. Or maybe I’m just adjusting to whatever was in that protein shake. 

He knew that rolling into the gym on nothing but preworkout and a dream was a mistake. But he was in a hurry that morning, not least because he was acutely aware of the timeframe in which his latest gym crush was usually working out. So as he was heading out the door, he grabbed a bottle from the case of protein shakes that had just arrived the day before, figuring it would have to do as some form of sustenance.

To his knowledge, they had been discontinued a few years ago with some recall or warning about adverse health effects or whatever. It was a protein supplement that promised to target glute growth, which he knew was nonsense, but with his pancake ass and skinny legs, he was in the mood to give anything a try. And when he’d found a small distributor online selling a case of them for next to nothing, he jumped on it.  As he chugged most of the surprisingly thick substance on his way to the gym, he reasoned that this would be an experiment, a baseline data point to see if the supplement did anything meaningful for his tragically mediocre leg days. So far, all it promised was a progressively worsening upset stomach and an annoyingly woozy workout.

“You okay?” came a familiar voice right behind him, followed by a firm hand on his shoulder, which managed to add a horde of butterflies to his already topsy turvy belly.

Oh, fuck me, he thought, looking up to see his crush in the mirror displaying a look of concern. He’s supposed to catch me with glowing skin and perfect deadlift form, not sweaty and nauseous from some mystery product I got from a .net address.

“Oh yeah, I–I’m good,” Kit stammered. His breath hitched as the muscles of his backside seized again, but at least his stomach was calming down. “Just, uh, went too hard on legs,” he added with an unconvincing laugh.

“Nice,” his crush responded. “You’re using those tips I gave you?” he asked, referring to the moment a few weeks previous when he’d given Kit an impromptu, up close and personal tutorial on how to really get deep and hit your glutes on a barbell squat. Kit still didn’t understand how he didn’t spontaneously combust when his crush rested his hands on his hips and guided him through an entire set.

“Uh, oh, yeah!” Kit exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, thinking less of his squat form and more of the heavy bulge that had burned against his cheeks for ten unforgettable reps. “I think I’m seeing some gains.”

“I know I’m seeing ‘em,” he winked. “You’re gonna have to give me the leg routine one of these days.”

Kit could only reflect on the absurdity of that statement as he watched his crush walk away, eyes resting longingly on the perky bubble swishing back and forth in his tiny gym shorts. His glutes contracted again, in agreement or mockery, he couldn’t tell.

Fuck it, he thought, and decided to throw in a quick drop set to make sure he got a good pump. He sprang off the bench, fighting his light dizziness as he adjusted the weight on either side of the bar. As he moved to rerack the plates, he caught himself in the mirror, pausing at the sight of the cute buns behind him. Having started regularly working out in college, he was pleased with how his upper body was becoming decently well defined, but was constantly embarrassed by the way his posterior chain refused to put on mass. So while the perky cheeks poking in his shorts were nothing major, barely worthy of a gym thirst trap, it was more than nothing. Maybe it’s working after all, he joked with himself, imagining the protein shake being digested into peach-shaped particles and magically heading straight to his glutes.

He felt a second wind as he ended the extra set, following it up with the circuit he’d been using to really hit his posterior chain. He moved through split squats with a renewed vigor, enjoying the satisfying burn of an exercise he usually dreaded, opting to add more and more weight but somehow not getting fatigued. His stomach was still uneasy, but he was much more interested in how he felt his ass jiggle on every rep of the lying leg curl machine. His hamstrings convulsed with surprising strength, bringing the bar to slam against his butt much more forcefully than he usually managed, but his ass readily absorbed the shocks, feeling unexpectedly well padded.

The pump was becoming more and more obvious with each set, his cheeks twitching back and forth as he moved between exercises and machines. He couldn’t help but steal glances at himself posing in the mirror, even snapping a few pics when no one was looking. On the hip thrust machine, he was delighted to see the underside of his bum was noticeably plump, not even noticing how he was pushing double the weight of his heaviest sets. As he finished with a few sets of barbell good mornings, he felt downright sensual, hinging his hips back slowly with each rep, pushing the seams of his shorts to the limit. He even caught a few people stealing glances at his suddenly luscious cakes, an opportunity he refused to waste as he strutted on the treadmill for a little bit of cardio.

His leg day ran twice as long as usual because his muscles just didn’t seem to fatigue. He found himself moving through every isolation and compound movement he knew, chasing the high of the burn in his glutes and the resultant pump that just wouldn’t seem to go down. As he headed back to the locker room, he met the eyes of his crush again, who, like a number of other gymgoers, were watching his bouncing bubble butt fight for space in his too tight shorts. As he self-consciously pulled at the hems of his shorts digging into his thighs, he felt like the wagon behind him was actually throwing him off balance.

He chuckled at the idea as he pulled the shake out of his backpack and downed the rest. He was just thrilled to finally have a decent pump, he thought, but as he checked himself out in the full length mirror, his eyes bulged in shock. His ass wasn’t just pumped it was…big. Like disproportionately big. He had always wanted a bubble butt, but this was starting to look comical. He marveled at the dump truck behind him as he turned from side to side, lifting each hefty cheek in turn to make sure they were real. He shuddered with the now familiar pang of unease in his stomach and he could swear he saw his ass stretching the fabric of his shorts just a little more, the curve of his shelf slightly more pronounced, the heft in each hand just a little bit meatier, slowly spreading his fingers apart as he unconsciously kept shifting his stance to accommodate. He didn’t think it was possible to have a pump like this, especially for someone whose cheeks looked deflated on any given day. His glutes were still rounding out and inflating long after his last set. Maybe the muscles just needed to be activated in the right way? He thought. Or my workouts are finally paying off and I didn’t notice until now? Or–

“Hey, great work out there!” came that familiar, butterfly-inducing voice. “You were gettin’ it in.”

“Uh, wow, thanks,” said Kit, suddenly embarrassed to notice his crush standing a few feet away while he was lost in the sight of his voluptuous buns. “I tried this new supplement. It’s been kind of fucking up my stomach, though.”

“Oh I remember those!” his crush exclaimed, noticing the empty bottle still clutched in his hand. “I thought they were banned, right? And how’d you find some from concentrate?”

“Yeah, I found it through, um…wait, concentrate?”

His crush pointed at the label of the protein shake. Kit, brows knitted in confusion, actually read the information on the shake for the first time, noticing that it did in fact say Concentrate, followed by a guide on how to dilute the solution for all 40 servings.

“40…servings,” Kit whispered to himself, just loud enough for his crush to hear.

“Wait, did you chug that whole thing today? Dude, I need to get on your level, that’s impressive.”

“I, uh…” Kit’s stomach growled loud enough to reverberate throughout the locker room. Rivulets of sweat started running down his forehead as his belly twisted in knots. He felt a stab of cold terror as he realized that his stomach had been actively trying to process a sudden massive overload of this discontinued and dubious supplement. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, his gym shorts feeling intensely constricting as they dug into his rump, looking more and more like booty shorts as they revealed the bottom of his curvaceous cheeks. He didn’t know the side effects of taking too much or the threshold for medical intervention. But he could feel something major coming. Maybe I should throw up, he thought. Or get my stomach pumped, or– “Ughhh!” He doubled over in pain, his stomach gurgling as it processed the last of the shake and the full force of 40 servings began to work on his body.

“Hey bro, are you okay?” that firm hand on his shoulder again, drawn away quickly as if he had touched a stove.

Kit’s entire body felt white hot and electric, but he was more concerned about a sensation he hadn’t experienced before. It was sickening and exciting, his knees buckling as acute pain met rolling waves of pleasure. He could feel it this time. He could feel his ass growing. Not a pump, not the satisfying burn following a deep squat, no, he could feel his ass cheeks expanding with mass and taking up more space, flexing and twitching and growing relentlessly as they ballooned behind him. When the pinch of his shorts, now rendered into little more than bikini briefs, became unbearable, the seams finally gave way, exploding off of his derriere with a loud rip. His relief at being free of the constraining fabric was short lived, as he felt his ass continuing its growth in the cool air of the locker room, expanding outward without concern for his whimpers and gasps, finally slowing down with a few final lurches in size.

Kit turned his head with trepidation, sending a jiggle through his huge ass as he turned it slightly towards the mirror. His gym shorts were torn to shreds, strewn like an afterthought over the pair of beach ball sized buns that his previously inconsequential ass had suddenly morphed into. He rested his hands on his monumental cheeks carefully, as if he was afraid the overstuffed bubbles might pop. He was dumbfounded as he saw how small his hands looked against the expanse of his new buns. He gave it a tentative slap and watched them shake and wobble uncontrollably. He imagined his colossal cakes rippling and bouncing with every movement, as if the laws of physics were more of a set of guidelines for the planetoids now hovering behind him.

He was at a loss for words. It was embarrassing enough that his stupid impulse purchase had left him with a pants splitting pair of cheeks, but he couldn’t believe who it had happened right in front of. Kit was fraught with the sudden image of his crush trying to assist with his squat form, failing to hold on to Kit’s bulbous, juicy hips, and being smothered under his wild expanse of ass flesh. His globular globes were probably too oversized to use many of the machines in the gym, let alone squat properly. They’ll probably end up kicking me out for the inevitable property damage from these boulders, he sighed to himself. I was just about to learn his name, too.

“So,” said his crush, bringing Kit’s eyes back to meet him. To Kit’s surprise, he hadn’t run away in terror after witnessing Kit’s backside expand into a cartoonish morph. Instead, he continued to stare at the gravity defying orbs ballooning from Kit’s lower back, looking slackjawed at the mirror with a mix of hunger and awe. “Do you have any more of those shakes?”

[bigmusclenm]

When the model’s bio says “massive upper body,” but he shows up looking like he’s carrying two planets at the front. Rumor has it Dan’s pecs aren’t thick—they’re stocked. All that “muscle milk” he’s producing has to go somewhere, but apparently, he often needs some help to drain the excess. He’s got plenty of cream for the whole crew.

[bodybeyondstories]

don’t know if you’re taking prompts at the moment, but here’s one i thought you’d nail: a smutty influencer is recording one of those poorly acted “i can’t get my pants over my fat ass” videos, but to his disbelief and chagrin, his ass starts growing until he genuinely can’t put his pants on and it doesn’t stop there

ok so I actually love this trope!!! There's a similar one that someone sent a while ago about a streamer experiencing out of control growth induced by tips. I couldn't quite get an idea formed, but this sparked immediately. I liked doing the little backstory, I'm a big fan of coming into your own body by being playfully slutty online

2022 words

[ ass expansion // bubble butt ]

+ + + + +

[my daily struggle 😭]

For anyone casually perusing their algorithmically provided content, the Live feed of Ben in nothing but a tank top and some designer briefs would be enough to cause at least a temporary pause in someone's morning scroll. For his followers, the short, telling description at the bottom promised something much more titillating.

A few times a week, when he had a cute outfit in the works and was in the mood for a boost in attention, Ben would do a Live of him getting dressed, inviting the audience into a group conversation about the fashion choices for that day as he coyly showed off his thicc build, starting, of course, in nothing but his undergarments. This morning's bikini briefs were sponsored by a gay athleisure brand who specialized in emphasizing the curvature of the male form.

"I think these are still on sale," he said to his burgeoning audience as he turned his backside to the camera. "Y'all behave, okay?" he smirked at the camera, peering at the growing stream of comments. "Don't want to get banned from Live again," he winked. "But they make your butt look great, right?" He laughed.

The fit of the briefs really were flattering. But as thousands of viewers were coming to realize, and many more thousands of followers were already aware, Ben's butt would look great wrapped in a loose trash bag. It wasn't so much that the fabric accentuated his curves, but struggled for dear life against a pair of round melons that had stretched out, torn through, and otherwise bested all manner of menswear on and off camera. He was stacked.

Ben, for the longest time, had hated his big ass. Disproportionately large and delectably bubbly, it was the first thing you noticed about him and the last thing that stayed on your mind. His cheeks had ballooned into a massive muscle butt in his college wrestling days, making him the constant target of mockery, lust, or some mix of the two. Things only got worse through his 20s, as his comfortable nonprofit accountant job with a generous work from home policy caused him to pack on some pounds, forming a slight chubbiness that seemed to concentrate more than anywhere else in his already intimidating posterior. His otherwise athletic frame had taken on a flattering layer of padding that emphasized the curves of his musculature, none more so than in the dumptruck he was cursed with lugging around behind him.

His ass was a nuisance, if not a constant point of self-conscious frustration. It hadn't occurred to him that he might actually enjoy the attention his caked up backside drew until he started posting online. His page was mainly short slice of life videos, cute photo sets, and progress updates on creative projects for his friends and whoever else wandered into his meager following. It was never meant to be anything special, until, during a sped up video of him assembling a limited edition model kit of a decades-old giant robot anime, he forgot to fully crop the part where he got up to run to the bathroom, leaving his small viewership with an accidentally revealing angle of him in a pair of skimpy gym shorts hugging a divine peach that filled the screen for barely a second.

That was all it took for the video to go viral, followed by a spike in views for every other video in which he inadvertently flaunted his bubble butt. He didn't know what to make of it. He didn't see himself as any sort of influencer model type, especially not with the oversized wagon he was draggin'. But as comments flooded in, he decided to have fun with it, making response videos of him jokingly turning around in all manner of shorts, slacks, and jeans, racking up more views that he ever imagined. What performed better than anything else was a running gag in which he struggled to pull his pants up over his substantial glutes, frowning behind him as he comically yanked the over-stressed waistband, causing his cheeks to jiggle uncontrollably in front of the camera as they bubbled out of the fabric.

If people liked his butt, so be it, he thought. As his following grew into the thousands, then hundreds of thousands, his content coyly flashing his bodacious buns began to get more bold, more playful. He became more comfortable showing off his body, experimenting with cute dances, self-deprecating yet body positive leg day workout voiceovers, unboxings of menswear that turned into sponsorship deals, even a line designed for men with his particular disproportions, and eventually, smutty content that hinted at even smuttier paths through the link in his bio. So one lazy morning, he had some time before he had to head to the office and some conflicting outfit ideas, and decided to jump on Live and pretend to be a fashion influencer for a quick #GRWM.

"Okay, are we thinking the polo or the button down?" he asked, holding two options in front of the camera. "I've been really into collarless tops lately."

"Ain't nobody thinkin' about that shirt," he muttered aloud from the comments before bursting into laughter. "Y'all are impatient today," he teased, tossing the shirts aside. Checking that viewer numbers were sufficiently high for the main attraction, he snatched another sponsorship deal from off camera, this time from a menswear brand pushing their super stretchy business casual athletic fit slacks.

"You remember what happened last time we tried those 'super stretchy' jeans," he rolled his eyes, "but these are actually so dope. Super comfy and they fit like a glove."

His brief-clad bubble butt ballooned towards the camera as he bent over to slip into each leg. His cheeks wobbled and shook in protest as he tried to get them on, the seat of his pants slowly making its way upward. He made a show of jumping up and down, which only served to send waves of reverberation across his oversized ass. As promised, they hugged his prodigious backside like a second skin.

"These look great!" he exclaimed, turning to each side profile to see his meaty cheeks and tree trunk thighs from multiple angles. "Looks heavy," he read from the comments as he turned back to face the screen. "And getting heavier," he chuckled, playfully jutting one of his globes toward the camera.

"Soooo thicc, you can see it from the front..." he read another. He laughed it off, innocently holding his arms out as he backed away to get more of his body in frame. "It's way too early for this..." he trailed off, his eyes bulging as he noticed the curves of plum colored fabric expanding on either side of his hips. "I, um..." he stammered, his face tilted in confusion as, even though he was standing perfectly still, the globes of his ass looked like they were slowly filling more of the space behind him. An anxious twitch of his glutes brought him back to reality, his pants suddenly feeling acutely, uncomfortably tight. "...went way too hard on leg d--" he was cut off by the soft staccato of seams failing and the sudden presence of cool air across his cheeks.

"Ughhh, these barely made it thirty seconds," he groaned, turning his back to the camera to show the tattered remains of the seat of his pants, his ass bubbling out between them. Comments, tips, and rewards flooded in at the incredible sight, but Ben couldn't keep his eyes off the pair of beach balls he called an ass that was reflected back to him on camera. It wasn't just that his butt looked big (this wasn't the first fashion faux pas he'd had on camera), it looked too big. Bigger than anything that could've fit in those pants while still obeying the laws of physics. And it looked like it was getting bigger still. "I...think they sent some larger pairs!" he suddenly remembered. His gait seemed off as he strolled to the other side of the room, cheeks wobbling back and forth heavily enough to throw him off.

He kept talking about his day as he searched his closet for the backup slacks. He was thankful he remembered to clip his mic so he could fill time with his big presentation coming up at work, his latest takes on the shows he was watching, upcoming brand deals and collabs. Yet all anyone watching the Live could pay attention to were the gargantuan globes steadily ballooning from his lower back. They swallowed his briefs completely and pushed his ripped pants aside like an afterthought, the absurdity of the situation only becoming more apparent as their growth picked up speed.

"Found 'em!" Ben exclaimed. He held up a similar looking pair of plum colored stretchy slacks as he turned around and headed back to the phone mounted on his desk. "I always have them send some larger pairs just in case. You know how...it..." his jaw dropped at the sight before him. If his ass had been visible from the front, it was now undeniable. He looked awestruck as he turned to the side, unable to process the fact that his cheeks had somehow tripled in size since he'd started the Live. "What the fuck," he whispered, leaning in to read the deluge of comments, as if some random person out there might have some ideas as to how his ass had grown to a size that shouldn't be physically possible and wasn't showing signs of slowing down.

"No...it's not AI," he muttered, responding to what comments he could glimpse before they were swept away. "No, there's no filter on. I don't know what's happening, okay?!"

He felt dizzy. His composure was breaking. He grabbed the arms of his gaming chair and guided it behind him, struggling to shove himself into the seat as the chair groaned in terror. He kept adjusting and readjusting his position, grimacing as his cheeks spilled out behind him, growing more massive than anything the chair was designed to hold.

"Guys, this is serious!" he yelled, frantically typing on his laptop while keeping on eye on his phone. He felt himself starting to panic, tentatively touching his growing backside to verify that it was real, wincing every time he felt his globes lurch to an even larger size. How could this be happening. How was this possible? "No really, it's not a prank, I don't know what's--OOF!"

The chair failed catastrophically under his monumental cakes and he hit the ground with a thud loud enough to be picked up through his mic and heavy enough to knock his phone out of its mount.

The Live was still going. Now angled from the floor, viewers were treated to the sight of Ben struggling to stand, his sofa sized cheeks swishing wildly back and forth as he attempted to run out of the room, only to get stuck in the doorway, the massive bubbles of his glutes producing webs of cracks around the door frame.

Eventually he gave up and stumbled backward. As he frantically scanned the room for his phone, his cheeks were knocking things off of shelves, which only served to worsen his anxiety. He was too big, with no explanation and no means of escape. He fell to the floor as he reached for his phone. He clutched it in his hands for dear life, hoping to call for help but instead getting caught up in the sight before him.

Reflected back to him was the still active Live showing his terror struck face. He was framed by mountains of blubber buns expanding behind him. He wouldn't have been able to accept the monstrosity as his own ass if not for the feeling of his cheeks pushing against furniture and the sounds across the room of wood and plaster cracking and warping under the relentless pressure of his growing booty.

"H-help...?" his voice cracked as his ass filled the screen, dropping the room into darkness as it eclipsed the windows, leaving only the steady stream of confused and enthusiastic viewer engagement.

[juicedcatboy]

[fatjockass]