Chapter 3
I quit my job with the New Gotham weekly so I could focus more of my time on training and writing. Eric agreed that this would help me really make gains in the gym. I was about 220 lbs the day I called in and quit. I didn’t do it dramatically, but the editors said they were sorry to see me go. I wasn't, I was getting bigger and without having to run around everywhere I could really focus on making the gains I wanted. Truth be told, with Eric around the house all the time I didn’t find myself doing much writing. Aside from hitting the gym, eating and getting my daily shot of “vitamins” (as we jokingly called it),all we did was fuck.
He was so into me. He loved how much bulkier I was. Sure I didn’t have really defined abs, but my arms were 18” already. I was getting bigger and I loved it. And so did Eric. We were getting competitive at the gym, which turned him on too. I was benching 225 easily and comfortably. He got me so pumped up for it each day. Our sessions there sometimes went on for two hours. I couldn't get enough of training and eating.
It carried into the bedroom too. We fantasized together about my growing mass. He kept telling me how big I was going to get and I couldn't get enough of it. Eric and I spent so much time together, he barely even went to his job.
Two weeks after quitting work I was pushing over 230 lbs. Nothing from my old wardrobe fit even in the slightest. Everything was comically small on me now. Even the largest shirts I was so excited to buy a month ago were now tight. I was now on the upper end of L territory.
Soon I was benching 275 with ease. It was so fun to push out 10 reps at that weight. A month before I could have barely done 1 rep. Now 10 was a good warmup for 315. Other big guys at the gym were starting to acknowledge me. I was getting the sort of head-nod you get from serious lifters when they recognize another of their own kind. It was intoxicating. I wanted more. I wanted to grow into the biggest guy there.
As I said before, I was eating constantly. About every hour I was eating. Without the appetite stimulants I couldn't have done it. Nine actual meals in a day. And boy, was it doing a number on me. By the end of the day my stomach was always barreled out, full and round with food. Everyday I woke up feeling heavier, bulkier, bigger. I was excited to step on the scale and see proof. I loved it, I saw progress happening before my eyes every day. Each curve of muscle on my arms and shoulders became slightly more pronounced each morning. My back was widening, my legs thickening, my pecs filling out.
Sure I was starting to get a bit of a belly, and all the food I was packing in just emphasized that, but Eric assured me that it was the muscle growth that was dominating my physique. I was definitely packing on mass. I tried to get in touch with Jonas, but I didn’t hear from him. I figured I was growing even faster than ever. The cycle I was doing was much more effective than I realized steroids could be. Even Eric was baffled by the results. “Get the most out of this cycle, see how big you can get doing it” he kept saying to me. I followed true to that.
What a rush. Eric practically had moved in with me and was keeping his eye on me often. He kept pushing the food, even when I forgot. I loved it, I loved his constant pressure to help me grow and become the mass monster I dreamed about. I did notice he seemed more distracted as time went on, as if something was troubling him. He never said what.
____
“Jonas, where have you been man?” Began another voicemail from Kurt the reporter. “Ive gotta tell you, I’ve started doing a cycle and things are really changing in my life these days. I want to meet up!” I turned off my cell phone and slipped it into my pocket. I had new shorts, new shoes, new shirts, all XXXLs and all straining to hold my 360 lbs frame. I knew leaving the house and getting away was good for me mentally, and things were starting to finally become clear.
That cocktail of “vitamins” my so-called “master” had put me on, they were like no other cycle of steroids that existed. They were unrelenting in packing on mass, but they didn’t require periods off -cycle and didn't have the side-effects that dbol or testosterone have. Without the drugs in the last two weeks, my hunger had slowed down, and so had my growth. I seemed to have stabilized at the size I was now. Yet I hadn’t lost any of the fullness or strength to speak of.
“Master” as he had me call him, was not pleased with me. He would come into my apartment roaring and demanding I get back on my cycle. Even then, when I was with him , I feel this urge to make him proud of me again. I want him to love me again. Ever since I’d pushed back, ever since Kurt told me to take control of my life, I’ve only seemed to make master more upset with me.
I love my master. Or at least, part of me does. Part of me also hates even calling him that. When he’d yell and make demands, sometimes I’d just have to think about something else, imagine being somewhere else. I’d remember what it feels like to make my master happy. Then I’d fluctuate back to this confusion and anger towards him for what he had me do, what he did to me.
But these thoughts come and go. I’ve been alternating between my will to get out and my desire to be together with him, to be happy, to be obedient. Even as I think about it I find myself going back to that place mentally, I feel myself moving away from it at the same time. As if part of my thoughts weren’t even my own. Like that desire and my obedience wasn’t really part of me, but something master wanted from me that I gave. And I’m not sure why I gave it so willingly.
But I have been moving on. Quite literally. My daily walks became more common and I found I loved the fresh air like I had when I done sports. Part of me wanted to travel out and get away to clear my mind, to get away from Master and his domination. Surely enough I had seen so little of him recently.
Time passed and I realized I was better off alone. It pained me to be alone, but it gave me space for to think about things I hadn’t thought of in months. I started ignoring Master’s messages, and just ignored his calls. I still hit the gym, I still ate, but now I felt I had all this new free time. I’d call old friends and reconnect, though I didn’t want to meet them yet. I didn’t want the shock of them seeing me. I went out shopping… I thought about getting a job at the gym even. Maybe I could be a gym desk monkey, something to do and pass the time to make a little money.
The messages from master continued to roll in as time passed. It pained me to realize this, but when I got an angry messages from Master about Kurt, it confirmed my suspicions. One in particular came in one day, it left me speechless:
“I know what you two did together, and I’m not going to let Kurt get away with his infidelity to his new master. If you think you’re big now, wait until you see what I’m going to do to your reporter friend! He’s on dosages twice of what you were on, and he’s going to blimp out so big he’ll barely be able to walk by the time I’m done!”
This shook me. I wanted to warn Kurt, I tried to call him, but I didn’t get an answer. We were just guinea pigs to master. I had known there was one before me too, I’m not sure what had happened to him. Master never spoke of his sub before me. But it was clear, he just wanted to see how massive his subs could get from his drugs. He must have felt like he had free reign to do whatever he wanted to us.
I just wanted Kurt to come see me again, so I could tell him about my new freedom and what his master was doing. I wanted to see him so I could get him from getting any more tangled up in all this. I wrote to him again via email, something I had so rarely done in the last year.
But no response came for another week. Finally I got an email: “Jonas, I got your voicemail. I’m doing so great right now, you wouldn’t believe how fast I’m growing these days. All I do is eat, lift and grow. It’s like a dream come true right now. Eric and I moved into his place and he’s totally pushing me at the gym. I’m stronger than him now! We should definitely meet up, maybe next week?”
It was official. I had been replaced. He had his new sub, and he was going to turn Kurt into a monster without Kurt even realizing it.
Chapter 4
250 pounds was a cause for celebration. “You’re bigger than me now!” Eric said enthusiastically. I had been packing away the food for weeks, and it showed. I looked like a big rugby player, or even a football player. I was big, for the first time in my life I actually felt big too. Eric took our weekly progress photo and added it to the collection. It was pretty amazing to see how big I looked in that photo.
At first I was a little anxious about my belly and if I was getting too heavy to quickly, but Eric kept pushing me, telling me how hot I looked and how he loved my increasing size. I had to admit, the strength gains were a huge ego boost. I was feeling more and more proud of the weight I could push every day. Pushing 315 on bench wasn’t so bad anymore.
I kept at it, thanks to Eric’s encouragement. Nothing was going to stop me. At night after the injections, Eric would lay me down and we’d talk throughout the day. He’d tell me how much he was proud of me for what I had already accomplished and I always felt energized, even more motivated to get massive after those sessions. I couldn’t trace back when or where this drive for size was coming from, but as each week passed my urge to grow into a mass monster only increased. I imagined myself at Jonas’ size and it started turning me on. I had never gotten turned on by that idea before, but now I was totally into it. Even during our fuck sessions, Eric would tell me how big I was getting and how big I was going to grow, and it always made me get off.
I kept eating, training, sleeping, eating and fucking. That was my life, and I loved it. Eric was devoted to me, to my growth, to my success in the gym. He didn’t seem envious at all as I began to surpass him in strength. Sometimes I’d borrow his shirts, but soon it became clear that I was starting to stretch them out. When I hit 260 Eric took me out for a whole new wardrobe. Everything was XL or XXL (so I could grow into it). Part of the problem was the speed I grew out of my pants too. My whole lower body had ballooned, which felt great but started to cause new issues I’d never experienced before. The chaffing was real. My meaty thighs now rubbed together all the time when I walked. My ass was swelling out huge, which at first made me somewhat self-conscious, and required bigger pants. I went from 36s to 38s, and then to fit my ass I had to go up all the way to 40s.
That gave me pause, I remember being hesitant about buying the size 40 pants. “It's not your gut, hon, its your booty” he said to me. I knew it was mostly true, but the size of my waistline was expanding with the rest of me. I had a hard time suppressing my insecurities, was I just gonna start looking fat?
But that all began to change. I remember I stepped on the scale one morning, seeing 265 and feeling really proud of myself. I looked long and hard at my reflection, my widening, thickening frame. I had a belly now, no doubt about it, but instead of being insecure and anxious about it, I was turned on. I cupped the bottom side of my little gut with my left hand, feeling its weight. I didn’t hate it. No, actually, I liked the way it complimented my muscular chest and arms. It was a good look, I decided. The words “you like being thick” just kept rolling in my mind. I did like it. And I wanted more.
Thes weeks rolled by, and I started to feel big. Less than a month after hitting 250, I was up to 270. My size was starting to really sink in. I was comfortably filling out an XL shirt, which was pleasantly tight on my 19 inch arms. Eric couldn’t keep his hands off me, calling me a “big muscle pig”, and I realized, that is what I was, I was becoming a big muscle pig. Eating was my life. Lifting and fucking were just breaks from the constant eating. My gut was permanently rounded out from all the eating, and Eric would rub it and tell me to keep going. Part of me freaked out about what was happening to me, another part embraced it as my new identity. I was a big, strong, beefy dude, and that should give me confidence.
My face was filling out, sometimes I had a hard time recognizing myself. I had let my beard grow out and my body was getting hairier everywhere, something of a side effect from the “vitamins” I guess, but I liked it. It made me look like the kind of bulked up muscle bears you see on the bear event posters. Fuck, I was big and hot enough, that could have been me on one of those event posters.
Our life continued week after week, endless streams of pre-made meals delivered to the apt, or just take out sometimes too. Progress photos showing my growth.I know Eric was a good cook, but rarely showed it. Instead we just ate and ate. All these meals were starting to have an effect on him too. I watched my big muscle bear boyfriend grow thicker too. He didn’t seem to realize it maybe, but he was probably a good 20 pounds heavier than when he had moved in. Most of it was muscle, but I could see his furry belly had thickened a bit too.
At 280, even my XLs were getting snug. Somehow I found myself sauntering through a Big and Tall store looking for XXLs and XXXLs. Eric reminded me: 300 pounds would be in my near future. My whole attitude towards the gym and towards my body had changed. I was just meant to be the biggest dude in the room. I wanted to be the biggest man anywhere. I wanted to be strong as fuck, and big as a barn. My ass didn’t fit in the 40s anymore, so I went up to 42s, and bought some 44s, just in case.
Growth is intoxicating, and the longer it continues the more you want it to continue. The more I wanted to be huge, the only problem was, and I told Eric this, was that I was nervous about what friends or family would say about my new size. What if they were concerned and told me to stop getting bigger? I didn’t know what to think. But I guess what was remarkable was how soon that worry disappeared too. After a few days, I *wanted* everyone to know how big a man I was now, how strong and how powerfully built. If someone told me I was getting too big, that’d be a compliment, telling me to keep going. Eric agreed.
I really wanted Jonas to see how big I was getting, but I decided I should wait a few more weeks until I broke 300. Two weeks and almost 130 meals later, I hit it. Granted I was stuffed from the buffet I had gone to with Eric, but I was there. I felt so fucking heavy. The floorboards creaked under my feet now, my feet had widened from the increasing weight and my shoes no longer fit correctly. I looked absolutely massive. My shoulders looked twice as wide as they had been two months ago, and my arms had broken 21 inches around. My chest was thick, heavy looking, and rested just above my big round musclegut. I loved my musclegut, furry, round, thick. It was a source of pride. A big strong man’s gotta have a big manly gut too, right?
____________
My life was starting to become somewhat more normal. I got a job at a nearby gym. I let my beard grow out longer. Everywhere I went I felt like I was looked at like a freak. At my size, I understand why, but this kept me from wanting to leave the house. It was Jaime, the gym owner, who treated me normally, who encouraged me, who let me feel comfortable in my own skin. He didn’t make constant references to my size, he didn’t stare at me. He treated me like a regular employee. I quickly became known as “hulk” or by the other employees and even some gym members, but Jaime always called me by Jonas. And I loved his gym, it actually had weights I could use. Not many gyms have 180, 190 or 200 pound dumbbells, but his did. And he was easy to talk to. As a big guy himself, he didn’t make me feel like a freak at all. My arms might have broken 25” but Jaime still found a gym shirt to fit me.
Piece by piece, my life was regaining some normalcy. I was still lifting seriously, still eating 7 times a day, but I wasn’t a shut in anymore. I was talking to people. Maybe getting stared at, but at least it felt good to be out. And actually, I was starting to like my size. I was a freak, sure, but a lot of guys were actually envious of my size. 360 pounds of offseason but defined mass. How many men have ever reached this size? And I was maintaining is, seemingly effortlessly. Sure, I was a hulk, sure I’m huge, but I’m Jonas the hulk, and I had a life and people to talk to. I got along well with the other employees, many of whom seemed eager to know about how I had gotten so big.
I woke up to the doorbell. It was 8:00am. I Looked out from the curtain and saw a massive burly bearded man I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t former Master Eric, or one of his friends, so who was this?
When I opened the door the heavily bearded face that greeted me was suddenly recognized. “Kurt?!” I exclaimed. It was hard to believe that this beefy, thick bear of a man in front of me was that skinny journalist I had let into my house months ago.
“Hi Jonas. How do I look?” he asked. Kurt had a meal in tupperware in his hands, with a fork in it, and another, I presume, in his backpack. “I’ve done some… growing.” he continued.
Kurts face was much fuller, heavily bearded and his neck had thickened incredibly. Thick tufts of hair escaped from under his tight collar. Like what had happened to me, the Eric’s concoction had caused him to grow hair everywhere. His traps seemed to rise up nearly to his ears, and his whole frame looked so bulky, like a strongman competitor or a powerlifter.
“I broke 300 pounds big guy.” he said, beaming “and I’m not stopping. I’m gonna be bigger than you soon!” I shook my head. This was all Eric’s programming talking. Not the skinny little reporter I was interviewed by. That previous Kurt hadn’t ever been able to understand the desire to grow, he didn’t have any drive or want for it. T
I let Kurt in and stared at him. Eric’s handiwork really was impressive, and undeniably effective. He hadn’t lied on the phone. Kurt was enormous. An impossibly blimped out, bulked up powerlifter in the spot where a nerdy reporter used to stand. Part of me couldn’t believe that the massive bearded man in front of me was Kurt, but that familiar smile gave it away.
“You look bigger too, I see” Kurt continued. I had done some growing since I had last seen him, but was pretty much sitting stable at 360 lbs. Granted I knew how massive that was, I had no illusions about it, but I hadn’t put on any more size in the last month. And I was thankful my growth had subsided. Life at over 350 lbs gets surprisingly more difficult. From bus seats, to doorways, to simply maneuvering around other people on the street. Now that I was going outside and working at a gym, I was having to get used to a world built too small for me.
“So I just wanted to come over and say hello, since it’s been awhile” Kurt said “and I wanted to tell you that I’ve found my calling. I’m gonna grow huge just like you.”
“Kurt” I began “You have to understand, Eric isn’t who you think he is, this desire to constantly eat and get bigger, this isn’t you. You didn’t used to want this” I said in an exasperated tone, gesturing to his bulky physique.
“Well. I do now, I want to be massive, and I’m gonna get so big that you’re gonna look like a shrimp next to me.” He puffed out his beefy chest for emphasis. I sort of went slack-jawed at this comment
. “...Eric told me you’d be jealous.” he continued. “And I don’t have to listen to you”.
For the next fifteen minutes I tried to tell him about master Eric, I tried to tell him about the cocktail of drugs he’s been doped up on and how they were making him easily manipulated and suggestable. I tried to tell him everything I knew, and everything I had realized since leaving Eric several months prior. Kurt didn’t listen, of course, and stormed off after my comments made him angry.
Het shook the place with his heavy footfalls when he stomped off, just reminding me of what a
Only a few minutes later I received a second knock on the door. For a former shut-in, this was far more guests than I was used to in a week, much less one morning.
It was my boss at the gym, Jaime, a big powerful muscle bear in his own right. I had only been working there for a month, so I was puzzled as to why he had come to my house (or looked up my address..)
“Listen” he said firmly “I know Eric, and I know what he did to you... and that Kurt kid. I know, because I was the first guy he experimented on.” My mouth went slack for the second time that morning.
“Eric has gone too far, and I’m going to shut him down. I just need your help”