I’m big, but wish I was bigger. Immobile even. Can you help?
You know, given that you and I have talked before and you didn’t just, straight up demand wishes from me, I think i’m going to do you a solid and not go full tilt on this one. It’s partly nice sure, but I’ve always thought it’s most fun to watch watch people actively choose the path that destroys the person they used to be.
A perfectly aged fifty year old scotch appears before you in a bottle of dark, twisting amber. The smell that issues out of the unstopped bottle forms a deep, heady aroma that invades every inch of your senses. You know this is no ordinary drink, and you find yourself having to fight against the urge to just grab the bottle and chug it down.
Erring on the side of caution, which is always wise when dealing with magical alcohol, you take out a rocks glass and pour yourself a couple fingers of the dark, bronze liquid. Bringing the glass up to your lips you can hardly stop your hands from shaking with excitement. Something tells you that once you take the first sip, everything you’ve been working for is going to hurtle towards you at breakneck speed.
The first sip hits you like smooth, burning fire, traveling down your throat and spreading though your every limb. Whatever restraint you had before fades away and you down the glass in one, gulping swig. The changes are upon you the instant the last drop trickles down your throat. You feel your body bulge and swell out, ripping your clothes to shreds. You ‘re overwhelmed by sensation that comes after a hard workout, its intensity bring you to your knees. The feeling grows and fades, grows and fades, repeating the process thousands of times as the seconds tick by.
Sweat is pouring off your body in rivers, your heart feels like its about to beat out of your chest, and your vision is nothing but mess of blurry swirls. You can feel your flesh bubbling and bulging out, and just when it feels like you can’t possibly take anymore, it all comes to a halt. Even though it’s been less than a few minutes you feel like you’ve just stepped out of a marathon workout that started sometime around the turn of the last century. Heaving yourself up off the ground, which is no easy feat, you’re able to regain some sense of the world, watching as shapes and forms come back into view. Looking down at your new form, you can’t help but gasp.
You’ve gotten big...impossibly big in only a matter of minutes. The clothes that ripped off you have reformed as best they can into a basic jeans and t shirt ensemble. You're probably close to 500 pounds of overblown muscle. You realize, with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment that you’re for sure going to need help getting out of them, unless you want to try just ripping them off. With another twinge of mixed emotion you can feel the string of your new Lycra thong wedged between your gigantic ass cheeks, while the front of it struggles to contain your soft ten inches.
Despite your tools new, massive size, it’ll probably be easier for you to get fucked then be the one doing the fucking. Between the muscle gut and your new, award gait, leaning against a wall and taking it is going to be a lot easier than getting into position and keeping the tempo with your thrusts. Obviously whatever career you had going for you is pretty much off the table given your new size. You’re not immobile just yet, but you’re pretty much the definition in of a bull in a china shop. The only jobs I can think of you being able to fill are Only Fans whore and MAYBE something on a construction site...maybe as the wrecking ball?
On the note of you not being immobile just yet, like I said, I didn’t go ham on this one, not exactly. Your first glass did this to you, grew you to this size, and from as far as you can tell there’s another 3 glasses worth in the bottle. Enough to make yourself even bigger and then bring someone else up to you size, or enough to make yourself a truly unnatural, immobile freak. The decision is entirely up to you.