“That’s right big man, work that bulk!” the photographer goaded, and Gino ate it up. Unlike a lot of bodybuilders, he had no problem with his offseason shape. The bloat and fat went away when it was cutting time, but he really got into looking full and wide. That’s why this photographer hired him for this shoot: he was looking for freaky offseason size and confidence behind it, all of which Gino had in spades.
Working the camera, Gino turned around and arched his back producing his massive glutes. He couldn’t see, but he was sure his big cake was stretching the limits of these posing trunks in the best way. “Yeah buddy!” cheered the photographer. “Now turn around, grab a handful of those titties and give it a squeeze.”
Gino was feeling a little light-headed–was it the lights? The heat of the studio? That water the photographer gave him?–but he did as he was told, presenting his big musclejugs for the camera and gripping their fullness in his hands. As they normally did this time of year, they felt big and hard, wrapped in a layer of warm softness, but–for some reason, it felt like there was… too much of them?
He barely had enough time to register this observation before the photographer shouted another order. “Yeah, buddy, now wobble those big fucking legs!” Gino stomped a leg down, flexed his huge quads–but the look of them caused him to stop: certainly the deep cuts of his quads had been obscured by his offseason gains, but now they were completely smooth and swollen beyond what they’d been a little while ago. He was shocked as he sunk a hand into the soft layer covering his muscle–it was still hard underneath, still massive, but now impossibly bloated.
Mildly panicking, Gino examined his whole body, which was starting to swell like he’d been stung like a bee. “Smile big man! Work that mass like a champion!” the photographer called, but Gino was shocked at the way his body was filling up right before his eyes. His lats had swollen out so much that his arms hung out at an awkward angle from his side. His legs had thickened to the point that his stance was getting awkwardly wide. Looking down, he watched as his pecs expanded like rising dough. Not that he was able to do so for long: whatever growth was overtaking him flowed into his neck and traps, inflating them to the point that he could no longer look down or turn his head.
His posers grew impossibly tight, painfully so, before–POP! They snapped from his body, shooting across the room. Now naked, Gino’s first instinct was to cover his exposed manhood, but all he could do was wobble his arms a little.
“Careful, big guy,” the photographer said, putting down the camera. “Don’t want to knock yourself over. Won’t be easy getting you up again if you fall down. You gotta weigh over 400 pounds now!”
Gino went to protest but his lips felt sealed shut–the muscles in his face swollen to the point that he could no longer talk, just sucking in air desperately through his nostrils and squealing like he’d been gagged. Still, the growth continued.
“Very nice, very nice,” said the photographer in a low, seedy voice. He produced a video camera and slowly did a walk around Gino, who stood their blown up like a muscle-tick, massive arms and legs out straight. He’d been immobilized by his bulk, only able to barely wiggle his fingers.
Gino gasped as he felt overwhelmed by a sensation on his back–the photographer had gently touched Gino’s overblown lat with a finger, but the muscle-blimp’s sensitivity had increased a thousand fold. The photographer caressed with one hand while videotaping with the other–Gino squealed and moaned as much as he could, his mind drowned in waves of pleasure of a magnitude he’d never experienced before.
“Yeah, big man, you’re perfect,” the photographer said, now in a whisper. Gino saw stars as he used both hands now–the big guy wanted to scream but could only groan behind squeezed-shut lips. He heard a splatter on the floor beneath him–Gino’s swollen dick was burping up precum by the cup at every one of the photographer’s strokes.
“Now,” said the photographer, finally walking back into Gino’s line of sight. “If a gentle pat on the back makes you leak like a faucet, let’s see how this works, eh?” He produced one of the biggest dildos Gino had ever seen–it had to be ten inches and thick as a flashlight!–and twisted a knob at the end, causing it to rotate and vibrate.
Gino squealed in anticipation, frustrated by his immobility, as the photographer caressed the giant soft globes of Gino’s ass before gently running a finger down its crack. Another blast of precum spewed from Gino’s wobbling, rock-hard dick. “It’s going to be a long night for you if that’s all it takes, big man,” the photographer snickered, and Gino squealed again.