hyper muscle X Men

[KrispyKollection]

I know what you're thinking, no not those X-men... but it wouldn't be out of line to call them mutants...

Let's take a step back first though. All the way back to the 1990's, what the bodybuilding world at large would become known as the beginning of the "Mass Monsters." Pushed by advancements in science and knowledge of the human body, the sport of bodybuilding started its slow progression of pushing the bodies of those who participate further and further.

There were of course landmarks along the way. Like the first time Ronnie Coleman stepped on stage at a mind-boggling 300lbs of conditioned muscle, but overall the changes went only passively noticed, like the enlarging sizes of your fast food combo meal. A super-heavyweight of the early 00's wouldn't look out of place in what is considered Men's Physique these days.

Even so, the increased weight classes were not enough up keep up with the bodybuilder's inflating physiques, so new classes needed to be added to keep up. First came ultra-heavyweight, for men 450lbs+, followed by the lovingly named mass monster class for men 600lbs+, harkening back in name to the trend that started it all.

A spectator of the sport back in the day would be astonished to see these men and the figures that make up their physiques. At the highest level, arms larger around than the quads of former Mr. Olympias, quads larger around than their chests, chests... well you get my drift. These men were impressive sure, but that came at a cost that was becoming more and more apparent to the athletes and audience alike. That cost was mobility.

The harsh truth is that bodybuilding has never had a great reputation when it comes to health. The open secret of steroids, in combination with a market full of unregulated supplements ensured to increase your gains had created an attitude of trying whatever possible to get you to your goal. Shake in a healthy pinch of the social media reality filter and you end up where we are today. Young people pushing better judgement aside to get as big or bigger than their online idols in what some may consider a depraved focus. The multi-million dollar bodybuilding industry and greedy "coaches" ready to take advantage of their flawed judgement backing them up.

That's how you get a group of men in ages ranging from their mid-twenties to late thirties shuffling their mind-blowing physiques onto stage for the aforementioned mass monster category. Their procession onstage is slower than some of the previous classes due to the focus and constant calculations required to move their godly muscles out of the way of one another to produce the needed forward momentum. The poses for this category are light, mainly due to the fact that the expansive size of most of the competitor's muscles left them unable to complete many of those classic poses.

The impracticality of the bodies these men had built started to get some in the community to think twice about the charted course of the sport. Sure they look absolutely astounding onstage, but once they waddle off, they don't immediately drop down to a more manageable weight, in fact quite the opposite. They live their daily lives in these 600lb+ bodies. Bodies that can't perform basic daily tasks unassisted like washing, dressing, or eating, something nearly constantly required. Bodies that can't see over their own bloated mass leaving them clumsy and prone to colliding with people or anything else in their way. Bodies living in a world not made for them, furniture and doors too small, cars that make them feel like they're packed in like a can of sardines. Despite these obvious challenges, many of them just see this as a badge of honor rather than a detriment. A clear sign that they have ascended past normalcy, into the upper echelon of what humanity can produce.

One of those men was Brad.

Brad had a meteoric rise in the bodybuilding world. Influenced by his collection of massive bodybuilders from current and past eras, he stepped onto stage at 21 to compete in his first show at just under 300lbs, a weight which these days is basically the bare minimum of what you need to get your foot in the door, even in the lower classes. He came out of absolutely nowhere and cleaned up, earning his first title.

From there, his career and mass skyrocketed. Making his way up the subsequent weight classes, pulling down titles in an effortless manner, all the way up to his show today. He was the youngest person ever to compete in the mass monster class at 24 years old. Just like any other time, him and his now 647lb physique cleaned up, waddling home with the highest title possible in his beloved sport.

People of course asked him what's next, having completed his fevered race to win it all. A question which from the outside seemed to spark an inner turmoil. Most people who take home the title naturally become the face of the sport over the following year, going into media overdrive to further the sport. Brad however fell off the face of the earth. Weeks went by, then months and his social media was dark. No appearances for interviews or guest posing at other competitions as is usual. People started to speculate that something horrible happened to him, potentially even that he died. He wouldn't be the first mass monster to succumb to that fate and he for sure wouldn't be the last, if so. Blurry photos supposedly of him working out at random gyms like people tracking Sasquatch did little to dispel the rumors.

When next year's Olympia rolled around and Brad didn't resurface even then, people solidified their dire assumptions. Just another casualty to the sport that puts more above all else. Over the following few years people started to forget about him as other guys bubbled up to the top. That was until a post went out across his dead socials, just weeks before Olympia 2041. It simply and cryptically read "I'm back and I've got something BIG to show you..."

The officials at the show confirmed that he did reach out to confirm the legitimacy of the post, adding that he will be competing in a new category which will be announced live at the climax of the show. Bodybuilding media was on fire speculating on what kind of package Brad was going to triumphantly return to present, knowing the trajectory he was on when he fell off the face of the earth. Some saying he could break 1,000lbs, while others guessing more conservative. There technically wasn't a limit to the mass monster class as it was becoming clear that we may be reaching a new plateau of development, the largest competitors just managing to touch the low 700's even with the most insane training regiments, so the speculation ran rampant.

It was almost unfair to all the other competitors that year as everyone seemed to rush through the ceremony and judging almost as a formality while awaiting the big reveal. Even what should have been impressive wins, like Chadwick Johnson topping the scales at a record-breaking 718lbs, were almost ignored. Just as the medal was placed over his thick neck/traps before it even fully landed within the deep crevice between his pecs, the stage lights went dark and he, along with the others, were shooed offstage.

The only lights left illuminating the auditorium were the ones backstage, meant to silhouette the competitors as they made their way out from the doorway center stage. Above the stage, the video screen clicked on and displayed a large white X. Fog billowed out of the doorway as a figure slowly moved in from the side. As it moved into place it blocked the lights, shrouding the crowd in darkness again like a lunar eclipse.

A faint whirring could be heard as it became clear the figure was moving forward now, small shards of light making it out behind it confirming the movement. The announcer started "Ladies and gentlemen... the moment we've all been waiting for... welcome back to the stage Brad Jackson... the first official member of the new "X" weight class." At the word X, the lights shot back on.

No one was prepared for what they saw. The crowd, officials, everyone were completely silent as they all tried to process what they were seeing. It was Brad alright, but he had obviously been hard at work during his absence.

His body was absolute insanity. Muscles exploding in every possible direction coming into finer focus as the source of the whirring, a motorized platform that would not look out of place in a warehouse, moving around heavy pallets of equipment, finished its slow crawl to the front of the stage. This was of course due to the fact that his hypertrophied muscles, though filled with raw power, had left Brad completely immobilized. A fact you could easily glean at first glance. They pressed up against each other wildly simply leaving no space for movement and giving his body the X shape the weight class came to be associated with.

He was covered in a glimmering sheen that accentuated his musculature, regardless of that fact that he needed no help looking impressive. It could easily be mistaken for posing oil, but in reality was something else, sweat. His body sweat 24/7, the consequence of having so much thermal mass, one of the many drawbacks of pushing your body to nearly a ton. He was dressed in a pair a bright red posers, the garment being utilized in name only as it was obvious there was no posing to be had today. We'd have confirmation shortly that nothing of the fact would even be required for this new class of bodybuilder, much to do with the fact that men who reach this size physically cannot.

It was hard not to feverishly dart around Brad's body trying to make sense of everything. Quads wider than they were tall pressed together so firmly that no man, much less Brad himself, could separate them. Along with his calves, they splayed his legs so far out that his feet couldn't get closer than 6ft apart, making walking nigh impossible. That's even if he could negotiate them around each other.

Above, his cinder block abs were flanked by lats wider than a cargo van. His midsection bloated not just from muscle, but from his distended stomach and intestines as they worked to process the constant stream of nutrients needed to maintain and grow his body, being overworked just as much as his muscles. His pecs puffed out wildly and sagged above the top row of abdominals, rock hard nips pointing down to the floor. To the sides of them, his arms jutted out, resting high on his lats, pressed for space behind his wide pecs and above by his boulder-like delts.

Forearms wider than a normal man's chest pressed up against biceps and triceps that vastly outweighed that same man's entire body. Finally leading down to Brad's face, locked in place in a sea of bunched up delts, traps, and pecs. The lower half of his face and what's left of what could be called his neck obscured by the latter.

Honing in on his face, lost in a sea of overblown muscle mass, was a sobering realization for some of the crowd. A realization of how far we've pushed these men. Turning them into a slab of meat only meant for others to enjoy. Stripping them of all humanity and locking them away behind a pair of eyes looking on longingly from behind a wall of their own creation. Brad and the X Men to come were a divisive moment in the sport, with many sharing these thoughts, while the others viewing this as the pinnacle of the sport. The ultimate expression of the art of bodybuilding.

Let's be honest though, even if you're in camp downerville, it takes only a second to realize that it wasn't their fault, neither the community at large, nor the science that brought us to this point. The reality was that these men would have gotten here themselves anyway. It takes a special person to embody the dedication and sacrifice required to achieve what Brad had and those people will seize any opportunity possible for more. If it wasn't obscured by his pecs, you wouldn't have seen a solemn face, you'd have seen him beaming with happiness and pride at what he had done to himself.

Back onstage, the platform started to rotate. The sudden movement almost threw off Brad's fragile balance, but he managed to keep it together. During the turn the audience briefly took in the thickness of his body. From the side, his core was wider than Ronnie at his prime straight on, pecs extending far out over his midsection, planetary glutes pushing out below his cushy lats. Completing its turn, the absence of what could be seen of his head from the front made it difficult to register what you were looking at as a human body. It was more of a collection of bloated mountain ranges from top to bottom covered only slightly by the back of the posers sucked tightly between his cheeks.

The platform completed its 360 as a microphone lowered down from the stage rafters to meet Brad's face in the cavern of his own muscles. The announcer came back on "Welcome back to the stage Brad, it's a big honor to be the first in this new class of competitors, what do you have to say?" Brad responded in short simple sentences muffled by pecs directly in front of his mouth "Next year..." "BIGGER."

His stomach let out a ferocious growl signaling that the show was over. He'd been off his feeding tube far too long and his body was absolutely ravished. The platform wheeled him offstage leaving the crowd to process what they just saw. Brad, only in his late twenties by now, had pushed his body so far that it was barely functional, a captive to his own muscles, and yet he still wanted more. What did this mean for his future? The future of bodybuilding? Heck, the future of humanity in general? But most of all, why did it make them all so aroused?

Brad was the first of the X Men, but he wouldn't be the last. The cat was out the bag and soon enough he'd have others on his tail. But if there was one thing you could always count on with Brad Jackson, against all odds and limits of the human body, the next time you saw him he'd be even bigger.

[Trippin]

I liked this post already a long time ago but I came back because I thought it was a shame that nobody commented this... masterpiece! The picture itself is great but the text is.... *chef's kiss*

It is literal perfection (to me). It's flawless. Every single sentence is is wankworthily on point, triggering my lust to unknown hights! Probably the text I'd take on a deserted island.