Popular Post Newmassaddict Posted February 26 Popular Post Share Posted February 26 Don't Push Me Chapter One The weights rattled loudly as I strained with all my might to lift the bar and as it slammed against the rack, I collapsed back onto the bench. My chest was on fire, pain ripped through every muscle. I was panting like a rabid dog and sweat stung my eyes. “Are you ok?” I heard Pete ask from nearby. I slowly raised my trembling right hand and placed it on my swollen, boated pecs. I shuddered as the dense muscles twitched involuntarily. I could feel the individual striations dance and flex. I bit my lip to contain a moan and just mumbled confirmation to Pete that I was fine. After a minute of recovery, I slowly sat up on the bench and immediately made eye contact with my reflection in the nearby mirror. I placed both hands on my hips and slowly squeezed my pecs. Pain contorted my face as I watched waves of muscle tense under my now skin-tight t-shirt. My shoulders swelled, pulling the sleeves of my shirt higher, showing my equally pumped arms. “Damn Sam, you look buff.” Pete said with a look of lust and awe on his face. “Not enough.” I grunted. “I know, I know, never enough.” Pete said having heard me say the same thing a thousand times. “Well, you look huge to me, what do you weigh now?” “190 pounds.” I said, never breaking eye contact with the mirror. Every minuscule movement caused new, deeper cuts to appear on my pumped pecs. New veins emerged on my neck as my shirt collar felt tighter. “Damn. And here I am, still trying to get past 150 pounds.” Pete said. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Pete. We had been dating and lifting together for six months. In that time, he had gained 10 pounds of solid muscle on his skinny body. He was my height, 5’10” and the same age, 24. I had to admit, I liked his tight, ripped body but as I returned my gaze to the mirror, our similarities quickly dissolved. When we met, I was barely 160 pounds. In the last six months, through hours of brutal workouts, countless meals and multiple injections of steroids, I barely recognized myself. I could feel the pain in my pecs lessen slightly as I tore myself away from the mirror and moved to a free bench near the rack of dumbbells. I lifted the seat and grabbed two 60 pound weights off the rack. Without hesitation, I started to quickly crank out reps, pausing at the top of each one to really force my pecs to work hard. I wasn’t even counting and eventually, let the weights fall to to the floor. As I rose from the bench, Pete was waiting with a pair of 30 pound weights. His pace was slower but his form was perfect. As he cranked out his reps, my eyes turned back towards the mirror. There was a dark shadow across the front of my t-shirt where my pumped pecs grew larger with each rep. I knew to most people, I was a sight to behold, young, handsome and bigger than most. To me however, the sight was a disappointment. I was nowhere near as big as I wanted to be. I glanced towards the end of the weight rack and locked onto the 130 pound set of dumbbells. I imagined the day I would perform 100 reps with those huge weights. “S-S-Sam!” Pete’s voice brought me back to reality. I looked down to see him struggling with the weights. I quickly bend down and placed my hands on his elbows, allowing him to finish his rep. He stood up and placed a hand on his hard, left pec. “That was intense.” “Good set.” I said as I hoisted the 70 pound wights. “Four more sets and then cables.” “Fuck, you are really pushing us today aren’t you.?” Pete said. “Yup.” I mumbled as the weights rose. As I pressed the weights, my mind returned to the thought of me lifting the 130 pounds weights for an hour straight. I lost count of the reps again as I fantasized about just how intense I knew my workouts would become someday. I smiled as I imagined how Pete would handle those future workouts. Later that night, after my third helping of chicken and rice, I was relaxing on the sofa, scrolling through countless posts of huge, ripped, roid-fuelled bodybuilders. Pete came to sit beside me and glanced at the screen. “Ugh, that guy is way too big.” I stopped scrolling and stared at the image. It was true, he was massive. The image was him standing in the gym, two huge dumbbells in each hand. His forearms and biceps barely looked like two separate body parts. Thick, snake-like veins covered every inch of flesh. He was only wearing tight shorts so his massive upper body swelled in every direction. Each pec looked like an inflated pumpkin, while his abs appeared to be etched from stone. “You think?” I asked nonchalantly and continued to scroll. “Come on! You have to admit, being that big can’t be healthy, not to mention, completely impractical. I mean, how does he even find clothes that fit?” I stopped at another image. It was of the current Mr. Olympia. It was taken at the height of his off-season, when he wasn’t super ripped. The caption read /317 pounds/. I couldn’t resist letting out a moan. Pete turned to look at me. “You like that?” “FUCK YEAH I like that. Look at him! He’s a total freak. I’d kill to have his mass.” Pete started to laugh, clearly not taking me seriously. “Sure, good luck walking at that size.” He said a got up from the sofa. “Grab me a shake?” I said. “You just ate three huge plates of food?” “I’m still hungry.” I said with a smile I knew Pete could not resist. As he shook his head and walked away, my attention returned to the image on my phone. I zoomed in so each massive body part could be inspected closely. I moved to the right shoulder and moaned again at its shear mass and density. As I moved my finger the mountainous trap came into view and rose comically towards where a neck used to be. Moving down, I paused at the outrageous divide between chest muscles, imagining how deep the crevasse really was. I paused for a moment because my dick had become so hard, I needed to adjust my position on the sofa. It wasn’t because of the man on the screen, it was because it was imagining this as my body. I slowly moved lower on the image, feeling my mouth go dry as each cobblestone ab muscle passed by, each as hard and dense as stone. I moved past his crotch, I didn’t need to linger there, I wanted to see more muscle. I zoomed out slightly to take in both upper quads. Another moan escaped my mouth. The size of each leg was incomprehensible. I knew this picture was taken after a gruelling legs workout because no one possessed quads that huge on a permanent basis. There was no separation between the two limbs until almost at the knee. Thick, deep muscle valleys were on full display even with the incredible muscle pump they displayed. I grimaced as gobs of pre-cum started to fill my shorts. Slowly I moved lower, to the apex of this inhuman monster, the calves. Where the muscle above slammed together only to separate at the knee, they once again converged. Each muscle was so astonishingly huge they appeared to almost touch, even with feet spread wide to accommodate the quads above. Even with a generous layer of body fat elsewhere, the calves were covered in thick, almost pulsing veins. They jutted out so dramatically in both directions, it appears as though someone was pressing on them from behind. I had to cup my hand over my mouth to stop a loud scream. I stood up so fast, partially jumped into the air. I literally jogged to the bathroom, shut the door and barely pulled down my shorts before a massive load of hot cum sprayed across the room. When I finally grabbed my swollen cock, I placed my phone on the counter and closed my eyes. With only two strong tugs, I knew I was about to cum again. “Oh my fuck! I’m going to be so much bigger than that! I’m going to be the bigger, freakiest, most muscular THING to ever walk the earth!” I said as quietly as I could as more hot cum poured from my cock. 25 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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