*POLL* Juiced [Amnoartist]

[cathiker2002]

     Just a thought. How about one of these guy's she going after getting his hands on one of the candies and then she would have to grow bigger.  Kind of a growth contest. that the guy loses.

[Amnoartist]

     Just a thought. How about one of these guy's she going after getting his hands on one of the candies and then she would have to grow bigger.  Kind of a growth contest. that the guy loses.

Male growth isn't my kind of thing, to be honest. That said, I could have it take place behind the scenes.

[Amnoartist]

Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 3: A Different Kind of Animal
 
Dale Clarkson was always one for posing. It was hard not to, considering he was a big guy. There were rumours he often juiced to keep his momentum going, but as anyone would, he outright refuted them, claiming his size was natural. Again, it was hard to contest that since his father was a three-time Mr Olympia champ – so Dale definitely had the genes for size.
 
Even if that were the case, it didn’t justify what he did to Peyton. A black eye, busted lip and who knows what else she was given, all for sticking up for Natalie. The monolithic brunette was livid, to say the least.
 
Dale pushed his torso forward into a crab flex, smiling proudly into the gym’s mirror wall, and then brought his attention to the striated, arguably overdeveloped arms he’d spent months crafting; veins layered themselves over the guy’s arms like a freakish, almost sickening network of blue tubing. He’d developed an odd attraction to the goal of making even those bigger. He beefier he got, the more insane his goals became. His friend Jordan was also a meathead, but not as apparently hooked as Dale.
 
His lady friend Reagan watched from behind, dressed in basic female’s workout gear: sports bra, shorts and pumps. The damp fringe she had emphasised just how sweaty she was. She was in her own way a fitness freak, but not like Dale was. He was a whole different kind of animal. Reagan couldn’t resist the urge built up within that compelled her to devotedly feel her boyfriend’s rippling arm.
 
“God, you’re so huge.” Reagan’s nipples were erect from arousal, but she was too focused on the physique before her to properly notice or even care. Dale was just so hot and buff and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him later that night.
 
“You like that, babe?” Dale was smug. He knew he was a big, buff beefcake that turned heads, even if his physique was just a little bit oversized. His own urges flared too, but he just hoped he could “perform” when the time came, given the fact he did regularly juice up. Reagan knew that and didn’t care. The arrogant beefcake turned from the mirror to his patient, smaller lover with a curved grin, allowing her hand to feel his wide chest. She definitely liked it.
 
“You still thinking about competing?” Months earlier, Dale had brought up the potential idea of taking part in a local bodybuilding contest. The first to know this news was Jordan. His arms folded over his wide, yet comparably small chest compared to Dale’s, he waited for a response, while his ears picked up gentle feminine groans from a slender redhead behind him who caught his attention.
 
Dale turned back to the mirror with a shrug. The concept of competing was still on his mind to this day, but knew his chances had been slashed when his dependency on the hormones he used ramped up. His arms pulled up, he presented his forty-plus inched arms in all their questionably bloated glory. The existence of water retention in his body was undoubtedly there, as was the slight outbreak of acne across his lats. But Reagan lusted after him despite this.
 
“I’ll probably still compete, yeah.” Dale didn’t care what the judges would say on that fateful day; so long as he won and got the recognition he felt was deserved. He wasn’t going to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger, but the first Dale Porter. He sought to be the greatest bodybuilder to ever live and had lived.
 
“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead, babe.” Reagan twirled her perfect golden locks whilst biting her lips seductively at Dale’s continued posing; he pulled down into an abs and thighs pose, his left leg out in front to flaunt the sweeping quad. He was definitely going to attract attention.
 
Then the voice came; loud and angry enough to attract everyone’s attention. But if that didn’t, surely the large, domineering shadow did – it moved closer and grew both taller and wider in its tracks, moving towards Dale who immediately recognised the face.
 
“Nat?”
 
She looked at him lividly with cold, calculating eyes. Natalie’s anger over Peyton being attacked by the asshole before her had driven the girl into a blinded rage where the brunette was unwary of the fact she’d obliviously consumed three more of the monkey-faced growth hormone pills, and it showed. It definitely showed. Her biceps were so large that even when hung at her sides and relaxed they violently pushed against her equally thick pectorals that themselves bounded with involuntarily twitches, urging themselves on with the want to grow.
 
“The fuck you doing here?” Despite being clearly outsized by Nat, Dale tried to maintain some level of composure. If it weren’t for her, he’d be the gym’s king. But right now, he was the peasant. It was hard to stay confident, though. How could he be confident around a vein-caked face that stared into his soul? Then he found himself answer his own question. Natalie would only be at Dale’s local gym for one reason – to enact payback for what he did to Peyton. Even so, he remained defiant around the silent yet intimating Natalie. “The bitch deserved it. Why would anyone want to be related to a freak like you?”
 
“Fuck you.” Natalie’s voice dipped. It was gruff, more masculine that time. She hoped it wasn’t permanent, but that wasn’t important right now. Given the revealed fact, Dale was caught off-guard and repulsed by the girl. He knew he juiced, but Natalie seemed to be a completely different animal. She edged in closer to him, the hormones getting the better of her. Specifically, she was really, really angry, and wanted to have better control over that emotion, but-- “You think its fine to beat up people who can’t defend themselves?” Her voice returned to its normal feminine tone then, luckily, implying it had undulated. Whether it was going to stay that way was a different story.
 
Reagan felt sick looking at Natalie. How could someone want to look that way? The muscles – there was just so much of them; too much for her to handle or consider tolerable. She swallowed the building bile in her gut before working up enough courage to confront Natalie too. “You’re such a freak. You should be experimented on, not defended.”
 
“Freak, eh?” Natalie took that as a compliment. She’d longed to be called that by someone, having spent God knows how long in the gym just to look half as freaky. But now that she was actually called a freak, it only boosted her confidence and desire to get even bigger. And bigger she’d get. “Thanks for that.”
 
Realising her words had backfired, Reagan was livid. She hated it when she was either wrong or things didn’t work out the way she hoped. Pinching Dale’s arm, she signalled for him to step in and take her place.
 
“Just… fuck off back home, you freak.” He was clearly running out of things to say – not that he said much to begin with. It didn’t help that there was a crowd gathering round the trio at this point, neither person taking a specific side in this argument.
 
But Natalie had enough. There was a reason why she was here and wasn’t going to let it slip. The brunette didn’t care what everyone thought of it or her – she was going to do what she came to and the crowd was going to watch. Perfect, an audience.
 
Without so much as a word of warning she grabbed Dale by the arm and pushed him round so his chest turned to the mirror he so often posed in front of. Natalie’s anger had blinded her, so she was unware of Reagan vainly slapping her thick chest. If anything, it was just humorous to watch. Whilst this occurred, Natalie pulled on Dale’s arm as the then-proud male tried to wrench free from the brunette’s grip, but she instead tightened it and pulled again until, with a definitive yelp from his strong lungs, his arm broke in so many places it was more limp flesh than bone, similar to Peyton’s.
 
Natalie listened to Dale’s pathetic whimpering with a smile. He had curled up into a ball dead centre of the crowd gathered round him. Admittedly, Reagan was appalled by how her lover acted. Sure, his arm had broken in several places, but she always saw him as someone who’d laugh off such an injury, not cry like a baby.
 
“Be grateful it’s just the one arm. I did consider taking a leg or two as well, but—I’m trying to be the better person here.” Natalie couldn’t resist just a little snicker at how things had turned out for Dale. She knew he was all pompous. ‘Was’ being the stressed word. Her barn door wide back turned, the brunette looked to the horrified Reagan with a pointed finger. “And you. Count yourself lucky.”
 
Blinded by her fear, Reagan stood frozen to the spot as urine trickled down her leg, with Natalie silently leaving the establishment. The former crowd had dispersed. Normally the police would’ve been contacted for an assault case, but it wouldn’t do Dale any good when he himself committed the same crime not that long ago, didn’t he? Besides, no one but Reagan liked him, so they were happy to see the pompous chap crying his eyes out like a baby.

///

Natalie returned home after her incident with Dale and was relieved to find her mother Marie wasn’t around, otherwise she’d have to deal with the problem of asking where she went, what she did and who she did it with. Even though she was spared that particular problem, a new blossomed when Natalie explained to Peyton what happened. Needless to say, the younger girl wasn’t all that happy.
 
“What do you mean you broke his arm?” Peyton not only demanded an answer, but expected one right then. Instead she was basically ignored by her freakish sibling who sat at their bedroom computer adjusting her diet plan. Truthfully, she didn’t really need or want a diet. At least, not one she religiously stuck to like most bodybuilders. It was all just a front, something she did to help hide the fact her growth came from the monkey-faced pills. Of course, she and Marie did often butt heads over the fact drugs were used in the past, but now it wasn’t so obvious because the pills didn’t look like pills. “You know you can get charged for that, right? That’s assault.”
 
“I know it’s assault, because that’s what he did to you.” Natalie took a quick glance through the small wall-mounted mirror at the sling on Peyton’s arm. She’d be wearing that for weeks, potentially months. Dale, on the other hand, would probably need a whole new arm. At least, that’s what Natalie hoped. “An eye for an eye, as they say. Or, an arm for an arm in this case.”
 
“If mum finds out—”
 
Natalie turned to face her sister directly. Her left arm draped round the back of the chair, a thick forearm dwarfing it. She knew if her mum did find out, things between them would only worsen, but what was Natalie supposed to do? Just sit there and accept the fact Peyton was beaten to a pulp for sticking up for her? And what was Marie going to do that would actually be a modicum of good? “She’s not gonna find out. At least if you don’t grass about it.”
“What about that Reagan chick? You said she was there?” Even though Peyton was concerned for her older sibling being so cold-hearted about what happened, she couldn’t deny the slight intrigue that came from hearing about it. “Something about her, you know, pissing herself?”
 
Natalie snickered. To her, Reagan losing her piss was comedy gold. She had it coming too. Nothing else ought to be expected from someone equally stuck-up as Dale. The embarrassment that came with it was so severe that she was likely a black sheep by now.
 
Natalie was coming out of her high now; she felt smaller, weaker and had to do something about that. Pulling open the desk drawer she searched its insides for one of the pills, but found none. She was sure, positive there was at least one there - but none. Her drug-addled psychological state made the brunette think she was actually shrink down and losing the mass she gained. It was frightful knowing it was a softcore repeat of last time, knowing she’d have to visit Paul the dealer again.
 
The mammoth brunette was so focused on the need for the pills again that she was deaf to Peyton’s words. Natalie left without as much as a word, leaving her injured sibling alone. Peyton didn’t say anything. She knew why her sister was acting this way.
 
When the coast was clear Peyton reached into her pocket with her free hand and pulled out the hormone pill that was presumably missing. She found it in the drawer Natalie rummaged in, but her innocence to the nature of its use made Peyton question whether she should swallow it.

[Ozzyfm]

That's a really good story!

[hairylover321]

Excellent addition! Can't wait to keep reading! K+

[petefa]

Excellent chapter!.

[Amnoartist]

Juiced
Written and edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 4: Vein-caked

Natalie’s grunt was swift, loud and bore a sense of deliberation as she pulled down for yet another squat. Her shorts were taut and clung vainly to the arguably stone hard quads underneath that throbbed, quaked and squirmed with power. The newfound rush of energy came from the pill she’d just consumed beforehand, ladled into her bloodstream with not a care in the world. Sweat dripped from her forehead and trickled unevenly down her equally thick cleavage, nearing the headphones at the nape of her neck. Her persistence unwavering, she pulled up with the same deliberately drawn out grunt, endeavouring to catch the eyes of those around her.

Joanne stood behind lividly and questioned why her friend could act so cool and unaffected by the news just broken to her. The blonde folded her arms disdainfully and cocked a brow in wait, hopeful the beastly brunette would, yet, grace her with an answer. Instead, she thrust her weight upward for another squat, mentally counting forty. Joanne was quick to take the hint.

“So you don’t care?” she sighed, then scolded herself for even thinking Natalie really had any interest in the matter, much like how she scolded herself for not remembering building muscle was more important than anything else. “You don’t care that Jane was upset about you not attending her party?”

Natalie peeled away from the squat rack in silence, her rock hard, pillar thick arm almost brushing past that of the smaller, comparatively petite blonde’s, her steps brisk. The girl had packed so much mass on her calves in the past couple of days that with even the slightest, quietest of movements they still quavered. Despite having worked out for the better half of four hours that day, the titanic brunette was no way near the end of her workout. She stopped trailing across the room when the posing mirror came into view. A response to Joanne was still not given even then.

“She has no problem with you being…this, you know.” Joanne waved her dainty arm across the full brutish width of Natalie to stress her point, an eye catching her pull into a side chest pose that strained her top until it offered a quiet yet discernible stretching noises, pulling it sidewards. A hushed exhale escaped the brunette’s lungs, coercing her chest meat to bound and flex under her top. “Even if it is a little…too much,” Joanne continued.

Natalie remained silent. She knew she was getting on Joanne’s nerves, but frankly, didn’t care all that much for what she thought. Smiling, the behemoth pulled her arms up into a double bicep pose and swerved her eyes round to the left, where a lone thick vein throbbed under her top, tracing the length of her arm from the pumpkin’d delt to her wrist.

"She expected you to be there. She depended on you, and you..." Joanne sighed, glimpsing Natalie's shrugs. "You cared more for getting bigger than for your friends."

Silence still.

“Damn it, Nat. Say something.” Joanne knew Natalie had, in more ways than one, become addicted to working out and ‘the shit,’ but to be so silent and ignorant— “I don’t care if even you mumble. Just say something.”

Natalie lowered her arms disdainfully. Admittedly, Joanne’s presence irked her right now; she hoped to work out alone today and not have her performance or flow be hindered by the smaller, weaker Joanne. The two girls stared at one another through the mirror for what seemed forever. Then, breaking away from the tension, Joanne looked at Natalie’s left arm; her throbbing, vein-caked arm. It was much more vascular than the other, appeared almost…alien in nature.

Finally, Natalie spoke, although her words weren’t what Joanne had hoped for.

“Do you think I’m big enough to compete now?”

Joanne blinked. She couldn’t believe it; she came with the news of Jane’s disappointment in Natalie, and the response to that clearly indicated her lack of interest. It was especially disheartening to hear considering Jane and Natalie were childhood friends. It seemed Natalie was more interested in gaining mass than maintaining a life-long friendship.

“You need to sort your priorities out, Nat.”

Joanne didn’t know what else to say, hoping Natalie would see her evident upset and was able to see her wrongdoing. Instead, she shrugged the statement off and pulled down into a crab pose, grunting like earlier. Watching her biceps inflate underneath the top, her lats surged upwards edging close to the nape of her neck, chemically-fuelled veins popping to the surface of her skin.

“Yeah, I think I could compete by month’s end. I’d take the trophy without even trying” Natalie could already picture the moment she'd set foot onstage and wow the crowd with her mind-numbing size, instant-erection-inducing caring not that most of the effort and muscle came from ladling hormones into her system, and that she’d arguably look more masculine by then. Pulling in even harder, her chemically-fuelled mass jerked with a small dose of growth, attacking the vainly held top until her biceps burst free from it, exposing the freakish vein she glimpsed earlier. “All the other chicks would just be fucking twigs compared to me.”

Joanne was disgusted. This wasn’t Natalie. At least, not the Natalie she met two years ago; the nervous, slightly pudgy finger-twiddling Natalie Joanne befriended. This Natalie was something else altogether that cared not for anything but putting on more mass and lifting heavier. The Natalie from two years prior couldn’t even trust herself with just the lightest of dumbbells. But Joanne thought— it was her that got Natalie lifting in the first place. So, maybe if that didn’t happen—

“Look at you, Nat. Don’t you think you’re taking things a little too far?” A feeling nipped in Joanne that made her think she was repeating herself, that she'd said something like this before. And maybe she had. “Even for you?”

Natalie stared into the mirror, intrigued by her petite friend’s statement. Chest meat mashed violently into chest meat, as the peaks of her biceps rubbed into her sides without even trying, arms at her sides and relaxed. With a plaintive sigh her vein-encrusted chest bounded and expanded, the monkey pills chemicals continuously flowing through her bloodstream, pushing her metabolism. Joanne saw Natalie and hoped. She didn't quite know what for. She just...hoped.

“Meh, another couple of inches won’t hurt.”

Determined, Natalie pulled her headphones over her head, the loudest, most violent rock music blasting into her ears, and set off to the dumbbell racks, now deaf to the ensuing angry tirade that came from Joanne before she stormed out the gym. The blonde didn’t care about what the other gym-goers thought of her outburst. All she cared about was Natalie’s well-being, which, admittedly, could start deteriorating just as quickly as her muscles grew.

///

“Twenty-four…”

Natalie pushed up from her press-up, her heart beating like a bass drum as it, like her hormone-crafted musculature against her skin and clothes, throbbed violently. Her calves and quads both reacted in response to the jerking quivers of she-beef squirming, grinding and pushing against themselves and the multiple layers of skin that comprised the girl’s massiveness. With Joanne gone, Natalie could, finally, maintain her focus on working out.

“Twenty-five…”

A heaved, forceful inhale came before the brunette clenched her steely glutes together, the fabric of her shorts, rubbing together agitatedly against the inflamed, oversized ass cheeks of a girl who, once, thought muscle on females was deemed ugly, but now just couldn’t get enough of it. Sweat trickled between them and formed a puddle at her crotch that only darkened and grew wider with every press-up. And it wasn’t just any normal press-up either.

The weight on her back rattled. It hadn’t done that earlier. She must’ve been losing her balance now - something that, unquestionably, would only irk the girl more than she already appeared to be. The ‘weight’ was three weight plates tied round her waist using naught but rope - two 10KG plates and one 15KG plate. Natalie had performed this exercise more times than she could count, and the same could be said for just how many reps she did it, something done to help strengthen and wider back. It went without saying she went home every day just that little bit wider.

“Twenty-six…”

Her back contracted, pulling her top inward to press against the taut, powerful yet sweaty skin. It appeared oiler than usual, even Natalie noticed that. Wasn’t oily skin a side-effect of hormone abuse? Carelessly, she shrugged before untying the rope, allowing the weight plates to slump off her beefy, oily lats and clatter noisily to the floor. Other gym-goers were startled by the unexpected disruptiveness, peeling round curiously to see the brunette immediately pull into a lat spread with held breath, gut sucked in to appear leaner. It might not have been the best course of action, given her top resultantly split slightly at the back, allowing the throbbing back mass to casually spill out like melting, dripping butter, veins splitting off across it in all directions.

Eyes to the posing mirror once again, she glimpsed a woman looking at her from behind. She looked nervous - like Natalie did, once upon a time - twiddling her thumbs. It may have appearance that the past almost repeated itself, but the brunette couldn’t care less.

“The fuck you looking at?” Both to boast and hint at just intimidating she could be, Natalie craned her left arm in the mirror so the nervous onlooker could gawk at it from afar, those sickeningly thick veins were not only still there, but even thicker than before as a result of her workout.  “Jealous much?”

Natalie winked teasingly.

The woman gulped and clenched her privates together to hold her piss in, otherwise the fright she got would’ve bested her. As she veered to the right to make a quick escape, she glimpsed a thick vein resting on the side of Natalie's bullish neck.

Looking back into the mirror smugly, Natalie pulled her left leg out to the side, the toes of her shoe pressed into the years-old, dubiously stained carpet. With one final exhale, she definitively stated:

“You’re looking at a future Ms Olympia champion.”

Somehow, it was impossible to argue with the behemoth girl’s confident declaration, as though, even now, it had been written in stone as a victory.



Author's Note: Correct me if I'm wrong, but this might've been one of the better parts in the Juiced series. It seems having an actual guideline to follow really does help. In this particular entry, I wanted to explore just how "in the zone" Natalie was with working out - even going so far as to ignore those around her. I wouldn't be remiss to think there are, of course, still some nitpicking inconsistencies here and there, but I'm happy with what I provided this time around, given Chapter 3 barely got any response. As always, let me know your thoughts on this. It's you guys that keep me going, you know ;P

[hairylover321]

I really enjoyed this last chapter, along with chapter 3 as well. I'm really into Natalie's craving for more muscle and the perspective you gave with how she used to appear and act. I also look forward to any other side effects (body hair, b.o, acne) that may start to show in the story. Keep it going! K+

[totocom]

Nice.
 

[Amnoartist]

Nice.
 

Thanks, totocom

[ImperatrixRattus]

Definitely love the cracking out of her shell elements in the background. Of course followed by the crushing the shell to powder, mixing it in to a shake and enjoying the calcium/protein boost, because 'muh gains' comes before everything else, but if she's a bit of a jockette-douche now...meh.  Gaaaaains. <3

[jcboyd]

Good stuff.  I like that you're embracing the side effects.  Keeps it more grounded in reality (if not quite "real"

 

[M7]

Late to the party, but wow, this is an awesome story. You're a great author Amnoartist. Repeated karma to you sir. I really like how you're building the story and the detail. The titles for the chapters are great too, like "Vein-caked." Chapter 4 is definitely my favorite so far. I loved everything about it. The training and intensity, her friend's disdain by her lack of interest and consumed training, the nervous onlooker, Natalie's attitude, etc. Can't wait for chapter 5.

[Amnoartist]

A little while ago, I commissioned an artist on Deviantart called Roemesquita to sketch Natalie. I figured it was about time I posted it here before his next piece, her sister Peyton comes next later this week. Hopefully, Natalie's to your liking

[ImperatrixRattus]

Nice piece, love their Huge Muscle series.