+Notable Author: [Amnoartist] Stories~collected

[tttrbn997]

Hey, this was a really great story, and I hope you continue it!

One tiny note, though, is that I would love more language describing size and the like. Thanks!

[GLKnight]

I'd love for you to continue this. Literally nothing else like it, really, considering the direction you'd like to take it. Take it to it's limit, then beyond, dude.

[Amnoartist]

This is something I wrote a while back that I hadn't posted on here yet.

An Unhealthy Obsession
Written and edited by Amnoartist
________________________________________

Peter opened the basement door slowly, the wooden frame creaking as he peered out from behind looking for his daughter Ambrosia, turning to the left at the treadmills, then to the right at the rowing machines. She wasn’t there, but then Peter saw her when she usually was.

Ambrosia grunted, clasping her hands together as she pulled her arms down into a crab most muscular that, as with basically everything the teenage blonde wore, compelled her electric blue bikini to strain; pressing against her smooth, flawless skin and the thick, bodybuilder-shaming muscles underneath. She noticed her father approach from behind, bearing a cute, dimpled grin. In spite of the outward cuteness she displayed and her age, Ambrosia regularly threw strops if she didn’t get what she wanted, one of her defining traits.

To the side of the burgeoning, long-haired blonde sat a litre bottle of water and a protein shake next to the pair of dumbbells with sweaty grips she’d just finished using before her father arrived. Similarly, to her right was a relatively warm towel resting on the edge of the pec machine.

Peter loved his daughter with all his heart. But when she started to take her bodybuilding hobby to the absolute extreme, he eventually started to become frightened of her in a sense. Ambrosia would regularly squander her personal bank account to purchase items that aided her growth: litres of protein shakes, human growth hormone, expensive treatments…

“Ambrosia, we need to talk about something.” Peter offered her a piece of paper, specifically the bill of all the things she purchased over the last month. “About your spending habits.” He wasn’t particularly happy about his daughter having spent ten grand in one month alone on things that helped her get bigger, or ‘swole as fuck,’ as she so often said. He wouldn’t have been that bothered if it was for a new car.

Regardless, Ambrosia’ response was a disinterested groan followed by shrugging of her overstuffed shoulders. Disregarding the near-obsessive desire for more and more muscle, endlessly packing it on, her body was still surprisingly feminine; exaggeratively curvaceous and long limbed that reminded her of her days as a model who always came out on top, winning first place every time.

“This is a serious issue, young lady. I won’t allow you to senselessly buy things to feed your obsession.” Peter’s words fell on deaf ears yet again as Ambrosia continued her posing routine, striking a side tricep pose with a grin. Her bikini strained, the fabric pressing against the vastness of her chest, sweat trickling down her brow to slip down the cracks of her cleavage, or what was left of it at least.

“God, I’m so hot. HNNNGHH!” She bore down into another crab flex, compelling even more muscle than before to inflate into existence.

“Are you listening to me?” Peter was unimpressed by his daughter’s attitude toward the situation at hand. Frankly, his wife Margaret knew it was best to just leave Ambrosia to do her thing. There wasn’t any harm being done. Well, no physical harm anyway. The same couldn’t be said about the family’s financial state. Pater wasn’t going to let his daughter’s senseless spending go unpunished, so he took it upon himself to face her. But it wasn’t until after doing so that he would realise his mistake.

Ambrosia turned to face her father with unchecked rage,  her nostrils flaring, teeth barred and neck muscles bulging. “What is it!” Her arms hung down at her sides, thicker than her father’s waist, legs spread apart, straining her bikini bottoms.

Peter gulped. He had come to terms with his mistake, sizing up his much larger and stronger offspring. “Um… nothing.”

With a heaving breath Ambrosia watched her father make a quick escape.

---

“Eighty-three…” the squat machine groaned as Ambrosia persistently lifted again, her heart thumping like a bass drum, swallowing the sweat that trickled down her forehead, basking in her body odor as it swathed round her. Nothing would stop her from finishing her set. “Eighty-four!”

At nine hundred pounds, she was squatting a new personal best. One that would before too long be replaced again by an even heavier, more impressive weight. And again…

“Eighty-fiiiiivvvvee!” The bench buckled under the blonde’s weight, warping visibly underneath her rock hard glutes.

She heaved a breath before stopping finally, putting the nine hundred pounds to rest.

---

Putting her left leg out in front, Ambrosia started posing again, her biceps so thick and pumped, they pressed against the smoothness of her cheeks. She gazed at herself for a moment, reflecting upon just how far she’d come, how big she’d gotten in such a short time. It was arousing to say the least.

Releasing a small cute moan, she put a hand down her bikini bottoms and started to pleasure herself, the moistness of the material enhancing the experience, forming involuntary spams of arousal, her legs twitching slightly.

Her muscles throbbed, pressing against the bikini just as it did before though more powerfully, the fabric now so thin and close to her smooth, sweaty skin it acted as part of it rather than a covering. Even so, it jerked in tandem with her involuntary spasming, her intermittent, joyous moans of unhindered pleasure, her breaths ragged, every so often stolen away by the very indulgence she brought upon herself.

The damp patch at her crotch grew wider and darker, hand in hand with her elated drooling, the pacing quickening as her hand was thrust even deeper into her panties, releasing shrieks of gratification that would put bring the career of the greatest opera singer to an irreparable end.

While one was in her panties, Ambrosia pulled her other arm up into a flex to gaze at its reflection. Sweaty, red, pumped, vascular, it only heightened her arousal, darkening the damp patch again, forcing her to release yet another orgasmic screech, which was followed by her involuntarily cramping up, tensing and going blind from experiencing such unprecedented arousal.

And then, with a finally shuddering moan, it ended, she returned from her state of pleasure, removing her hand from her panties to see their damp skin., smiling with intermittently short breaths. She bore down into a crab flex, bringing an end to her bikini as it snapped free from her shadow-casting frame, revealing the stimulated nipples underneath. Even after having just experienced such a thrilling orgasm, Ambrosia fondled her breasts with reckless abandon, then pulled her head down slightly to unabashedly lick and suck them both, flexing one while sucking the other.

She shuddered, licking her lips with a sultry expression as her gaze met the bare, sodden muscular reflection that was her own.

---

Not much preamble or fluff in this one.   You get right to the point.  Nice work!

Ambrosia is one of my favorite characters! 

[Amnoartist]

Toxin: Doing Business
Written & edited by Amnoartist
 
Lacy sighed, looking at her desk clock. At ten forty-five, she’d only been working for a little over an hour, and yet, it felt longer. Was it the insufferable summer heat? No. Maybe her bully of a boss, Harper, was being more forceful than usual? It wasn’t that. Besides, Lacy was not only new to her job, but it was her first job. Of course, Harper didn’t care much about that – or Lacy at all – so much as the sale numbers that kept going up and up. So… what was it that stressed Lacy out so much?

Harper was a few years older than Lacy, at twenty-six, a luscious redhead with large breasts and long shapely legs that all complimented her figure. She always liked to show off her legs however she could, and sometimes wearing black floral tights emphasized that.
 
Lacy tugged at the suit her mother bought just for the job. It was a little tight, not to mention the fact it practically screamed ‘expensive’ in view of the cuff-links on the accompanying shirt. Strangely enough, it wasn't the suit that bothered her. Well, not that much anyway. It was ironed and pressed to the point where there weren't any creases to speak of. Lacy’s mother was always a stickler for spotlessness. As obsessive as it was, Lacy wouldn’t have had the job right now otherwise.
 
She stared at the computer screen vacantly, suppressing the need to sigh a second time; she was lucky enough to have gotten away with it the first, given Harper’s ears were finely tuned to match a bat’s. The screen displayed a database detailing the sale numbers Harper was ever so interested in. Lacy didn’t care for what the sales were actually related to so much as her monthly pay check. But she had to do her job and at least act interested to get that money.
 
Lacy was still stressed out though. In between feigning concentration on the database, she mulled over what made her feel hollow inside. And to her complete disbelief, it stared right at her the whole time. She missed the sense of adventure, the thrill of excitement. Though she was only in her early twenties, her mentality was past that, the delights of the past slipped away through time. Glancing into the desk mirror, she realised just how quickly life had caught up to her.
 
She sighed again, sharper this time.
 
##
 
Lacy often hid out in the restroom to think when things got stressful. The quietness in that room was almost tranquil in a sense; so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. The tiled walls and flooring were white and shimmered, evidence of Warren the caretaker’s compulsive attitude towards cleaning.
 
Warren was a nice guy, who was always found at his office across from the restroom. He was a little old, wrinkled and always had a joke to crack when someone was feeling down. He wasn’t like most other janitors in Southpoint: perverse and unsettling. No, he was one of the rare breed of men: polite and gentlemanly, even to Harper.
 
Today was his day off, though, so Lacy’s trip to the lavatory would lack the return to her desk with the usual smile.
 
She stared into the mirror blankly, batting her eyelids, hands on the sink’s rim. “God, I hate this job.” Her breasts pressed evenly against the fabric of her shirt, itching at the bit to burst free. Most of the men in the department fawned over Lacy, and rightly so; she was the epitome of natural beauty, with long, shapely legs, narrow hips and lush wavy blonde hair. That girl could have as good as any man she wanted. Too bad she was excessively career-minded.
 
Lacy unzipped her makeup bag and rummaged for her lipstick; a generous red, then applied a fresh layer. Afterward, she retouched her scent with a fresh spray of her perfume.
 
In spite of being freshened up and ready to continue her gruelling shift, she realised a quick trip to the lavatory was in order. She gently closed the cubicle door just as the one leading into the toilets was opened by someone in a generically blue sweater and grey sweatpants, a backpack clung over them. The shoes weren’t particularly inviting either; a discoloured pair of running shoes that were once upon a time more blue than grey.
 
The newcomer heaved the backpack onto small space near the hand basins and opened it. “Alright, let’s see what we got here.” It was a female, relatively young too, considering the honeyed tones of her voice that deceived the otherwise unsightly façade. She pulled down her hood so that her stunning chestnut hair was loosened to flow elegantly, bolstering the disparity.
 
With her backpack unzipped, the nameless beauty dug her hand in and rummaged. Lacy heard all that occur, watching curiously from within the cubicle; the rustling, muttering and so on. She thought at first it would be okay to just get up and leave, but things next took a twist for the worst.
 
“Ah, there we go,” the brunette said whilst pulling out a syringe filled with a yellow liquid, setting it down on the space near the basin. “Thought I’d forgotten you back home for a sec.” Next, she pulled a small pillbox out from the bag and opened it to reveal a couple of tablets delicately placed inside. She set the container next to the syringe before zipping the backpack up.
 
Lacy was horrified. There was a junkie actively abusing drugs in her place of work right under everyone’s noses. A fire burned in her stomach; seething rage was compelling the curvaceous office employee to pounce on the unsuspecting addict, and she was just about to, if it weren’t for someone else to arrive.
 
The dark-haired girl turned swiftly in that direction before a brief smile cracked out from her lips. “Ah good, you’re here. I was beginning to think my time was wasted.”
 
Lacy caught on quickly as to who this new arrival was: a potential customer for the druggie. The problem was from where she was situated Lacy couldn’t see what they looked like. Just why was it so easy for both parties to meet like this?
 
“You got the stuff?” The voice was too vague for Lacy to properly make out.
 
The brunette scoffed. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she stated matter-of-factly. She motioned towards the syringe and pillbox.
 
“And I’ve got the money.” The client moved in closer to the sinks, indicated by the patterned clacking of heels - another female. She stopped just shy of letting Lacy see who it was. That was irritating, to say the least. "Six hundred, just like we agreed," the client pulled a thick wad of cash from her handbag and waved it around for the dealer to see, teasing her.
 
“This shit’s expensive and hard to get, y’know,” the brunette remarked, sizing the client up. “So, you’d best make sure this is what you want, lady.”
 
“I wouldn’t be inclined to pay double your usual rate otherwise, now would I?” the client returned brazenly, folding her arms over her chest, allowing her breasts to brutally press against her shirt. “Besides, you could use that money to help with your college fund, right?” she added to invoke insult.
 
“I could just as easily sell this to some other chick, y’know,” the dealer retorted, feigning to pack the drugs back into her backpack. “Don’t matter to me if it’s you or not, I’ll still get paid.”
 
“Alright, alright,” the buyer called out, moving closer. Now Lacy could see who it was. And it frightened her right down to the very core.
 
Harper sighed. She couldn’t believe someone younger than her was in direct control of the situation; that she was under the seller’s thumb. “Just… do you know if it works? I mean, I don’t want to set aside six hundred bucks for a fucking dud.”
 
The supplier rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course I know it works” Before the deal went down she didn’t think providing evidence was necessary. She pulled her arm up slowly and with barely any effort, the sleeve of her sweater burst, revealing a thick and round bicep the size of a football, criss-crossed with veins and striations. She eyeballed the astonished expression painted on Harper’s face. “I’m not a big fan of the phrase ‘Don’t get high on our own supply.’ There’s no fun in that.”
 
Lacy stumbled back in the cubicle, her heel catching on the edge of the toilet. She almost fell into it bum-first, but was able to spare herself the embarrassment just in time. She struggled to process just what happened, at first, but then comprehended the situation: the brunette was a Toxin dealer!
 
The dark-haired girl twisted her arm into a tricep flex in an effort to show Harper the results of the drug she was so keen on buying. She watched the veins throb and bulge gently, rise prominently to the surface of her arm and coil round it like vines on a thick branch. Then, taking a finger, she softly traced a lone vein down the length of her forearm before smiling. “Like I said, this shit’s expensive, but boy, is it worth it.”
 
The incredible display that just occurred didn’t dampen Harper’s judgement about Toxin; rather it strengthened to the point where she was willing to lay down extra money for yet more of the drug. The problem was, she could only offer up the six hundred bucks originally agreed upon. Plus, she didn’t know if this teenager even had enough to meet her desires.
 
“So… interested in my product?” The dealer spoke whilst still looking at her bicep delightedly, staring at the great sharp peak where the edge of a thick vein throbbed, “or was I right in saying my time was wasted here?” She lowered her arm slowly, bringing it to her side. Even in its relaxed state, her triceps bulged through her sweater, straining its material bit by bit.
 
Harper shook her head. She was adamant about getting her hands on the drug, of course. “No, I’m interested - very interested.” She eyeballed the syringe and pillbox next to the sink. Those were her choices – there obviously was not much to choice from, but as long as she got what was desired, she didn’t care. “I’ll take the pills - less conspicuous than a syringe.”
 
The brunette smirked, coercing her traps into flexing so powerfully the respective muscles audibly bulged. “Wise choice,” she said, taking the pillbox in her hand. “Wish the rest of my patrons were smart as you. Most of the time, they just want their kick, inconsiderate towards what could happen otherwise.” She feigned a pout, complemented with a shrug. “Meh, that’s their problem, not mine.”
 
“You get many other clients?”
 
“Many? Pfft. It’s hard to keep track of who wants what sometimes - bodybuilders prepping for shows, some rich bitches who just want it 'cause it's hip. Even got a guy who bought some so he could spike his wife's tea.” The dealer motioned for Harper to hand over the cash. A quick same-time exchange took place and before Harper knew it: Toxin was in her possession. “But I do have enough regulars to keep me on my feet until at least the year’s end. Things would be different if this shit was legal. For starters, we wouldn't be meeting in your toilets.”
 
Harper glowered.

The dealer stashed the syringe into her backpack before the most crucial detail crossed her mind. “Oh yeah, before I forget – I’d pace those pills if I were you.”
 
Harper looked back in surprise, a tinge of worry striking her gut. “Really?”
 
“Oh yeah. One of my previous customers swung by for another stash earlier today ‘for a friend’. I was willing to give her it – for the money and all that.” The dealer swung her backpack over her burgeoned back, readying to leave before delivering the punchline. “But that was before I knew she’d already consumed the last stash in a single shot. She had enough Toxin for herself and another customer.”
 
Harper gulped. “What happened then?”
 
The dealer shrugged, forcing her shoulders to intensely press against the sweater’s fabric. “She was surprisingly okay with me refusing to supply her again, even though we both knew she was more than capable of smashing my door down with a fist and taking it all anyway.” She laughed nervously. “Can’t deny there was a moment of tension though.”
 
“Uh-huh,” Harper nodded. She thought for a moment about that woman. What did she look like? How big did she get? Did she get even bigger? At any rate, Harper took note of the dealer’s precaution. “Limit my usage of this. Got it.”
 
“Yeah, you got the pills, so one a day should do the trick for you,” the brunette explained, heading to the door, feeling her calves surge and push against her sweatpants. Harper watched her open the door slowly, turning back to speak. “Maybe I’ll see you again for another hit, right?”
 
Harper smiled back. That was proof enough to say she would likely see the nameless brunette teen at least once again. "What's your name kid?"

The dealer offered a quick glare. "i don't do names. Wouldn't be doing this for so long otherwise."

The door clicked shut as she left to go elsewhere, presumably to another deal.
 
##
 
Lacy’s eye peeked out from the half closed door, watching Harper inspect the pillbox with a level of curiosity that was until now unknown to the blonde beauty. She hoped Harper would now realise her mistake and simply flush the pills down the sink. But the situation only got worse.
 
Reaching into her shirt pocket, Harper pulled out a capsule almost if not completely identical to the two she just bought. She already had one, now three in her possession! “I’m not gonna let some fucking teen tell me what should or shouldn’t be done,” she declared before chugging all three pills at once!
 
Lacy let out a small panicked gasp. She was lucky to have not got caught by Harper. Not that it mattered now. In fact, she would later discover nothing did.
 
Though it wasn’t visible, Harper’s transformation started taking place. She moaned softly, stood flat on her feet to let it naturally run its course. Her shirt strained and pulled, attacked by the growing flesh it vainly protected for modesty’s sake, cotton strands tearing and twisting, jolting.
 
Her blazer sucked inwards, compressed by the increasingly distinct bulges of her swelling back, mimicking the same inches-wide rips and gashes as her shirt to uncover the v-taper that until now was absent, flourishing capped deltoids with emergent veins that throbbed to the beat of her heart.
 
Arching forward holding the sink’s edge to maintain balance, she extended her right leg behind her, bringing into light her prominently heart-shaped calves, as they released themselves from the shiny confines of her tights, pulsing and convulsing with growth, vying for space as their tendons pulled, snapped and strengthened to better support the growing meat.
 
Pulling her arms into a crab flex with a grunt, the front of her shirt burst, sending insignificant threads of cotton flying across the toilet to land on the faucet. The mirror reflected the twitches and spasms of Harper’s chest, breast tissue melting away and metamorphosing into a wall of pectoral tissue so thick and wide her chin was buried in it! During this her neck widened, as if to suggest her pecs and neck grew as a single massive entity, not two separate ones. The tendons thickened to the extent that it looked as though they physically tried to burst through her neck!
 
The sleeves of Harper’s shirt yielded to the spherical shaped bulges of her biceps that fast approached the size of cantaloupes, forcing down on her obliques and the still dwindling plumpness of her breasts. The bubbling growth yet persisted, emphasised by the emerging veins that pushed to the surface of her python arms, spreading out in all possible directions to other muscles.
 
Twisting her pelvis, she bore down into a calf flex. Her satisfaction with their size now – they weren’t calves now, they were cows! - emphasised by the extent of her smile, which, like the dealer, coerced her traps to bulge and inch higher to her ears!
 
Beckoned by the perfect gleam of the mirror, Harper boasted a double bicep pose that ended the now pointless existence of her shirt and blazer, rendering her torso bare, her trousers not that far below in sharing the same fate. Even as she held the pose her pythons grew, the peaks inching higher and higher, growing thicker and thicker from cantaloupe to something akin to a car tyre!
 
The almost instantaneous bursting of Harper’s trousers heralded her loud moan, arching backward, managing to hold the pose. Her hamstrings pulled and jolted, their expansion indicated by an oddly unnatural stretching sound that filled the room.
 
The growth stopped. Naked, panting and sweating profusely, Harper explored her new body, slowly taking her hands to the robust wall of pectoral tissue that jutted outward like a flag. The surprising softness of her skin betrayed the unyielding muscles underneath. “Oh god…” She said in a sultry, softly-spoken tone, which was rare on her part. She pulled her arms up into another double bicep positon, though this time they rumbled gently with the motion, their peaks almost level with her wrists! “Shit, yes! I knew getting another two pills was a good idea!”
 
Harper approached the door that led into the lavatory and paused to observe her massiveness. There was no way she could fit through that small space and putting her fist through it wouldn’t exactly be professional of her. In spite of her physical transformation, she was still the same in regards to mind-set. Her colleagues would go into a state of frenzy too no doubt. “What am I gonna do?”
 
She moaned with a quick jerk as her body underwent a second spurt of growth far quicker than the first, and more violent; everything seemed to grow all at once and cast a vast shadow over the length of the room at first before widening. Lacy clocked the increasing darkness and looked up to see Harper’s convulsing traps growing above the toilet stall and press against the ceiling until it started to crack!
 
Harper’s bicep pushed against the sink nearest her until it cracked and burst, releasing an outburst of constant water flow, the wall tiles cracked and hanging loose. The water itself soaked the burgeoning muscles, giving them a shiny appearance.
 
Lacy panicked. She didn’t know what to do. How did she get into this mess anyway? All she wanted to do was give herself a couple of minutes alone in the lavatory to think! She gulped, leaning further back into the toilet stall. Sweat gathered at her forehead and her lips were dry, her heart pounding.
 
A strange feeling dawned on her at that moment; it was wet. No, she was wet. It had just occurred to her she was turned on by the unnatural event that just transpired. Her underwear was sodden; so wet that the frilly material felt like slime to her touch. Now what was she supposed to do, with Harper’s traps looming higher and higher, the shadow enlarging by the second, symbolical to her growth.
 
Regardless, one thing was for certain: at least Lacy got that thrill she was looking for!

[Trinitus]

Awesome story!
Was this a one of story or will there be more, would love to know how Harpers collegs will respond when they see her.

[phil123]

Great stroy.

I hope for more as there´s so much room for mor.

[Amnoartist]

The Visit
written & edited by Amnoartist
______________________

A short piece

Warning: Taboo subjects are touched upon within this story, with a high possibility of offending those with high morals. If such content is not to your tastes, I would recommend you turn away now.
_______________________
 
Paula was worried; a couple of hours prior her father Tom called to say she had to come right away. The tone of his voice suggested great urgency, and Paula assumed her mother Esther was due to pass on, so wasted no time in beating feet over to her parents’ house. She brought the rest of the family with her: Jack her son and husband Harry, both equally worried for what the urgent matter might be.
 
Paula looked at the grandfather clock pensively, hoping its constant rhythmic tick-tocking would drown out the fears growing within, following the second hand go round and round. It wasn’t doing as well as she thought; if anything, the ticking just nipped at the base of her skull.
 
“So, what exactly is wrong with Esther?” Harry looked at Tom inquisitively, hoping he would be able to provide the answers sought, but the fact of the matter was, they were all equally confused and worried. “Is it almost her time?”
 
Tom shook his head. He was an old man; at the very least he was in his mid-eighties, emphasised by the leathery texture of his face from the layers upon layers of wrinkles deeply set into his skin, with a few age spots on his hands. “She’s still up and about, son, there’s no need to worry over a coffin just yet.”
 
Jack was confused. If there was nothing wrong with Esther, why was there such a big deal made about having everyone be here? Now, Jack loved his grandmother with all his heart, but it just felt like time had been wasted over nothing.
 
“Then what’s the problem, exactly” Paula finally spoke, apprehension clinging at her throat. She sensed something was amiss here, as if her father deliberately excluded key information, glaring at him coldly. She expected him to know better than to ignore things that could help. “What’s wrong with Mum?”
 
Tom froze on the couch. He knew his daughter was pressuring him to reveal the most important piece of the puzzle, but how would she – and the rest of the family – take it? It wasn’t going to be taken lightly, yet it was the only way in which it could be understood.
 
“It’s best if she shows you” he said.
 
Then the ceiling creaked and groaned, dust particles burst free from the ceiling and floated for a few seconds before dissipating into nothingness as the above footsteps drew closer and closer to the stairwell. Each footfall over the carpet was in a way delicate, though loud and menacing as it pressed down hard on the lower still flooring.
 
She started her descent with a delicate, wrinkled hand on the railing as each step she took put more and more pressure on the stair, warping the wood underneath. She was draped in a large pink dressing gown that covered the entirety of her frame.
 
Eventually Esther reached the house’s ground floor and continued her travels through the hallway, the woman’s steps still pressurizing the floor until finally she entered the living room with a smile; a cluster of wrinkles gathered at her cheeks and stretched as far as the corner of her eyes.
 
Harry looked at his mother-in-law hesitantly. She looked perfectly fine to him; no pale skin or gaunt features were present to suggest any form of ailment. The old woman even looked a little wider than usual and no doubt wore the dressing gown to hide the potential flabs of fat underneath. This was all just a cruel trick she and Tom played on their family, wasn’t it?
 
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about” Harry admitted, looking at the old woman before him. He was of half a mind to scold the old couple for wasting his and the rest of the family’s time, making it as though there really was something wrong with Esther.
 
“You had me worried there, you know” Paula reprimanded scornfully, her arms crossed over her bountiful bosom, offering cold glances at her parents. Admittedly, she was ashamed for them to think they could pull a stunt like that. “It’s not something to joke about, you know.”
 
“But—” Tom began, but stopped himself short, down to his wife’s next act.
 
Still holding the smile she presented upon her arrival, Esther unfurled her gown, letting it drop to her feet in a gentle heap of cottony softness, ultimately revealing the massively muscled body formerly hidden underneath. There was that ever-sought-for deltoid pop on her shoulders, the striated splits running slickly down her biceps; a thick wall of pectoral meat garnished the old woman’s surprisingly large breasts with an inches-deep cleavage.
 
Further down, Esther’s frame was kept level by a pair of trunk-wide legs bolstered with a thin layer of vascularity and wrinkles, with a pair of kinky underwear covering the old woman’s snatch.
 
She simply looked on with that same, unwavering smile, undeterred by her visitors’ surprised expressions, especially Harry: he asked how his mother-in-law got muscles so quickly, but his inquisition was left unanswered as his wife nudged him, directing their combined attention to her mother’s stomach, for perhaps the most startling aspect of the old woman’s grand, yet mind-numbing reveal was the fact she stroked it as a mother would. Standing there fondling her gut, a delicate finger caressing the individual grooves of her washboard stomach, Esther watched her grandson Jack ogling it, watch it gurgle and writhe.
 
“What the fuck is that?” Paula asked, watching the thing within her mother’s stomach move; coil and twist within, forcing the skin protecting it to bulge out visibly and audibly. Every time the thing moved, it made Esther’s abs push out with growth. “Are—are you…”
 
Esther nodded, still stroking her gut. “Sweetie, I’m pregnant.”
 
Between the facts her mother had somehow grown super-humanly muscular and pregnant overnight, it was all too much for Paula to bear; she fainted.

Those would be some of my favorite fetishes you hit right there.  How old is grandma? I hope there will be more!! 

[Amnoartist]

You should continue! It's very interesting and I'd like to see more

There probably will be more, so be on the lookout for a second part

[Jeremy Lightning]

Haha, nice, I do love your older muscle women stuff, and muscle pregnancy stuff is also a hot taboo, mix them together, hey, some pretty hot, taboo stuff, so yeah, I wouldn't mind seeing more too, so yeah, I'll be looking forward to part 2. k+!

[Amnoartist]

Adverse
Written and edited by Amnoartist

Natalie’s sports bra pressed violently against the swollen, vascular, elephantine flesh of her chest, each deep exhale bringing a dreadful sense of worry. Would it be this breath or the next that would bring an end to the scantiness of the sporty attire?

Her hot pants were in a worse state; ripped at the sides to expose the thighs slowly spilling out of them, her skin soft and velvety, a harsh contrast with the thick, rippling muscles underneath.

Her face though, for want to be so much different from the odd smoothness of her thighs present, suffered from a severe breakout of acne. Though she was sad to bear such a visage, it was her own doing.

She looked down at the bottle of pills with an all-too familiar expression: that of lust, greed. Her monstrously thick arms hanging by her sides, her incomprehensible massiveness reflected on the mirror; blue hair caressed her shoulder blades, lightly brushing her overstuffed, bloated deltoids.

Gulping at the mere, simplistic thought of downing even more of the undeniably life-threatening growth hormone, Natalie’s throat muscles bulged, literally rippling with growth from the motion, a droplet of arousal-induced saliva caught at the corner of her mouth.

The fibres of her dense forearm rippling, she snatched the generically white, dubiously unlabelled bottle and uncorked it with the flick of a finger, then pulled her head back to down the pills within like they were candy, biting down on and crunching them between the pearly whites that were her teeth, trapping them within the hideous, acne-ridden muscularity of her mouth.

Shuddering for a moment, the bottle slipped through her twitching fingers, bouncing off the carpet before rolling into a pile of empty pill bottles of a similarly suspicious nature.

Arching her back, Natalie bit her lip at the exhilarating rush that then suddenly coursed through her every fibre, tendon and bone, pulling her into a near out-of-body experience brought on by the transformative hormone, pumping the pills’ effects through her system at an alarming rate, her eyes watering up, bulging.

“Fuuucckk!” She called out, finally breaking her silence, her voice husky, a tinge of sweat gracing her brow, her heart thumping, threatening to burst through the immensity of her chest, upon which a pair of DD-sized breasts once rested, now replaced by a pair of steroid-forged pecs. “This is so gooood!”

Her pupils dilated, batting them lustfully, Natalie stared into the posing mirror, her head held high as she brought her arms down into a crab most muscular, her skin tearing and tendons visibly squirming as the bulging flesh expanded audibly, like grapes being squashed between one’s toes.

Intermittently her sports bra slowly submitted to its predestined fate, ripping and splitting over the overstuffed, mushrooming muscles that almost literally swallowed the last vestiges of the fabric that retained her decency, for lack of the once-smooth skin she had, now adopting one of acne-ridden abhorrence. But she didn't care. She saw her brindled visage as a symbol of her undying dedication to just… wanting more muscle, lusting after the acne itself, hoping more would break out on the spot, overlooking the humorousness behind it.

Biting her lip, she shuddered as her glutes expanded, hardening by the second as they continued their venture in pressing against the monolithic girl’s hot pants, rupturing the material with such laughable ease, her huge, sweeping quads eventually spilt out.

Arching her back forward, she slammed her palm against the mirror, cracking it, her calves swelling, riding up her thick, corded hamstrings, compelling them to share in the growth, releasing quiet, yet deep growls of unprecedented enjoyment.

Moaning, Natalie jerked forward as her sports bra tore free from her ever-enlarging bulk, darting across the room before landing carelessly on the leg press’ bench, drenched in chest sweat.

Heaving breaths for a moment, she stared into the reflected, freakish massiveness of her bare chest, flexing her pecs before catching a calm, collected glimpse of the dumbbells behind her.

---

Suppressing a gathering of drool at the corner of her lip, Natalie winced as her arm coiled upward, lifting the dumbbell close to her chest, her bicep literally squelching with growth upon the completion of every successful rep, the steel weighted object clasped tightly round her dainty hand.

Her reflection expanded in turn, taking up more and more of the mirror’s glass, consistently showing the young woman just how large she was.

A freakish lattice of veins coiled throughout her torso from her wrists to the abhorrent puffiness of her deltoids, twisting down to converge at the remaining vestiges of her once-proud cleavage, then breaking off to blanket her obliques in the same network of thick, growth hormone dispensing tubes within her inhuman, elephantine frame.

Squeezing down on them tighter as she proceeded to continue lifting, barely showing any signs of needing, wanting to stop, the dumbbell grips groaned, emitting a song of pain, ringing. Even so, Natalie persisted, compelling her door-wide frame into performing standing shoulder presses, the immense weight bearing on her shoulders, riding down to her pelvis.

Grunting, she bit her lip just as before, another incomprehensible period of growth taking control, expanding her world-class, bodybuilder-shaming back to relatively unheard of sizes, involuntarily spasming for a moment as that same wave of expansion then sought to conquer more of her mammoth frame.

Ending the short set of presses, she carelessly slipped the dumbbells through her fingers, a harsh clattering echoing through the dark, moist emptiness of the gym; grey, cracked walls with damp patches on the floor.

Sweat trickling down her brow, Natalie turned to the posing mirror again. In spite of her blatant ignorance of the nature in cycling growth hormones, and her acne-ridden face, she fought hard to retain as much of her once-flawless visage as possible through wearing mascara and blush, though now smudged as a result of her insane workout, but must of the effort was ultimately doomed to be for nothing, be in vain as the acne always seemed to take precedence.

Her breaths ragged, somewhat masculine in tone, the inherently literal wall of muscle twisted into a side chest pose with a smile - the only thing about her that hadn't really changed over the weeks and months of her nonconforming substance abuse. Her pecs pressed against one another, sandwiching muscle and muscle together in a wave of rippling, water-retaining bulges!

Turning slightly, she crunched down into an abs and thighs pose, her right leg thrust outward. Despite the gym’s generally depressing colour palette, the light struck a stark contrast, shining gracefully into the young, monolithic woman’s impractical largeness, sweeping across the sweat-greased bumpiness of her stomach. A hand graced the abdominals that surged forth, pushed their way to the surface of her skin, a soft moan escaping from her lips.

Turning again, the extent of her back engulfed the posing mirror, casting a frightful shadow over the floor. She presented herself in a double bicep pose, the all-too familiar squelching following suit as the respective muscles surged with growth, thick blue veins rising to the surface of her skin, audibly squirming as they enlarged too, snaking horrifically to her deltoids before breaking off down her lats and up her neck, just inches from her lower jaw.

As horrifically, obscenely huge she was, Natalie couldn't deny her latest, excessive dosage of the powerful growth hormone had given her quite the rush, had pumped her to such an unearthly size that she barely resembled anything human let alone female. But she didn't care. The power was just so incredible, and all the adverse effects that came from her addiction were things she was willing to live with.

Ending it, facing the mirror again, she crunched down into another crab most muscular with a grunt, compelling the newly formed veins at the edge of her jaw to cover her cheek in a grotesque lattice of thick blue tubing.

She smiled.

[Amnoartist]

Mammoth
Written and edited by Amnoartist

The door groaned as Natalie pulled it open, her vein-laden forearms bulging, twitching and dancing under her skin, coiling like vines, the hinges buckling slightly with the motion.

2am. Natalie counted herself lucky the public gym near her was a 24/7 establishment and usually empty at that time of night, since she could beast out. And that was her goal.

She'd already consumed her breakfast consisting of three packs of grilled bacon, not to mention two bottles of the growth hormone that coursed through her system as she examined the door frame.

Once inside the establishment, Natalie paced through the entryway, her steps thunderous and trembling, knocking most of the pretty pictures off their hooks and compel them to smash into the floor.

She suddenly came to a halt at the reception desk, her breaths shallow, commanding her steely, inches-thick, chemically-fuelled chest to flex inadvertently, straining the hopelessly taut existence of her sports bra.

The receptionist who happened to be working the night shift that night saw everything: Natalie’s initial arrival as she climbed the stairs; her practically pulling the door off its hinges before entering the building. Everything. Frankly, it frightened the life out of her; her face was chalk-white by the time Natalie reached the desk.

And this was all before she knew what Natalie actually looked like up close.

First, was her face. A light layer of mascara and lipstick had been applied along with some foundation to make her acne and the thick veins in her right cheek appear less distinct. All a pointless task in the face of her knowing just how wild the workout would get.

And her chest. She crossed her arms over, compelling it, her forearms and deltoids to ripple for a brief moment, the veins lying under the surface of her skin coiling like snakes on branches, thick ones. The sports bra the elephantine woman wore burst at the cleavage slightly as a result, popping buttons and exposing the rippling muscle underneath.

Her abs were no different; six brick-sized blocks that looked as though one could be physically gripped and squeezed. Well, attempted at least.

The receptionist finally spoke, her initial fear still present, hanging over her head like a cloud. Much like Natalie’s massive shadow. “He-hello.”

“I'm here for my workout,” Natalie called back, her voice gruff, somewhat masculine in tone. Speaking was simple enough a task for her traps to bulge in tandem with the words that escaped her lips. “Is the gym empty? I like it when I'm alone.”

“Um…” the assistant gulped. She didn't know it was remotely possible for a human to have so much muscle, let alone a female. The twitching mass of beef was unbelievable. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Good.” Natalie turned to the door, her steps seemingly even louder than before, her hamstrings audibly bulging with the motions, releasing waves of thick tendon meat, coupled with the tantalising dancing of her globular calves sweeping from the jutting, trunk-thick quads.

---

Natalie grunted, raising the dumbbells up close to her bodybuilder-shaming, world-class chest, the cold steel of the discs gently caressing it, a drip of sweat curving down her forehead, panting and grunting. Her stares into the mirror were long and hard, much like the respective limbs she was currently in the process of religiously destroying to be rebuilt stronger than ever, veins rising to the surface of her forearms, coiling freakishly.

Natalie preferred it when the gym was empty, save for her own presence there, since it meant she could beast it out on all the equipment. And beast out she did,  with no indication of remorse for anything. Her hair matted with sweat, she curled again, popping a vein in her bicep. That would form a bruise sooner or later, but she simply pushed on, grunting, panting.

Her pecs pressed against together as the next rep came, pound after pound of rippling girl beef smashing against itself, grinding for a moment before they pulled themselves free to breathe, only to repeat the process when the next rep came, boding an ill will to the material of her sports bra, each insignificant pull teasing it.

The dumbbells were dropped with a seemingly careless thud as Natalie sighed, forcing every major muscle in her torso to bulge and torture her clothing for a moment; her deltoids jerked upward in a small spam of flexing, squeezing and rubbing against the dainty covering of her bra. Similarly, her lats graced the edges of the piece of attire before the bulging muscles settled.

Natalie explored her chest, the tips of her polished nails digging into the dense flesh prior to going further, into her striated cleavage, moaning. There was no mistaking her physique regularly aroused her, and each time she noticed a marginal increase in size, it seemed to heighten, as if they acted as one entity.

Next up was a clean and jerk. Natalie had prepared each exercise in advance of doing it, so the barbell had laid on the mat for a little over an hour now, all the plates racked onto it. She looked at the barbell for a moment, contemplating, her hands on her hips to accentuate her width, casting a vast shadow over the dumbbell rack. If only more weight could be added. Oh well…

Her hands on the bar, she pulled the vast weight up with a grunt, her neck muscles bulging, veins rising to the surface of her skin; dense and freakish, not even her makeup could hide them now. The huge weight groaned, whimpered as the bar warped under it, started to curve like an upside down ‘U.’ She sucked her teeth as the bar came close to her waist, hinting struggle. It seemed even with all the hormones she’d been ladling into herself, Natalie wasn’t strong enough to lift all the gym’s available free weight.

But she was insistent.

With a frightful roar she pulled the bar up to her shoulders, its warped state going against the massive young woman, nearly forcing her to slant to the one side before she secured her footing, and with that, she took a moment to process the next step: the jerk. A trickle of sweat curved down her cheek, meeting the edge of her lip before she pulled up for the jerk, her arms skyward,; her biceps pressing against her cheeks like cushions, denting her dimpled cheeks. Her bra audibly strained as the motion came to an end, but was surprisingly able to remain intact.

Natalie paused for a moment to contemplate the finished result; every muscle in her engorged frame seemed to pop, grind with the smooth layer of skin over them, her acne-ridden face red with the stress that came with holding the position.

With a thunderous clatter the barbell was tossed in front of the mat, bursting it. Strained breaths escaped Natalie’s lungs for a moment as her chest throbbed - it felt as though it had a life of its own, trying to beak free from the rest of her massive form.

She sat on the burst mat for a moment to catch her breath, the workout now at an end.

Then the door opened.

---

The redhead shrugged her shoulders as she crossed the threshold, the densely-muscled, pumpkin-sized joint rippling with the motion, heading towards the lone posing mirror at the end of the room. Her long mane of hair was let loose and sprawled across the insane massiveness of her back, its ends lightly touching the straps of her tartan sports bra.

Natalie blinked, was reduced to a frozen, shocked monolith. Who was she, she asked herself. The sweat-drenched muscle-mammoth’s stares persisted as the newcomer stopped directly in front of the posing mirror with a smile, arms raised in a double bicep pose, veins coiling around its extremities, curving and twisting in seemingly all directions possible, throbbing.

Natalie took to observing the girl from a distance to avoid being caught. Aside from the tartan sports bra, she exhibited a pair of tartan shorts also. Was everything about this girl tartan?

The redhead grabbed a pair of dumbbells and started curling, smiling at the reflections from the respective underlying tendons and fibers of her biceps that seemed to dance and ripple on their own, as though they were separate entities from the rest of her hugeness. “Yas,” she cheered. “Gonnae git huge as fuck!”

As if she wasn’t big enough already, Natalie thought, watching the nameless redhead curl again.

She was Scottish. Of course she had to be, given the clothes and all. But she was sticking a bit too close to the stereotype, wasn’t she? With the exclusion of the bulging, contest-winning muscles, that is.

The redhead pulled her arm up again, feeling and watching her chest muscles bulge and ripple with just the slightest effort as the cold steel of the dumbbells pressed gently against them, wavelets of throbs quaking under her skin, veins rising to the surface of it; thick and pulsating.

Natalie was a little irate. What with all the impressive posing and gargantuan mass so casually presented before her, it was increasingly difficult to want to get a good look at what the nameless Scot’s face actually looked like.

“C’mon tae fuck!” she strained, holding the pose, the sports bra now under a brutal attack from her seemingly wider back, audibly pressing the material outward. “Ya bastard!” Her audible strains continued for a moment in the form of gasps and grunts before she turned her head to face Natalie, finally.

The brunette was stupefied by the redhead’s face. It was so, so… perfect, flawless. No outbreak of acne; no thick, pulsating veins. And her voice - only know had Natalie realized it was feminine. How could someone - anyone - be as big as her without needing any ‘help’? It was crazy?

“Like whit ye see, do ye?” the redhead ended her curling, dropping the dumbbells carelessly as they rolled free from her grip, her focus now completely Natalie. She folded her arms, her burgeoning deltoids surging upward to press against the material of her bra.

Natalie cocked a brow, the redhead’s accent driving a wedge in being able to understand her. “Um… sorry?”

“Whit, ir ye dief or sumthin?” The redhead coiled her arm up into a flex, followed by a grin. “Ah asked ye if ye liked whit ye see?”

Natalie took a moment to process the question. “Um… maybe? I don’t know.”

“Ye cannae understand me, can ye?” the redhead knew she didn’t need a proper verbal response - Natalie’s facial expression was evidence enough. “Most fowk ir like that aroond me, cos am Scottish, ye ken?”

Natalie shrugged. “A little bit. I knew someone from my teens who spoke like you. I'm just a little rusty.”

The redhead extended her hand out to Natalie with a smile. In spite of her evident largeness that was on par with the brunette, it seemed the scarlet-haired muscle-mammoth was friendly. Or at least, appeared to be. “Name’s Skye.”

Natalie shook her hand. In spite of its simplicity, the power applied to the action from both girls was enough for their arms to bulge and pop. “Natalie. Nice to meet you.”

Skye observed Natalie’s musculature carefully, her head curving this way and that to catch every bulging inch of the woman there was. “So, how long hae ye been working oot fir? Like, four or five year?”

Perhaps Natalie would’ve gotten as big as she was in the space of five years, if she had been working out and dieting responsibly like any other ordinary person should. But that wasn’t the case for her. “Um… one, actually.”

Skye snickered, her pecs bulging under her skin with the motion, seemingly threatening to burst out from under it, like grapes splitting as they burst between one’s fingers. “Git tae fuck. You got that big in wan year? How?” It then occurred to Skye that Natalie was wearing makeup to make her otherwise freakishly veiny face more subtle. Albeit, the makeup that was smudged with sweat. “Yoo’re oan th’ ‘roids, arenae ye?”

Natalie shrugged. “A cycle here, a cycle there. Along with some other experimental shit.” She wasn’t ashamed to admit it, obviously. She couldn’t exactly lie anyway. Even if she did, the evidence to prove otherwise was on her - literally. “But how did you get as big as me without using them?”

Skye’s lips curved into a shrewd grin. “It’s aw in th’ genes.”

Natalie’s eyes popped out with surprise.

“Aye, ah hae a weird case ay th’ genes.” Skye suppressed the snicker building within her. Natalie’s face was priceless. The poor soul was mortified. “Sure, it didne happen until aroond fower weeks ago.”

“You…”Natalie was almost driven close to a panic attack with the news. “You got as big as me over the space of four weeks?” She asked with a pointed finger.

Skye nodded. “Aye.”

“And… how old are you exactly?”

“Jist turned eighteen lest month there.”

Natalie’s head was nipping. Skye was the same size as her without having to use drugs, was flawlessly beautiful and only eighteen, younger than Natalie? Had life really dealt her such a cruel hand?

“Aye, puckle fowk reacted th' sam way lest time tay.” Skye reminisced of that last time she broke that news. “Sent a woman tae th' hospital coz ay it.”

No wonder, Natalie said inwardly, staring into Skye’s pecs. Skye caught the stares and smiled.

“Listen. ye seem tae be a guid bodie. Fancy goin oot fur a bevvy? Ah ken a guid place roon th' corner, An' we can hae a caw th' crack, gie tae ken each other better. Ye seem interested enaw in me.”

Natalie stopped to process the suggestion. Looking at it, this might be the first time in that faithful one year she could actually have a friend. One who shared the same interests as her, no less. Well, minus the hormone ladling. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Magic! Jist lit me grab mah things back in th' locker room an' we'll be aff.”

Natalie nodded.

[Amnoartist]

Hormonal
Written & edited by Amnoartist

Natalie was lucky she was alone.

She pulled open the gym locker and smiled, a sense of relief filling the gargantuan woman as the syringe came into view, filled with… something. It was an HGH, but... not a normal one. This one was homemade, packed full with all kinds of risky ingredients.

Natalie grabbed the syringe like a falcon grabs its prey, and looked at it for a moment to contemplate; because this HGH was untested, God knows what it would do to her. She didn’t want to risk permanent damage – again – or even death, but the impulse was too unbearable to resist.

She stabbed the syringe into her arm in one swift careless stroke, grunting as the warm liquid passed through her bloodstream at an alarming rate before the sound of ripping flesh fibres filled the room almost suddenly; bursting, shredding, convulsing, smashing, pulling and grinding themselves apart little by little, inch by inch, tearing the already-massive muscles outward to grow larger; bubbling, quivering and surging with growth, biceps ballooning past 50+ inches of vein-mapped beefiness!

Natalie’s head twitched and jerked in tandem with the growth making its way through her entire body; chest, legs, arms, neck, back… a grunt escaped her lips as she pulled down into a crab most muscular pose sending the shredding flesh into overdrive; louder, faster, which in itself gave way to even more size at a quicker rate than previously.

Natalie’s grunts and growls became increasingly more frequent the more often she performed the same pose, as it seemed to make her body balloon outward with inhuman she-beef, skin stretching and pulling outward to better house the freakish expansion. Her heart pounded so violently it was as if it tried to burst through her chest, escape from the constant swelling that would potentially reach the artery itself, grab hold and squeeze it!

A light trickle of drool escaped from the behemoth’s mouth, snaking down her gut that ballooned outward like a barrel before finally she stopped with a heaved, rugged breath.

She slammed the locker shut before making her way into the gym, where she would find Jake.


"No, Natalie. I'm not giving you any more. You’re big enough as it is.”

Natalie glowered at Jake with crossed arms and a cocked brow. Her sports top could barely fit the brunette’s massive, vein-crossed, distended frame It was a surprise her outfit still fit.

By comparison, Jake was a competitive bodybuilder who won national competitions in his younger years. That all changed when people found out he was peddling steroids. Still, he was small compared to Natalie.

“Are you serious right now?” Her voice was slightly, unexpectedly more gruff than usual and had a sort of masculine texture to it. Jake felt sorry for the poor girl; she really had let herself go since her interest in bodybuilding and growing evolved into an obsession that could one day kill her. “I need that shit, man.”

Jake looked at Natalie with suppressed repulsion. The dipping tones in her voice were understandably a turn-off, not to mention the apparent bloatedness of her frame. “You're starting to sound like a guy, Nat. And your breasts: when was the last time you had those, huh?”

“I’ll get implants.”

Jake felt sick to the stomach about the fact his most loyal customer was once a beautiful babelicious brunette he often lost sleep over. “I'm all for giving a chick the boost she needs for working out, but you practically live on this shit. I mean, have you ever heard of cycling?”

In spite of her manly features, there were times when Natalie’s more feminine traits showed through and played havoc with the emotions and genitalia of others. This was one of those times: she pouted pleadingly, neck muscles bulging.

Jake flinched, his mind at war with itself over Natalie. “I know you want to have the edge on that Scottish chick you've been seeing, but this is not the way to do it.”

Natalie’s glower intensified. Things were clearly not going her way.

“Besides, I doubt you're sticking to the one type of ‘roid anyway” Jake said.

Natalie flashed a quick grin. “Anadrol, Deca-durabolin, Dianabol and Winstrol.”

“And that's without the experimental shit you got your hands on?” Jake inquired shakily, surprised by how many forms of steroids his former passing fancy ladled.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” she smirked.

Jake sighed, rubbing his neck nervously. “Girl, you take so much from me as it is, you're practically bad for business.”

Natalie’s bicep quaked as she clenched her fist with seething rage, teeth barred. She knew she could punch Jake in the gut so hard his ribs would break and take his stash anyway, but she knew better. “Do I have to blow you like last time? Is that it?”

Jake gulped as his memory flashed back to when Natalie had him pinned to the wall with one arm and drive him upward so she could “pay” him. Though slightly faded, the crack in the wall was still there.

“The point is you have to take it slow.” Jake shook his head pitifully. “I’d hate to see Nat become Matt.”

Natalie flashed a grin. “Cute. But it's my body and I do what I want with it. You didn't seem so antagonistic towards Kate when she asked for four bottles of Stanozol, so I expect you to uphold to my request.”

Jake groaned. It seemed the point he just made went straight over Natalie’s head. Either that or she just refused to listen. “But she cycles; her visits to me are every few months compared to your monthly.”

Natalie was passed caring now. She moved closer to Jake, pushing him up against the wall with her chest like on that particular night, muscles pulsing, blossoming and mushrooming to the point her shirt gave into the inhuman mass and her chest twitchingly, casually spilled out of the newly formed tears and splits.

“Just give me what the fuck I want before I break an arm.”

Jake gulped.


Natalie carelessly tossed the bag of pills onto the nearby table with an aggravated sigh before plopping down into the sunken leather of the couch, crossing her pillar-sized legs. She stared observantly into the burning fireplace with that all-too rare cute smile different from the one given to Jake. This smile was one of admiration toward something or someone that just happened to be close by.

“Ah thought ah tellt ye tae halt buying th' 'roids?”

Natalie turned to Skye standing by the kitchen door, whose hands were held firmly over her hips. She sported a cute Christmas themed sweater stretched over her enormous, delightfully freckled chest and striated and split biceps, and a pair of frilly panties.

"Did ye graw again?"

“You know I’m trying to surpass you.” Natalie leaned over the table, grabbed the bag and pulled it open to take a pill; it was green and diamond-shaped. “I’m too stubborn to give up on a challenge, especially when it just keeps getting bigger, if you know what I mean.” She said with a knowing grin before contemplating whether to take the pill now or save it for later.

Natalie’s relationship with Skye was interesting; while the two girls loved each other on an emotional level, Natalie loathed the fact Skye was the largest of them. There were times they didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on certain things, like how Skye didn’t appreciate Natalie’s addiction to the numerous HGHs she used just to keep up, let alone surpass her.

“Ye dinnae hae tae dae this” Skye said remorsefully, a wisp of red hair covering her right eye. “Destrying yer body fae th' ben wilnae hulp ye be better oan th' oot.”

Natalie scoffed, averting her gaze to the window with the intention of watching the winter snows fall. Sky just didn’t understand, did she? “And what will – exactly? I’ve tried training with you before you know, and you just…” She sighed deeply, her voice cracking. “You bloat with beefiness. It comes to you naturally. I need to take this shit now. I could only get so big otherwise. I've seen you grow from doing nothing sometimes. You could just sit there and expand.” Natalie bit her lip, suppressing the building sensual urge within.

“It pure means that muckle tae ye?” Skye sighed, feeling her chest pop and bulge with the strained exhale.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “No, I’m just saying that for the sake of it” she said sarcastically.

Skye crossed her arms and glared at Natalie contemptuously. “If yi'll waant tae be a boot aboot it, that's braw.”

Natalie heaved a breath, holding herself in disdain for what she just said. She was harsh on Skye when she didn’t have to be. That was the ‘roid rage peeking out. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” The vein-laden brunette looked into the mirror mounted to the brickwork wall and found an acne-ridden beefcake monstrosity staring back. “Maybe I am taking too much of this shit.” She crushed the pill in her hand and tossed the bag into the corner.

Skye smiled. “Mibbie we'll git th' auld Natalie back, voice 'n' a'?”

Natalie mirrored her lover’s grin. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Skye motioned for the burgeoned brunette to come with.


Natalie smiled, sat on a custom-framed chair over Skye’s makeup table. The brunette felt genuinely happy again as she watched the babelicious redhead gently pull back her hair with a brush, her biceps bouncing up and down with the motion, fashioning Natalie's hair into a beautiful twisted fishtail.

Natalie’s face had been spruced up with makeup; eyeliner, lip-gloss, blush, foundation and the all-too important skoosh of perfume. At the end, it was as if she had been completely transformed from a bloated and blemished hag into a literal buxom beefy goddess. She felt feminine again.

Skye clocked Natalie’s eyes almost bursting into a fit of waterworks and offered a handkerchief with a gentle smile. “Thare, that’s it.”

“Thanks” Natalie said almost tearfully, a hand over Skye’s. At the moment nothing could be done about Natalie’s manly vocal tone, but from what Skye managed to do right now, the brunette didn’t think there was anything she could to truly repay her. Sure, Natalie could’ve turned her own life around, but the fact Skye did it showed she truly mattered to her on an emotional level. It wasn’t all just love for her bulging muscles and lifting weights together.

“We'll see whit we kin dae aboot th' voice some ither time, but for now,” Skye leaned in for a kiss that seemed to last for hours; warm, passionate and inviting, “”That'll dae.”

Natalie smiled. Perhaps life would turn around for her after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just quickly pointing something out. These stories weren't exactly planned, were written sometime last year and posted on my Deviantart page. I only now just thought about sharing them here for others to read. There's an actual series about Natalie in the works, titled Juiced, that I'll be posting onto my Deviantart and Saradas accounts concurrently. Not entirely sure Skye will make an appearance though.

[Amnoartist]

«story scrap»

Big-Bellied
Alternatively titled “Baby-boomer”
Written & edited by Amnoartist95
_______________________

The baby’s cry was loud, a constant droning wail; a reminder she had to be fed.

The midwife stared at the baby with a face more akin to wonderment than admiration to it. The baby was bigger than most others the brunette midwife had seen over the years - in regards to size, she must’ve been equal to a three-month old child. This was especially startling when the fact it was born only a few hours prior had been taken into consideration.
The baby’s cries ensued, only grew louder the longer the midwife held her stares.

Eventually, the baby’s mother spoke, holding a commanding tone in her voice. “Can you feed her? I’m - grunt - pretty busy right now.”

The midwife turned her attention to the mother, who stood over a mirror dressed in a posing bikini, pleasantly stroking her burgeoning abs with a hand, watching as her stomach audibly churned and surged outward with growth - both muscle and… something else.

The midwife did as requested, taking a seat in the corner and started breastfeeding the newborn, who suckled on the exposed teat greedily, taking all the milk there was to offer. Despite this, the midwife surmised the infant would go hungry even after being offered her milk. It was just so big.

The mother’s stomach continued to swell outward even as she pulled herself into an abs and thighs pose. Her gut eventually droop slightly from the inevitable sagging that came with the growing entity inside. In spite of this, the mother’s abs remained evident and grew in tandem with the embryo.

The mother slapped her stomach with as much power as she could muster and grinned as the embryo shifted to one side as a result, spasming slightly as it continued to expand, stretch marks forming like before.

“This one’s going to be bigger than the last two combined” she said with a smile.

The midwife resisted the urge, the need to wince at the mother’s startling revelation. It was weird enough that the child she was feeding was already bigger than the first, but now things were going haywire.

The mother let out a lustful moan as the baby she carried continued to grow outward; her sides protruded with growth as one swelled larger than the other for a moment, churning with expansion. “Definitely bigger” she commented. Finally turning from the mirror, she let the full expanse of her stomach be known to the midwife; it was as if she had eaten a beach ball that was constantly inflating within the cobbled confines of her stomach and close to bursting. “So much - moan - bigger.”

The mother’s wrinkled face was emphasized by the ray of sunlight that cracked through the window, as if it were a spotlight put on the massive woman to show her thick, bulging neck and throat muscles she’d used on countless occasions to give men the blowjob of their lives, the muscles themselves growing in tandem with the elation that the men felt.

Despite her advanced age of eighty-two years-old, the mother was surprisingly lively in most areas; as lust finally overcame her once again, she spoke: “Is my grandson Kevin around?”

The midwife nodded, wincing at the baby’s never-ending sucking, practically drawing all the milk there was, and then some until the woman’s breast was sagged.

“Good. Tell him daughter number three will be here soon. And I want a fourth one” the mother responded lustfully, her nipples becoming erect at the thought of Kevin pummelling her for the nineteenth time that day, growing moist.

The midwife simply responded with a modest smile, watching as the baby within her arms grew broader whilst it sucked on her nipple.

“Actually… another two wouldn’t hurt” the mother admitted. She turned back to the mirror with a hand stroking her still-expanding, gravid, muscle-stuffed gut.

///

Kevin groaned. He just couldn’t possibly take anymore. Sure, he couldn’t deny the unnatural attraction to his massive, inhumanly muscled grandmother Janice, but she was far from normal - her sex drive constantly grew in tandem with her muscles, which themselves saw no end to how large they could get. The grandson panted as he crawled across the floor, his limp dick dragging across the concrete floor as he edged ever closer to the door, but his grandmother stalked his movements, each step she took far out-paced his own.

“Where you going?’” she asked with mock anger, hands on her hips before flashing an almost cruel grin. “I’m far from finished with you.” Her stomach gurgled as it expanded like before, stretch-marks and muscle ballooning forth to better contain the developing child within. “Daughter number nine is yet to come.”

Kevin rolled onto his back in fear, his legs no longer strong enough to help him crawl further, and gazed upon his grandmother’s stares as she looked down at him over her oversized, gurgling stomach that she stroked like a pet. “But…. I’m done. I can’t possibly-”

Janice’s arms were now folded over her still-growing gut, pushing the feet-thick beefy limbs further and further out. She was far from impressed by Kevin response. “But she needs a little sister, who herself needs one. Or maybe two.”

The gurgling of growth felt like a constant droning to Kevin’s ears now. He couldn’t bear the fact the next child his grandmother would pleasantly give birth to would be as large as a fully-grown female. And since each child was naturally bigger than the last, Kevin resented the fact she’d be bigger still, perhaps more so than him.

“I’m not giving you much of a choice here, sweetie” Janice coldly admitted before picking Kevin up by the leg with a hand and dragging him back to the sodden excuse of a bed that rested in the corner. “You know your mother wants another granddaughter, so…” she started stroking Kevin off, far faster than anytime before now, watching as the veins in his cock pulsed to flow blood to it. “…you’d best get hard again.”

As this all took place, Kevin watched as the grandmother’s pregnant gut continued to balloon and visibly churn as the child within started to move, indicating it was almost time for the inevitable birthing. He tried to break free from the sinewy confines of his grandmother, but it was pointless - she only grew stronger and more sexually aroused as the child within developed.

“She’ll be born soon” Janice said with an aroused and breathy tone, making sure each word that escaped from her powerful throat was held in tandem with the strokes of Kevin’s cock. “Our last daughter was born barely an hour ago and a ninth is due. Can you grasp the fact she’ll be bigger than you the moment she breathes her first? Eating more in a day than you could over nine months!”

She grunted as her growth continued, her oversized gut ballooning outward to drag across the bed’s linen, shuddering as the child moved again, visibly shifting its full body to one side where, suddenly, a second form began to take shape in the woman’s gut, already larger than the one that just moved.

“Ooh, a tenth already?” Janice stroked her gut with a smile and watched as the newly formed baby continued to grow within, shoving its large form against her sister. This act of growth caused the mother’s full mass to inflate with mass somewhat, to better accommodate the new arrival. “Seems she’s eager from the get-go!”

Kevin didn’t know what to do, think or say. It was crazy enough each child he helped birth was naturally larger than the last and was given to the world on an hourly basis. He still tried to futilely break free, but he couldn’t deny the arousal that came from Janice’s constant growths.

And then, completely without warning, Janice’s ninth daughter casually eased out of her mother’s bulging, muscled vagina, who didn’t do so much as grunt with pained strain as this occurred, allowing the tenth more room to grow. Kevin observed his new-born daughter with awe, who was both wider and taller than him.

“I just don’t get how this even happens” he said, scratching his head, looking at the large infant. She must’ve been at least six feet. And yet, he remembered the tenth would come out even larger.

Janice smiled as she rubbed her daughter’s chin with a thumb, all while her gut continued to expand with the other child’s development. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” The woman turned to Kevin with the hopes of an equally pleased response being offered, playing blind to the fact her cobbled abs pushed out hideously from her new pregnancy.

Kevin simply nodded, fearful of what would happen if he didn’t. His daughter was beautiful, yet so big.

Janice moved away from the bed contentedly, shifting her weight over to the lone tall posing mirror in the room’s corner. “I’ll let you rest up for an hour or so before we talk about the idea of having twins after…” she grunted as the child within her grew again, shifting to one side as the visible stretch marks audibly expanded. “…this one comes.”

“T-twins?” Kevin stammered.

“Oh, not just twins, sweetie. Twins, triplets, quadruplets….” Janice smiled at her grandson through the mirror as her gut finally pressed against its glass with a crack. “You and I are gonna have lots of fun."

[Lupus753]

One of the weirdest stories I've read.

Will you continue it?

[Amnoartist]

Nah, probably not. It was just an experiment really