Forum Saradas
Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: Amnoartist on April 27, 2017, 02:14:00 pm
-
Juiced
Written & Edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 1: Thick Like A Bull
The sweat curved down her nape of her bullishly thick neck at a delicate pace, clear yet warm, just one of the many results from her arduous workout. The lone droplet ceased in its travels just before reaching her surging back, her breaths ragged. Every muscle on her frame had been engorged to its max owing to her beastly, adamant persistence to just… grow, veins flailing this way and that, audibly coiling under her smooth, sweaty skin. And yet, she wanted more. She always wanted more.
“Dude…” Blake watched from behind as the girl sat on the bench shrugged, deltoids involuntarily popping in and out of a horrendously flexed state, striations visible even from afar. He could only see her back and yet, that was more than enough for him. Long chocolately locks strewn over her nape, she spread her legs over the bench’s side and reached into her duffel bag, poking around inside for something. “…are you sure that’s a chick?” Blake added.
She grunted in frustration. Whatever she looked for, wasn’t there. She dove her other hand inside the bag in the hope that it would help. Blake still watched from behind, his mind arguing with itself over whether this brutishly large person was female or male, or maybe even something in the space between. His friend, Zack, nudged him.
“Shut up, you’ll piss her off,” he said. So it was definitely a she. But that only creeped Blake out more. How could a female have this much mass? She had to be juicing. “And I don’t want to know what she’ll do when that happens,” Zack added. The girl’s frustrated grunts intensified and became more frequent as her rummaging continued. Zack watched with concern as her forearms flared monstrously until the meaty appendage graced the edge of her bag.
Finally, she found what she was looking for - a syringe, already filled to the top with a thick green liquid. Seeing it had made truth out of Blake’s assumption that the girl juiced frequently. But then he had to wonder: just how frequently?
Biting her lip, she stared into the contents of the syringe lustfully, her heart beating like a bass drum with anticipation as she brought the needle to the crook of her arm. Watching the thick, ball-like muscles underneath tense up, veins rose to the surface of the full, broad limb. Her shorts tore slightly at the edges, just above her pillar quads, sweat ceaselessly dripping down the discernible sweeps of thick meat.
The two guys couldn’t believe what they were witnessing - the girl was shamelessly juicing up right in front of them, and considering it was illegal, something had to be done to stop her. But she was thick like a bull and no doubt was easily pissed off like Zack alluded to.
With one quick thrust she jabbed the needle into her arm, and jerked back only slightly as the liquid seeped its way through her bloodstream, kicking her metabolism, strength, energy - probably everything - into overdrive. She let the syringe drop to her feet, cracking against the tiles. Upon a single delicate blink, her pupils dilated as the effects from the liquid - whatever it was - kicked in; the thick veins along her arm became more apparent, pulsating and curving artistically down the hulkish extent of her muscularity, hand-in-hand with its audibly expansion - like a wet sponge being drawn out.
Finally, she spoke, with a honeyed tone contradicting the beastly form that pulsed and quaked, putting Blake and Zack off-guard. They expected this girl to talk with a much more gruff, almost masculine voice not the angelic beauty it surprisingly possessed. That begged the question: was it really a form of steroids this girl used, or something much different? Maybe it was a chemical that allowed her to gain the positive effects without the negatives. “Fuckkkkk yeahhh!” she called out. It wasn’t exactly the most delicate of phrases, yet the tone was just too pleasing to the ears.
The chemically-fueled expansion continued. Her veins now thick as pipes, she pulled her arms into a delicate, almost half-hearted flex. That was all that was required, really. The chemical did the rest. Heart pounding, her chest thrust outward as striations formed on her pec wall. She felt everything expand - abs, biceps, calves, deltoids… neck.
Blake watched in horror. He just didn’t think this - all of this - was right. It was almost nightmarish in a sense, just watching this freakish mass expand around him.
Eventually, it stopped and Zack mustered enough courage to speak to the girl. It was insane of him to even consider such a thing, but he had to know. “Who the fuck are you?”
The girl shrugged, ears plastered with the sound of their muscles pushing upward, then turned her head to the side with a smile.
///
“You used again, didn’t you?”
Joanne sized Natalie up with a look of disdain, arms crossed and one foot to the side. The girl had more than doubled in size since last they spoke, and Joanne didn’t like the pace at which that was happening: just… too fast. She was dressed in the same sportswear as her friend, only, hers didn’t have as much rips and tears and could still be classed as clothing, not rags.
“Or maybe I should just call it what it is: abusing,” Joanne added. The thick veins were almost horrendous to look at, as was the evident pulsing mass that grinned in return. Joanne groaned in frustration. “It’s not something to be proud of, Nat.” Joanne remember when Natalie first started working out, wanting to just lose that extra layer of fat. She was far more natural then than now. Why couldn’t she have just stayed that way?
“Pfft. You can only get so big naturally before you gotta start roidin’ up, Jo.” Despite the apparent eager usage of growth hormones, Natalie was lucky some parts of her were still considered female, even down there. She just didn’t know how lucky. That could change any day of the week, yet she wouldn’t give a fuck. That was just her mentality. It was ‘get bigger’ or don’t do anything at all. A lot had changed with Natalie over the weeks, moat of which was actually negative.
“I get that, but…” Joanne watched Natalie rack more plates onto the squat machine, making it a grand total of 158KG - almost double Joanne’s body weight - and position herself squarely on the seat. The leather creaked in protest over the brunette’s unbearable massiveness, but there was nothing Joanne could really do to stop her. “…you’re practically putting the ‘roids on a dose of their own shit, if you get what I mean.”
“I get enough of that shit talk back home from my mum.” Natalie grunted, thrusting the barbell upwards into her first squat. The effects of her recent dosage in the locker room were still going strong; blinking, her dilated pupils flared in tandem with the swelling of her quads rubbing against the scant, torn remains of her shorts still clung to her chemically-fueled glutes. “Didn’t fucking come here to get it from you too.”
Joanne rubbed her eye, trying to play deaf to Natalie’s words. Back before she was juicing, Natalie always looked up to Joanne for support about almost anything. Now though, she was practically treated like shit. Despite that, Joanne stuck by Natalie’s side. She was the only friend she had. Natalie just didn’t know it. There was a lot Natalie didn’t know.
“You know, if you take enough of that stuff, you’re gonna end up looking like a man.” Joanne thought offering real talk about the dangers of steroid use would help bring Natalie to her senses. But most of the time it felt like talking to a brick wall. One that just kept getting bigger and bigger. “I’d hate to see Nat become Matt.”
Natalie came up from her next squat, glancing through the mirror wall at the smaller fringe-cut blonde with a look of disdain, biceps ballooning to the bar’s edge. “Well if I become ‘Matt,’ it’s because I fucking choose to.” Going down again, her shorts became tauter round her waist in a final effort to cling on for dear life. Miraculously, it worked. Next time, though, might not be so lucky. “It’s my life, Jo.”
At this point, Joanne had given up on getting Natalie to see the error of her ways - at least for today. Stepping back from the machine, she reached for her water bottle and towel. “You still good for Saturday, though?”
“We’ll see” was Natalie’s half-caring return, dipping down for her seventh squat, erupting a burning fire of power within the surging beefiness of her quads. “Depends.”
Joanne was confused. “On what?”
“How big I get before then.”
Joanne sighed. Getting bigger was really all Natalie cared about, and Joanne knew that. So the sigh the blonde offered was more a response to her stupidly being blind to that fact, for once.
///
Natalie considered herself lucky her mum Marie wasn’t home. She couldn’t bear to stand yet another argument about her addiction. Marie just wouldn’t - and never did - understand. Every time they spoke, it would end up erupting into a ping-pong match of verbal abuse over how ‘horrendously freakish’ or ‘abhorrently manly’ Natalie had become as a result of her steroid use.
Not that Natalie cared what anybody thought.
She was coming down out of her high and panicked, wanting to get another hit again. But Marie was crafty. Rummaging like earlier, the massive brunette frantically searched her bedroom drawers for a fresh syringe of the hormone she practically lived on, but found none. Not even used needles. She found herself in a frenzied state upon the realization her mother had found her stash - again - and didn’t know what to do.
“Fuucckk!” Pulling at her hair, Natalie tried to think clearly, but coming out of her high was too overpowering to even form thoughts clearly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
There was always a backup though: the dealer. The two of them didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but one thing was for certain - Natalie was their most loyal customer, often buying in bulk and never short on cash. That’s because she often got the money from her mother - or rather, stole it from her when she wasn’t aware. Natalie was cold-hearted in that she barely cared.
Reaching for her mobile phone on her desk, Natalie’s twitching thumbs frantically pressed buttons on the button pad, not even sure if they were the right buttons to press.
And then the voice came - garbled, as if synthesized, yet familiar and, at this point, a Godsend to Natalie. “’Sup?”
“N-nee-need a quick top-up,” Natalie stammered with a shivery tone. She could feel her muscles cramping up and seize her intestines, believing she was dying, but in reality it was just the addiction playing games with her chemical-dependent mind. “Like, now.”
“Jesus, how much of the fucking shit did you actually take?” The Voice knew Natalie better than her own mother did, and Natalie didn’t sound anything like this, even on bad days.
Natalie groaned. “Enough, okay? Just…” She buckled over the desk slightly, digging her nails into the edge. “Tell me where to meet you.”
The Voice was reluctant to help. But again - Natalie was their best customer. “Can you make it to Ford Avenue?”
“Ford. Gotcha.” Natalie ended the call. She didn’t have to discuss price with The Voice. She’d been in this situation often enough to know the amount like the back of her hand, but it was never any easier to walk with a constant cramping pain that never actually existed.
She grabbed her duffel bag, knowing there was enough money in there to cover the cost. Now she just had to get there - one pained step at a time.
-
Great start! Hoping to see Natalie become more masculine and hairy!
-
Great start. Would be interesting to hear the fights between Natalie and her mother in detail.
-
Great story. I hope the mother does not confiscate the drugs, but uses them to and becomes even more addict to them. But she has the money to take herself to the extreme ...
-
Great start. Would be interesting to hear the fights between Natalie and her mother in detail.
That probably will happen in some chapters :)
-
Great story. I hope the mother does not confiscate the drugs, but uses them to and becomes even more addict to them. But she has the money to take herself to the extreme ...
That could happen in a way. Marie might end up taking the drugs herself and get buff, but, I won't have her be bigger than Natalie, since she is the main character.
-
so interesting!!! go on man!!!
K+
-
Great start. Would be interesting to hear the fights between Natalie and her mother in detail.
That probably will happen in some chapters :)
Looking very much forward to that, since the dialog in your stories tends to be very well writen. :)
-
Great work. I love these kind of stories. More please!
-
What a fantastic start.i hope to read more soon.
:bravo:
-
Chapter 2 will be up sometime next week, guys. Hang tight!
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 2: Monkey-faced
Ford Avenue was a seedy alley almost nobody even dared to pass through, even if it was a handy shortcut. Those who did go there were those who one would expect: people sought a place hidden from view to engage in immoral acts. In Natalie’s case, drug dealers selling their valued products to willing customers. There were spent needles often strewn across the paving, formerly filled with God knows what. Not that the behemoth brunette cared much about that sort of thing. She just needed her own fix.
The car bucked to one side as she climbed out of it, melon-sized, vein-caked calf first, the duffle bag slung over her capped shoulder next. She’d just come out of the trippy so-called high experienced earlier and in that time her mass that shrunken somewhat. She was still bigger than most Mr Olympia’s, but Natalie hated the concept of small. She cut through the alleyway at a brisk pace, passing the row of trashcans and aforementioned spent needles until coming to the old torn posters from yesteryear. Her sweat-stained outfit from the earlier workout still clung to the gargantuan woman’s frame, though it had fallen victim to more rips and tears, consequently revealing more bulging, vein-riddled flesh.
She came to a halt at the scuff of her shoe just as a cigarette was lit before her in the shadow-engulfed distance. Natalie’s impatience burned brightly; she tossed the bag to the ground and kicked it into the darkness, calf rippling with the motion. “There’s the money. You know me, so there’s no need to count it.”
As the cigarette burned, a figure revealed itself from the shadow; Paul, The Voice’s top peddler. Natalie often confided in Paul for her stash of roids, never having met The Voice face-to-face. Not much was known about the faceless drug tycoon, other than the fact he was filthy rich from his sales. Paul was pretty much the polar opposite of Natalie; scraggy and dishevelled, draped in a grey hooded tracksuit and white trainers.
“Things are a little different today, Nat.” He dropped the cigarette to the ground and stamped on it before pulling a clear polythene bag from his pocket. Typically he would provide the girl with a bag of ready-filled syringes – eight, to be precise – but things, as he said, were different. Curiosity gripped Natalie after hearing Paul’s words, ushering her to venture closer to him. She never got this close to him before; in most instances, she would give the money into the darkness, he would then place the stash somewhere within arm’s reach for Natalie to grab while taking that moment to disappear again.
Now close enough to see his face in all its scrawny and malnourished unpleasantness, Natalie snatched the bag from Paul like a falcon does its prey and turned away from him to inspect the contents privately, her wall of back beef so wide, his eyes were engulfed by it. She rummaged through the bag and pulled out the contents with a befuddled glower. In the months she’d been dealing with Paul, Natalie - as previously revealed – purchased syringes of the chemical she pretty much survived on. But right now—
“What the fuck is this?” She turned back to Paul holding what seemed to be a confectionary between her thumb and index finger. The sweet in question was yellow in colour and shaped like a monkey’s face. It was humorous in a way, but hardly professional. “Is this some kind of joke, Paul?” She held back the chemically-induced rage building within, hoping he had a perfectly good reason why she had a sweetie in her hand.
“It’s a different delivery system, Nat.” Paul and The Voice both knew she was still somewhat a rookie in regards to how was best to shoot up. Roid injections were a thing of the past, and needles were easy to spot compared to things that look like sweets. The face-shaped confectionaries weren’t even pills, but genuine candies that offered the same results as the injections did. “You’ll be chomping on these sweets from now on. The results are the same; same capped size increase and growth rate per sweet. Doesn't show up on drug tests either, so you could compete using this shit if you wanted.”
Natalie examined the sweet curiously. What she held in her hand was a way to grow as big as she wanted without her mother finding out. But that didn’t necessarily mean the arguments they had would come to an end. “Any side effects?”
“We’re working out the standard kinks commonly associated with roids, but they’re good enough to use.” Paul watched Natalie move the sweet around in her hand, inspecting it from just about every angle; it was thick and looked sugary, just like the mini love hearts did. It went without saying she was tempted to take at least one right there and then. Paul could see that stern determination in her gaze. “Taste like banana too, would you believe it. Or so I’m told.”
Natalie was just about to enact her intention when her mobile buzzed, bringing her plans to a sudden halt. Groaning with irritation, she pulled her mobile free from her pocket and read the text from her mother. Where R U. Call me. God knows what she wanted now, but she wasn’t going to get in the way of Natalie’s want to beef up more and more. Without so much as a second thought, she downed the sweet in one go, caring not to carefully chew on it, her beefy throat flexing inward with the swallow. And there it was - that banana flavour Paul mentioned, at the tip of her tongue.
Paul watched it transpire in a matter of seconds; one moment he was talking about the sweet tasting like banana, the next he was watching Natalie grow before him. It was amazing how her sports bra and shorts all managed to stay in place, even after suffering rips and tears from her previous spurt of growth. The shudder she experienced forced her to arch back somewhat as pulsing veins rose the surface of her skin; arms, legs, abs and back veins all pulsing in sync with the growth from just the one sweet. A slight layer of veins crawled to the edge of her chin before receding alongside the rest of her freakish vascularity.
“Woah!” It was no surprise Natalie felt the rush hit her so quickly. She pulled into a crab flex to boast her new size, resulting in a vast shadow engulfing the impressed Paul. He knew all those freakish veins would’ve pop up in the now-larger Natalie’s frame and visage, given that was just a symptom of her body getting use to the new delivery method. Continuing her bragging, she turned her back to Paul again to do calf raises, feeling the thicker beef strain and pull towards her skin.
“Feels good, don’t it?” Paul smiled.
Another text message came through, prompting the brunette to stop showing off. She didn’t want to and it annoyed her; rage fuelled the veins in her neck to jut out freakishly as she read the newly received message. Get home now. Rolling her eyes, Natalie stashed her mobile back into her pocket, snatched her bag from the edge of the darkness and proceeded to walk back to her car. “Thanks for the shit. See you next week.”
Paul didn’t say a word. Instead, he just watched Natalie strut, eyeballing her torn shorts that revealed enough striated glute meat to give him a surprising boner.
///
“Jesus, I didn’t think it would be this bad when you described it.” Marie opened the sewing kit with concern. It was a little over fifteen minutes earlier she got the text from Peyton that she got hit. ‘Hit’ being the rather broad term. She came back with an eye black as night, a cut brow and broken arm - that much was certain. “Hold still.”
Peyton winced. She never expected the needle to be that sharp. The punch she was the victim of felt blunter. Even so, she was lucky her mother was a nurse. The eighteen year-old jerked slightly as Marie pulled the stitching into place, feeling her skin pull closer bit by bit.
The front door opened, revealing Natalie in all her surging glory, shorts and bra literally moments from bursting off. One miscalculated breath or sudden flex from any of her muscles would be enough to render her naked. She wouldn’t have minded being laid bare, honestly, but—
“Where the fuck have you been?” Marie stopped stitching up Peyton to offer a cold stare at her burgeoned older daughter who looked like she’d eaten the Hulk for breakfast. Marie knew Natalie was once again bigger, no doubt lucky enough to shoot up before her stash was found. But of course, that wasn’t the case. The mother sized Natalie up from head to toe, visibly repulsed by her ever larger musculature. There was a time when Marie supported her daughter for having muscle, but that encouragement died when Natalie started abusing. “I’ve been sitting here tending to your sister for the better half of an hour!”
Natalie turned to Peyton and eyeballed the broken arm first; a slump of broken bone and limp flesh. This wasn’t the first time Peyton had broken her arm, but it was the worst state it had been in such a case. Her brow was cut in such a way that no doubt a permanent scar would form after healing. Natalie might’ve mostly been a meathead by now, but she still cared. “What happened?”
“What happened is your sister stood up for you.” Marie poured alcohol onto a ball of cotton wool and dabbed it onto Peyton’s brow wound. The teen winced again, kicking her heel up against the couch’s leg. Marie was informed of everything that happened and hated the fact Natalie was at the centre of the incident. Why couldn’t it have been a fight over boys instead? “People were calling you out for being a steroid freak – which you are. Peyton here stood up for you and paid the price for it.”
“Was I supposed to just stay quiet?” Peyton resisted the urge to rub the itching pain on her brow, all while glancing into the mirror at the shiner she got on account of defending her sibling. Marie was of the mind that Peyton shouldn’t have done or said anything and just roll with the assailants’ claim.
Marie groaned. She’d need more cotton wool balls than presumed. Pulling up from her crouch, she stashed the ball she just used into a bag. “Both of you stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.” Natalie took that moment as her opportunity to slip another growth candy into her system. Same as before, her throat flexed as the sugary confectionary slipped down it. There was no sudden growth this time, much to Natalie’s disappointment, but she did feel especially stronger.
Peyton watched her gargantuan sibling down the candy with curiosity. Natalie unfurled the bag to reveal more of them and pulled one out to silently offer. Peyton was ever so tempted to take the new sweet, attracted by the humorous monkey face on the front, but thought better of it. “Better not take anything sugary right now or Mum will kill me.”
Natalie shrugged; forcing her outrageously defined deltoids to surge and roil with the indescribable amount of she-beef cocooned within. “Suit yourself.” She knew all too well what she just offered her sibling but didn’t care much about it. If Natalie found enjoyment in being as beefy as she was, why wouldn’t Peyton? Be that as it may, there was no denying the upset Natalie felt in seeing her being the victim of assault.
Peyton rubbed her eye. She was actually close to crying but didn’t want anyone to see her burst out into hysterics. What would her rippling, tough-as-nails sister think? Truth be told, Natalie could see Payton was fighting her want to bawl and knew she had more courage than otherwise presumed. She was proud of her.
“Tell me who did it.”
Peyton’s tongue locked up. She didn’t want to say anything about who did what to her, but there was something about Natalie’s stern expression that made Peyton question herself. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Mum…”
“I’m not asking, Peyton.” There was something about those words from Natalie that made Peyton worry. Not to mention the vast bulging shadow that loomed over the injured girl as her sister stood over her. Just what would happen if the names of those who attacked were revealed? Peyton knew Natalie had the tendency to lash out as a result of her increasing addiction. But at the same time, there was a fear of what would happen if Peyton didn’t say who attacked.
“Dale Clarkson and his group of buddies.”
When Marie came back with the bag of cotton balls, she found herself to be one daughter short. Looking out at the open door, the mother held back her anger to attend to Peyton’s wounds. “Where did your sister go?”
Wracked with anxiousness, Peyton looked at the open door, Summer's breeze gracing her cheek.
Author's Note: The second half got a little more interesting, didn't it? It shows that even though Natalie is a roid-addicted meathead, she still has a sense of humanity in her, like she has this need to protect Peyton. And talking about Peyton - did you see what I could be foreshadowing there?
-
Oh I see it... I think, maybe don't know.
Great chapter, Peyton does seem real sweet sticking up for her sister like that. I'm just wondering how large Natalie can get? Could we maybe get some numbers or "picture speak" (don't really know what to call it in english).
-
More great work. Keep it up!
-
Awesome addition to the story. K+
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
That's a really good story!
-
Excellent addition! Can't wait to keep reading! K+
-
Excellent chapter!. :wow:
-
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
-
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+
-
Nice.
:cool2:
-
Nice.
:cool2:
Thanks, totocom :)
-
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
-
Good stuff. I like that you're embracing the side effects. Keeps it more grounded in reality (if not quite "real"
:rock:
-
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.
-
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 :D
(http://thumbs.imagebam.com/82/07/9d/8a0794569634303.jpg) (http://www.imagebam.com/image/8a0794569634303)
-
Nice piece, love their Huge Muscle series.
-
Time for a little update of sorts. I haven't written anything new for the series yet, but wanted to gift you guys with a little something. Here's the completed Peyton sketch by Roemesquita:
(http://thumbs.imagebam.com/86/27/7e/8a5691571077233.jpg) (http://www.imagebam.com/image/8a5691571077233)
-
Got the first chunk of Juiced's fifth chapter, Inch For An Inch, written down. Raegan's plan to bring Natalie down comes into play here :)
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 5: Inch For An Inch
“Hold still, will you?” Reagan never anticipated Dale, her hunk of a boyfriend, to be so fidgety, even if one of his arms was mangled. The redhead delicately applied a fresh dressing to his broken limb while he looked around the room aimlessly. Something had to be done to keep his mind off the fact his hopes for competing had been crushed by the monolithic brunette. “Never took you for a wimp.”
He clocked the lone crutch by the side of his bed and sighed despondently. If it weren’t for his injury Dale would’ve been working out right now, Reagan watching close by, no doubt getting wet and aroused at the sight of him posing and pumping his muscles up. Instead, she had the duty of redressing his arm for the fourth time in the past two weeks. Dale could tell Reagan didn't have the heart or patience to repeatedly do the deed. It made him think what she truly thought of him now, where their relationship stood. The redhead and the cripple.
"Well, what do you expect? I've got a broken arm." He raised the bandaged limb slowly to stress the point, but that did more harm than good; he was pretty sure he pulled a tendon. A wince-like groan escaped his lungs as he shifted his weight to pull himself up against the bed's headboard. "I'm done."
Reagan rolled her eyes. Done: that was one way to describe Dale in his predicament. She would've preferred to use a harsher term like 'fucked,' because honestly, he looked that way. His arm might've been done in, but his pride and confidence were damaged too. They wouldn't be so easy to recoup. He counted himself lucky it was just the one arm that was broken, considering Natalie threatened to do more damage, a jest or not.
"Well, you didn't exactly try to stick up for me, did you?" Reagan offered a cold stare. She remembered that moment fear filled her after Natalie extended her threat, piss trickling down her smooth beautiful legs for all to see. Did Dale have any idea how embarrassing how that was for her? All those on-looking gym-goers close to bursting into fits of laughter. Reagan only managed to save herself some ridicule through running away, abandoning Dale to his injury. Deep down, she hated him for it. Only now was she finally making her feelings known.
"Rae..." Dale paused, not knowing how to properly answer his babe of a girlfriend's scolding remark. He didn't want to offend her even more than she already felt, nor did he want to cause more friction in their relationship. It was just a tremor, but definitely there. He took her by the hand and held it lovingly, offering the gentlest smile he could give. But it didn't provide the desired effect; she pulled her hand away sharply before turning away from him.
Silence came over the redhead. She didn't have words to offer Dale. She didn't have to say anything - the cold and distant shunting spoke for her. Raegan was far from interested in a proper emotional relationship with Dale by now, but the attraction to his muscles always betrayed and pulled her back to him, into his rippling arms. She hated herself for that, being so weak-willed. She turned back to him with a gentle grin, whether fake or not was hard to say, but Dale was happy to see it at least.
"I know. It's not your fault." Raegan leaned in, to kiss Dale passionately on the lips, arms at either side of the bed to emphasise their humorous contrast; his log-thick monsters to her rail-thin twigs. Raegan's sudden act of intimacy caught Dale off-guard, forcing him to ask himself why she did what she did. At any rate, the kiss was exquisite; her strawberry scented lips parting over his to engage in a short tongue battle before she swiftly pulled back, her bountiful breasts flashing enough flesh to flaunt cleavage.
"What are you after?" As much as Dale loved the idea of Raegan suddenly having her way with him, half-crippled or not, Usually, she did these kinds of things when something was wanted in return. He watched her lips part again as a dainty hand met the buckle of his jeans, arousal coming over the hormone-fueled male. Before long, Raegan whipped his cock out from within his jeans and took it firmly in her hand. Predictably, the near-constant consumption of illegal substances didn't do the girth of Dale's manhood much justice, but Raegan clearly didn't care; she started stroking him off, slowly at first, making sure to offer an almost girlish chuckle each time she reached his tip.
"Can't a girl just get her man off for the sake of it?"
"Come on, Rae, you're after something. What is it?" One minute the redhead was scolding Dale for having not defended her during the confrontation with Natalie, the next she was on the verge of sucking him off. He wasn't a complete meathead. In fact, he could even tell she was after something with the face she had: a sort of scheming smirk that seemed to grow more pronounced the thicker Dale's cock got in her hand. A warm wetness soon engulfed him just for a moment, long enough to coax Dale into complete submission for Raegan's will, before pulling out, forcing him to moan. Just what was it she was after?
"Tell me where Natalie gets her pills from and I'll be sure to take all of you in my mouth. I know you know where she gets them." It was clear Raegan wasn't joking; the scheming look on her face had turned to something stricter, perhaps even a bit mad. On any other occasion, Dale would've outright opposed revealing where Natalie got her stash, but he wasn't thinking straight, not after getting teased like that. "Come onnnn!"
So this was why she was acting so passionately. It wasn't all that surprising. Ever since the embarrassing moment weeks earlier, Reagan grew to hate Natalie. The redhead figured the best way to shame Natalie was to beat her at her own game. Raegan knew the consequences of hormone abuse but didn't care. The mad glare in her eye suggested as much.
"There's this guy she goes to, on Ford Avenue." Dale was surprised he was able to think straight, given Raegan was still rhythmically beating him off. He could feel himself close to coming and probably would've if he didn't try to hold his load in. Not that it mattered much.
The necessary information now within her grasp, Raegan peeled away from the bed and slipped into a pair of shoes that emphasised her modestly sculpted calves. It was clear Dale was being played by Raegan just to get information out of him: the information she needed to enact her revenge on Natalie. He felt used. Hell, he was used. Hopefully, that didn't mean Raegan was finished with him. He might've only had the one good arm, but that didn't mean he was totally useless in bed. More to the point, he really wanted that BJ.
"What about that BJ you promised?"
Raegan responded with a dry chuckle from the hallway as if she was condescending towards her boyfriend. "Finish yourself off. Use your good arm. I'll be back soon."
A definitive bang from the front door sealed Dale's fate in his unfortunate predicament. How long had it been since he had to finish himself off like this? A year at least. He looked at his good hand and sighed before reaching down.
///
The Ford Avenue alleyway stayed true to its abysmal characteristics even on the hot summer's day that it was, narrow and dark with bricks chipped away from decades of weathering, the smell of days' old food hung high in the air swathing from dumpsters. Paul stood by one of them impatiently waiting for his next client. It wouldn't have been Natalie; it shouldn't have been Natalie – she'd just bought her next stash only a day ago, enough pills to keep her going for at least a fortnight. But that didn't mean they'd last that long. Paul recommended she take two at a time, but who was to say she had six instead?
Not wanting to think too much about that possibility, he turned to his pocket and drew a cigarette. The first puff was always the longest, billowing a white-grey cloud of smoke from his lungs as a youthful sparrow swooped down and pecked away at the insides of the dumpster next to him. Paul had never seen a sparrow before and yet he smiled like it was a pet.
Before long, the screeching tires of a car drew a sense of finality to Paul's calm moment with the bird before it hastily unfurled its wings to ascend. Paul wasn't usually one for superstition, but something deep inside told him it might've been a good idea to scarper off like the Sparrow did. It was too late for that though. She arrived.
The first thing Paul spotted were the long shapely legs bolstered by modestly sculpted calves, further enhanced by the sexy pair of short denim shorts clinging to her bubble butt. She sure was something. A faint hint of muscle development showed through her bare midriff, above which was an eye-opening pair of perfect tits covered by a sports bra. What colour was it? Honestly, Paul was too entranced by the girl's overall perfection to really give a shit. And her face – blemish-free and smooth as can be, her cheeks flanked by the exquisite red hair. Glancing downward, she smirked knowingly at Paul's evident erection. She always had that effect on men, sometimes even women.
‘I hear you have something that helps get girls big." Raegan was straight to the point, as usual, seeing no form of advantage in dilly-dallying. One leg crossed over the other seductively, she offered a pout before continuing. "What do you have for a cute little redhead like me?"
Paul found no words at first, not all that sure why a girl this flawlessly beautiful and perfect would even want to juice up. She was thin as anything and that look definitely suited her, especially with that damned bubbly butt. Oh, how he hoped to touch it just once. But, no—business was at hand here. That was more important than anything – he needed the money.
"Really? Pretty sure a babe like you doesn't need to get big."
Compliments: Raegan pretty much longed for and lived off them. But compliments wouldn't get her what she wanted here. Why did this chick want what he had to offer anyway? Paul just couldn't get that question out of his head. In fact, who actually gave a shit? The chick was hotter than Peruvian chilli and that laugh of hers knotted his balls up. She offered a girlish titter to coax Paul further, compelling the youthful drug supplier to reveal a Samsonite briefcase from behind the dumpster nearest him. She directly influenced his actions just by way of smiling and giggling.
"You let me worry about that, okay babe?" she spoke those words in a faux teasing tone. Clearly, she had some experience acting that way towards others.
Raegan's eyes sparkled at the sight of the case opening to reveal not one, not even two, but three rows of the monkey pills stashed in clear bottles. The key to her revenge was right there, right in front of her eyes.
"Taking two of these on a daily basis when cycling should do the trick, but—" Paul stopped himself short. He could tell this girl had no real idea what he meant by ‘cycling.' Something told him he thought she presumed it to mean the sport. That wasn't entirely out of the question, though. After all, cyclists likely juiced up too.
Raegan didn't give a shit. She had no plans to 'cycle,' whatever the fuck that meant. All she wanted to do was get bigger than Natalie and take her place as the big, bad bitch. Then just keep getting bigger. Her disinterest started to show; the smile was gone and replaced with a stern stare fixed on the rows of pill bottles.
Paul was too fixated on the redhead's generous bust to notice she plucked one of the bottles from the case and examined its contents closely. She offered a gentle scoff at the monkey faces on the pills. To her, they appeared more like kids' sweets than hormones.
"Adorable."
Paul's heart was racing. This babelicious chick was definitely getting the better of him in more ways he could imagine. It wasn't even normal for someone like the redhead before him to be this beautiful; she had to be an angel. Right?
"What do they taste like?" Raegan shook the pill bottle slowly in a manner all too similar to how she jerked Dale off, making sure to pout in anticipation of Paul's response. Or, at least, he assumed she expected him to acknowledge her question.
It wasn't long before Paul came out of his trance to witness Raegan unlatching the child lock on the bottle and shamelessly knocking the capsules back greedily, watching pill after pill after pill roll from the container and into the redhead's waiting throat. "No, wait! Don't!"
Too late for that. The pills were gone - all of them - and slowly dissolving in Raegan's stomach, already starting to push her metabolism and make her feel different, stronger. Paul often reminded Natalie not to ever go full-bottle, no matter how tempting it felt; no matter the advantages it offered. As strange as it was to hear it from her, she understood.
Raegan was a completely different animal in that regard. Common sense had abandoned her the moment she set eyes on Paul knowing he was the key to all she had planned. The empty bottle rolled across the paving and bump into Paul's shoe just as the redhead before him spoke.
"Ooooh, score! It's stronger than I thought it would be." She sucked her teeth as an immeasurable burst of energy funnelled through her, the fabric of her clothes already starting to stretch and constrict. Usually, Natalie would have to work out a bit first before the desired effects truly started to make themselves known. But she didn't have the balls to go full-bottle. "So warm..."
Paul watched in horror as not only Raegan's clothes rip and muscles grew but her bones split, cracked and shifted to help make room for the electric expansion, tip-toeing backwards. Her responding moans came in all different tones and lengths, ranging from porn star to girlish in nature. It went without saying despite the terrifying display before him, Paul possessed a unique level of curiosity. He may have told Natalie not to go full-bottle but nobody had ever done that before. Until now.
"Oh my god, this is the best!" The sickening sound of squelching flesh filled the air just before Raegan's dainty bra split down the middle and flew skyward landing in a puddle, revealing the spasming growth on her generous bosom, transforming her breasts into thick walls of pectoral meat encrusted with veins. It wasn't long before those veins birthed yet more, snaking off in most directions; dipping down her roiling stomach, curving over her pumpkin'd deltoids, spreading over her thighs. At any rate, Raegan was evidently displeased with her bra having failed to keep her modest. "What the fuck? Fucking cheap shit."
The growth seemed to pick up its pace now, all while Raegan's stomach growled; all that muscle mass rapidly packing itself onto the redhead's frame was making her hungry. But satiating that hunger was second-rate to growing as she did. The rhythmical snapping of her denim shorts signalled their rapidly declining fate, implying they would become less than what they should've been: a diminutive thong only just large enough to cover her where it mattered.
As rapid and welcoming as it was, however, the growth soon became both painful and arousing. The snapping bones continued spreading to allow more mass to be piled on, while the associated sounds of expansion filled Raegan's ears. Eventually, she was wet, pulsing and crying tears of pain. Pleasurable pain.
"Jesus, fuck!"
Eventually, the growth faded into nothingness, stopping almost suddenly, there were a few jerking mounds of muscle here and there, but they too disappeared, leaving the barely-clothed Raegan standing over the horrified Paul. She offered a knowing smirk at him as a lone sickening vein crawled just an inch away from her right cheek. It stayed there, throbbing like her anticipating genitalia. So this was what it was like to go full-bottle.
But Raegan was far from finished. She lurched her arm forward to grab Paul by the collar, pulling him forward to meet her face. He could hear that vein squirm under her skin like it was a worm trying to burrow its way out of the dirt; he could feel the peak of her colossal bicep press against his hip as well.
"I'll take the lot." Raegan's voice was different; it was deeper, maybe even more so than Natalie's. But the redhead knew exactly what she was getting into and happened to welcome her new tone. The new Raegan needed a new voice.
Paul nodded in agreement. He had to - God knows what the gargantuan redhead before him would do if he opposed. One thing was for sure: Natalie wasn't going to be happy about it. He fell to his knees as Raegan released him, snatching the case like a hawk would its prey, already eyeing up her second bottle.
"Fuck doses."
-
Woof.
Fuck doses indeed. I'm not sure what I was expecting now with the talk of a 'plan,' but this seems like a good one. Simple, direct, no possible way it backfires. 10/10
(Oh god Natalie's gonna be pissed)
-
Competitive growth stories remain my favorite subgenre :bravo:
-
Woof.
Fuck doses indeed. I'm not sure what I was expecting now with the talk of a 'plan,' but this seems like a good one. Simple, direct, no possible way it backfires. 10/10
(Oh god Natalie's gonna be pissed)
Heh, the plan was: meet Paul > steal pills from him to get jacked and outsize Natalie > Embarrass Natalie however Reagan sees fit. Simple, direct, no possible way it backfires ;)
10/10? It was that good, eh? Thanks ^^
And yeah, Natalie definitely isn't going to like how things turned out.
-
WOW!!! What an incredible addition to your already incredible story. So I wonder what Natalie will do when she sees the new Reagan? K++
-
Love it!
-
Wicked hot. I love rivalry stories so this is pretty awesome in my book. I wasn't actually expecting Reagan to muscle up that quickly but the sequence was fantastic, and as others have noted it should be fun to see Natalie's reaction.
Bones literally breaking though... jeez.
-
Wicked hot. I love rivalry stories so this is pretty awesome in my book. I wasn't actually expecting Reagan to muscle up that quickly but the sequence was fantastic, and as others have noted it should be fun to see Natalie's reaction.
Bones literally breaking though... jeez.
Yeah ^_^ Raegan only managed to muscle up that fast because she had the balls to go full-bottle/took all the pills at once, compared to Natalie who takes them somewhat moderately. Speaking of Natalie: I don't imagine she'll be happy ^^;
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 6: Champion
Nobody could blame the two backstage assistants from staring. It wasn’t every day they saw somebody like Natalie drive nearly a tonne’s worth of weight up to get a pump before going onstage to reveal her physique to the public eye, to the countless hundreds that made up the eager crowd. Not only that, but it wasn’t every day someone like her - someone as big, ripped and swole as her - needed not one, not even two, but three other assistants to oil her up. The two who watched from afar, Mick and Jonas, stood like two frigid poles.
“How exactly do you think she got that big? She has to be juicing, right?” Jonas was the youngest, somewhere in his early twenties compared to Mick who was at least forty years his senior, so he had a fair amount of experience to his advantage. In that regard, this implied Jonas was the most naive of the two. He even looked childish despite his age - a baby-faced heart-throb with just enough muscle mass for him to be considered hot by the other girls. Conversely, Mick was starting to show signs of baldness and was often straight to the point with his words. Something that often rubbed the wrong way with the ladies.
“Her results came back negative in the pre-show testing, so she can’t be on the shit.” His arms folded, Mick’s eyes stalked Natalie’s curls in the attempt to pick out any form of abnormality in the girl’s massiveness that implied drug use. Anything like a rash on her back, water retention in the bulging muscles in her unrivalled body would be enough— but nothing. If anything, it was like she was the living embodiment of every contestant’s dreams. Regardless, Mick’s brow curled curiously. He read about a new drug sweeping the streets that did away with the negative effects, but it was just too good to be true. “This girl’s all real.”
“You think she’ll win?” Jonas was clearly marvelled by Natalie’s size and effortless ability to curl the huge weight. When applying for her position in the show, she made it clear to those who ran it that extra weight was needed to get the pump required for her to really show off. While she did get the pump she sought, somehow - deep down in that obsessive mind of hers - she was still dissatisfied. Her veins shot to the surface of her skin, pushing violently in such a way that they rebelled against the rest of her anatomy, forcing themselves higher and goading more thickness and hormone-fuelled blood until a freakish layer of vascularity spread across her bicep. All the other contestants would be in awe of the display if they watched and weren’t already concerned about the likelihood of losing to her.
“Well, let me put it this way, kid:” Mick observed a small gathering of the comparatively smaller contestants heatedly arguing with one another about the only thing that seemed to matter: why they even bothered to show up and compete when they knew they didn’t stand a chance against Natalie. In other words, they were packing it in long before the show even started, leaving in small groups. Only a small number of girls dared to stay behind and be willing to strut their stuff on the stage when the time came. Mick had to admire their bravery for that, even though they already lost. “There’s little reason for her to compete if the competition’s leaving in droves before the show’s even started.”
As much as he seemed to worship Natalie, Jonas couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the other girls. They’d probably spent just as much time or even longer training to get the bodies they’d crafted, only for them to be hopelessly dominated by a girl who just lifted what she felt like at the time, barely following a strict diet or workout regimen, taking pills that pushed her size more and more. Of course, she considered lucky they didn’t show up on the drug testing, else she wouldn’t be so lucky as now. That, and a swift visit to Paul would be in order.
The dumbbell rolled free from Natalie’s hand dropped to the floor with a near thunderous metallic thud, cracking the otherwise pristine floor before rolling for a moment and stopping suddenly at a table’s legs, beside which stood one of the eager girl’s nervous assistant’s with a bottle of oil. He wasn’t all that sure how it would be possible to make her shine the way she wanted. Sure, there were three other assistants helping him - one a girl, the other a guy - but that wouldn’t exactly amount to much. It was clear they were struggling with her demands to be golden brown before going onstage. There was just so much of her to cover!
“Make sure you get into my glutes.” She stretched her left leg in front of the evidently apprehensive blonde girl thin as a rail. There was twice as much muscle in Natalie’s flaunted limb than in the blonde’s entire body by comparison. Natalie made sure to stress her point a bit further, running a hand down the length of the exposed quad that seemed to ripple and bound at its own accord. But it was just the pills coursing through her system one more time before she would set off to wow the crowd. “I worked those extra hard last night.”
“You can see that, Nat.” Vic, the most curious of the assistants, eyeballed her striated teardrop quad with a clear sense of devotion, mentally picturing a private moment between him and the gargantuan brunette where she would let him grope the muscle in question. Technically, he was doing that anyway through applying the oil. But, professionalism aside, Natalie would be more willing for other things if she weren’t so set on dominating the stage.
Vic continued to observe the girl’s leg, painstakingly obsessing over the individual striations in the calf before nearly drooling over the pillar-thick quad the mousy blonde Devon delicately applied dollops of oil to, clearly starting to loosen up and get the hang of it. Admittedly, she was rather envious and Natalie knew that. The third assistant, Ben, found himself to be the luckiest of the trio at the moment, generously lathering oil up Natalie’s leg until his fingers neared her bikini bottoms, underneath which her crotch evidently pulsed with energy. The monkey pills were in no way, shape or form biased over which part of her body grew. Not that Natalie complained. She was evidently enjoying the moment involving her trio of quasi-slaves. In spite of that, she could practically feel the seething hatred from the remaining contestants brave enough to go up against her on the stage. It was a futile effort on their part, but Natalie would surely be amused by it.
“She’s definitely on those new monkey pills hitting the streets, isn’t she?” Victoria, the largest of the natural girls glowered at Natalie from the back, trying to make heads or tails of how she could get so big otherwise. Victoria was more or less a blot compared to the inevitable champion, but she wasn’t going to live that down. That wasn’t to say she was willing to sacrifice her curvaceous looks to gain the upper hand. She knew winning the trophy would be a long shot, but she wasn’t going to back down like the rest of the girls.
“I heard she broke Ford’s arm in a drug-fuelled rage because he beat her sister.” The girl next to Victoria, Jess, was slightly smaller by all accounts, but still retained the bravado to strut onstage. Be that as it may, it was impossible to deny the quiver of uncertainty in her gut. After all, logic dictated Jess had less of a chance of winning the trophy than Victoria because she was smaller still.
“What do you make of that rumour about his girlfriend beefing up to get revenge?” On most occasions, Jess wasn’t as smart as Victoria, but as it stood, she never understood why Victoria didn’t take even just one of the monkey pills if she knew they existed. She certainly would. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she found out about those pills you keep talking about and chugged the lot. She’s crazily persistent like that.”
Victoria knew exactly just how wild and obsessive Reagan could get sometimes. She wouldn’t put it past her to think the redhead was bold enough to beef up to put Natalie in her place. She certainly needed to be put down a peg or two. Victoria also knew about the recent altercations between Natalie and her mother about the supposed drug use. Marie was a smart woman - and a nurse - so if she was adamantly contending with her daughter about hormone use, it had to be true. She had to be on drugs. More to the point, she had to be on the monkey pills.
Victoria was just about to approach and engage in a war of words with Natalie when the head assistant called out from near the curtains, ordering the girls to line up and prepare themselves for the crowd. Given her recent arguments with her mother, Natalie wasn’t so sure she’d have much support in the audience, at least from her family. Sure, the crowd would back her in its own right, but familial support had a certain air about it. It was a completely different beast. Perhaps at least Peyton would be there, or Joanne?
Jess stood behind Natalie and quivered with nervousness, failing to comprehend just how much smaller her entire body was compared to Natalie’s back. The other girls were right to leave before the show kicked off, but it was too late for Jess and Victoria now. All they could do was go onstage only to accept defeat. The overbearing shadow from Natalie’s colossal frame only bolstered their fear of the inevitable.
The curtains pulled back, revealing the quadruplet of contestants one by one, the smallest first. The audience was shocked for the obvious reason that there was a considerably smaller number of buff women on the stage than initially advertised. Some even considered leaving when they realised their favourite was not part of those bold enough to pose against Natalie.
But that was before she was revealed.
The judges weren’t sure how was best to describe Natalie. To say she was ripped would be an understatement in itself. Not only that, but the competition had to be a joke at this point if her rivals thought they stood a chance against her. This was a competition of size, not symmetry, and it was clear who the winner would be long before the first pose was called out. Natalie herself knew there was very little point in the show going ahead, but she liked to show off, not to mention the months of injections earlier in the year - long before the pills came into the equation - would all have been for nothing if she didn’t pose for the seas of hundreds. Today was going to be hers.
Natalie always liked the side triceps pose. There was a certain…grace to it. Holding the position as tightly as she could, it’s wasn’t long before Natalie felt her biceps press against her skin like a rope tightening around a pole and pulling, pulling and pulling… It was painful, but the exhilaration that came from the near skin-tearing pressure was something Natalie learnt to not only endure but lust after. She could actually feel the veins in her arms push forcefully, snaking perversely in an almost inhuman way to the surface of her skin. The slightest trickle of drool gathered at her lips…
Rear double biceps. Even as she pulled into that pose, the other muscles in her body not even associated with it seemed to flex. It was the pills making another final push for growth to course through her system. As strange as it was to admit, this was the one time growth wasn’t desired. That wasn’t to say she didn’t like the idea of being bigger. It was just…somehow, she just felt off, different. Negatively different.
Regardless, she mustered the willpower to drive herself into a most muscular pose, her hands clasped tightly enough for her biceps to predictably balloon. Indecipherable, concerned mutters from the crowd threw Natalie off-guard, however, even as a layer of veins shot to the surface of her chest. Her heart seemed to beat a little too fast now, like a steam train busting through the face of a mountain. One would think it was just the pills pushing again, but Natalie knew her body better than anyone ever could. She could actually feel her heart pounding against her chest.
It was a sudden cough that came next, rising from the pit of her thick, sculpted gut through to her throat. Then the irony scent of blood on her lips. Coughing blood? Not to be expected. Or was it? There was such a thing as going too far with the pills. Did Natalie finally, when she least expected to, reach that boundary? Paul did say they were working out the kinks in the pills, not that they were flawless.
It was when her vision started to blur that Natalie truly panicked. She rushed off-stage, bumping into the trio of assistants who helped oil her up, coughing violently as the blurred females’ toilets sign came into view.
///
Natalie stared at her reflection in the toilet mirror, repeatedly asking herself what the fuck happened back there, eyeballing the congealed blood at the corner of her mouth. The trophy was sure to be hers and she was betrayed by herself, of all people. Even as she panicked about the current state of her evidently declining health, the brunette couldn’t stop herself from staring at her mammoth biceps ballooned to their extremities and pressing against the porcelain sink.
The muffled cheers from the distance only made the girl feel worse. It would be no surprise if the trophy was awarded to either Victoria or Jess at this point. Even so, seething hatred filled Natalie. Self-hate. She got herself into this mess. There was nobody to blame for her current state of affairs but herself. She allowed herself to succumb to the addiction that riddled her body; allowed herself to willingly destroy her body from the inside in the hopes of making it bigger. It didn’t help that her friends or family weren’t there for support. Again: her fault.
This was Natalie’s wake-up call.
“Knew you were juicing, bitch. Gone cold turkey?” Victoria stood just outside the toilet boasting the new trophy that should’ve been Natalie’s. The winner couldn’t stop herself from feeling a sick sense of accomplishment in beating someone far larger than her. If only Victoria actually knew what Natalie was going through. But the victory, as incidentally lucky as it was, just might’ve gotten to Victoria’s head. “After I screw my man tonight, I think I’ll take a couple of those pills just to see what the fuss is all about.”
Natalie wanted to respond - wanted to tell Victoria where she was coming from - but couldn’t even find the willpower to open her mouth she was that broken. By the time she turned to face her, Victoria was long gone as if she wasn’t even there to begin with.
Then came what Natalie prayed wouldn’t - although, admittedly in some sense, it felt good to do it again after so long: the tears.
-
My favorite series in a while. Well-done.
-
My favorite series in a while. Well-done.
Thanks, man. Hope I can maintain my streak of quality until the series ends :)
-
Hey guys, you can expect Chapter 7: Beast this week. It might even come tomorrow if I'm lucky enough to reach its ending by then.
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 7: Beast
Dale was lucky to finally get his crutches off and start regaining strength in his arm. He couldn’t wait to get back into the gym with renewed vigour and pompously show off again. He wasn’t, however, quick to remember since his injury Reagan had been hogging the weights in the basement, not to mention repeatedly chug the monkey pills like sweets.
Ever since his misfortune, Dale and Reagan’s relationship had repeatedly become more strained and basically non-existent. She had confided in the Olympic weights as a means to grow stronger and larger to finally enact her revenge against Natalie for what she did. Reagan was going to destroy Natalie reputably and rather physically. It stood to reason that Reagan was already large enough to see her desire become reality, but her addiction to the hormones took precedence. Common sense was nought but a myth to her now. Besides, a few more inches of extra beef was always better than none at all.
Dale halted at the lowermost basement step rather suddenly, his eyes filled by the immensity of Reagan’s beefy and vein-swarmed back. Then he remembered. So much for hoping to get back into shape. Reagan wasn’t usually one for heavy metal music, but Dale wasn’t going to complain or contend with someone easily thrice his width, female or not. He might be pompous, but not stupid. He struggled to lower himself onto the step to sit and watch Reagan drive the beast of a weight up, sweat matting the very same back he was magnetised to upon arrival. Her breaths were deep and ragged, arguably male in tone from all the blatant careless ingestion of the pills. Reagan didn’t give a fuck—she was way past that stage.
She also knew Dale was watching but didn’t say anything. The persistence to gain mass and strength was powerful enough for Reagan to dismiss letting even a single syllable leave her lips. If anything, the deep breaths persisted, as did the unwavering determination to grow. Dale adamantly continued watching the veins on her back throb and pulse. He’d heard the pills she took could give rise to adverse effects, but this wasn’t what he expected. A deeper voice and maybe acne, sure, but pulsing back veins? Even Natalie wasn’t that addicted. She knew the risks and was even careful enough not to go full-bottle.
But Reagan was an entirely different beast.
She threw the barbell down carelessly, caring not if the abnormal weight was heavy enough to split through the floor. The ragged breaths still persisted but seemed to slow. Dale was both curious and anxious; He knew what Reagan looked like from the back—a near-bloated mountain of she-beef close to bursting, the cute sports bra on her chest so close to tearing that a deep isolated exhale just might be enough to turn it into purple confetti—but the front was a completely different story. The mirror was to the far side of the room, making it impossible for either individual to see what the redhead looked like. Obviously, Reagan already knew the answer to that, but she’d grown quite a bit since she last looked.
Her pump was incredible, raised the bar even on just how swole and jacked one could get from it. Sure, the hormones did most of the work but Reagan’s cold determination played just as much a part. Veins didn’t just swarm the young woman’s back, but other, far more sensitive areas. She lusted after them regardless. She craned her arms up into a flex, a manly grunt coming with the swelling shadow that engulfed Dale as he continued watching, seemingly frozen to the spot. He grew agitated at the fact she neither still hadn’t said a word, nor turned to face him. It was almost as if she was ignoring him—deliberately.
A deep, erotic and lustful moan filled her as the hormone started—once again—channelling through Reagan’s system, pushing her metabolism and desire to all-new heights, heartbeat racing as a layer of veins crusted over her chest where her heart was, pulsing energetically for a brief moment before fading back to whence they came. Before long, she started growing, still holding the pose so Dale could silently watch her arms rise larger, develop into small mountains of vein-swarmed beefiness next to nobody could ever hope to overcome. Dale wanted to say something—in protest or excitement wasn’t all that clear—but the spectacle before him proved too overpowering for him to even open his mouth. At best, all he did was mumble incoherently.
Another deeper moan came just as Reagan’s bra started succumbing to her growing form, ripping and tearing in delicate little patterns to reveal more of her sweat-matted skin, practically teasing Dale as he sat there frigidly. Why hadn’t he bothered to say anything? Was he too amazed by Reagan’s swelling to notice or care? On the other hand, maybe saying something would prove disastrous for him, ruining the moment that—at least to Reagan—was clearly arousing; she was getting wetter now than Dale could ever possibly make her, with a dark patch big as his fist forming in her ripping shorts. Nakedness was an inevitability at this point.
Her swelling muscles stretching against her skin as she done so, Reagan pulled down into a crab flex that finally saw her bra burst into the confetti it was destined to become, her legs expanding with the excitement so the dainty underwear shared the same fate, revealing her genitalia in all its thick, beefy and veiny glory. It wasn’t long after that a torrent of hormone-addled love juice ran down her inner thighs, giving them a strangely erotic glow.
The ragged, sexual moans came back again but Reagan chose to move away from the damp patch at her feet, advancing towards the mirror Dale saw earlier. Her steps were deliberately slow at first, stressing the point for Dale to gawk at the quivering muscle fibres in her calves easily big as his skull. His hard-on was obvious at this point, tenting in his trousers. So he really was being turned on by Reagan’s larger form. He couldn’t wait to show his “appreciation” for her the best way possible.
She finally reached the mirror and groaned lustily, still without a proper word. Running a hand across the length of her clit, she looked into the mirror with a smile.
That was when Dale’s opinion of Reagan drastically changed.
Half of her face was covered in hormone-fuelled veins thick as fingers, squirming and pulsing with energy, inching towards her right eyelid. The adversity of going full-bottle truly took hold of Reagan so tightly that it stood to reason she just might never come back from it. Sure, Natalie was addicted, but at least she knew her limits—at least she looked human.
It was safe to say Reagan had a problem.
“Like what you see, babe?” She finally spoke, her tone just as deep as the earlier moans of pleasure, which didn’t help how Dale felt about the situation. He lost his erection almost instantly and pretty much the same happened with his love for her. “Think we could tussle for an hour or two?”
The thought of having sex with the beast that was Reagan having filled his mind, Dale gulped and stood there as she caressed his cheek, the veins on her face pulsing with a weird sense of energy as if hinting at her evident arousal.
“I don’t think—”
Reagan glared sharply, clearly unimpressed with the fact Dale even considered refusing to enact in her intentions. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. Reagan ruled now. Dale might as well accept it. His eyes bulged out as the redhead seemed to undergo yet another dose of growth as she stood, her already massive muscles goading themselves larger and coldly towering over him as he whimpered.
“—you have a choice?” Reagan positioned herself in front of Dale to cut off his only means of escape, palms pressed to the wall behind him as her shadow engulfed him tenfold. Chuckling at the humorousness of the situation, she pressed her chest against him so his comparatively tiny form was shoved against the wall, making it hard for him to breathe. “No sweetie, you don't,” she added.
The lack of oxygen overpowering him, Dale fainted and proceeded to fall forward, but Reagan deftly grabbed hold of his waist just in time, cupping him in her arms and cradle-carrying him upstairs, where the real fun would begin.
///
When he came to, Dale found himself as Reagan’s rather unfortunate prisoner, spread-eagled and tied to the bed several times over to ensure escape was impossible. It was safe to assume that—in some sense—Dale was fucked. He wasn’t going anywhere even if the desire to was dire. The only thing keeping him the slightest bit calm was the fact Reagan was nowhere to be seen, even if this was undeniably all her doing.
Dale thrashed about in a vain attempt to loosen his bonds, but all he did was make the rope violently rub and tighten against his wrists, near enough burning them to the point where he let out a wince. It was hopeless—why he just couldn’t accept it was lost to even him—but he had to get out. For sure, he loved Reagan once but the vein-encrusted beast that had hidden itself was no longer her. Something twisted and perverse with a abnormal addiction had clearly taken her place, the desire for revenge having eaten away at the formerly beautiful redhead long ago.
Then she appeared, moving out from behind the doorway in all her naked monstrosity, clearly larger now than since Dale last looked. Unopened and evidently new, she thumbed open the bottle of pills held firmly in her hand, chuckling deeply at the rattling contents just before they rolled free from the confines and slipped—one after the other until none were left—the sugar coated tablets down her waiting throat, practically lusting after the want for even more size than she already had.
“You’re not going to enjoy this. At least, not as much as I will.”
Reagan could see Dale’s shock but cared not for it. moving herself into position over him so her waiting clit ever so casually slipped into his cock. It was a near-perfect fit. Despite Dale’s evident protesting jerks, he only played the part Reagan hoped he would; as flaccid as it was, his cock still teased her genitalia until she moaned uncontrollably, letting out the deepest roar of lust she could muster, a barely human cry of passion nobody could hope to comprehend. She clamped down harder, practically stoppering his dick from making any unwarranted movements, keeping it straight and firm. She was in control.
“Please, stop.” Dale winced again, feeling Reagan’s growing form bear its weight down on his legs like an anchor to the sea’s depths, little by little becoming bigger as he became smaller and weaker. Bones started snapping out of place as the beastly woman’s hulking weight continually increased, her shadow engulfing both Dale and the room until pitch black filled it. “You’re hurting me,” he added.
Reagan didn’t care. She pressed her palms against his chest as her arms swelled outward, slowly but surely the pain in his chest became more apparent, oxygen becoming more a distant memory than ever. Though his was rapidly diminishing in tune with hers increasing, Dale mustered enough to strength to raise his eyes level with Reagan’s only to find the veins in he face had not only become more apparent, but were starting to spread further across her formerly beautiful visage, fervently pulsing and writhing.
“Shut up and let me do the fucking.” She reached in for a kiss just her gaping form swelled over Dale, engulfing him.
///
It wasn’t until the early hours of the next morning that the fucking finally stopped. Reagan had had her fill of ecstasy and passion for at least a few hours. She looked down at the scales with a smile painted on her face. It wasn’t often someone exceeded a weight of well over eight hundred pounds of muscle, fuelled by hormones or not. To Reagan, this was physical perfection. Natalie would be nothing but an ant by comparison.
Wordlessly Reagan looked up at the bathroom mirror and smirked as the final, perverse vein covered her face. She was complete now, a complete muscle beast that nobody could ever hope to overcome. Even if they could—Reagan glanced at the bottle of pills again. It was time to put Natalie in her place—in the dirt where she belonged.
Dale moaned from the bedroom, still spread-eagled and tied up. To say that something didn’t quite feel right would be an understatement. The problem was he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. Reagan had fucked him so hard that she crippled him beyond belief. His arm might heal, but his legs wouldn’t. Not that Reagan cared.
"Stop complaining. You weren't that good a fuck anyway."
She reached for the pills and down at least four for good measure in preparation for what was to come. Looking down at the scales again, she saw her weight shoot up before her eyes, climbing to beyond one thousand pounds of beef, one thousand and two hundred. It was only when the scales cracked that Reagan was really satisfied with herself. At least for the time being. She slapped her thick roid gut in triumph.
“Perfect.”
-
Another fantastic installment to the series!
-
Another fantastic installment to the series!
Thanks, man :) Appreciate the support.
-
I never thought I'd drift over to Natalie's side, but after the competition loss and Reagan's decent into mania, I'm hoping she makes it. You've done really well writing these characters, man. Keep it going.
-
Then again, it was Natalie's obsession that turned Reagan to what she is now, but that wouldn't have happened if Dale hadn't busted up Peyton, and...I guess all the pieces matter.
-
Then again, it was Natalie's obsession that turned Reagan to what she is now, but that wouldn't have happened if Dale hadn't busted up Peyton, and...I guess all the pieces matter.
Yeah, I wanted everything that happened do so for a resson and help push the story forward. I admit, it wasn't easy to do ^^;
And about the characters in general - with the exception of Peyton, there are no *good* characters; they're morally grey and walk the fine line between good or bad.
-
Exactly why I used that quote from The Wire. If there was ever a show that spotlighted that everyone was in the gray area.
-
As a fan of absolutely insanely over-pumped muscle monsters, and not averse to the occasional bout of extreme brutality, I wanted to say bravo! I'm loving this story!
-
Loving this story. This is really hot! Great description. Superb writing Amnoartist. Keep it up. Please! K+++
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 8: Cold Turkey
Natalie couldn’t remember the last time she wore lipstick. It must’ve been months, a whole year even. It didn’t help she couldn’t even remember how to apply it, her mind had been so addled by the monkey pills. She might’ve been trying to go cold turkey, to detoxify her system, but it didn’t help things, only made them worse; the shivers were unbearable, like standing naked in a cold winter’s night.
Peyton stood behind her though, like the guardian angel she was. Ironic how their roles were switched. It was only a few weeks ago Natalie defended her younger sister, albeit rather violently. Now Peyton supervised her gargantuan sibling in her effort to doll up for the event ahead. She couldn’t possibly understand what Natalie was going through, what thoughts swirled around inside that head of hers. Detoxing was much harder than she thought, even if it was something that needed to be done, to fit back in.
“I’ll do it.” Peyton took the lipstick from Natalie and gently applied a layer of it to her embarrassed sibling’s lips, the glossy fresh layer of cherry red glistening in the faint sunlight. Natalie felt like an infant and it hurt to admit that. But Peyton was neither angry nor pitiful - they were sisters, and help each other was that they did. She caught Natalie’s distressed visage in the corner of her eye. It was then the true emotion made itself known: Torment. Even so, Peyton persisted with her guardian angel act. “You’ll be fine.”
Fine. What was ‘fine’ about looking like a freak with no friends bar those who only became so through being reliable suppliers? The thought of Paul suddenly flickered through Natalie’s addled mind. He clung to her like a disease spreading through her. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this position. Or maybe it was her own fault. Natalie liked working out but probably wouldn’t have gotten so freakishly large if she didn’t ask around for a ‘pick-me-up.’ There was only one thing in particular that referred to in a gym. Then, days later, she met Paul for the first time.
Now though, Natalie felt good about having not dealt with him in weeks. Given she was Paul’s best customer, it stood to reason he might not actually be dealing anymore. Either that or he was ratted out. At any rate, he was part of her past, something she endeavoured to keep behind her. But the violent, painful squirming of her veins was the constant reminder it wouldn’t be so easy to just turn her back on what made her the woman she was today. Her body fought against itself. There were times she would notice it was shrinking, losing the mass, at which point it would grow again as the result of the pills desperately clinging to her system for dear life. She would shrink, grow, shrink, grow, like her body was a living, breathing, ping-pong match or yo-yo.
“If anybody makes a remark about how you look, just ignore them. Don’t rise to their bait.” Peyton snatched a bottle of perfume from her desk. She wouldn’t normally use her most expensive brand unless it was a special occasion for a birthday or wedding. To her, this was a special occasion. It’d been too long since the two sisters went out together. Even so, she looked at Natalie’s neck and hesitated. There was more muscle than actual neck, so where exactly should she spray? Start from that thick bulging vein that travelled down the nape and go from there? Fuck it. Spray the whole area.
“I’ll try.” Try was all Natalie really could do. There was no telling how she’d react to derogatory comments flung at her. Even if they did come from friends. Would she burst into a fit of hormone-fueled rage at the slightest quip, or manage to bottle it all?
Peyton smirked. For Natalie to try was good enough. “Done.”
Natalie stood up from the makeup chair and smiled at the transformed woman staring at her through the wall-mounted mirror - herself. Her hair glossed and fashioned into a balayage, it was almost like she was a completely different woman from the matted sweatiness she’d grown used to, like it was a second skin. A gentle tear might’ve formed in her eye from just from that realisation alone. And her dress - a creamy white beauty with enough space to let her wide legs breathe, probably just expensive as the perfume too.
“Hard to believe it’s you, huh?” Peyton wanted to chuckle at her achievement, but— this was more Natalie’s moment than hers. It would be a shame to ride her thunder. She watched her stare at the glitzy points of her nails, all done up in a manner to compliment the rest of her. “Don’t you get all teary-eyed on me though. That mascara is expensive.”
“Thank you.”
Those were the only words Natalie managed to say. She wanted to find ones more meaningful but couldn’t. It hurt her to know that. But she should’ve known better than to think saying thanks was necessary. This was all Peyton’s way of thanking Natalie for sticking up for her. But a painful fact somehow managed to slither its way into the front of Natalie’s mind: Peyton wouldn’t have needed to do this if Natalie wasn’t an abuser to begin with. She might’ve aimed to change her ways now, but that was a fact of the past seared into her mind. There would be no escaping it.
Nonetheless, Peyton smiled. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
///
Natalie never meant to order a steak that big. But a part of her insisted it was needed to maintain her gains whilst the other screamed at her for being so weak-willed, knowing it was her intention to cut down on the meaty meals, given she was always a meat-for-gains advocate. The fact the steak was so costly certainly didn’t help. Who orders a £30 steak?
But it smelled and tasted so good, like it had been fired by the breath of angels. The texture - so soft, she didn’t need to properly bite, like it quite literally melted in her mouth. She was so drawn into its heavenly existence she was numb to the trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth. Peyton and Joanne noticed it, but paid no heed.
A different picture was painted in the eyes of Callum, Joanne’s boyfriend. He tried to ignore the little speck of drool but just couldn’t. It was like he sat next to an infant. But of course, it was equally impossible to unsee the gargantuan bulk Natalie tried with great effort to hide. Frankly, Callum was disgusted—
“I think it’s nice you’re at least trying to return to your normal self.” Joanne remembered those days rather well, when they were both good friends and worked out just to maintain body fat and look lean. She just couldn’t put her finger on what caused those days to come to an end, what switch in Natalie’s mind was flipped that made her want to bulk to the size she was now, cutting down or not. “It’s been a long time coming.”
Natalie smiled, felt the same way and wanted to express her thanks, but like with Peyton, couldn’t find the right words. She didn’t mean to be so quiet. Wiping the drool from her chin, she clocked Callum’s ceaseless stares of disdain. She caught onto them long before that but didn’t respond in kind, playing back her sister’s words of advice on loop. She never liked him, even before starting to juice up. She endeavoured to be the better person now.
Even so, she was fighting an internal battle. She didn’t have to look, but felt the pressured swellings of her arm veins pulsate, fighting against her want to fit back into normal society. It was as if her body was developing a mind of its own, arguing with her, telling her it was a mistake to think she could return to a normal life, telling her that the mass freak was the real Natalie, not the dolled-up faker she made herself out to be.
Swiftly, she reached for her forearm to hide the freakish pulsing vein forcing its way to the surface of her skin, making it a point to try showing itself under the dress, knocking the wine glass over. It hurt, like being pricked with a needle. Natalie panicked but managed to hide it, just as she managed to hide the squirming. She could still feel it under her palm though. It didn’t help that it felt like it knew it was being covered, so pushed harder for a moment before receding suddenly. Natalie didn’t know what to do, the sudden thought of how Peyton would react to seeing her sister’s pulsing veins and arm burst through the dress.
“Are-are you okay?” Peyton was obviously concerned, but also unaware of the totally rhetorical nature of her question. She presumed Natalie’s knee-jerk reaction to just be nerves from being around so many unknown, likely judgmental eyes. Comfortingly, she held Natalie’s hand, which seemed to calm her nerves a bit, make them at least manageable.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The sigh from Natalie seemed to confirm it: she was not managing. Things were going so well too. It might not have been obvious, but the rift between her and Joanne was healing. The opportunities that would come with their renewed friendship were enticing. She remembered those days where they went to the movies together after a girls’ day out. Her body wasn’t allowing it to be part of the future though. It never would. "This steak's a little tough is all."
Callum’s disgusted expression persisted. Unlike Peyton or Joanne, he was able to connect the dots, saw the pulsing veins before Natalie managed to hide them. He’d heard about the monkey pills and what they did only through gossip, but to actually sit next to someone going cold turkey over them was like watching someone possessed by an unknown force. He didn’t have to say anything. His eyes spoke for him.
And Natalie fucking hated him for it.
“What?” She strived to be the better person. She really did. But the wordless stares didn’t help. Things wouldn’t be so bad if he just spoke, no matter what words came out of his mouth. It was like she could actually hear the silence surrounding him, hover around like a bad smell or disease. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
Callum blinked, confused.
“Nat.” Peyton panicked. All was well, she didn’t want Natalie to go and ruin it now. Especially when it was her idea, to begin with. But what did Peyton know? It wasn’t like she knew what Natalie was going through, or the thoughts swirling around inside her head. She knew about the pills but that was about it. How bad things got with the addiction to them was something Natalie deliberately kept from her. Much like how Peyton didn’t tell Natalie she kept a pill for herself and stashed it in her bedside drawer. Not that it mattered now. Peyton saw the veins rise again with renewed purpose and energy, thick enough this time that they were impossible to hide.
But Natalie didn’t know about any of this, too panicked and paranoid over Callum’s gazes to even feel her veins throb, her muscles swell. It was only until Peyton grabbed her by the arm that she came to realize things were getting out of hand - even for her. The other restaurant patrons looked on in true disgust, which Natalie mistook Callum’s fear to be. She looked at her palms, feeling the veins in her arms start to spread and cover even them.
It was only at the last minute, when things were truly at their worst, Natalie realized it was more a bad than good idea to go cold turkey.
“I—I can’t do this.”
Natalie never meant to push Peyton out the way, but was too stressed to notice, the contemptuous voices in her head droning ceaselessly. She rushed to the door in the hopes that some air would help do her good, caring not for what the restaurateur or their patrons thought or had to say. They just wouldn’t understand, just saw a throbbing mountain of mass push people out the way.
The throbbing was getting painful now, in the sense that her insides hurt, twisted and contorted. Peyton just wouldn’t understand but followed anyway. At this point, mending fences with Joanne would be damned - Natalie was more important. She only had the one sister as opposed to the many friends.
“Nat!”
The fresh air didn’t work. If anything, it just made Natalie feel worse, Coupled with the lashing rain and buzz of nightlife, this was a worse idea than having a civilized meal with normal people. More faces stared at her in passing, more insulting voices drilling their way into her mind.
The nipping vein throbs persisted but this was the final straw, like they were finally going in for the kill; something seemed to just pierce her chest and lungs, drawing the oxygen from her system until she collapsed, vision failing until nothing but a trio of fuzzy figures was the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her.
-
Juiced
Written and edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 9: Under-jacked
It was the hazy blue eyes Natalie first saw when she finally rose from her unconsciousness, a deep, drilling headache coming over her as she tried to make out her surroundings despite dim vision. A gentle hand ushered her to stay put and rest easy as another figure came to his side, hard to make out but distinctive nonetheless; female, brunette with a tinge of worry in her voice, her words difficult to understand.
“What happened?” Even in spite of others’ better judgement, Natalie opted to rebel, trying still to grasp her whereabouts. One thing was for certain: she hadn't ever been there before; it smelled foosty, a little pungent and damp, a complete contrast to the flowery scented familiarity of her bedroom. How ironic, though, that this funky space would be her safe haven.
“You had a severe panic attack.” Natalie smiled, recognising the voice as one she would never tire of hearing: Peyton’s. She handed her worn out sibling a glass of water, ice and all, and offered a grin of her own. “Never seen anything like it.”
“Oh no, there’s much more to it than that.” The other, male voice took Natalie by surprise. How fitting it was, then, that her vision returned just as he finished. Paul’s expression was a complete contradiction to Peyton’s; much more serious and, frankly, honest. “If it wasn't for Peyton’s quick thinking, you wouldn't be here.”
Natalie’s heart dropped. Was Paul implying that if Peyton hadn’t thought about going to him, Natalie would be dead? The unwavering stare he extended suggested as much, which wasn't exactly what the brunette expected to wake up to. Nor did she anticipate the various fresh syringe marks dotted across her forearm. That, plus the inexplicably considerable decrease in mass. Granted, it was what she wanted but-
“Where’s Joanne?”
“Well, when I suggested we take you to Paul here, Callum wasn't all that happy about us going to a drug dealer for help. Joanne was traumatised about that, dumped Callum, then drove us here.”
“And Mum?”
Peyton knew Natalie too well. “She doesn’t know and won’t.”
“How’d you even get in this state in the first place?” Paul readied another syringe full of salmon pink liquid, flicking the needle before preparing to jab it into Natalie’s dotted arm. Judging by how calm and collected he was, it was clear this wasn't the first time he found himself thrust into this situation.
Her memory starting to come back, Natalie postulated how she could've gotten herself in such a state as this. But, frankly, it was obvious, the result of being rash and eager to return to normalcy. Peyton knew as well but hadn't said to Paul. Natalie just wanted to be normal again - this was the price she had to pay for it, it seemed.
“I went cold turkey, off the pills.”
“Not all at once, I hope?” The responding expression Natalie offered didn't do much to please Paul. If anything, it just irritated him a little further. He didn't quite fancy getting the blame for a customer’s death. “Yeah, don’t do that. It’s like going full-bottle; bad shit’ll happen.”
“Oh sure. You tell me that now.”
“Hey! It’s not like I knew you were gonna go off the shit, girl.” Paul delicately removed the syringe and checked the empty vial. Only the tiniest dregs of the liquid were left. Natalie looked at the syringe curiously before noticing at least seven others, all empty, were by his side.
“What is that shit anyway?”
Paul scoffed. “This ‘shit,’ is what's keeping you alive right now.” He didn't want to go into the details with her; she was roughed up enough already without having to know. Simply put, she'd been injected with a hormone balancer, used to prevent literally explosive growth, provided by Paul’s most esteemed employer. It also contributed to her decrease in mass. The sticky situation, though, was that Natalie’s unfortunate circumstances forced Paul into using every balancer he owned. And Natalie hadn't even gone full-bottle.
“She's okay now, though, right?” Peyton started to think taking Natalie to Paul wasn't the best idea. For all she knew, Paul could’ve injected her with something just as or more life-threatening than the pills, like she'd taken her to Death himself.
“More or less. She just has to rest up a bit, let the balancer do the work.”
Taking Paul’s advice to heart, Natalie shuffled back into a reclined position on his couch, the aged and worn leather creaking in protest against her freakish bulk, readying for what felt like a day’s worth of sleep. But then she noticed Paul’s right hand. Or, rather, what was left of it; the middle and ring fingers looked like they'd been clipped off with pliers.
“What happened to you.”
Paul scoffed. Without having to so much as look at her for clarification, he knew what Natalie was implying, and hoped she hadn't noticed. The disfigurement being recent, the wound still penetrated. There was quite a story behind his unfortunate circumstance.
Looking at what remained of his hand, he began his tale.
“The short version is, I got robbed of my supply of the pills, my employer wasn't all that happy about it once they heard the news, then sent a couple of heavies to make an example out of me. Now I gotta make double the pills in half the time, which is especially hard to do with half a hand.
“But I can't go to the police either because I’m guilty by association, and they've no doubt been bought anyway. These are real gangsters who aren't to be messed with.”
“Woah, slow down. Who stole the pills? What do you mean gangsters?” Natalie had never seen Paul so frantic before, nor had he ever mentioned genuine criminals were tied into his business. Where exactly did that put her in the equation? Jesus, it was a good thing she decided to put an end to her pill-popping. But Natalie couldn't help but notice her worry flare up. She was Paul’s best customer, right? So would that not mean she was partly to blame for him being crippled?
“They're from outta town. South something.” Paul was willing to admit the cat was now out of the bag. He was one of the dozens of suppliers around the maybe the world; he was one of the small cogs in a far greater machine. “They've had a torch up my arse for months.”
Natalie was irritated not because the truth was finally coming out of Paul, but that she felt the detail that the pills were stolen was somehow more important, yet he decided to avoid answering her question about it anyway. “Who stole the pills? Was it Victoria” she repeated in a hard tone, remembering the conceited words from Victoria on how she was going to screw her man after the competition and try the pills ‘just to see what the fuss was all about” with them.
“I dunno. Who the fuck’s Victoria?” Paul answered frantically, confused by Natalie being more interested in who stole the pills than the gangsters controlling their distribution and what they were capable of. “It was some redheaded chick.”
Natalie froze. It was so obvious. Reagan had more cause than anyone to steal the pills, knowing how persistent, obnoxious and bitter she could be over even the slightest thing. She no doubt took the embarrassing events in the gym weeks earlier to heart, to the point where she was driven mad by some sick stroke of retribution.
Natalie and Peyton looked at one another knowingly. But Paul wasn't privy to the girls’ knowledge.
“What?”
///
Dale didn't want to be in the train yard despite being figuratively dragged there. As a matter of fact, he didn't want to be around Reagan either. Reagan had been lost to her consuming thirst for retribution a long time ago; not to mention she was past any form of femininity, human or otherwise, replaced with an abhorrent husk of twitching, throbbing mountain of muscle.
Dale impassively watched ‘her’ pace through the grit leading up to an old colossal locomotive, her calves violently twitching with every tumultuous step, her breaths far more masculine than the wheelchair-bound male could bear. It didn't matter; he was past having a say in anything involving the couple - if one could call them that.
She sized the train up in silence, smirking at how each of her densely packed shoulders was easily thrice larger than each rail wheel, and she wasn't even pumped. The veins in her biceps writhed in a celebratory manner at the mere thought of what was to come. Reagan couldn't properly challenge her inhuman musculature since she squatted Dale’s car - without his expressed permission, of course - so sought more unconventional methods to get a pump.
“Yeah, this should do the job.” Reagan’s voice was—well, whatever was left of it that could be considered feminine had been lost to her obsessive intake of the pills, now metamorphosed to match the more masculine form she boasted, caring not how people felt about her obviously squarish jawline mangled and overwhelmed by veins thick as pencils that curved and broke into her mouth. Nowhere was safe.
Dale looked at his pitiful body solemnly, overcome by the need to look away from the freak his girlfriend had become, his dreams and hopes of becoming a pro bodybuilder dashed—no, crushed by Reagan’s bulk. He was forced into lying to his doctor that the injury came from squatting too much weight, not that Reagan had literally raped him so hard his cock snapped. All that remained of it was a flat sack of dead meat, the balls burst like little balloons. But that didn't stop Reagan from coming onto him.
The locomotive offered very little resistance to Reagan’s erotic pursuit to flaunt her beastly strength, chuckling deeply as the colossal machine groaned in protest against her unwavering might, but she merely stood her ground, planting her feet firmly into the grit as if to root herself to the very ground and become part of it. Before long, the train was raised even higher, its circular buffers angled closer to her chest.
She was curling the train!
Dale still hadn’t uttered a single word when he watched Reagan’s back veins quite literally swell larger and press against her custom top, threatening to pop through it like an alien backburster as they danced in tandem with the other swellings and throbs. He heard her moan in uncompromising, burning, crippling lust - a complete contrast to his groans of revulsion she’d become deaf to. Unless it was skin bloating or clothes shredding, she wasn't the slightest bit interested.
With a deep husky groan, the veins continued to envelop her, flanking her thighs and moving upwards to encompass her splenius capitus - the side of her neck - and even congregate curiously at the very centre of her man-shaming chest - at her heart - where they were thickest. But Reagan, predictably, didn't really care much for that. The only thing on her mind was her display of strength. So when her heart started beating uncharacteristically faster, either she didn't notice or give a shit about it.
When her biceps goaded themselves larger, that was when Reagan had reached the apex of her arousal. She didn't even have to look at her crotch to know certain changes had been made to it; veins thick and full of life, they writhed and danced in sync with the swelling of her genitalia, protruding her shorts violently like it was close to bursting through it! It was almost like she had a cock of her own.
With a careless thud she let go of the locomotive, the sudden drop coupled with the vehicle’s substantial weight causing it to sink into the ground that cracked beneath her vein-caked feet.
Dale was of the mind to sneakily wheel away when Reagan wasn't looking but thought about the potentially harmful consequences if he had the balls to do it. When it came to him and Reagan as a couple, he didn't have anything to lose. But Reagan saw from a different, far more self-centred angle. With Dale confined to a wheelchair probably for the rest of his life, someone would always be there, be - even if unwillingly - on her side to watch her degrade Natalie in front of a crowd.
Be that as it may, Dale couldn’t stop himself from thinking Reagan was going to do worse than disgrace Natalie. The characteristically mad glint in Reagan’s vein-crusted eye hinted at such.
The sudden freeing rip at the back of Reagan’s top revealed her veins in all their sickening glory, forcing the muscle-lusting redhead into a back double bicep whose shadow engulfed not only Dale but a good chunk of the train’s front as well. She held the pose, grunting deeply with arousal, taking a moment to bask in her ever larger form. She even grew a couple of inches just by standing. When she threw her hands down, however, Dale worried.
“What is it?”
She turned sideways only just enough to flash her visage; from mandible to forehead her face was riddled with thick, writhing blue veins, a patch of yellow, dry saliva gathering at her mouth like a rabid dog.
“I want you to deliver a message for me.”
-
:wow: i wonder how reagan will delivere the message with Dale. I feel sorry for him...XD
-
Regan is so beautiful now! I love how the pills have improved her mind and body!
It would be awesome if someone illustrated Regan as she is now!!
-
Keep it up! Great work.
-
Regan is so beautiful now! I love how the pills have improved her mind and body!
It would be awesome if someone illustrated Regan as she is now!!
I've been thinking about that, actually. It's all about finding the right artist, though :)
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 10: Brink
It had been a long time since Natalie had a stress-free shower. More often than not, a singular thought swirled inside her hormone-addled brain: was she big enough? It felt like a perverted sense of Bigorexia taken to its extremes, where anything but knowing how large she had become or could be wasn’t worth thinking about. But now, that skin had been shed, revealing a contented and free Natalie unbound by the former perversions of her mind.
The pills’ effects were, even now, little by little bleeding out. Natalie would not in any way, shape or form miss the beastly thing she once was, happy to finally find a sense of belonging in the world. There may have been a time when she felt her previous self, was her real, true self, but if anything it was a delusion no doubt brought on by the pills’ constant abuse. The changes in her body were noticeable - she was smaller, ate less to reflect the fact, less defined and even lifted lighter weights. It stood to reason that eventually, Natalie would stop working out entirely.
And she would welcome that.
Water from the shower poured gracefully down her shoulders and obliques, wiping away the sweat and, arguably, the past itself, bringing with it the feeling of moulting, peeling away the months-long guilt, hypocrisy, greed and lust. It almost felt as if Natalie was an ugly caterpillar transforming into a beautiful butterfly. The water continued slipping down her body, splitting off to matte and glisten her hamstrings and calves. Her body didn’t as violently fight itself to maintain size as it once did, thankfully, but every now and then the odd twitch, throb and involuntary flex was felt. Natalie was past the point in wanting to boast, instead focusing on the future. College was on her mind, perhaps even look for a place of her own to live. Everything about Natalie’s drug-fueled past was behind her - she didn’t care what happened to Paul going forward.
“Fancy a trip to Luciano’s later?” Even if her body was still in the midst of changing, the only thing that remained constant in Natalie was her love for food. Thinking with her stomach was a noted trait of hers even before she started juicing. The idea of stuffing her face with pizza for the first time in months was too good to pass up.
“You bet!” Peyton called from the hallway picking up Natalie’s old, oversized clothes from the floor. It was a strange thing realising Natalie had gone down two sizes in the space of a day. Peyton worried about it initially, but Paul’s last ever parting words were to not worry about it. “Shopping spree too?”
Natalie chuckled. Honestly, she wouldn’t have it any other way. It was good to feel like her old self again, to feel..normal. The odd vein throb in her arm, though, made it a point to indicate a sense of her former self still existed, lingering, seemingly lying in wait. It made Natalie think that, just maybe, her former self would never leave completely. She knew that; she felt that - as much as she wanted to just forget it, the urge to feel her arm before its definition faded completely rose like a tidal wave. Reaching out for a sense of closure to the compulsion, she hesitated, literally struggling to pull her arm away, the faint veins in her bicep writhing in anticipation—
A frantic knock at the house’s front door saved Natalie, startling her. Her mum was back from shopping so soon? No, it couldn’t be her.
“Who is it?”
Peyton shuffled her way through the hall into the guest bedroom for the best view down to the porch. The caller took her by surprise. She didn’t expect him, of all people. Had he finally come to apologize for what he did to her after Natalie knocked some sense into him?
“It’s Dale, but…” Peyton’s eyes narrowed, taking note of the fact he was in a wheelchair, looking up at her impatiently. Natalie didn’t exactly go into detail about what she did to him, which aroused suspicions on Peyton’s behalf. “…he’s in a wheelchair.”
Natalie froze, riddled with the guilt she thought had been washed away. Did…she put him in the wheelchair? She didn’t mean to. Or…did she? He did hurt Peyton, after all.
“ Let him in, I’ll…” She swallowed nervously. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
///
It felt strange for Natalie to wear a T-shirt a couple of sizes too big for her - for once, she didn’t have to tug at the shoulders for being too tight. Now, the problem was having too much room and being baggy. She even felt a sense of nakedness in not being familiar with what she wore, even if it was her old clothes. Despite that, it drew no parallels with what she felt when looking at Dale, bound to that wheelchair likely for the rest of his life, a single, overbearing thought rushing around inside her head: did I cripple him?
Peyton offered him a cup of tea, which he generously accepted. Good, that meant he didn’t come here with a grudge, so…why be here at all? Was he really here to apologize like Peyton suspected, or did he have something else in mind? He looked at Natalie with squinted eyes, as if to suggest confusion. Then he saw it. How he hadn’t noticed it from the beginning annoyed him, but then, other, far more scarring thoughts danced inside his head too.
“I see you’re off the pills, Nat. Good.” Dale sipped his tea in silence. Or rather, he did so in expectation of a response befitting his remark but instead was offered only silence and a deathly glare from Natalie. He knew not to expect otherwise. She was in the right to feel that way.
“Cut the shit, Dale. What’s this about?” Seeing the damaged man in all his misfortune was magnetizing for Natalie. She just couldn’t stop herself from looking at him either sporadically or in prolonged stares, mangled ankles and all. Surely, he didn’t expect some sort of sympathy vote from them? Sure, she might’ve gone a bit overboard with doling out the retribution against what he did to Peyton, but that wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t hurt her in the first place. “Did I do that to you, is that it? Came here to finally show your wounds and take me to court?”
“No, I came to apologize.” Dale offered the slightest glance at Peyton hiding behind Natalie, her head only just peeking out from behind. It may have been fleeting, but Peyton’s countering grin spoke louder than words. “Besides, this…” He continued, slapping his thighs, “This wasn’t you.”
A wave of confusion came over Natalie. If it wasn’t her who rendered Dale a cripple, who did? More to the point, why did they do it? She looked at Dale for answers, but as much as he knew them, he couldn’t bring himself to even let loose a single syllable from his lips at that point. It was as if whoever did this to him had crippled his emotions and mentality too.
“It was Reagan, right?” Peyton’s question was in every sense rhetorical. She knew it was Reagan from the simple fact Dale kept no company other than her. Natalie’s eyes grew wide as saucers as Dale’s response was averting his eyes in guilt. The question now was why, which he was brave enough to acknowledge.
“When you embarrassed her in the gym weeks earlier, she took it to heart. Bought a shitload of those pills you used and chugs them like candy.” Dale had to stop himself. A piece of the Reagan he knew broke off that day, and she’d been on a rapid decline ever since. To think that the thing Reagan had become was something she was capable of transforming into; to think that he at one point loved her. It even pained Dale to retrace his words and realize he said ‘knew.’ Reagan was an entirely different person now, foreign to Dale. “She thinks I’m here to tell you to meet her at the gym where ‘all this shit began,’ so you can have a moment of truth, but really, I’m here to tell you, you need to help me put a stop to this.”
“What?” Natalie groaned. Why did Dale have to paint her into a corner? She was no hero. He ought to know that firsthand, yet he sought her out for help. “Fuck that!”
While he didn’t say anything to suggest it, Dale knew Natalie would oppose his plea without a moment’s hesitation. But Reagan’s life was on the line here. “I get why you don’t want to help, but you have to understand…Reagan will die if something isn’t done to help her. She doesn’t care to notice it, but she’s declining. The excessive dosage of those pills is doing weird shit to her body, you know. There’s a weird mass of veins clotting her heart, so defined you can actually see it through her skin. I fear just one more pill could be enough to give her a heart attack. She's on the brink.”
Peyton looked at Natalie wordlessly, noticing there wasn’t even a hint of emotion painted on her face. She just didn’t care. Natalie may have regressed physically, but mentally she was no different than when a roided-up meat-freak. Peyton wasn’t going to stand by that.
“You’re gonna let her die?”
“Call it karma for being on the cripple’s side when you got beat up.”
Nat!!”
Dale steeled himself well in advance. This didn’t look to be going all that well for him, or Reagan by extension. Perhaps it was time to bring out the heavy-hitting facts. He just hoped they’d help change Natalie’s tone.
“She raped me, you know.”
Silence again, but a different kind. They could all feel it too. Natalie’s expression hadn’t changed the slightest, but her ears pricked up, so that was a start.
“Or rapes, I should say. Several times. Daily.” Dale heaved a breath in the realization he’d broken the ice between them. Maybe now things would turn the other way. “I didn’t think Reagan would be capable of something like that, but seeing her expressionless face when she broke my legs before pumping that roid-fueled clit of hers into my mangled dick made me realize I was wrong. That’s how I’m in the wheelchair.”
Peyton tried her best to stop herself from crying, but it was just impossible. To think Reagan had what it took to rape someone…
“The sad part, Nat,” Dale continued, “is that I’m seeing the exact same expressionless face in you right now.”
Natalie gulped, looking intently into the mirror on the wall. Whoever looked back, it wasn’t her. They were blank, emotionless, practically dead inside. The total opposite of what Natalie knew herself to be. It made her realize the painful truth. She may have stopped taking the pills, but they would never leave her, would always be a part of her like a second nature. She could do so much better than that.
“Where is she?”
Dale nodded. “Where it all began.”
///
“I said, more weight!”
The gym manager quivered, utterly dispirited by the half-naked monolithic thing before him, its arms ballooning larger in mere seconds, impossibly thick veins rolling from mountainous delt to puffy wrist, from meaty pecs easily rivalling a sixty-five inch LCD TV to the bull-shaming neck. The manager was initially of the mind that this barbarically monstrous meat-freak was of a different planet and struggled to accept it was actually the once-beautiful Reagan, her clothes torn asunder to reveal the chemically-forged muscles she'd obsessed over.
“But Rea…” he stopped himself, wondering if it was the best idea to tell the inhuman girl the truth. Together with the swelling of the veins on her lats, he heard the sobs of the other gym-goers huddled in the corner, terrified of what Reagan had become and scared for their lives. The manager, Lloyd, had to do something. “…you’ve got all there is. Literally. You’ve added every plate from every barbell, pull-down and press in the gym, there’s nothing else for you to use.”
As if to exemplify her boiling rage, the veins in Reagan’s forehead thickened to the point as though they would burst if she were pushed any further, squirming violently enough that they pressed against her skin, forcing the girl to not only wince but set free a soft sob. But this was no ordinary sob, rather one of utter lust. She could feel herself becoming stronger just by standing with her back turned, casually curling the makeshift twenty-thousand-kilo barbell. It was a wonder on its own that such a thing could even be crafted, let alone someone could lift it. Reaching the height of her fury, she threw the barbell down onto the mat, busting it, but the resultant sound wave rippled through the room and cracked the walls, symbolizing Reagan had cracked.
“I said…” She turned to face him, her former beautiful face now fully condemned to servitude to violent facial ticks and veins. She had now been fully consumed by the pills that practically drove her existence. “MORE! WEIGHT!”
Lloyd offered an agreeing nod, feigned mostly so he would have an excuse to leave the gym and perhaps save his own life. If Reagan was pissed off enough, God knows what would happen. If she was capable of rape…
She instinctively reached for the bottle of pills and popped open her mouth to bask in the orgasmic wave of growth that would come. But only a single pill fell into the chemically-fueled cavity that was her mouth. The last one - literally.
“FUCK!” She threw the bottle across the gym with such force that it burst through the wall, revealing Lloyd closing the cupboard behind him to hide in.
Reagan trusted Dale to do what was asked: bring Natalie to the gym so she could be crushed. The extent of this crushing wasn’t revealed, so it was anyone’s guess if Reagan meant it literally or to crush Natalie mentally. As a perverse vein draped over her left eye, with a dry patch of yellow drool at the corner of her mouth, Reagan bit her lip in anticipation, too focused on the task at hand to notice or care for the obvious murmur in her heart.
-
Great job as usual.
-
Great job as usual.
Thanks man :)
-
Wow! just wow...amazing
-
Wow! just wow...amazing
Heh, thanks :)
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 11: Ready to POP!
There was something about the looming confrontation with Reagan that made Natalie panic. No, it wasn’t the fact she knew the odds weren’t in her favour - she’d already come to terms with that truth. Rather, the agonizing came from the reality that the outcome might not be on anyone’s side. Granted Reagan was unquestionably the larger female, but Natalie was stronger-willed against the pills. Well, at least now.
Looking out through the car’s windscreen, she rubbed her hands nervously, deaf to Dale’s concern. The car had been parked for a minute now, but Natalie had since then stopped dead, as blind to his panic as she was deaf, unresponsive to the nudges and shoves. Natalie was in such a deep state of thought that she couldn’t even hear herself breathe, too focused on how was best to approach the situation at hand. Reagan was no doubt fueled on the pills to some form of boiling point, edging towards it. Anything could probably set her off, so consideration had to be taken into whether it was worth letting Dale come with her.
“It’s best you stay here.” Natalie could tell Dale was relieved to see Natalie break out of the weird trance she forced herself into. But that wasn’t important. They looked at one another confusedly. Admittedly, Dale didn’t come all this way not to do his part in helping Reagan, didn’t go through all his hardships for nought.
“Sorry Nat, but that’s not up to you.” Dale shuffled the dead weight of his legs to reach into the duffel bag on the floor, reaching deep into it to fish something out. He knew the circumstances for Natalie would be difficult, which was he slyly helped himself to something precious to his former lover. “You’ll need these too.”
Natalie watched as he plucked out a strip of the monkey pills and tossed them over to her. Her stomach churned at the thought of having them so close to her after so long in being clean. The temptation never seemed to die out though; fingers twitching, she subconsciously reached for the strip but halted suddenly, fighting herself over the merits in using the pills this time - not for self-indulgence so much as to have a slight chance.
Her willpower won out, picking the strip off the empty car seat and tossing them outside. Dale was shocked to see the pills slip down a drain. Not only would they have been Natalie’s only chance at bringing herself, if only slightly, closer to Reagan’s size, but they were the last. Despite that, Natalie remained steadfast in her position.
“If I took them to get even just a slight chance against Reagan, I would have stooped to her level and everything I’ve done to improve my life would’ve been for nothing.” She quickly turned with a jerk, her own body fighting the decision to reject the pills as if even it knew it was the wrong thing to do. “This isn’t about winning, Dale. It never was. It’s about doing what’s right.”
It’s about doing what’s right. Those particular words spun through Natalie’s mind like a strange language, catching her off-guard. To think a phrase like that was at one point something she wouldn’t even consider saying. Realizing that made her postulate Dale’s position in the situation. Natalie’s attempt at reasoning with Reagan would more often than not fall on deaf ears. But maybe Dale would get through to her in ways she couldn’t. She just hoped it was an idea that worked.
///
Reagan’s striated jaw convulsed aggressively. She hadn’t been particularly attentive, but it had been doing that, seemingly of its own volition, for the past hour, too focused on the burgeoned pectoral muscles dangerously closing in on her cheeks to care. The last pill had been downed within that same time frame, yet their effects were still gradually bleeding out, fueling her inhuman frame with more mass to the point where her muscles were starting to overflow her skeletal structure, threatening to cut through her bones in an effort to maintain room. With that came excruciating pain, but a form of pain Reagan actually lusted after. She’d always heard Dale say that without pain there wouldn’t be gain - a principle that seemed to drive Reagan’s will at this point.
Reagan’s weight had probably reached an excess of five hundred kilos of chemically-fueled muscle, putting into question her ability to move. But moving away from the wall-mirror would bring an end to the voracious eye-fucking she’d been at for some time now, itching at the bit for Natalie to show face so she could show who was the real muscle queen in these parts. Smirking, Reagan watched a thick vein pulse to life and snake vertically up her face from chin to forehead, every perceptible throb an indication of her muscle lust, raw burgeoning power and general want to just keep growing.
Nakedness was something Reagan had succumbed to as well, basking in the sensation of flaunting her presumed perfection at what remained of the gym-goers too frightened of her to move an inch from their huddled group, let alone escape for dear life. The gym’s manager Lloyd had the sense to hide before things reached a new level of crazy, but that didn’t mean much in the face of things. Even as he hid in the cupboard, it didn’t stop him from hearing Reagan’s grunts, groans and general bouts of explosive growth. For Reagan, to pop like a balloon would at some point not be so much of a metaphor as a literal expression eventually. Not that it bothered her.
Managing to shift into a side chest pose, a slight wince escaped from her as the unmistakable cracking and crunching of bone tissue filled the gym, closely followed by a violent bodily jerk that took the mass monster by surprise. Her cheeks squashed together by her pecs and biceps, it was no wonder Reagan didn’t say anything about the fact her chest caved in, because she couldn’t, presented with a sense of karma for her self-indulgent quest for largeness. But even as her silence was maintained, Reagan just couldn’t stick with the idea she was big enough, flexing hard enough to force even more muscle onto her grotesquely-packed structure. With what little hearing she had left, the sound of her own flesh rending to build itself larger was music to Reagan’s ears. It was better than sex, so the idea that love juice trickled down the diminutive spacing between her thighs wasn’t all that hard to believe - it was just difficult to see. The deadened moans from the redhead were aught to act as evidence to that, just as much as the fact she twisted and pulled at her erect nipples. An overbearing sense of accomplishment flooded Reagan. It was such an achievement for her to have gained so much mass over so short a time. Natalie didn’t stand a chance at overshadowing her now! No one did.
Patting it covetously, the over-sized distendedness of her roid gut only intensified Reagan’s want. Bloated beyond comprehension, the vein-encrusted magnificence that was her stomach rolled and bulged as she forced herself into an abs and thighs pose, trying to hide the wince at came with the fact her bones crunched again, though the discouragement was quickly subdued by a swarm of veins quickly enveloping her gut to hide the patches of inflamed skin. A shameless trickle of drool slipped down the corner of Reagan’s lip, indicating the obvious sense of arousal that came over her, standing shamelessly in the growing patch of love juice.
Then the familiar face reflected in the mirror.
Natalie and Dale were, predictably, lost for words, Dale in particular. He knew Reagan had gone mad with muscle lust long before Natalie was asked to help her see reason, but the situation had become something truly alarming now. Squinting, Dale tried to find Reagan’s face in all the inhumanly mountainous mass of flesh she’d obsessively grown to best Natalie, but it had nearly been swallowed up by it - all that remained was a small tuft of red locks and a vein-mapped forehead with the tiniest slit to suggest her eyes were still there.
Natalie was silent, felt sorry for Reagan having gone to such limits, not to mention herself. Reflecting, Natalie knew if she herself hadn’t become so obsessed with growing, hadn’t broken Dale’s arm and humiliated Reagan, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. But something made Natalie think Reagan was thankful for what happened. If it hadn’t, Reagan wouldn’t be as inhuman as she was now.
Wheeling in front of the two sisters, Dale took the moment into his hands, determined to help Reagan see the thing she’d become. Even if she could be saved, he was certain Reagan wouldn’t ever be the same again, was sure they couldn’t have the relationship they once had. When Natalie broke his arm, Dale started to see life in a light similar to the one she did - it wasn’t all about being the bigger guy, nor how many trophies he was awarded. “Reagan, listen—”
Glancing angrily at Natalie, no doubt irritated by the fact she wasn’t as big as the redhead hoped, Reagan muffled grumbled before forcing herself into a front double bicep pose, her dulling ears concentrating on the splitting flesh to build itself larger yet again, her arms several feet tall careening closer to the ceiling, yet trying futilely to hide the uncompromising pain.
Dutifully, Natalie’s eyes narrowed at the particular gathering of veins that amassed at Reagan’s torso, just a few inches left to her heart. Natalie remembered what Dale said about Reagan being one pill away from a heart attack. Truthfully, it was worse than that: she just might be one pose away. Too much pressure on that freakish frame of hers and—
But Reagan was remarkably persistent, somehow willing her calves and quads larger even as she maintained the double bicep pose. A thunderous rumble rolled as vein not only rose to existence but audibly squirmed and squealed in tandem with the splitting flesh and crumbling bone. Reagan didn’t give a damn about the fact her body was willing to destroy itself to maintain growth - Reagan didn’t give a damn about anything but the fact.
Natalie had enough. She didn’t want Reagan’s untimely death to be on her hands, feeling guilty enough already for having done all the other things beforehand. Marching with persistence, she moved in front of Dale until the sickening wall of squirming chest meat and blobbing roid gut were what she came face-to-face with. Natalie didn’t want to be ‘the hero,’ but did want to do the right thing.
Much to Dale and Reagan’s surprise, she retained a sense of silence for a moment. This was Reagan’s perfect opportunity to pick Natalie up like the toothpick she was and break her - but she didn’t. Instead, she curiously watched Natalie observe her, listen. Natalie could see the misshapen skeletal structure Reagan was left with from all the constant abusing of the pills. Natalie wouldn’t be ashamed to admit she was at one point addicted to the pills, but even she knew her limits weren’t as boundless as Reagan’s.
Just by looking at the misshapen monstrosity she’d become, Natalie knew Reagan didn’t have long before that heart attack came. Moments, probably. In that case, Natalie knew it was best just to be candid. “You and I both know your heart’s gonna give way, right? Probably pop if you keep up this sorry act.”
“Nat! What you doing?” Dale wasn’t particularly happy with the words that casually oozed from Natalie’s lips.
Without even considering breaking the stares into Reagan’s eyes, Natalie retorted sharply. “Being honest. Which is pretty much the only thing to do at this point.”
Reagan was the first to break away from the stares, worried there might actually be a semblance of truth to what Natalie said. She definitely didn’t feel the same, even if her body was growing beyond human comprehension. Looking to him for answers, Reagan exchanged glances with Dale, who in turn nodded in a way that suggested Natalie was right.
But that infuriated Reagan, realizing Dale had opted to side with the bitch Natalie instead of his own girlfriend. Reagan didn’t come this far to finally see reason or the error in her ways. She enjoyed the fact her body ballooned over Natalie’s several times over, lusted after the superiority she had over her and Dale, and wouldn’t even hesitate to again pin him to the bed like last time. The ideas themselves were enough to shoot a burst of growth through the redhead’s body until the point where it...just seemed to keep going, ballooning and expanding at such an absurd rate that veins started popping, causing internal bleeding, coupled with her eyes bulging out like saucers with the idea that they were about to pop, twitching muscles finally bursting out of the woman’s skin to expose them to the light.
But before the situation could get any worse, Dizziness came over Reagan, forcing her to fall back against the mirror-wall, smashing it. In a sense, it symbolized her fragility. Natalie didn’t want to push Reagan over the edge but knew this was the only way things could go given the state she was in. All that self-destruction Reagan put herself through just to get retribution. It reminded Natalie of someone who did the same thing just to win a trophy. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop her from shedding a tear for Reagan.
“Call an ambulance.”
As much as he loved her, Dale didn’t think it would be worth the trouble to call an ambulance for Reagan. She just wouldn’t fit, much less likely that the equipment would do good for her. It wasn’t as hard for him to admit a heart attack was the lesser of two evils at this point as it was for Natalie. “I don’t think—”
“CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!” Natalie was so distraught by what she had to do that she was completely unaware of the veins in her arms flaring to suggest her anger. The underlying presence of her pills still living within her, dormant. How could Dale have been so heartless? He said he cared for Reagan, but did he really? “NOW!”
Memories of an enraged Natalie coming back to haunt him, Dale did as he was ordered, afraid what she might do if he was callous enough to object. While he waited for someone to pick up the call on the other end, he watched Natalie reach for Reagan’s vein-crusted cheek and stroke it, unaware of the constant damning thought swirling around her head.
“This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fault…”
-
Put a new poll up to reflect what people may want in a potential sequel.
-
yep agree like to see the mother get some of that muscle and kick some assholes ass
-
omg she has a sister also,it would be great if she took some of that candy and kicked those boys asses
-
Juiced
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 12: Closure
Seeing Reagan laid on the makeshift bed, in the hospital of all places, didn’t bring a sense of comfort to Natalie. She had thought bringing her there would be the good thing to do. Perhaps it was, but the incessant whirs and clicks of the apparatus’ only made Natalie’s panic bloat. The redhead looked to be stabilizing and on the route to recovery, but the fact Reagan had been brought to such a state was, admittedly, Natalie’s fault. If perhaps she hadn’t attacked Dale and insulted Reagan, neither of them would be in this plight.
Riddled with such self-hate, Natalie hadn’t noticed she’d bit her tongue, causing blood to pool at her lip. But she didn’t care about that. Reagan’s life was at stake, brought on by Natalie’s formerly drug-addled mind and blind fury. Reminiscence of such a thing was enough to make Natalie quietly sob. She had done this. This was her fault.
The voice broke through Natalie’s numbness. A calm and collected tone that seemed to offer an indication of hope. Natalie turned to face them, one of the hospital’s doctors; clean-shaved and youthful. He smiled as Natalie’s eyes met his, repeating his question softly. “Are you a member of the family?”
“Uh..no, I’m a friend.” Natalie remembered that struggle, companionless in her effort to drag Reagan’s bloated form out of the gym and outside while Dale wheeled his way behind her, hastily calling the emergency services. All while that happened, Reagan’s body ceaselessly continued to expand sporadically, adding weight and mass literally every turn. It wasn’t until Natalie had managed to bring her outside that Reagan finally stopped growing, reaching an inhuman eight hundred and fifty kilos. It was a miracle in itself Natalie managed to haul Reagan, let alone the fact the ambulance that arrived managed to support her weight. “I brought her in.”
“Right. The good news is Reagan’s on the road to recovery, which is a miracle considering how things went with the detox and surgery.” The doctor noticed Natalie’s face quickly changed from a smile to a visibly cringe at the mention of ‘surgery.’ Admittedly, even he didn’t think it was a good idea for Reagan’s body to undergo such stress, but her parents insisted. Just as they insisted Natalie never be within one hundred yards of Reagan ever again. Despite the hesitance regarding its employment, the surgery worked just enough to ensure the later use of detoxification could, in turn, work. The doctor’s face changed to something more solemn, instilling dread in Natalie again. “However, such perverse use of these ‘monkey pills’ will have lasting physical effects. That is to say, while most of it will melt away with time, she will retain some of her musculature. Permanently.”
Natalie didn’t notice herself flinching. She’d always known not to ever go full bottle through being constantly reminded by Paul, but not until now had she understood why. It wasn’t because of the freakish size the person could achieve through it, rather the fact if they ever managed to come down from the addiction, there would always be that lasting reminder of their past transgressions. Natalie looked away solemnly, catching a glimpse of Reagan’s arms, one comically larger than the other. It would likely take months before Reagan recovered a sense of lucidity.
The doctor took his leave just as a redhead woman in a black suit jacket passed him. She looked serious and intent on coming to blows with someone. It wasn’t until after noticing the police badge clung to the woman’s belt that Natalie realized that someone was her. Had Reagan’s family decided to press charges against her? As if she wasn’t stressed enough. But then Natalie noticed him. Dale hid behind the woman, but not in a way that suggested betrayal, rather that she do the rare thing and trust in him.
“You Natalie?” the policewoman spoke, stood only a few inches away from the brunette as if to get close to her, invade her personal space. Natalie wanted to trust in Dale, but how could she with this agent of the law breathing down her neck like a sniffer dog?
“Yeah?” Natalie responded with uncertainty.
The woman extended her hand. This only confused Natalie further, but Dale’s responding nod implied she shake hands with her. She complied, though reluctantly. But the smile the woman offered, in turn, seemed to calm things.
“Detective Lily Hart, Southpoint Police. It’s come to my attention you have some information on the whereabouts of a Toxin dealer.”
Southpoint? Toxin? Why did things have to suddenly become even more complicated? Southpoint was halfway across the country and Natalie didn’t even know what this ‘Toxin’ even was. She shook her head in confusion. “Sorry, what?”
“Your friend here says you know someone by the name of Paul who sells the growth-inducing pills that’s been sweeping through my hometown. I want to shut down his production here so things don’t go tits up in the long term.”
Natalie looked down at Dale with narrow eyes. Was he trying to get Natalie to implicate herself in an effort to get revenge over what happened to Reagan? That would imply Dale was playing the good guy so Natalie dropped her guard. Thinking about it though, maybe Dale wasn’t trying to get revenge. And, in searching herself, Natalie realized that perhaps by helping this detective Hart, some sense of closure and inner peace would be found. She didn’t need the pills anymore, after all. And they caused more harm than good.
“The selling of these monkey pills, or Toxin as we’ve taken to calling it in Southpoint, is part of something much bigger, just one colour in a larger canvas.” Lily looked into Natalie’s eyes pleadingly, hoping to find the help needed, hoping the hours-long trip wasn’t a waste of time. “Please, Natalie. Do the right thing.”
Natalie wanted to help but wasn’t sure if it would come back to bite her in the future. After all, she thought to beat up Dale for attacking Peyton was the right thing to do. She looked at Dale who smiled, then turned her attention back to Hart.
“Well?”
Natalie sighed.
///
The door’s hinge gave way as the battering ram smashed its way through, the night’s thunder dulling the sound. The pane of glass cracked in sync with the rhythmically booming steps of an armoured police team covering the porch swarmed into the household. They had waited for this particular raid for a long time, eagerly waiting to uncover the dealer’s identity, then got the lay of the land and house’s layout to cover all possible entry and exit points. A separate team covered from the garden so the dealer couldn’t make an escape.
The primary team broke into two groups of three, one veered off into the kitchen while the other took to the stairs to search the second floor. The second team that came in from the kitchen immediately went to the basement. As that happened Detective Hart made her entrance, slowly but confidently walking into the dealer’s den with a photo of Paul held tightly in her hand. To think someone as youthful as she had eluded her for so long.
Stood in the lounge room, she examined her surroundings. The entirety of Paul’s den was close to a pigsty. How he managed to actually live there was a miracle. The smell of chemicals, shit and piss all mixed into one unpleasant stench. Hart noticed a photograph sat on the mantle and picked it up. It was a family photo of Paul, his mother, father and younger sister. The curious thing though was that it looked to be a few years old. Coupled with the evidence that suggested only one person lived here, it implied Paul was not only squatting in his own former home but also estranged from his family.
“Boss, you better come see this.” The voice came from the basement, a touch of concern in the officer’s voice. Hart had already pieced together the fact Paul was no longer here. In fact, he was long gone. Perhaps sales of the monkey pills had dropped so drastically since Natalie cut ties with him forced Paul to move to a different location for better luck. Admittedly, that would be the fairytale, perfect scenario on his part. The truth was different.
Hart sighed when she reached the bottom of the basement, taking note of the obvious signs of a scuffle; broken chairs - which itself indicated Paul wasn’t working alone like Hart assumed - a few spent syringes containing the growth hormone Toxin; and ripped clothes.
“He, and whoever was with him, haven’t been here for weeks,” Hart acknowledged begrudgingly.
“That’s not the half of it though,” an officer cut in. His tone seemed to indicate excitement, gesturing for the detective to follow him. This led them to the near claustrophobic space in the wall that led to a hidden room not shown in the house’s initial schematics.
Then they hit pay dirt.
Barrels upon barrels of Toxin had been stashed atop one another, stored in secret no doubt to be distributed either in bulk, sold in readily-made syringes or, as Hart noticed lastly, in the form of the monkey pills. There were enough drugs there for Paul to make a small fortune if he sold it all.
“Looks like we got ourselves a winner, boys” Hart smirked.
///
Days Later…
Natalie, Peyton and Joanne found happiness in the fact they could finally have lunch together after so long. To them, it felt like months, but the reality was they hadn’t had such a moment as this for over a year. Natalie was especially happy about this, having lunch with friends and family in the plaza as though it were her first time - nervous but pleased.
“So Joanne, I hear you’ve ramped up your workouts these last few weeks.” Natalie sipped her orange juice slowly, savouring its flavour. Most people would take a beverage so simple for granted, but Natalie’s life had been nothing but ‘monkey pills’ for so long that she’d forgotten what it tasted like. In a sense, she felt like a newborn. Everything felt, sounded and tasted new to her. To finally be free of the pills and Paul was a true sense of liberation. “You certainly look it.”
“Don’t I?” Smiling, Joanne raised her arms up into a flex, boasting a softball-sized bicep, artistically crafted as though from the finest marble, a cute layer of veins running the length of each limb. “All natural and ready to rock the stage by early October. You wanna come?”
Of course, what Joanne said about being natural was a lie. She’d been taking the monkey pills behind Natalie’s back for the last few days, making sure to keep her dosage in check so she looked like she was training naturally and not going as far as Natalie had. At least not yet. For all what Natalie had been through, she was surprisingly blind to Joanne’s growth.
“Be in the audience? Sure, I’ll be there. Me and Peyton both.” Natalie smiled, pleased with herself in the fact she was able to forge a social life.
One she was intent on keeping.
FIN
-
This was a great story. A real narrative with muscle growth woven in and not the main plot line like some of the other stories on the forum. I loved it. Keep up the great work, A.