*POLL* Juiced [Amnoartist]

[Sicod]

Great job as usual.

[Amnoartist]

Great job as usual.

Thanks man

[muscleboytom]

Wow! just wow...amazing

[Amnoartist]

Wow! just wow...amazing

Heh, thanks

[Amnoartist]

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…”

[Amnoartist]

Put a new poll up to reflect what people may want in a potential sequel.

[ame3cv62]

yep agree like to see the mother get some of that muscle and kick some assholes ass

[ame3cv62]

omg she has a sister also,it would be great if she took some of that candy and kicked those boys asses

[Amnoartist]

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

[jstans]

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.