There was a *POLL* at the start of this topic:
(https://t20.pixhost.to/thumbs/186/73073316_poll.png) (https://pixhost.to/show/186/73073316_poll.png)
It was started over a year ago; it may not have been
necessary to save it. It's also not clear to which "Chapter 11" it refers. There's no time
now to research where it belongs. I would request if Members decide to add a *POLL* then
1] set a time period, AND 2] go back and remove it when it's over. Thnx
~Mod E15R91F
Stories in this collection:
Brewed
Peeping Tom
Interview With A Mass Monster
Project Artemis
Outsized By Your Sister
Interview With A Mass Monster
Roid Monster
Brewed
Written and edited by Amnoartist
_____________________________________________
Chapter 1: Put The Kettle On
Adam wasn't at all that happy. If all the places he wanted to be, where he was right now wasn’t one of them. He'd rather stay at home to play games, ‘hang’ with his girlfriend Cassie and watch TV. But the wheel of fate truly hadn't spun in his favour on this occasion.
“But Mum, you have no idea how bored I’ll be here” Adam complained. He hoped his Mum Heather would see reason. If she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave him with his grandmother, Florence. That wasn't to say Adam didn't love her, or she him. It was just…there really was quite a difference in age between them both, and with that came the occasional contrast in opinion about various things.
“Don’t be silly, Adam. You and your grandmother will get on just fine.” Heather could see the distraught look on her son’s face all too well. Heather wished she could take him with her, but as with them all, it was against her company’s policy to allow employees to take their children with them to important investors’ meetings. Especially when said meetings just so happened to be abroad. So in spite of his boredom that would stem from staying with them, Adam would need to stay at his grandparents’. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ll spend most of your time with your Grandfather making those models. Right?”
Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m not eight anymore, Mum.” He turned to peer through the glass in the hallway door that led into his grandparents’ living room, where Florence was sat on her chair cheerily knitting away, making who knows what, and Albert Adam’s grandfather sat on the large couch, sipping his coffee as he watched the football game, occasionally spouting the odd swear word here and there. They truly were like a standard geriatric couple.
Adam was insistent, regardless. “Mum, please, take me back to the house. I’ll watch Charlie and the house and do the chores until you come back.” Frankly, Adam was desperate, knew boredom would creep up on him like a stalking, predator animal. But the face his mother expressed suggested she just wasn't impressed with his pleading. But she had an ultimatum, an ace up her sleeve. One he wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Look. If you can ‘survive’ here for the two days I’m supposed to be away”—Heather reached into her handbag and whipped out two £10 notes—“I’ll double your pocket money when I come back.”
In essence, Adam was being bribed by his own mother. Sure, it wasn’t the first she did it. Adam was initially going to accept her offer, but thought better of it first. He crossed his arms. “For how long?” His brow was raised, suggesting curiosity.
“If—and only if—you do this; you can consider it permanent.” Heather saw Adam’s curious, curved brow rise higher. “But if I get a phone call from your Grandmother saying you’re causing trouble, I’ll half your pocket money. That sound fair to you?”
Adam had a lot to think about. If his pocket money were doubled, he could finally buy Cassie that ‘little’ necklace she’d been badgering about that was on sale. But if the money were halved, his chances of getting the necklace would be like that too. But the fact remained he would only get the money of he stayed with his grandparents for the weekend. “Yes.”
Heather smiled at her son, passing the two £10 notes over to him, happy he took the enticing offer she presented to him. “Thank you. Now”—she put her hand on the knob of the living room’s door, but didn't open the door itself—“Do you remember the instructions I gave you before we arrived here?”
Adam rolled his eyes. His mother had repeated the instructions often enough within the last hour, they were basically imprinted into his brain by now. “Yes. Do anything Gran asks of me; if she asks me to make her a cup of tea, make sure it’s to her preference; and be a good boy.” The last instruction was what stung Adam the most. It sounded like he was a bad person at heart and still acted like a child. His mother knew he wasn't. It was just that his grandparents would better confide with him if he acted as instructed: like a good boy.
Heather smiled at Adam again, pulling the living room door open. “I’m heading off now, Mum.” She announced, peering over to Florence, who smiled in turn as she pulled herself up from the chair. Age was starting to get to her, but she was a giddy soul.
As always, Albert was too focused on the football match to give a proper farewell to his daughter, the hope of his favourite team winning the match. While not much of a football fan himself, Adam had eavesdropped on the match while his Mum and Grandmother chatted away about all kinds of things. His Grandfather’s team was already down one man and had overshot a penalty, not to mention losing one-nil to the opposing team.
“You be safe over there Heather.” Florence gave Heather a tight, warm hug, then a parting kiss on the cheek.
Heather laughed softly, rubbing her spine as she pulled away from her mother. “I’ll be fine. It’s just an investors’ meeting in the States.” It was only then that fact finally hit the woman. She’d never been at an investors’ meeting before, nor had she been in the States. Sure, she’d spent a great deal of time preparing for that moment, but it wouldn’t be enough. She’d just have to power through the stress.
Heather’s car beeped as its doors unlocked, on cue with the cheers from her father in the living room.
“Looks like his team finally scored.” Florence laughed.
Heather climbed into the car and buckled her seatbelt. She heaved a breath. The future she worked for rested on her shoulders, weighing her down, but she still managed to offer Adam that final, loving smile she drove off.
---
“Here’s your room, Adam”—Florence pulled the door open, revealing the bedroom behind it, which was adorned in the same childish wallpaper from all those years ago. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but also what Adam had to live with for the next two days—“Just the way you left it.”
Adam made a few noteworthy observations about his bedroom, aside from the wallpaper: his bed was still the same from years’ past, meaning it was now too small for him to sleep in properly; there was no TV, so now he was going to be even more bored than he already was; and there was a random weight set in the corner of the room. It was considered random because it wasn't there the last time Adam slept there. Or was it? It had been so long ago since then.
“That was your Uncle Danny’s, you know. Once he got too weighed down by his work, it was stored here.” Florence moved over to the weight set and held one of the dumbbells for just a moment before putting it down again. “I’ll let you into a little secret,” she said, turning back to Adam.
His heart sank, dreading to think what his grandmother could possibly tell him that would be considered a secret. But for the sake of the enjoyment that would come with it, Adam decided to play ball. “A secret?”
Florence nodded. “When it got stored here, it naturally got a little bit dusty from not being used. And you know what I’m like about things getting a little dusty.”
Adam started to regret getting into his grandmother’s little secret, wondering if it wasn't actually going to be worth it, dreading to think, if it were a joke, its punchline would be non-effective.
“So, once they got cleaned up, I decided to play with them a little bit,” Florence continued.
Adam blinked. His grandmother lifted the weights? How old was she again?
She rolled the sleeve of her nightie up, revealing a bicep the size of a small lemon, decorated with vascularity and striations. “Impressive, no? Your grandfather doesn’t know about it because we sleep in separate rooms. Can you imagine his face if he did?”
Adam was, naturally, speechless. Even though they were only the size of lemons, his grandmother had bigger biceps than him! And she was at least twice his age!! “Um…”—he gulped, not quite sure what to say—“I would imagine he’d be quite surprised.”
“No.” Florence now played her trump card, smiling as she pulled her night up to reveal her quads, which were again bigger than Adam’s own – they were almost like nothing but bone in comparison!! “Now he’d be surprised.”
Adam nodded. It was hard to disagree with his grandmother’s statement.
Stressing the point she was trying to make even further, Florence slapped her right quad with all her strength, causing a slight echo to emit across the hallway, before gripping the evidently impressive muscle with the hand she used. A moment of duty-bound, wide-eyed staring from Adam later, Florence shook that same quad with a grin.
She sure was strong and apparently buff for a 65-year-old. Adam dreaded to think what things would be like if she were even bigger.
Florence peered upwards at the clock on the wall. It was 23:45. “Good Lord, would you look at the time! It’s almost bedtime for me.”
Adam smiled in spite of the surprise that still lingered in him. “Good night.”
“Would you like me to tuck you in?” Florence smirked, knowing what she just said would embarrass the life out of Adam. And right on cue, his face turned beet red with embarrassment following her words.
“No. No, I’m fine, thanks.” Adam rubbed his neck. Luckily the window was open, so his flushed face would clear up in time.
Florence laughed with a tooth grin as she headed for the door. “You might want to treat that erection of yours, while I’m gone.” She closed the door with a definitive click just as Adam noticed his erection.
Adam sighed. That was probably the most embarrassing moment in his life. It was a good thing his grandmother wasn't properly blood related to him, else things would’ve been much more awkward for him.
His embarrassment only heightened. Now, Adam was never a big guy and he knew that, but to be outsized by someone double his age was clear grounds for awkwardness. But then he thought about it for clearly. His grandmother was a pensioner, someone who clearly had a lot of free time in her hands, so like Adam she’d end up getting bored from having not done anything to eat up some it.
But then Adam remembered that other problem he’d soon be faced with, turning to the undersized bed. “Damn it.”
---
In the early hours of the next morning, Adam sat on the couch next to his grandmother watching the news. Specifcally, a report about the possibility of pension cuts. It wasn't the most interesting thing on the TV for Adam’s tastes, admittedly, but he knew it was important to his grandmother, or at least women of her age. She wasn't scraping at the bins with what she had for a pension, nor would she even after its potential cuts, but it was still somewhat disheartening to hear.
“Adam, would you mind making me a cup of tea” Florence turned with a grin. They both knew she could do it herself. Florence simply asked Adam to do for her so to see if he was capable of making tea without supervision. That, and she knew Adam was to do everything she asked of him. That wasn't to say she intended to work him like a slave. “Use the new Lotus Blend I got yesterday.”
Pulling himself up from the couch, Adam groaned. Admittedly, he was happy his grandmother asked him to make the tea. There was only so much more of the news he could handle, and it wasn’t much.
Adam crossed the door’s threshold and entered the kitchen. He had to think for a moment. Where did his grandmother keep the teabags again? “Cupboard next to the cooker,” he whispered softly. With the cupboard open, Adam searched within it for the Lotus Blend teabags, but there were all sorts of things in the way: bottles of pills and such.
“Gran, are you sure the teabags are in here? There’s all sorts of sh”—he stopped suddenly, knowing his grandmother wasn't someone who liked profane words—“Stuff in here.”
Florence laughed. “Up top. The Lotus leaf packaging, you can’t miss it.” Being in the kitchen, what Adam was completely unaware of was his grandmother unabashedly flexing her biceps in the living room mirror with boundless energy. “Did you find it?”
“Got it.” Adam whipped out a mug, the sugar and milk as the kettle slowly boiled away. Luckily, he remembered his grandmother liked two spoonful’s of sugar in her tea. He read from the carton of teabags curiously. “’Rejuvenate your body with a blend containing antioxidant ingredients from the mountains of Eastern China.’”
If he forgot and asked her to remind him, Adam would’ve found his grandmother with the bottom of her nightie up, examining her quads and calves.
---
A few moments later Adam returned with the cup of tea and gave it to his grandmother, who was sat on the couch again. The tea itself smelled of mint, filling the boy’s nostril with a powerful stinging sensation.
Adam sat down again, relieved the TV’s channel had been changed over to something somewhat more interesting: a cookery show.
Florence took a sip from her mug. It burnt her lip only slightly, but nothing to take grievance over. “Ahhh.”
“How is it?” Adam was genuinely concerned about how he served the tea. He didn't it himself, he was more of a coffee guy, and his mother was able to make it herself with no issues.
“It’s great, considering it’s my first time drinking it.” Florence feel the warm liquid flow down her throat from swallowing her second mouthful.
Adam was pleased, showing a smile as he watched his grandmother take another satisfying sip, lifting her arm up to drink— Did the fabric of her nightie just shift? No. No, it was just the morning light. He was woken up at 7am, after all.
The nightie moved again, slightly audibly so this time. Florence was oblivious to this, too busy drinking the tea to actually notice what was happening to her. Adam panicked and was going to say something, but— the shifting stopped, almost as if it never happened at all. Maybe it really was the morning light, in the end.
That’ll be the last time I get up this early, Adam said to himself.
Interview With A Mass Monster
by [Amnoartist]
___________________________________
INT. GYM:
Carly, an unnaturally beautiful blonde, exudes confidence as she smiles into the camera, to the side of which, just out of view, is the interviewer. a slight cough comes from him as he prepares his notes and list of questions for Carly. the interviewer's own confidence might be deterred by the fact he didn't expect his guest to be so big.
INTERVIEWER:
Hey, this Chris, and this BTV. Today, I am interviewing one of Britain's up-and-coming bodybuilding starlets: Carly Winnick.
As excitement comes over her, Carly can’t stop herself from giggling energetically at Chris. Predictably, this simple motion causes her traps to flare and ripple. A series of indecipherable mutters come from Chris upon seeing the display.
CARLY:
Thanks, Chris! It’s great to be here.
Chris laughs nervously.
CHRIS:
It says here that you started working out at the age of sixteen. Now eighteen, how does it feel knowing you’re arguably one of the country’s greatest - and biggest - in the world of bodybuilding?
Carly giggles again, although this time her tombstone sized pectorals in turn flex and grind together, seemingly pushing her chest further towards the camera.
CARLY:
It feels great! You know, when I first started working out, I only did it to keep myself fit and healthy. You know? I looked at myself in the mirror one day and something just…clicked.
CHRIS:
And how did your parents and family react to the changes you made to your body? I imagine they were a bit sceptical at first.
CARLY:
They were, yeah, my father especially. He wasn’t all that keen on the idea of anyone - let alone a girl - less than half his age curling the fridge like it was nothing before they turned eighteen.
An obvious gulp comes from Chris as he shifts in his seat, the leather creaking.
CARLY:
But they eventually got used to it. It wasn’t long before they saw the advantages in me being buff. I often helped my Dad jack his car up so he could fix it and stuff. That, plus I uprooted the old tree in our back garden.
Awed murmurs come from behind the camera, Chris sharing in them. Carly offers a knowing smirk.
CARLY:
That was all before I turned eighteen, of course. When that happened, I just seemed to cut myself loose and packed on more and more beef.
Chris coughs to hide his surprise as the distinctive rustling of paper is heard off-shot.
CHRIS:
When competing in your previous bodybuilding show, you measured well into the fifties. This surprised the judges, obviously. What exactly contributes to your growth rate? Genetics? Pure luck? Hormone use? And how big would you say you are now?
Carly offers a scoff, as if to suggest she knew this particular slew of questions would come eventually. She rolls up her sleeve and turns her attention to the near mountain she has for a bicep, decorated with a layer of cute veins, the muscle itself giving a slight rumble as it forms into a peak.
CARLY:
Nothing but genes, Chris. No hormones involved. I can understand why the judges were wary at the time, but the gathering of trophies I have on my mantle proves I had nothing to worry about - then or now.
CHRIS:
How do you maintain energy for a body so large? You must be eating your parents out of house and home, surely?
CARLY:
Heh. Well, let’s just say I eat more in a week than you could over two months.
Chris laughs nervously. A look from Carly suggests he might find her statement hard to believe.
CHRIS:
Humour me. How many calories would you say you consume over the space of a week?
Carly starts to think, taking every factor of her religious diet and workout regime into account, muttering incoherently to herself before a confident grin forms.
CARLY:
If off-season, I’d say I eat around nine hundred thousand calories a day. But when I’m preparing for a show, it’s easily five or six times that. So five million and four hundred thousand calories. I’m not eating my parents out of their food, though. I got sponsorships and deals over the years that see me stocked up throughout the year. I make sure to let them know if I need more.
The camera feed shakes and Carly offers a near girlish giggle upon watching the cameraman struggle to keep himself steady, obviously giddy with either nervousness or excitement. It’s most likely the latter, however. Despite being somewhat moved, Chris manages to maintain his professionalism.
CHRIS:
What’s a typical training day for Carly Winnick? I hear you need some form of an obsessive trait to make it as a bodybuilder. Would you say that’s true?
CARLY:
That’s the thing, Chris. Like I said, it’s all in the genes with me. I don’t really have to train. It—
The camera zooms into Carly’s chest as it starts to bulge, the fabric of her top shifting, moving this and that way in its attempt to keep itself intact, but the knowing grin she displays indicates its all futile, that eventually the top will be no more and her already massive chest will become more so and laid bare for not only the film crew but the general public watching live, worldwide. Eventually, the tightest of her top becomes more apparent as rips of various shapes and sizes start to form, her chest meat literally rippling gently as more beef just somehow starts to pile itself onto the oddly composed girl. It all finished just as soon as it started, ending by way of a definitive rip forming down the centre of Carly’s top revealing her ever-powerful chest.
CARLY:
—just happens.
A seemingly awkward silence follows. How exactly can the interview continue? Millions of people watching it have just witnessed a teenage girl growing in front of their eyes. It will be impossible for them to say it was faked, given it was live. Chris will have to do something that ensures the interview continues. Perhaps he can use the fact Carly just grew to his advantage.
CHRIS:
How often would you say you grow like this? On a daily basis? Weekly? A sort of ‘Time of the Month’ thing?
CARLY:
Honestly, it’s random. Sometimes the spurts are big and can take up to a minute before they settle, others are when they’re just little tremors. The bigger ones hurt and affect every part of my body, while the tremors just make an isolated muscle group larger. What you just witnessed was a tremor.
CHRIS:
And you have no direct influence over these growth spurts? You can’t choose when you want to grow or how big?
Carly shakes her head.
CARLY:
I wish that were different though. If I could either choose when or how big to grow, I’d be bigger than every person in this room combined.
Chris coughs in an effort to hide his surprise, the strategic rustling of paper follows suit.
CHRIS:
Let’s talk about your goals for a bit. As mentioned previously, your arms are already well into the fifties. What about the rest of you? And how big exactly do you want to be?
CARLY:
I’ve made a habit out of measuring myself daily considering I’ve grown overnight a couple of times, so I know most of my current measurements. My biceps are fifty-six inches - sixty if I manage to get a beast of a pump; My chest? Well, it’s hard to say what it is now, but it was seventy-eight before we started; my quads match that size, with absolutely no thigh gap whatsoever…
The camera pans down to Carly’s thighs to examine them. A lattice of veins decorates the pillar-like chunks of she-meat. As she claimed, there is no thigh gap to speak of, but the muscles within them are clearly rubbing together agitatedly, implying they’re building up to something.
CARLY:
My calves are a little bit smaller, unfortunately, but they're still something to behold. a lot of watermelons have been crushed between them too.
The camera changes position, moving to Carly’s right calf as she positions it in such a way that all of its heart-shaped massiveness can be seen. It’s so large that it practically fills the camera’s lens, forcing the cameraman to adjust it. The calf’s definition matches something akin to Da Vinci’s great works. A marvelled gasp comes from Chris, who is clearly surprised by the girl’s muscle.
CARLY:
As for how big I want to be. Meh. I’d rather keep you held in suspense about that.
The film crew chuckles softly, amused by Carly’s optimism The camera pans back to display the full width of Carly’s quads. This was not without intention, however, as she starts growing again; a tremor coursing through her legs as they grind and mash together in their individual attempts to obtain space and outsize one another. But they seem to grow in tandem - as one. It soon becomes clear that her new gains in mass and weight are proving to be too much for the couch she sit in, as it offers both leathery and wooden groans of protest until her massive form finally sinks its full weight into the couch, causing it to crumble.
CARLY:
Oops, sorry about that.
Chris laughs nervously.
CHRIS:
That’s okay.
Carly chuckles energetically. The camera pans round to face the smiling Chris who is blind to the fact the film crew positioned behind him all sport evident erections.
CHRIS:
That’s, unfortunately, all we have time for today. Join us next week as we take a tour of Carly’s home, where she promises to show just how strong she really is! Carly, anything you’d like to add?
The camera pans back to Carly, who concludes the interview the only way she knows how: by pulling her arms up into a front double bicep pose that fills the camera's lens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Outstanding! :bravo:
Love both the muscle size, definition, and strength that Carly seems to have. I voted for a workout with her, but I don't mind seeing her and hopefully some very lucky guy (or girl, your choice) making love. k+!
Well, you know me: I tend to lean towards girl/girl moments, but why not both a guy and a girl? ^_^