Brandon Twice
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"Can Alexey Go All 30 Days?"
🕑 Added 2019-11-26 23:44:10 +0000 UTCDay 3
Alexey forgot to weigh himself before it all began. But on day 2, he weighed 268 pounds. That was about right; his weight fluctuated all the time. He looked at himself in the mirror: same big, bulky muscles; same protruding pecs; same rounded, bulging physique. He ran his hands over his distended abdomen. His abs were there (making it look a little like a turtle shell) but they seemed a little obscured. He had a competition in 8 weeks. His coach, an American guy named Reggie, had started dialing his diet in. In two months time a lot of this bloat would evaporate leaving nothing but Alexey’s huge, hard-earned size behind.
The deal was stupid, he reminded himself. It wasn’t possible. Why had he even signed the contract?
“On day one,” Alistair, the guy from “Myocorp Elite” (whatever that company was) had said, “you’ll gain one pound. Day two, you’ll gain two, and so on until day 30 when you gain thirty.”
Alexey had raised an eyebrow and shrugged his huge shoulders. “30 pounds? I mean, that’s like a decent bulk, but that doesn’t sound like too much…”
Alistair continued: “Well, in addition, you’ll also see some reduction of your… manhood.”
Alexey had chuckled, jostled his big basket in the baggy sweatpants he was wearing. Most people thought bodybuilders had little cocks, but not him. He boasted a nice 7 inches when he was fully hard.
“On day 1,” Alistair said, “you’ll see a reduction of your penis, testicles and scrotum by 1%. On day 2, 2%, and so on until day 30, when you see a reduction of 30%. And if you can go all 30 days without ejaculating, you can keep as much of the weight gain as you want. Plus, we’ll boost your junk by as much as you want, up to and including the amount you’d lost by the final day.”
This had seemed ridiculous to Alexey. First, not possible, even though Alistair had presented a very official looking contract and had a very mysterious looking syringe with a dark purple liquid inside. Second, what was the point? 1% of his 7 inches was barely anything. Even 30% by the end, just under a third of his dick length… with such negligible amounts on the line, where was the risk?
But on day 3, Alexey peeked out into the gym (it was mostly dead, just his own coach Reggie chatting with Global Gym’s owner, and a few casual gym-goers going about their business) and then closed the locker room door and turned the deadbolt. He stripped off his sweatpants and took a look at his body nude. Impressive, he thought. Just as always. He flexed his arms, popping his massive lats. Just this sight was enough to shame most men, even men into bodybuilding, into leaving the room. He was a genetic freak who had been cultivating an unreal physique for most of his life.
He looked about the same, he thought. But what most interested him was his cock. Doublechecking that he had, in fact, locked the door, he started jerking his dick with his big meaty hand. He pumped it a few times until it got hard (a stiff breeze could get Alexey to full mast, a fact he was always proud of) and took a look at it. It looked the same, he thought. He held his cock in his hand. It seemed to be about the same as before. He played with his balls, a little on the small side (the unavoidable side effect of steroids) but they were just as they were before the contract, before Alistair had injected his dark mysterious liquid into Alexey’s big lat.
He was lucky he hadn’t been poisoned, he thought. Maybe he was a little too cavalier about taking injections offered at the gym, but he realized it was unbelievably dangerous to let this guy (a stranger, despite the months of correspondence to finally lock down a meeting with Alexey) inject him with an unknown substance.
Reggie would, no doubt, lecture him about this. It was all foolish. He had a copy of the contract in his gym bag; he considered shredding it. There was no way it was real.
Then he heard someone banging on the locker room door. He quickly yanked up his sweatpants and unlocked it. An angry, average-sized man stood there.
“Sorry,” he said in his thick accent. “Sometimes I just need a little… extra room, as you can see.” He gestured to his big body and chuckled as the man’s eyes went wide.
Day 7
“This is fucked,” Reggie said as he read the numbers on the scale: 293 pounds. “Where is all this weight coming from? What are you, cheating on your diet all the sudden?”
Alexey just shrugged. A week in and he was almost 300 pounds! His roidgut stood out much more prominently, his abs completely obscured by a layer of fat. It looked like he’d packed an extra inch on every one of his muscles, then an inch of softness as well.
Reggie was beside himself. “I mean, c’mon, man, you don’t pay me what you pay me just to go and cheat on your diet?” he asked as he slapped his hand on Alexey’s massively protruding lat. The big man stepped off the scale. He had a distinct waddle to his gait now. It looked like his mass was starting to get in the way of his movements. Had this been a bulking phase, Reggie would probably have recommended some yoga to increase his range of motion, but since they were leaning, Reggie was simply out of ideas.
“There’s, maybe,” Alexey began, staring down (not at his feet, of course, since he couldn’t see them; but at the shelf of pecs that ballooned out in front of him). “I guess there’s something you should know about.”
He told Reggie about Alistair, and the purple substance. He produced the contract from his bag and held it forth in his pudgy, sausage-sized fingers.
Reggie shook his head. “I mean, it’s impossible,” he began, “but then again, fucking look at you! Like you’ve hit two buffets every day. You’re almost 300 pounds in a week. How the fuck could you agree to this?”
Alexey shrugged. His traps were so blown up, they seemed to swallow his head as they flexed. “I didn’t think it was real,” he started, “and I didn’t think it would be that much weight.”
“What’s this about your cock?” Reggie said with an eye raised. “Is that shrinking too?”
“I don’t know,” Alexey admitted. He patted his thick roidgut with his beefy hands. “I mean, it feels the same, but… I can’t really see it.” He failed to add that he could have used a mirror, but was too afraid to look.
“Well, I’m your coach. Let’s see if there’s any shrinkage down there. See if there’s any truth to all this nonsense.” Alexey fumbled with the drawstring to his sweatpants; it was hard for him to reach in front of himself now. Reggie helped, stripping the massive man nude from the waist down.
“I mean, it’s tough to tell,” Reggie said as he surveyed the area. “I mean, you’re so fucking big--like 30 pounds bigger in the past week, man!--that I can’t really tell if you’re smaller or if the rest of you is just bigger.”
Alexey blushed. “But… I do look smaller?” he said, a note of panic in his voice.
Reggie shrugged. “I dunno, can you get hard? We could measure, if you really want to know.”
Alexey tried his best to get his massive, blown-up arms around his immense torso. It was a struggle, and he kept having to switch hands. He noticed Reggie covering his mouth as the big man grew red-faced and out-of-breath as he struggled to get himself hard.
“We may need to get you a hooker,” Reggie said as he pulled a tape measure from his bag.
“No!” Alexey said. “I can’t ejaculate for 30 days!”
Reggie put his hands up. “Whoa whoa, big guy, just calm down. I was just kidding.” He dropped to his knees, disappearing beyond the protruding chest mounds that blocked his view of everything beneath him.
“Well, what do you usually have?” Reggie asked. “Cuz I’m getting just over 5 inches.”
Alexey’s face burned red. “It’s… uh… getting smaller…” he said quietly. “Pull up my pants. Now!”
On one hand, the order barked from the massive man was an intimidating shout. On the other, it made his helplessness even more evident.
“Well, shit,” Reggie said. “I’ll call the company and see how we can negotiate around this. I think there may be a legal loophole or something. But until then, we’ll just ride it out. Once all this is done, you’ll still have 4 weeks until your show. We could use this to our advantage! Hop up on the scale again. I just want to see something.”
Alexey waddled forward and stood on the scale. “What’s it say?” he asked, entirely unable to look down.
“293,” Reggie said, “but stay there for a few… more… seconds…”
Alexey’s eyes went wide as he saw his whole body suddenly bloat in the mirror. It was unmistakable: every inch of him puffed out just a little bit like he had a bellows up his ass. “What the fuck?” he said, his chubbier cheeks wobbling.
“Just as I thought,” Reggie said. “It just turned midnight, and you just jumped up 8 pounds. I’ll be damned.”
Day 14
A crowd gathered as Alexey deftly squatted 765 pounds for 15 reps. A cheer erupted at the final rep, as the massive bodybuilder took a few steps forward and dropped the weight.
Alexey was just a meteor of mass now. His face looked ridiculous: nearly a perfect sphere, chubby mass swallowing up his normally cute boyish facial features, while the rest of his massive body made the head look small as a grape.
The rest of him was absurdly massive. That morning he’d weighed in at 370 pounds. The clothes Reggie had bought for him two days before were stretched to their limit. “I may just invest in some muu-muus for you to wear soon,” Reggie had joked when his oversized lats started to tear through seams in the XXXXL jersey he had given Alexey. “Or just give you a loincloth and have you go around naked.”
Alexey strutted around proudly after the set, impressed by the fact that moving so much weight had been pretty much effortless. A little guy, a lightweight powerlifter who had expressed admiration for Alexey before this crazy contract had begun, rolled his eyes and said, to his friend but loudly enough for Alexey to hear, “Yeah, I could move that much weight too if I only moved it two inches.”
Truthfully, his body was getting so big that it was harder and harder for him to lift. As he squatted, his massive ass, plus his overblown quads and hamstrings, all competed for space as he went down as far as he could go. He wanted to prove to the little pipsqueak that he was, in fact, stronger than he’d ever been (perhaps the strongest man alive, now) but then he caught a glimpse of his physique in the mirror: he was just a massive lump of mass, like some photoshop of a bodybuilder. There were no fine details in his physique, just pumped up thickness and mass. There seemed to be just as much fat on his frame as there was muscle.
In the locker room, alone, he placed a hand on his pec; it felt solid. He flexed it to remind himself that it was a gigantic muscle and not a pile of flab. Then he pressed his hand against it, watching it sink in to the layer of softness over the muscle.
Reggie followed him into the locker room. “Look, big guy, if you ever want to retire from bodybuilding I think you could have a hell of a career as a powerlifter. I’m guessing whatever they shot you up with isn’t exactly legal, or even known by regular science, so you could probably take down a few strongman competitions before they figured out something weird was going on.”
Alexey fumed. Reggie never seemed bothered by all of this. He had called MyoCorp Elite and verified that this situation was temporary, that all Alexey had to do was get through 30 days without ejaculating and he would get to keep as much of the weight as he wanted (meaning he could lose all the flab and keep the muscle, Reggie had learned). But this was Alexey’s body; his pride and joy! The other day he saw a picture of him on MuscularDevelopment.com that said, “It looks like Alexey Lesukov was served up in a mashed potato scoop.” He was tired of being a laughing stock.
“I’m a bodybuilder!” Alexey barked. “And I’m tired of being treated like a joke. And to be honest, I don’t know why you insist on me continuing training even though you know I’m going to keep growing no matter what we do!”
Reggie wagged a finger. “Look, we stick to our program, no matter what. I wasn’t the one who got shot up with tiny nanobots that are rearranging my DNA or whatever. That was you. You’re lucky I didn’t drop you as soon as you did that. So if we’re under my program, we do as I say. Got it?”
Alexey knew he was over 100 pounds bigger than he had been two weeks before, and immensely stronger. He could one-hand Reggie through the wall if he wanted to. But Reggie was his coach, and he had a point.
“Fine,” Alexey said. “What’s next?”
“Posing practice,” Reggie said. “You haven’t rehearsed posing in a few days and you have a competition in 6 weeks. You need to be honed and sharp, big man. No excuses.”
Alexey gestured toward his body. “You want me to pose, like this?! I can barely move!”
“Think of it as running with a parachute on,” Reggie said. He reached into his gym bag and pulled out a little slip of green fabric. “I keep having to adjust your posing trunk size. It’s difficult to get enough material to get around that massive ass while keeping it snug in the front. That cock is tiny as hell nowadays!”
Alexey was starting to get used to this abuse. It was his own fault, he reminded himself. It had been silly to sign the contract, to get shot up with a mysterious drug. Reggie helped him out of his clothes, then he hoisted his buffalo-sized legs in the air as Reggie slid the posing trunks over them. When they were on, Alexey looked in the mirror.
He looked like a pale blimp in the vague shape of a muscle man. His posing trunks looked even smaller against the background of his massive, blimped out body.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reggie said as he ran his hands over Alexey’s protruding back muscles, resting on the lats which seemed to span four feet from the end of one to the other. “Sure you’re getting chunky as hell, but your muscles are growing too. Just focus on what this is all going to look like when it’s over: keep the muscle and lose the fat. Damn, you’re going to blow minds!”
Alexey focused on his goal, then waddled out the door. He heard snickering as he lumbered toward the posing dais. The six-inch steps nearly vexed him. He had to focus, back up, then hoist his overblown legs into the air with all his might just to get up them. He was out of breath just from climbing the four stairs.
“Guy looks like a powerlifter and an elephant had a baby!” somebody chuckled.
“Jesus Christ, his whole body’s just one big bicep now! Like a big bicep wrapped in pudding.”
“Ignore them,” Reggie said as Alexey got on the stage. He went through his poses as best he could, blushing as he struggled toward the simplest moves: front double biceps, side chest. His own size was getting in his way. Plus, his feet were so wide apart that his balance was off. One false move and he would topple to the ground; it would take four guys to get him back on his feet.
“Holy shit, where’s his cock?” someone said loudly.
“Ignore them,” Reggie repeated, but Alexey couldn’t. Reggie had measured that morning: he was less than 3 inches long. His dick wasn’t just getting shorter; it was shrinking proportionately. What was worse, despite its reduced size it seemed to have the same number of nerve-endings. Just the feeling of his little dick rubbing around in the silky green posers was making his eyes pop. His little dinky shot to its full (almost) 3 inches. Still, the miniscule tenting was barely visible to the onlookers.
“Check it out!” someone said behind Alexey. “His ass is like a shelf!”
He turned his neck as much as his enormous traps allowed him. In the mirrors, he caught a glimpse of his humongous glutes, expanding behind him as wide as a car bumper. Someone had set four full protein shakers on it like it was a table. He wiggled his big behind and they all toppled to the ground. More laughing ensued.
“I’m done,” Alexey said, waddling toward the door as Reggie tried to console him.
Day 21
“Okay now,” Reggie said, “do thirty curls with this one.” He had to walk around Alexey’s body and set weights in his hand. The dumbbell he hoisted around was 110 pounds, a struggle for Reggie to carry but no match for Alexey’s massive strength. The unbelievable giant curled the dumbbell easily, for 30 reps. He was sweating, but only because he always sweat. He was nearly 500 pounds of human. With even the smallest effort Alexey’s body would get soaked and salty.
“I don’t understand,” Alexey said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Why keep doing this? Why not just let me grow until it’s over?”
“Because I have a theory,” Reggie said as he dragged the massive dumbbell to the door. “I think if you keep working out, despite your limitations, the end result will be even better. But that’s enough for today. Let’s get you in the pool and get you cleaned off.”
Every step was an effort for Alexey. As every part of him had bloated out with size, his height hadn’t increased at all. 500 pounds on 5’7” was absurd, as Alexey reminded Reggie daily. “I don’t even want to imagine what it’s going to get up to.”
His arms and legs were pretty much permanently stuck out from his sides; he felt like a big bloated starfish. Since lying down wasn’t comfortable (his relatively tiny head would suspend in midair, due to the massive pile of mass beneath him) he would sleep sitting up. At midnight, more weight would pack on, now over 20 pounds a day. The wall he normally slept against was starting to form cracks, the paint chipping.
Every step was an effort for Alexey. He did his best to put one foot in front of the other without falling down. He worried about crashing through the floor of his apartment into the room underneath. “Okay now, big dog,” Reggie said as Alexey got all of his bulk into the kiddie pool.
“Now, arms up!”
Alexey tried to lift his arms as much as his bowling-ball-sized delts would allow. He felt the water from the hose cooling his oversized and overheated body. It was a relief. Alexey needed Reggie’s help with pretty much everything nowadays. He didn’t like eating, just because he knew it would lead to difficult and humiliating bathroom episodes later.
“I’m going to be taking you to my house today,” Reggie said as he slapped Alexey’s gigantic body. “You can stay in the garage. We’ll feed you out there, make sure you’re taken care of. Just over a week until this is over, big man. Just over a week.”
“What happens,” Alexey said as Reggie towelled his body dry, “if I cum before it’s over?”
Reggie shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Never considered it as an option. We’re gonna see this through, big guy. Don’t you worry. I know it’s getting hard now, but… trust me. When this is done, we’ll be fine.” They wrapped a series of pinned-together towels around Alexey’s huge body like a sumo-loincloth, the only thing it made sense for him to wear (even though his dick was less than an inch long now--and only when hard; it was nearly impossible to see when soft).
Alexey nodded (as much as he could). Later Reggie guided him to his truck. The neighbors stared (as they always had, although Alexey still wasn’t used to it) as two of Reggie’s other clients helped to lift the bloated muscleman into the bed of the truck. The metal creaked as he got in. Reggie worried the engine would give out towing so much weight around, but he still drove Alexey to his new home.
Day 29
It had happened by accident. On the 27th day, Alexey’s body blew out to 616 pounds. There was no way the massive man could move now.
His body composition had changed, however. In the days following the third week, the gains had been nearly entirely muscle tissue. There was no way he could move at his immense size, of course (he looked like a bloated tick in the shape of a cartoonishly muscle mass) other than wiggling his fingers and toes, but Reggie tried to keep his spirits up by showing him that his abs were showing. He was less spherical now, starting to resemble a man with a V-taper again, but the turtle-shell on his front protruded so far he couldn’t hope to touch his own belly button.
“Imagine a starfish stuffed with muscles,” Alexey heard Reggie saying to someone on the phone one day. “That’s what he looks like. Totally immobile, but he looks like the ultimate bodybuilding ideal.”
Reggie got some equipment to hoist Alexey into the air; all that weight crushing him into the ground was starting to bruise him. Harnesses fit around his arms and legs and held him aloft. He felt like human cattle.
It happened so incidentally Alexey almost didn’t realize it. He had been shifting in his harness and his tiny cock, which was a nearly inscrutable little dot on his expanse, muscle-bloated groin, rubbed against the harness. The “orgasm” was so short he barely noticed it; all of his inhuman musculature pulsed for a moment and he felt a moment of pleasure. If he came, it was so little that it would take an investigative team to find it.
Then something happened. Alexey felt his body start to tingle all over. When Reggie finally got Alistair on the phone, he explained it as, “Alexey’s DNA finally solidifying in this form.”
“We’re going to sue,” Reggie said as he patted Alexey’s bloated face. “We’ll sue them and we’ll get you back to normal size--or, normal enough for you,” he said. Alexey’s head was so overpopulated with thick muscle that he could barely open his mouth to speak. He could only whimper through pursed lips. Reggie patted the blocky, hypermuscular face and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
“In the meantime,” Reggie explained, “we have to raise money somehow. So… I know this is dehumanizing and all but just imagine it’s a celebration of your muscles!”
There were people working around Alexey, attaching things to his body, sewing fabric around him making adjustments. Of course, Alexey was helpless to the onslaught of attention. He couldn’t even move his head enough to see.
When they were finished, Reggie stepped back and wheeled in a gigantic mirror. Alexey saw his absurdly huge body dressed in a Superman costume. The harnesses had been adjusted so it looked like he was flying. The tightness of the costume showed off his shamefully tiny manhood: his groin looked smooth. The miniscule penis barely made a noticeable lump even in skin-tight spandex.
Worst of all, Alexey couldn’t say anything to the people who paid to gawk at him and take their pictures with him. All he could do was hope that Reggie could undo all of this. There was no way this could be his life from now on.
