"Bro, I Told You, There's No Such Thing As Too Big For Me. If I Can Grow, I Will." He Said To His Best

"Bro, I told you, there's no such thing as too big for me. If I can grow, I will." He said to his best friend, gym buddy, and former equal. "If you can't handle that, I suggest you leave."

"I'm turning myself into a freak?... damn right I am. I'm leaving normal people like you behind, ascending to a level of masculinity you can only dream of. My body awash with a constant buzzing of godlike power and fullness."

"So what if we've known each other for 15 years? Oh and now you're crying?... Tsk, I've got all I need right here, just me and my muscles. And soon enough, no distractions. I can't wait to see how big I'll get."

Full Potential

WARNING: This one is pretty dark. If you’re not into that, you may just want to stick to the morph.

Jax stood there and took in the sight of his latest creation. He was constantly in awe of his size and the fact that there was more of it every day. 'The biggest one yet' he internally remarked to himself. He was for sure a far cry from the 100lb twink he picked up at the bar all those months ago.

It was not just by chance that they crossed paths that fateful night. Jax was there with a purpose. To find a man just like him. A man that he can help. He watched him dancing alone in the corner, clothed only in a tight pair of metallic undies and a mesh crop top. His skinny lithe body gyrated with the music lost in his own world.

Jax sat at the bar, casually sipping his drink as he waited for the dancer's eyes to lock onto him. He was impressively built, his tight clothing doing nothing to hide his bulging mass especially his pecs and abs as they popped out of his black t-shirt. He knew once he caught a glance of him that it'd be a done deal. It always does with men like him.

A few drinks later and the dancer is on his way home with Jax for a one night stand. Unbeknownst to his soon-to-be lover, he wasn't just any ordinary man, a fact that would be revealed as they neared his home. What a home it was. Simply put, Jax was loaded. He was a tech billionaire wunderkind. The kind that was already retired in his early 30s. He led what he thought of as the perfect life. Anything he ever wanted he had due to his endless resources and unlike some of his celebrity colleagues of the industry, outside of certain circles he was relatively unknown. A perfect mix for him to pursue his true life's work. Helping men like dancer boi reach their full potential. And to Jax full potential meant one thing, mass and a lot of it.

He could tell his passenger was getting nervous as they pulled up to the opulent circle drive in front of his home. He should be. His life was about to change whether he liked it or not. He was about to push himself in ways he never wanted nor thought possible. Jax and the regime he has been perfecting would make sure of it. Just as his vast fortune would ensure that he was able to keep pushing the bounds of science, legality, and humanity.

Attached to the sprawling complex he called his home was a highly advanced private gym outfitted with every piece of exercise tech you could think of and even some that have never been seen before. Products of his dedicated research and development team like electromagnetically active weights that not only far surpassed the limits of weights provided by standard metals but also adjusted based on feedback gathered from individual using them. Combined with a controlled diet and hypodermic assistance, they allowed for explosive growth.

It was a utopia for any man wanting to put on some serious mass, but not for dancer boi. His face dropped when Jax opened the door. The reveal of the sprawling gym not meeting his expectations of seeing Jax's opulent bedroom, the smell of stale sweat causing him to recoil slightly. Jax looks on a chuckles. It always starts like this with them. That's why he's here, to help them dig down and understand their primal manly needs, something he has come to accomplish with a little light brainwashing... okay heavy brainwashing.

His company had specialized in VR tech, so it was an easy enough proposition. Strapped in the specialized system, he flooded the dancer's mind with images of bodybuilders intermixed with his own physique, combined with stimuli and experimental drugs to seal in the effect. With the mental beating complete, dancer boi took to the workouts and the needle like wildfire. Jax chocked the ease of conditioning and his progress up to either his feeble mind or the potential that he was already secretly primed for growth. His process was so effective that it was hard to tell.

The boi barely even registered anything the first few weeks. By the time he did, he had already put on some serious mass, looking like a jacked fitness model. The mental work done to him left him in no position to put up a fuss, but honestly looking at himself in the mirror now he didn't have a reason to. In fact, he actually kinda liked it, the fullness, the power, but most of all he liked the satisfaction of seeing his captor satisfied in his progress. He felt deeply compelled to keep him satisfied. His devotion and the cocktail of drugs constantly rushing through his system kept results coming that made sure of that.

Just shy of two years later and we're back to where we started, with Jax looking on at his ultimate creation. His body was a work of art and a scientific miracle. He stands there sweating, panting, and red after his most recent workout.

He chuckles as he thinks of what his subject's former self would think of him now if he saw what he would become. He'd surely run away in tears. His boyish face perched on top of his insanely muscled body looked almost out of place, though even it had morphed some with the transformation. He has a dull look on it as he waits for Jax to instruct him on what to do next, both ignoring the elephant (trunk) in the room of his raging hard-on, as is common almost constantly as a side effect of the testosterone and drugs coursing through his veins.

"Flex" Jax commands.

With that he raises his arms first into an explosive double-bi, his muscles vibrating as he pushes his already tired body to the limit to put on the most impressive pose possible for Jax. Moving to a front lat spread, Jax saunters up and takes advantage of the limited field of view he has over his pecs in this pose to sneakily grab his throbbing member and begin stroking. A deep, short moan emanating from above the crest of his chest.

He continues his poses careful not to disturb Jax as he pumps away lest he upset him or put a stop to the euphoria he was feeling. He stops and holds on a vacuum, knowing it's Jax's favorite. As he reaches climax, his breathing gets short and his muscles tense up even more, changing from marble, to granite, to diamond. Sensing he is close, Jax increases his speed and he swings his head back in response as far as his traps would let him. Edging closer, closer, and closer until... *POP*

...The pop however did not come from his cock. No that was rapidly deflating in Jax's hand. The pop came from up higher, deep from within his wall of pecs. It was his heart. All of it simply being too much for it to handle, the mass, the drugs, the workout, and not to mention the hand-job. His limp member is pulled out of Jax's loosened grip as his body begins its fall to the floor. Landing with an earth shattering thud as the weights all around rattle in response.

Jax looks over the ludicrous body he had created, at the man he had just killed. A man that he never even bothered to learn the name of. Past his pecs, he can see his calm face, beaming with happiness, as it always will be. 'Tsk, he was the biggest one yet, it's really a shame,' being his immediate thought. Without a second even beginning to enter his mind, he turns away and walks to the door, wasting no time in heading out to find his next man to help. His staff will ensure the bloated body is gone before he returns, just like they always have, just like they had mere hours before dancer boi arrived, and just like they would next time.

So tell me. Do you need some help reaching your full potential?

Josh

Unlike many, leg day was always his favorite. His blown up quads would get so pumped, already thick veins pulsing with his heartbeat. Slamming his left leg down in front of him, giving them a good flex, he marvels at their sheer size and definition.

While shifting from own leg to the other, he's caught off guard by a subtle crease of the fabric covering the pouch of his otherwise pulled tight underwear. Truth is, there's more fabric than meat down there, his shriveled up cocklet and cherry pit balls a consequence of the heavy drug use he put himself through to get here.

He had the body of his dreams, but was it worth it? He feels a pit of regret form in his hardened core. Instinctively he attempts to bury that thought just like he had all the other times. Rebounding with 'maybe I just need a few more inches on these babies,' he thinks giving them a good shake before hardening them into granite, 'yeah a few more inches and I'll be happy.’

Derek

He stands there trying his best to look casual. His hands tucked into shorts that would look like parachutes on any other man.

There’s absolutely nothing casual about his body, it’s in fact the opposite. Extreme muscles exploding everywhere engulfing him in their size and power.

Jokingly he’ll point to the cross draped across his chest when people ask him how he blew up, quickly followed by “nah, just kidding bro, roids, and a lot of them.”