How big is too big? Candice thought to herself as she frowned at her reflection in the mirror.
Not an altogether impossible question to answer, depending on who you asked. The average passerby would give you a different answer than the gymrat or the professional bodybuilder, but Candice was none of these, truly. In the most basic sense, yes, she was a bodybuilder, but it was more apt to call her a mass monster.
The twenty-six year old beauty, with dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes had devoted many of her waking hours since she had turned eighteen to building her body, obsessively. Like many obsessions it had started out as a hobby, to stay trim in college, but as her body adjust and started to pack on muscle at what could be considered an alarming rate, she grew a little more attached to the idea of “big”. Her genetics were great, and she was one of those rare individuals that managed to keep an even routine because she didn’t really have any “weak” points in her physique. She definitely had her favorites but knew for the sake of symmetry, at least back then, that she couldn’t really have any true favorites.
That was back then, though.
Her obsessiveness with training had eventually, inevitably led her to PEDs. Steroids. Something to get that extra edge. She had of course competed before she was properly introduced to them, and had done very well, but even as a large natural competitor at the ripe age of 21, she just wasn’t able to compete with the geared crowd. So she vowed to not let that be an obstacle again.
So since then she had grown alarmingly. Bigger than anyone thought a woman could be filling up space until there wasn’t anywhere for the muscle to expand. Still possessing amazing symmetry and proportions, she was most likely the biggest woman alive, and smaller than only a few choice men. And as much as she loved it there were two problems in particular that irked her.
The first was clothing. And that was why she frowned at herself. Standing in front of a full length mirror in nothing but a drawstring bikini bottom, she held the remains of an over-large t-shirt in her hands, destroyed in her attempts to get dressed so she could leave her apartment with some respectability. Not that it would have mattered much, given her muscularity, her pectorals, stacked like two meaty steaks on her highly sloped ribcage, leaving no hint that there were ever breasts of any kind. Trying to stretch even a triple-XL shirt over her shoulders and chest had split it in half!
She balled up the fabric and tossed it into a rather large trash bin that was almost full in the corner, the remains of discarded, destroyed pants and shorts and shirts just from the last week, her most recent growth spurt having exceeded her expectations and pretty much ruining all of her wardrobe save for her largest clothes.
And yet, she still wanted to be bigger. Reaching around the back of the mirror she pulled out two like-sized panels to make a three-sided mirror, adjusting the panels so that they were at an angle, allowing to her to see parts of her body just by glancing. As she turned and twisted her muscles rippled under her chocolate- colored skin. She curled her arm up at her side, her bicep growing and peaking just from the action of curling.
Should I grow it, she thought. Could I? I know I want more but part of me things twenty-two inches is enough. The rest of me just wants more!
Shifting her arms a little bit, she kept her bicep flex as she crunched down on her obliques, spending some moments stretching and flexing them, admiring their musculature, each oblique thicker than two of her fingers. Using her unflexed arm she groped at the pec nearest the mirror, giggling to herself as she realized she could barely budge it to see the top portions of her abs, not like normal bodybuilders that many times had to lift up overlarge implants to show the judges their development.
She relaxed and shook herself out, bouncing her pecs a little bit as she did so, the heavy muscle bunching and rising, almost hitting her chin with the hard muscles. Veins were starting to pop all over her body—it was still early and she was dehydrated, and thick veins spidered along her expansive chest, spreading to her shoulders and down to her arms, which she now pumped at her sides. She stood on her tip-toes, flexing her calves and quads, smiling as they blew out and to the sides. Really, they could be bigger, couldn’t they? I mean, it was only a matter of buying bigger clothes....maybe she should just shop at the far stores from now on...
Now back on her flat feet, she turned to the side to admire her glutes. Her ass. Her bubble booty. A cursory search on the internet told her that people loved her butt most off all and, truthfully, even before she had turned into a mass monster it was already round and muscular. All the weight training and steroids had transformed it to a work of art.
Even standing up strait, her glutes were so big, unflexed, that it was entirely possible to put different objects on her butt without them sliding off the back—a request she seemed to get on a hourly basis but had only fulfilled once for her thousands of fans. Unlike the rest of her physique, which seemed to be in a permanent state of shred even when she was just standing around, her glutes were always smooth—filled with bulging muscles, but never dry like the rest of her. It had always been a blessing and a curse, drawing a lot of attention but making it impossible to find clothes, and now that she also had gigantic quads and hamstrings that task was even more difficult.
Living on the beach had its advantages, and she was able to get away with a bikini bottom most days. Most days, in fact, that was all she wore as she worked from home, but she did have to shop for food and things and new clothes, which were
hard to order online. Of everything on her physique, this was the thing that definitely didn’t need to be bigger or more muscular....and yet, she wanted to make it bigger, harder, stronger.
Most mornings started like this, waking up and catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, get distracted from whatever she was doing, and spend several minutes staring at herself in the mirror, wishing herself bigger, long enough that she started imagining, hallucinating even, her larger frame as she stared at her bulging, obscenely muscular physique.
Twenty five inches? Twenty seven? Foot deep pecs? A back that could fill a doublewide door? She wanted it and more. Her hunger was insatiable but she knew that it would take time, and with it would come some maybe unwelcome side effects, but to be that big? She shivered with excitement.
Her phone rattled on her end table, the alarm going off that was supposed to be her reminder to head home from the store to start her cooking....and here she was nearly naked, not even close to having some kind of outfit on, and now she was way late. She sighed as she grabbed her phone to disable the alarm and tossed it on her bed, turning back to the mirror to look at her burgeoning physique. Well, it wasn’t really a huge waste of time, was it? Looking back at the time, she bit her lip and rolled her eyes, heading to a bag of fresh clothing in the closet and rummaging around for a XXXL top she had managed to find just this week.
With a little bit of difficulty, she was able to pull the shirt over her massive shoulders and chest, the “sleeves” barely covering her melon-sized deltoids, the hem of the shirt not even reaching the middle of her abdominals, inches away from her skin because her chest pushed the shirt out from her stomach, the logo that was on the front distended past its original form. She reached up and back to tie her hair in pony tail, already feeling the restriction of the seams around her shoulders and down her sides. She’d have to make sure that she didn’t make any sudden movements, just the other day this top had had a bit of breathing room but since them she had put on pounds of muscle.
Back in the bag she pulled out a very large sash—no reason to accidently destroy a pair of actual clothes for a quick store run, she tied the sash around her waist to cover up a bit, but even then her fantastic ass was only half covered by the fabric. She made a note to herself to find something bigger next time.
She grabbed her phone and small wallet and placed them snugly in her pectoral cleavage, careful not to crush them and headed out to the store, daydreams of bigger muscles running through her mind as she sauntered down the street, blissfully unaware that a soft wind was blowing up the back of the sash and exposing her bulbous glutes for all to see.
A few weeks later, while absentmindedly doing concentration curls with one of the spare eighty pound dumbbells she kept lying around the house, Candice was doing her usual search through the internet, looking for various things: articles about bodybuilding, interviews with pro athletes, rumors about an absurdly large woman in her city, things like that. She lazily clicked on links with her free hand, not totally certain as to how many curls she had done or would be doing, but she was nearing the start of a pretty good pump as she browsed.
Suddenly, she got a pop up notification from her email account, a message from one of her trusted sources of steroids that she kept in contact with to keep her supply intact. They had met way back when, when she was just a gangly girl with a lust for growing. Things had changed, a lot, and she depended on him to keep her up to date with the newest developments in steroid science. She opened the email to find his message.
Got a new experimental drug to try out—no one’s had it before. Got it from a good buddy at the lab. Do you want to try? Meet me at the usual spot.
Candice’s face was flush with excitement as she read his message. It had been a while since she had tried something new and unknown. She unconsciously started to curl the dumbbell in her opposite hand faster, biting her lip as she imagined the possibility of getting over her current plateau of muscle building. The two had a prearranged meeting routine—always the same place and the same amount of time after her confirmation. She replied quickly, the response taking minutes longer as she now had switched hands with her dumbbell, and was trying in vain to type with her pumped arm, her football sized bicep throbbing with veins.
The meeting was later that evening, and she had plenty of time to pump up and impress. She hadn’t seen Terry in a while and she had grown quite a bit. Tossing her dumbbell to the matted floor, she walked over to the dumbbell rack—there wasn’t a dumbbell lighter than eighty on the whole stretch, and they went up to two hundred a piece—and plucked out a pair of 150s, thinking about the full body workout that she was about to put herself through, just for the pump.
She didn’t really have the supplies at home to give herself a proper workout, there were hardcore gyms she went to for those particular urges, but the weights she had at home were enough to sate the occasional desire she had to get a seam-busting pump, especially if she was about to go out. Since they weights weren’t heavy she had to go for reps. Dozens of reps per exercise, hundreds of reps in her workout, maybe even eclipsing one thousand. She never knew, never counted, she always just went to failure, it was the only thing that could truly give her a pump. So she started, doing more curls, all kinds of curls, for her biceps, her arms bulging obscenely as her pump took hold.
She grunted as she hoisted the huge dumbbells up to her shoulders and started to press the dumbbells up overhead, her body fighting against the massive weights overhead as she pressed with one purpose, to get the pump of her life. Once again, she didn’t count reps so much as try to count the pain that was ramping up in her muscles as she continued to pump until failure, her shoulders and forearms becoming grossly pumped as she toiled away, rivers of sweat flowing down her naked body.
Finally finished, she squatted down and rolled heavily on her back and started doing agonizingly slow pec flies, slowly changing the angle of her arms with every few reps to make sure she hit every inch of her muscular cleavage, the hardest part to train. She had to squeeze hard with every rep before she really started feeling the burn. She lay on the floor for what seemed like an hour working her chest, by far her favorite part to train, where she had achieved the most muscular endurance.
She dropped the 150 pound dumbbells to the mat with a loud thud and contracted her abs to sit up. Turning her head, she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her bloated pecs in the reflection. They were massive, pumped, thick enough that if she had wanted to, she could perch a few glasses of water on the top of each pec and sip away to her heart’s content—and they weren’t even flexed. She curled an arm up to her side, the bicep peaking as she flexed, filling the space between her upper and forearms easily with a football sized bicep. Yeah, he would be plenty surprised when he saw.
The next part would be the hardest. She typically went out in as little as possible, but with a pump it would be next to impossible to put on that particular set of clothing. Getting up, she ruffled through her closet to see if anything would work, if she could get anything to even get over her massively pumped shoulders and pecs, but it didn’t like any of it was going to happen. At least, not full coverage.
She had some lingerie, but nothing that she wanted to risk to destruction right now. Really, the only things she had to go with were an overly large pair of shorts she had scored from a garage sale, a pair of flip flops, and an enormous trench coat that, until this point had been a godsend on a few occasions. She sighed. This would have to do. Though she liked to show off, there were still laws to follow and she could easily end up with a pretty expensive ticket.
Fortunately, it was already dusk and she should be able to move around without too much trouble. She might get some stares, but as long as she didn’t move around in the coat too much nothing would break and she would get to the rendezvous with all her clothes and her gnarly pump. The trick at this point would be to get into the coat with her arms and shoulders bloated with blood. There was really only one way to make this happen, something she hadn’t done in years. In kindergarten she had learned how to put on a coat by herself, placing it inside-up, upside down on the floor, bending over and sticking her arms straight into the sleeves and quickly
flipping it over her body. It would keep her biceps from flexing and was the perfect solution.
Well, sort of. It took a few tries. Of course, she wasn’t as small or flexible as she had been as a kid, with mounds of muscle getting in the way with every attempt. After a few minutes of trying it finally worked, and the trench coat fluttered down her wide back. Despite its size, it only came down to her mid thighs, and there wasn’t going to be much leeway in terms of closing it up. She might have to suck it in just a little bit, and she certainly couldn’t accidently flex her pecs...too much.
Turning to the mirror she carefully buttoned the front of the jacket from the bottom up, adjusting herself so that everything would fit without blowing out of the jacked—it took a few minutes to accomplish that feat, and another five to get out of the house because she had to move so carefully. Luckily for her she lived in a one- level loft with an industrial elevator that she could take to the street. Their meeting space was a considerable distance away, but she had a lot of practice fortunately, and was able to traverse the distance in only a couple of hours with a minimum of staring and a only six or seven tears in her coat, along with a popped button after she took a deep breath taking a sneeze, expanding her chest past the limits of the coat and blasting the plastic button through a nearby window.
When she reached the address she knocked on the door as per usual—the windows were dark, which was strange, but maybe he was in a back room. A few minutes later Terry answered, his towering six foot frame filling the dark doorway.
“Hey, Candice, come on in,” he said, backing up and standing to the side as Candice turned to fit her overlarge frame through the doorway. She got a little stuck and had to shimmy to get some momentum. There was a crack as her pecs caught on the door frame and pushed the whole frame out from the wall with her. Terry put his face in his hands and shook his head. Every time she came over it was something but maybe he would have to go to her place from now on. It would save him on repairs, he thought as she gingerly stuck the frame back where it had been and closed the door gently.
“I see you’re growing, as per usual,” he said as they walked through the warehouse space toward the back room. He stopped and looked at her again. “Maybe you should wait out here, I don’t want to have to replace another door frame.”
“Yeah,” she said softly, raising her arms up and flexing her arms and pecs hard simultaneously, blowing the trench coat off of her body explosively. Terry’s eyes just about bugged out of his head—he knew she was hiding something under there but she was probably twice as big as she had been the last time they had seen each other, which was ridiculous.
“Um, wow, well, wow,” he said, resting his hand on the back of his head, “looks like the last batch worked out alright.”
“Yeah, it did, but I got stuck again, even after I started doubling the dosage,” she said, pumping her biceps a few times, the pumped peaks expanding a couple more inches as a thick, marker-sized vein appeared on each arm looking like the Nile River.
“Doubled, what?...Never mind. Well you’ll like this stuff, I’m sure, and you’ll like how you have to take it, as I’m betting you had some trouble with the syringes.” She nodded. “Ok be right back.”
He disappeared briefly into the room and came out with a small case that he easily held in both hands. “I got this fresh from the lab, it’s still out for testing, but seeing as how you’ve been willing to be a test subject so far, they were ok with letting it go.” He opened the top and revealed row after row of penny-sized tablets. That excited her, that would be way easier to take than trying to find a place in her body to stick a needed.
“They’re soluble in liquid, or you can just dissolve them in your mouth too, either way they should be plenty effective.”
“What’s the dosage,” she asked.
“Hard to judge. It’s not the same formula as the last drug, it’s supposed to be three times more powerful with half the dosage, but again, untested.”
“Three times,” she whispered, shivering as she thought of everything she could do with the new drug if she started immediately. “Can I take one right now?”
“Ehhhh I don’t think you should do that. No offense, but you should probably be at home when you take this. This place is loaded with drugs I don’t really need an emergency crew showing up here,” he said. He had a point, she didn’t wanted jeopardize his business which would cut into her gains. He packaged the box in a large paper bag and took his phone out.
“I assume you can’t go home like that,” he said, dialing a number, referring to her mostly nude physique. “I’ll call a guy to pick you up in a van.” He handed her the bag and turned around to speak to someone quietly. Turning to face her once more, he put his phone away. “I gotta go, but my guy will come for you in a few minutes through the garage door.”
She thanked him profusely for the new drug and waited until he left before greedily opening the box, tearing open a package, and taking one of the pills. She seemed to feel instantly stronger, but had no idea if that was for real or not. But she definitely had plans once she got home. The van arrived and picked her up—she could barely fit in the back—and along the way she had this tingly feeling all over, kind of like beta-alanine, but more powerful. She kept quiet but was almost jittery with excitement as she was dropped off and took the agonizingly slow elevator to her
apartment, where she sprinted to the weights and loaded up a barbell with four hundred pounds and started to pump out bench press reps with more speed and explosion than she’d had in a long time. It didn’t take more than fifteen reps before her chest had a pump so intense that when she racked the bar at twenty five reps, she literally couldn’t bench anymore because of the size of her chest, and the fact that it was literally rock hard to the touch, harder than she had ever felt them.
Her chin grazed the top of her pecs as she looked down at them, the muscles expanding now two feet from her chest, and she reached her arms out to caress their sides, her juices starting to flow as their hardness started to arouse her. She had to have more!
She turned to the weight rack and greedily eyed the three hundred pound dumbbells, deciding that she had had enough of a warm up earlier and grabbed them, starting to do curls like a madwoman. Not only did the dumbbells feel heavy in general, but her massive chest pump, and the minor arm pump from benching made it difficult to accomplish her preferred range of motion, but onward she curled, pushing out rep after punishing rep. After a full set she dropped them to the ground and looked astonished at the size of her unflexed arms, which were easily double what they had been cold this morning. Turning to the side in the mirror, getting a good look at how voluminous her pecs were, she flexed her arms at her side and drooled with muscle lust as her peaks expanded and expanded, pushing farther than they had ever gone, going farther, even, than the outermost reach of her pecs, covered in not one, not two, but almost a half dozen huge veins that continued to her forearms and delts.
With extreme difficult from her pump, she brought her arms up to her shoulders and flexed in a double bicep. She was shocked, her arms had to be almost three feet tall from the bottom of her tricep to the top of her peaks, easily rising higher than her head. Her chest, stretched because of the pose, actually hadn’t lost any of its shape and hardness, and still stood two feet out from her chest. She squeezed her arms as hard as she possible could, almost collapsing from pain and pleasure as she visibly saw her peaks rise almost two full inches in real time as her muscles became pumped beyond belief.
Finally relaxing, she panted heavily, the flexing having been almost a workout in and of itself. This stuff was great, and she couldn’t wait to grow more.