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New discord photostories for Bulked Up tier and above at the Patreon!

Patreon.com/brandedx2

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This is the exact pose I want this guy in when I freeze him, shrink him to six inches tall, and keep him on my shelf

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Every part of him just seems so massive, hanging heavy, here.

Every part.

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I want to drown in him.

Nick Walker - Recent video clip that may become as (in)famous as Dorian Yates ‘93 Flex Magazine photos.

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There’s about 14 things I love about this image

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NEW PATREON STORY

Tommy throws a party for his college buddies but his big step-dad gets home early. Luckily, Tommy’s new buddy Marco has a size-stealing gun to make step-dad small and make them big.

Patreon.com/brandedx2

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This is amazing work!

John worked hard to maintain his jock status in his 30s… that was until he took a look in the Twunkification mirror. Now Johnny would forever be just another aged twink bottom with a dorky mustache and a tiny pecker in his little pink briefs.

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The muscle freak Mt. Rushmore.

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Marco’s boyfriend fixed his protein shake for him after he found out he was cheating on him—including a SPECIAL ingredient which would make big Marco less appealing to thirsty dudes.

Marco forgot to put on the lid, making his boyfriend think the whole plan was ruined when the shake ended up splattered all over Marco’s massive chest. Marco made a new shake without the ultra rare ingredient and went about his business.

After the gym, Marco met up with the guy he’d been cheating with—but for some reason couldn’t get hard. His workout had been a bit underwhelming, too. He just couldn’t get a pump.

A week later he’d lost ten pounds, his strength waning. His cock was a whole inch shorter! The doctors couldn’t explain it, writing it off as “steroid withdrawal” (even though Marco had DOUBLED his dosages!).

The muscles melted away over the next month. Marco became far more loyal to his boyfriend, submissive, started bottoming, and had to accept a job handing out towels at his gym when his personal training career crashed hard.

Now he’s giving lifting tips for beginners. Truthfully he could be giving pros hardcore mass-building strategies with his expertise, but who wants to listen to a pencil-necked little dweeb?

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No context needed.

Thiago Lins 🇧🇷

134 kg of male meatiness—muscular, bloated, fat, hormonally contaminated and exhausted. In a word: yummy!

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This quote beneath these images have fueled so so many sessions for me…

Antoine Vaillant

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LIKE OR REBLOG IF YOU WANT TO TURN INTO A SWEATY, BELCHING BODYBUILDER OVERNIGHT!

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The demon twink took one look at this yoked up meat monkey and knew he had to cause some havoc—“Does all that muscle actually serve a purpose or is it just for show?”

Big Martin brushed off the twink’s smug comment. “Take a look, buddy,” he said, giving a quick flex of his mammoth arm. “If I needed to throw somebody around, trust me, I can get it done.”

“Good! That’ll serve you well in your new line of work.” With a snap, the gym disappeared. Martin’s gym clothes reshaped into a tight sleeveless tee and jeans. For a moment, a strange sense of normalcy settled over him—no shock at his change in attire or surroundings.

“I’m a bouncer. I’m at work.” He accepted his new reality without question—until he saw his co-workers.

The other bouncers were HUGE—he barely came up to their shoulders and they each looked massive enough squeeze to squeeze his head like a grape with ease.

“Who hired the runt?” grunted one, who gave him a rough shove that almost knocked Martin off his feet.

“Who’s this little guy gonna throw out—just the mice?”

“Somebody feed this little fucker. He needs to GROW!”

Martin had never felt small—especially not THIS small! He gulped hard and waited to be told what to do.

“Have the little pipsqueak check IDs. Hope he doesn’t get stepped on!”

Martin was shocked when the first guy approached. It wasn’t just the other bouncers who were big: EVERYBODY in this world towered over Martin!

“Uh, can I… uh… see your ID?”

The man, whose nipples were over Martin’s head, looked down at him with smug derision. “Aw, look at you!! Never seen someone so tiny before.” He patted Martin on the head. “Good that they hire little guys like you. Somebody has to!”

Martin looked beyond to see dozens of clubgoers behind him, each one a giant. Some looked drunk. Some looked angry. A couple looked at him like he was a toy they wanted to play with.

“Looks like all the roids in the world won’t make you grow up, hunh shrimp?”

Martin turned around to see the other bouncers snickering at him. It was gonna be a long night!

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That I would dare look at a picture of Jo Palacios and even consider that it needed a morph is a clear sign of my sickness but… here we are.

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It didn’t take much digging for the demon twink to find Nick’s deepest fear.

Big guy like that doesn’t even work to hide his fear; he thinks he’s built himself up so huge and tough that he’s conquered fear. Silly man. The demon twink just chuckled at the idea that oversized muscles could ever protect someone from the power to alter reality.

With a snap, the gym faded out. When the ringing in Nick’s ear cleared, he heard a telephone buzzing, a receptionist’s voice chirping, the grinding hum of an overworked copier. Nick looked around, dumbfounded—these clothes?! These people?! Where was his gym?!

An older heavyset gentleman walked up with a grim look on his face. “Nick, we need to have a talk about how you’re completing your weekly sales reports. Did you not read the memo?”

Nick’s body—now paunchy where rock-solid mass had been just moment before—felt heavy, slow, exhausted. He wanted to tell this man to fuck off, that he didn’t belong there and he was going home, but instead, he apologized. He said he’s do better. HE CALLED THE MAN SIR.

The man—his boss, he suddenly realized, nodded at the donut in his hand and gently patted Nick’s soft face. “Might want to watch those extra carbs, big guy.”

A fart suddenly broke free of Nick’s guts. His face went red as he saw his boss’s eyes sink in disappointment and disgust. Everyone in the office would be talking about that tomorrow. He was already the office joke—what would his new nickname be, he wondered?

His bodybuilding career, his truck, his house, all of his friends were all still vivid in his mind but he couldn’t speak out about any of it. He waddled back to his desk, pausing to say hello to Vivienne from HR. Maybe this week he’d work up the courage to ask her out.

Back at his desk he devoured his donut, grateful for the one pleasant moment of his day. He looked sadly down at his soft midsection, knowing that just an hour ago he’d had a cobbled abdomen and the largest muscles on Earth.

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His face swelled first—mouth full of warm, sweet juice, cheeks puffed out, mouth sealed shut by the expanding pressure.

His already massive muscles followed suit, twitching and jiggling as they pulsed outward. Soon they didn’t even look like flesh anymore. His skin stretched with newfound elasticity as juice filled his insides. By the time his shock and panic gave way to an urge to run for help, he was already so heavy he couldn’t even stand.

Rooted to the spot, liquid surging inside him as he became less of a man and more of a deep violet water balloon, he could only whimper and look around for help, hoping someone could come find him—and stop this sudden transformation—before he burst.

Soon he wouldn’t even look like a person anymore, so bloated and round he was just a juicy blob bowing out in blisters that used to be his vaunted muscles. He yearned to burp, to release some of the rising strain stretching his flesh to the limit.

His thoughts weren’t of who did this to him, how it was possible or even how they would turn him back. Rather, he worried someone would take a picture of him, a fear that spiked as he heard his shorts shred and felt a burst of cool air on his now exposed (and rapidly ballooning) buttocks.

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I dunno, was this cruel?

Big Nick was having a pretty great day being lusted after and admired by both men and women, and then I went and hit him with a Mime curse. Now he can’t talk, keeps getting trapped in invisible boxes and blown over by invisible wind, and all the people who lusted after him now think he’s creepy.

Poor lunk is too dumb to properly play charades so he can’t communicate with everyone—and they ALL think he’s just some oversized, overly aggressive street performer.

Maybe he’ll find someone into the creepy makeup (which will never wash off) and the weird attire (that every article of clothing he tries to wear will turn into) and he’ll be able to have a LITTLE fun. But he won’t be able to make a sound during sex.