Accentuating Assets

[6 word request: Bodybuilders Leggings Bulge Stretches Too Big]

[Cock Growth, Ass Growth,  Top-To-Bottom]

Rick saw a crowd gathered in the locker room and rolled his eyes. Everyone said Global Gym was a hardcore place to train, but since he’d shown up he found far too much socializing and drama. The gym was where you work; that was his credo. He was tired of all the texting, shooting the shit, and nosing into others’ business that went on.

“You gotta put ‘em on!” a thick middle-aged guy named Jim said. The crowd was looking into an open locker. Ian, one of those wide-shouldered wasp-waisted physique guys (“Muscle’s not supposed to be ‘pretty’,” Rick grunted when he first saw Ian doing abs for the third time in one day).

“I’m not wearing something that isn’t even mine!” Ian said, backing away from the locker like there was a rabid raccoon in there. “Fucking throw them away! I don’t even want to touch them!”

Rick peered over the beefy shoulders of the well-built men in the semicircle and saw a pair of dark purple compression tights, neatly folded, inside. There was a folded sheet of pink paper on top. This article of clothing seemed to be what had Ian spooked, and what had the other guys tittering like fucking schoolgirls.

“Bro, you wear those, you’re gonna end up like Reynold Harroway!” Jim said, giving Ian a shove toward the locker.

“Exactly why I won’t be touching those things!” Ian said, shoving Jim back and fighting his way out of the circle. “You want those things, you put ‘em on!”

“I heard Reynold’s doing porn flicks for half a million each now,” one of the onlookers said.

“I heard he can suck himself off now! And does it all the time.”

“I heard he needs a special cart just to be able to walk around.”

“...can’t wear pants…”

“...fucks Russian supermodels three at a time!”

“...goes into a trance everytime he gets a boner; bloodflow and that shit…”

Once Ian had left the locker room, the other guys continued their jokes about this Harroway guy before dispersing themselves. They left Ian’s locker wide open, the tights and the note exposed for anyone to take. Rick couldn’t help but notice them as he started to get ready for his lift. He left the locker door wide open when he left.

“Who’s Reynold Harroway?” Rick asked Mikey, the young guy who worked the front desk at night at Global. Mikey called Rick “Quadzilla” when he walked in. Rick didn’t love the nickname but he couldn’t deny that he deserved it; of every part of his massive heavyweight body, waddling around with quads so huge he had to swing them around each other was one of the most noticeable traits about his hugeness.

“Fuck,” Mikey said with a laugh, looking around. “I forget you haven’t been lifting here that long,” Mikey said. He was a big guy for his age, but had a massive admiration and a truckload of respect for the bigger men at Global, especially Rick. “You didn’t see it on Youtube? Let me pull it up.” Mikey tapped at his phone as a few members swiped in, each of the average-sized lifters eyeing Rick’s massive size up and down as they passed.

“Shit,” Mikey said. “They took it down. Not surprised, really. Shit was lewd as hell! And I don’t think Global Gym liked the publicity…” Mikey shrugged. “Still, guy’s kind of a legend in these parts.”

“Legend as in ‘he’s amazing’ or legend as is ‘his story’s made up’?” Rick said as he sipped his preworkout.

“You’re gonna think it’s made up when you hear about it,” Mikey said. His grin returned as he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Listen to this, dude…”

Mikey told Rick a story of a young freaky bodybuilder named Reynold who used to strut around in skimpy tank-tops and spandex. Despite the fact that his competition weight was around 280 (putting him well over 300 for his offseason weight, making him a massive meatball of muscle at the young age of 25) he had one prominent feature that overshadowed even his overblown musculature.

“Dude pretty much had ten pounds of sausage in his pants,” Mikey said with a chuckle. Rick rolled his eyes.

Mikey went on to say that one day, Reynold found a pair of bright pink compression tights in his locker room--just his size. No marking on them except a tag inside with a big plus sign on it. They were flashy enough to fit his style, and though he couldn’t figure out who they were from (the only note attached said, “These pink pants are just the thing to accentuate your manhood,” but wasn’t signed) he just yanked them over his massive quads and waddled into the gym, thanking his secret benefactor at the top of his lungs.

“They looked almost a size too small,” Mikey explained. “Like if he hiccuped too hard he’d blow right out of them. But he loved them. That’s just the kind of guy he was.”

After an aggressive day blowing his back up to inhuman proportions, Mikey continued, Reynold headed over to the treadmill where he did a little low-intensity cardio. Reynold was his loud boisterous self to the point that the guy on the treadmill next to his got so sick of being shoved and poked that he just ended his workout early. Reynold was so busy catcalling ladies, pointing to his bouncing junk and flexing that when he finally went abruptly silent, everyone around took a look at him.

“He just had this dazed look on his face,” Mikey explained. “And he kept twitching like something was jabbing him. Kept thrusting his bulge forward.”

And then, Mikey said as he got to the meat of the story, Reynold’s junk blew up like a balloon.

Even Reynold was shocked when it happened, but his big cock and balls bounced, and bounced, and BOUNCED, as they swelled up with size. Tears started forming in the fabric of the compression tights as they continued to blow up (which, Mikey admitted, was impossible--even though he’d seen it happen!).

“Guy’s dick was the size of two footballs stacked on each other when it was over,” Mikey said. “His balls were so big you’d need to hands just to lift one of them up.”

According to Mikey, the mysterious growth stopped when his gigantic member finally burst through the mysterious pants. He was left with a dick that pulled his groin forward; even his powerful back and legs seem to strain just to keep it aloft.

Worst, Mikey continued, is that the thing got rock hard instantly. “Guy had fuel-lines on his huge biceps,” Mikey said, “but that was nothing compared to the veins on his cock! The way the story goes is, the thing getting him hard was just the feeling of the air currents on his skin. Imagine if the breeze from an air conditioner was enough to get you hard. And he came, too! Buckets. We had to get rid of the treadmill and give free memberships to a lot of the people who witnessed it.”

Rick shook his head. What a stupid story, he thought. He didn’t think Mikey was lying; the wide-eyed kid seriously seemed to believe that shit as he told the tale, but Rick wasn’t buying it.

“So if Ian got a pair of compression tights in his locker,” Mikey said, “I’m guessing someone wants to make Ian’s meat and potatoes a whole lot bigger. Seriously, I know it sounds like bullshit, but I saw it happen, man. I saw it.”

Rick just shrugged. Nice story, he thought, but this gym was turning out to be a lot fruitier than he thought. With his preworkout finished, he headed back into the locker room to stash his shaker.

Ian’s locker was closed now. Rick tried to ignore it, but he curiosity had him veer toward it, popping the latch with one beefy hand. Sure enough the tights and note were still there, seemingly untouched since last he’d seen it. He looked around before unfolding the note: “These pants will accentuate your finest asset,” the note read. Rick stared at the tights, then around again at the empty locker, making certain he was alone. Then he snatched the tights and shoved them into his bag, quietly closed the locker, and kicked open a stall door so he could take a shit before piling a bunch of weight on his bag.

Ian was in his 20s, muscular but not necessarily “big”--still, he had impressive legs for his size, and didn’t hesitate to show them off in skin-tight compression pants. But Ian’s dick (which was visible every time he wore those damned tights, and unavoidable even to Rick who definitely wasn’t looking) wasn’t that impressive. It wasn’t small, but a longshot, but from the story, Reynold seemed to have a huge dick. It seemed to be the reason why he was targeted with the mysterious pants.

Except mysterious pants didn’t exist, and if there was a Reynold Harroway, he wasn’t debilitated by his freakishly--MAGICALLY--huge penis, either. Rick shook his head. He couldn’t believe he almost bought the story! But as he looked sat down on the toilet, he looked between his massive legs and noticed his little dick. Thing was smaller than his pinky, made to look all the more absurdly tiny between legs the same distance around as most guys’ waists.

Rick was always torn between shaving his bush or not. Shaven bare, his little dick looked like just a tiny nub on his barren groin. If he left the hair, however, his dick got lost in the growth. He’d never worn compression tights before, sticking to baggy sweatpants so he could squat nice and heavy without worrying about anyone whispering about his dick.

But after he was done shitting, he realized he still had a few minutes before his lifting partner was going to get there--just enough time to at least try on the pants, see how they’d look.

“If they even fit!” Rick said aloud as he pulled them out of his bag and held them against his body. Ian’s legs were big for his size but nowhere near the redwoods Rick stomped around on. Chances are he’d get them up to his massive calves and no further. As he turned the pants around to inspect them, he found a single tag inside--marked with a straight black line. “A minus sign?” he wondered. He reached up and turned the deadbolt on the locker room door.

The pants slid on like a glove, fitting his legs more tightly than anything he ever felt comfortable in but still adequately covering his enormous lower half. He could even see the veininess of his legs through the thin purple spandex.

They didn’t look half bad--compression tights on a guy with legs his size were always impressive--but they definitely highlighted his little dick. He shuddered when he turned from admiring the immense bulk of his ass to see his little acorn standing out in the nearly transparent material. “Shit!” he said. If only he had a bigger dick these pants would be the perfect accessory. He checked his phone--lifting partner was going to be late--and thought, just for shits and giggles, he’d roll up a sock and slid it down there, just to see.

And it looked good. Imagine having a bulge like that! A part of Rick smoldered at the idea of Reynold Harroway being as big as he was but gifted with a massive tool. That’s the thing with dicks; guys just seemed to get them randomly. Big muscles were a sign of hard-work and discipline, but a big dick was just luck of the draw.

“Too bad these pants don’t do to me what they did to Reynold,” Rick said aloud, as if that would trigger them.

This whole thing was stupid, he reminded himself, and reached down to take the pants off. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to fantasize so far with these things.

Then it hit him: a shock that went through his whole body. It wasn’t unpleasant, more of a full-body twitch accompanied by some head-to-toe tingling that came on in waves, at times so strong his vision went blurry. His mouth went dry. He couldn’t believe it but something was happening. The pants seemed to be hugging him extra-tightly.

He felt a vague tickle up his ass--a gentle itch that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He reached around to his backside, fingers wiggling as he resisted the urge to jam one up there to get the antagonistic sensation. His hands were cupping his massive glutes when it happened.

He roared as he felt a surge rush through his body. The fuck--did he cum? Was that an orgasm? He looked down to see his completely soft dick was dry. He didn’t have much time to think before the next shock hit him: his ass had started to swell.

On their own, each of his glutes was flexing, one at a time and then together. He moaned as the deep-down itch grew in intensity, nearly enough to distract him from the sensation of his glutes being pulled and stretched. He felt his ass growing bigger beneath his hands.

This wasn’t possible, he knew, but as he walked toward the mirror, he felt a greater mass behind him wobbling back and forth with every step (the sensation antagonizing his sensitive anus with every wiggle). It felt like he was dragging something behind him. In front of the mirror his mouth went wide.

His ass had blown up like two melons! It was easily double the size it was before. Staring at the mirror straight on he saw it expanding out on either side of his already thick and wide body. When he turned around, he saw a shelf of muscle mass standing out nearly six inches from his body.

“The fuck,” he said, a bead of sweat pouring down his forehead as he watched the big glutes balloon out further in another burst. The feeling of growth was so pleasant, so eerily sensual, that it took him a moment to realize what a freakish backside his hard glutes were growing into. He reached back to see the big pillows and his hands sank into soft pillows. With the muscle growing, he had developed fat--only there, of course. He still had a rock-hard abdomen, but the flesh of his ass now squished like memory foam.

Holy shit was it sensitive! Rick blinked as he actually felt his nervous system rewiring itself. A thousand new nerve endings appeared in his big jiggly pillows. Every twitch of the skin-tight fabric, straining to contain all this extra flesh, set off fireworks in his head. Now his little dick was rock hard but it looked even smaller with the giant bloat on the other side of his body.

In shock, he sank down on the bench, moaning loudly when his soft ass hit the bench. Jesus, every touch was going to set him off now! He felt his little cock jump and spurt, a wetness spreading across the front of the tights. Fuck! That’s all it took? Sitting down?

More horrifying than that was the fact that he felt about a foot higher than he should of. His back arched to accomodate the massive balloons he sat on. How much did his big ass weigh, he wondered? How was this even possible? Would he ever find pants? Maybe when he took the tights off it would shrink back to normal, he wondered, his hands shaking as he stood again and reached gingerly toward the strained waistband.

The material was not only stretched to capacity, the waistband was also about half the size it would have to be to get it past the gigantic masses behind him.

He heard a pounding at the door and panicked. He looked like a freak now! Like someone had pumped only his ass up with air. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this! But he heard a jingle of keys and panicked. Maybe he could hide? He jumped to his feet (his huge booty bouncing a few times, making his whole body flex as his dick spurted again) and waddled toward the door. His upper thighs had blown out as well to accommodate the big ass he now sported. He headed toward the bathroom stalls but stopped as his gigantic ass hit the doorframe. It was too wide!

He backed out and looked at the window. His upper body wouldn’t even fit through that, let alone his Good Year-sized ass. He reached down and squashed it with his hands, hoping to cram it back to its original size, when the door swung open.

Mikey was the first in, his mouth dropping open at what he saw: his gigantic hero standing there with an ass that now made up about a third of his body mass. Rick’s lower lip quivered as Ian ran in behind him, followed by a small crowd of gym goers. He backed away, wishing there was anywhere he could hide, when--RIIIIIIP!--the tights tore open and he felt a rush of cool air over his exposed, sensitive cheeks. He moaned again, making the big wet spot on his tights even bigger, and sank to the bench, head in his hands.

The others were as shocked to see the massive man crying as they were to see his 100 pound ass. Rick had no idea what he was going to do--how he would explain himself, how they would get him out of the locker room, or what he was going to do now. Buzzing in the back of his frantic thoughts was the hungry need of his ass, throbbing and itching like crazy. His whole body quivered as he looked at the men slowly gathering around him, wondering if he had it in him to verbalize how bad he needed one of them to fuck him.