Ego Burst

Izzy laughed as he drained the last bruiser of his hard-earned physique. His own body, once stocky and fat, thrummed with balloon-like muscles. The sweat which dripped from him gave him a sheen not unlike a polished statue, and his moustached face was twisted into a sinister grin while his eyes showed a hunger for more. He didn’t want to stop at being just ‘big,’ he wanted to be ‘the’ biggest. He stomped across the gym, taking note of its high ceiling. It had to be what, twenty, maybe thirty feet in height? He looked at himself in the mirror, and flexed. Despite the muscle-gorging he had done, he still had an enormously round, fat stomach. His power core, he called it. His skin flushed, a hot red light pulsed beneath light brown skin, and he could feel the explosive power beneath when he laid his hands on either side of its curvature.

“More, I need more.”

Izzy placed his thumb between his teeth, took in a deep breath through his nose, and then blew. The air pumped through his body, his cheeks straining and turning cherry red with the exertion. Once he passed a threshold of strain his body complied with the order to grow, responding to his thumb-blowing by expanding in all directions with new swells of muscle and belly. He spread his feet apart to solidify his stance, and blew recklessly, ignoring the torturous creaking his body produced to warn him that it was reaching its limits.

“Mmmmmoooooore!”

He became cartoon-like. His muscles were losing their vascular, mortal shapes. What replaced them were great, long, smooth mountains of ballooning flesh in the shape of muscles. Filled with hot air and ego. Fit to burst at the lightest prick of a sharp object. Izzy had swirling madness in his eyes, as he continued to blow himself up bigger, like a living balloon. His entire body was as taut and rigid as an erection, and he was uncompromising in his desire to make it erupt. The red glow spread from his stomach to his chest, then to his limbs. His black rubber speedo squealed, and his head sank into the ridge of muscular hills he had blown up his upper back, shoulders and pectorals into.

“I WANT MOOOOOOOORE--”

He tried to take another breath, but tragically, he forgot about the gym equipment at his feet. A hard edge from one of the machines pressed into his foot, puncturing his rubbery body, and in a flash of hot air moist with sweat and heated by his own self-aggrandizing, he exploded. Leaving nothing behind but a stretched out black speedo.