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StormWeaver

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About StormWeaver

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    Tokyo, Japan
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
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    Good stories, great photos and videos, an active online community
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    Strength, muscle growth, clothes ripping (hulk outs)

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  1. StormWeaver

    The Camshow

    This is my first story. It's been rolling around in my brain for quite some time now, and I finally typed it up. I hope you enjoy it! ****************************************************** I opened my laptop and logged into my email. I had just gotten a notification that the custom video I requested had landed in my inbox. I was tentative to open the file. I had requested custom videos before, and I was always a little disappointed. No one had ever been able to fulfill my request completely. Maybe what I was asking for wasn’t realistic. But this guy seemed different. I allowed myself to get my hopes up just a little bit. I opened the video, and his face flashed onto my screen. That face alone could make me weak in the knees: square jaw, perfect skin, and dark brown eyes that sparkled intensely but joyfully. He’s Asian, and his blue-black hair was spiked perfectly to frame his lovely face. He had crazy thick hair; almost as crazy thick as his body. He flashed a winning smile, and dimples appeared in both cheeks. “Hey there. Thanks for ordering a custom video, and thanks for ordering other videos from my website. I think I’m going to be able to give you what you asked for.” Another smile. I noticed that he was wearing a baggy t-shirt, and I was momentarily confused. “I need to go change quickly. I’ll be right back. This won’t count towards your twenty minutes.” That was thoughtful of him. He pushed himself out of his computer chair and walked out of the room. As he walked away, it was hard to see his body under the t-shirt and sweatpants he wore, but I knew what was underneath. After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only two minutes), I heard him call from the other room, “Okay, here I come.” He walked slowly into the room and came into focus. I couldn’t tell if he was walking slowly to increase the drama, or if he was walking slowly because of how constrained he was by his new outfit. On the bottom, he wore the tightest pair of jeans I have ever seen. They must have been those lighter weight jeans that have some stretch in them, otherwise I can’t possibly imagine how he got them on. You could see the incredible bulk of his legs through the denim. His thighs we monstrous, and the various heads of his quadriceps muscles could be seen pressing against the pant legs. His calves were even more impressive. The bottom of his legs looked like diamonds, and they jutted sharply out towards one another. Even with his huge thighs, I bet his calves still brushed against one another when he walked. My eyes moved to his upper half and I think my jaw actually went slack. He was wearing a short-sleeve white button down shirt that was filled to, rather past, its capacity. The top two buttons were undone (I don’t think it would have been possible to button them), and his full, square pecs were pressing threateningly against the rest of the buttons. The shirt was tapered, so it only became slightly looser around his tight abdomen, but even his midsection filled the shirt amply. His incredible arms bulged out of the short sleeves, which he had pulled up a bit to accommodate their mass. “Well, what do you think?” He raised his arms slightly as he asked the question, and I heard a couple of stitches pop. “Whoops. Better be more careful. Or I guess I should just get started.” He turned around slowly in a circle so I could see him from every angle. As he turned, his remarkable ass became visible, full and round and clearly all muscle. When he was facing away, I could see every major muscle group of his mountainous back straining the shirt. It’s a mystery to me how he even got into it and managed to button it as far as he did. As he turned back around to face me, the camera angle changed a bit. “I wanted to let you know that my husband is handling the camera. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to suddenly go out of focus, or have it accidentally miss something. Don’t worry, you won’t see or hear him. Unless you want to, but you’d have to order another video for that. He’s a pretty big guy, too.” He winked, and I almost died. “Okay, here we go. Let’s start from the bottom, shall we? I know you like my big calves. You specifically said you like big calves in your video request, and mine are the biggest around.” He started slowly going up and down on his tiptoes, and his calves flexed and swelled in response. “I did ballet as a kid and into high school. I think that’s why they got so big. That, and my genetics. I would have continued in ballet, but in college the rest of my muscles really started growing and I got too bulky. I still remember the poses, though.” He raised his arms in front of him and made a circle while bending one leg up and resting his foot just above the other knee. As he did this, he slowly and gracefully went up on the toes of his other foot. He held that position for a moment, and then it happened. RIIIP. The side of his lower pant leg split open and the diamond ridge of his calf muscle bust through. He smiled, and slowly lowered the other leg back down and lowered his arms to this side, returning to “ballet first.” “Well, we’re off to a good start. Let’s see if we can’t make these pant legs match.” He turned away from the camera so that his back was facing me. The camera zoomed down onto his lower legs. He repeated the pose from before, but this time went up onto the tiptoes of the other foot. He held the pose again, and I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation. He started slowly raising up and down on that one foot, each time his calf seeming to swell larger. I heard a faint pulling, and then RIIIIIIP, the pant leg split open down the back of the calf this time. The camera zoomed in, and through the tear in the jeans you could see a massive, upside-down heart made of muscle. He looked over his shoulder into the camera. “Well, that’s not really a match. But that’s how these things happen. I never know when or where my muscles are going to bust through a seam.” He turned around and examined his lower legs. “This is why I can’t wear anything above an ankle sock. I can’t tell you how many pairs of dress socks I’ve completely wrecked. They just don’t make elastic built for these bulls.” As he said that, he flexed both his calves one more time, and each tear spread open a little more, threads popping. “Okay. The next part is easy.” The camera zoomed back out so his whole body was in focus. “Many people don’t know how pumped you can get simply from holding a pose. Isometric exercises are an essential part of any good strength-training routine.” He took a deep breath and stepped his right leg out wide. He brought his hands together in front of him and lowered down until his thighs were parallel to the ground. “And now we hold. So…how are you?” He smirked. I could tell that, even though it looked effortless, it was probably a huge amount of work for him to hold his mass that still and that steady in that position. After about a minute, I started to hear a creaking sound. “Yeah, this won’t take long.” Another minute. More creaking. I think I even heard a faint rip. “Okay. Here we go.” He came out of the pose, and stuck one leg forward. Then he started shaking his relaxed thigh back and forth, the way you see bodybuilders do before they flex their quads. BAM! He flexed his quads, and the muscle split through the denim with a loud pop. He immediately moved onto the other one, swinging his massive thigh muscles before SPLIT!, he grunted and flexed and effectively bust the other pant leg open. “Whoo. I feel a little freer now. Still one more thing, though.” He turned around with his back to the camera and started twerking to some imaginary music. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He laughed. Before I could prepare myself, he dropped into a deep squat and BAM! The seat of his pants split wide open, showing neon green underwear underneath. He came up out of the squat, and walked closer to the camera. “How we doing so far? Everything you dreamed of? Just you wait.” He grinned a mischievous little grin and started bouncing his pecs. They punched at the fabric of the shirt, pulling the buttons this way and that. “Now here’s the thing about hulking out: You have to do it in a certain order or it won’t work the way you want it to. I know you would probably like for me to finish with arms and save the best for last, but I’m going to be doing a lot of flexing, and if I don’t start with the arms, they will probably rip my sleeves before I’m ready. And it would be a real shame if my sleeves ripped while the camera was focusing on my pecs or my back. So when you’re watching this video again, and I am guessing that you’re going to watch it again, and again, and again, you can just fast forward and rewind and watch it in the order you want.” This guy clearly wanted to please his customers. And from what I had seen thus far, I was damn pleased. “Again, I am going to have my off-screen assistant help me out so we don’t have any ripping accidents before we’re ready.” He stepped out of frame, and I could hear my heart beating in anticipation. When he came back on screen, his arms were at his sides and the short sleeves had been pulled down and stretched over his massive arms. The shirt he was wearing had a thicker cuff at the end, and he had managed to find a short-sleeve shirt that covered the full length of his unflexed biceps and triceps. “We’ll do one at a time so you can savor it.” He slowly raised his right arm in front of the camera. The thick muscle bellies of his biceps rolled and shifted under the sleeve, and as he bent his elbow, the sleeve pulled taut. “Now, I’m not actually flexing yet. I want to draw this out as much as I can for you. This sleeve isn’t going to rip until I tell it to, but when I tell it to, believe me, it will rip.” He stared straight into the camera and got a really intense look on his face. I think he was enjoying showing off for me as much as I was enjoying the show. “You ready?” He looked back at his bent arm and it started to swell. Any wrinkles there had been in the material were pulled straight, and you could see the cuff of the shirt pressing tightly into his arm. “Here comes the peak.” His flexed arm, already huge, changed shape in front of my eyes as he twisted his wrist. The softball-sized muscle split and grew into a mountainous peak. I couldn’t believe the sleeve was still intact. His arm started shaking a bit and he twisted his wrist and re-exerted his flex one more time. Then it happened. The sharp peak of his immense biceps split through the top of the sleeve. He looked at the camera again and smiled. “Peak-a-boo.” He relaxed his arm just a bit and then forcefully flexed again. The rock-hard mound of muscle burst forth with an incredible satisfying RIIIIIIIP. The sleeve ripped open almost all the way up to this shoulder. He lowered his arm, and readjusted the cuff. He kept his arm straight and twisted it so I could see massive triceps underneath. With one strong flex, his triceps bulged with power and snapped the cuff of the sleeve. “Huh. Didn’t think that would actually work.” He adjusted in his seat and turned his left arm towards the camera. “Let’s try a different angle this time. You think my right arm is good? Just wait until you see what lefty can do.” He raised his left arm as he had done before, but this time I was looking at the rear view. Again, his sleeve filled up like a balloon as he bent his elbow. He bounced his biceps a few times, and I heard a couple of stiches pop. He got that intense look on his face again as he stared at his growing arm. “Rip that sleeve. Rip it. Rip it.” POP! A sharp mound of marbleized muscle tore through the sleeve. This time he didn’t relax the flex. He held it tight, twist his wrist back and forth, forcing his biceps to peak higher and higher, ripping the material as it went. When the ripping seemed to stop, he straightened his arm, pulled the cuff up a little bit, and flex his biceps hard with a “YEAH!!!” The cuff snapped like a piece of paper as his powerful biceps and tripeps decimated the sleeve, splitting it open from cuff to shoulder. He lowered his arms and looked at the camera. For the first time during this whole video, he was breathing heavily. “I bet the other cam guys couldn’t do that. I’ve got the biggest, strongest, freakiest peaked biceps around. And they just keep getting better.” He struck a double biceps pose and roared. His right biceps, which was still partially wrapped in a sleeve, swelled towards the sky through the hole it had created, tearing it open wider to accommodate for its pumped mass. The sound of ripping material poured of my computer’s speakers. I think both of us realized at the same time (virtually) that the tearing sounds weren’t just created by his biceps. He lifted his arms a little more, and the side seams of the shirt were ripped under each armpit. “Oopsy daisy. That’s what I was talking about before. I guess I got a little over-excited flexing my biceps for you and my lats felt left out of the fun.” He lifted each arm and examined the jagged tears created by his swelling lats. “When my muscles wanna grow, they grow. Can’t stop ‘em. But I am going to make my lats wait just a little bit longer. Husband, can you help me out one more time?” He stood up and stepped off camera, and when he sat back down, the top two buttons of his shirt had been fastened. The poor guy looked like he was choking. He stared rolling his pecs, one at a time. I could see the thick striations through the shirt. His muscle control was astounding. I found myself hypnotized. “Okay, this is uncomfortable,” he croaked. He flexed his thick neck and the top button popped open. “That’s a little better. But these big pecs of mine have been waiting to breathe for too long.” Bounce bounce bounce. Flex flex flex. In one swift movement, he brought his arms forward and flexed his chest. The sound of buttons flying filled the room as they ricocheted off the camera and the wall. His beautiful chest burst forth, bigger and fuller than I had ever seen it. He gave one more strong flex and the shirt tore on the sides of his solid, square pecs. The pocket over the left pec flapped up a bit and a perfect perky nipple became visible for one exquisite moment. Bounce bounce bounce. “I repped out 500 push-ups before I started taping. Just for you.” He slowly rolled his pecs one more time. On some guys, this kind of cockiness would be downright obnoxious. But on him, it was fucking adorable. The bottom buttons of the shirt were still fastened, and I could see the top two abdomen muscles through the opening. “Almost done. I still feel a little constrained. Let’s finish what was started.” He put his fists on his waist and began slowly expanding his lats. Threads popped one by one as his glorious wings tore through what remained of the side seams. Then, he stood up and turned around. He grabbed onto each side of the shirt and did one more epic lat spread. The back of his shirt split wide open down the middle, and his incredibly developed back came into view. He turned around to face the camera and effortlessly ripped the bottom of the shirt open, sending the remaining buttons flying. He roared one more time and struck a most muscular pose that most bodybuilders would envy. The tears on his sleeves ripped open more as his boulder deltoids flexed. Still flexing, he reached up and grabbed the shirt on either side of the collar and pulled down. The collar snapped, and he pulled the remains of the shirt off in two, tattered pieces. He stood up straight, chest heaving, forehead glistening with sweat. “And that, my friend, is how you hulk out.” He slowly swaggered towards the camera, leaning in close. “Until next time.” He winked, and the screen went black.
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