Jump to content

Ypsami

Member
  • Content Count

    76
  • Donations

    $0.00 
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

750 Excellent

About Ypsami

  • Rank
    50+ Posts

Profile

  • Location
    New York
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Not Set
  • What are your interests?
    Working out and growing massively huge. There's no such thing as 'too big.'
  • What are your stats?
    Height: 5'9"
    Weight: 180lbs
  • What are you seeking?
    Bodybuilding friends and supporters
  • What are your dream stats?
    300+ lbs of offseason bulk
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Evan Centopani, Morgan Aste, Justin Compton, Jeff Long, Bruno Moraes

Recent Profile Visitors

6,359 profile views
  1. Back today! Trying to twist around to look at myself in the mirror, haha

    25023438_176163706307271_6394419787857920000_n.jpg

    1. archie

      archie

      Stunning traps.

    2. MuscleStrengthFreak

      MuscleStrengthFreak

      nice work!  massage-worthy!

  2. David's Revenge? https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newAuthor/show/1117
  3. Nevermind, I finally found it! It's called Dressing Down. https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newStory/show/9331
  4. This isn't the story, but it's a good one nonetheless. In the story I'm looking for, the main character is applying for a job, but gets tricked and transformed into an 18 year old high school wrestler.
  5. Just wanted to say real quick that if that's you in the profile image, very hot!  I hope you continue to make the gains you want.

    1. Ypsami

      Ypsami

      Haha, yeah, that's me. Thanks!

    2. pasidious

      pasidious

      You're very welcome! :)

  6. I've been looking for a story I can't remember the title to. It's about a guy who applies for a job as a coach's assistant and gets turned into the coach's star high school wrestler. Involves age regression, muscle growth, reality change.
  7. Would it be Ahmed's transformation in 102 Curses? https://sites.google.com/site/bulkfictionarchive/excerpt-from-102-curses
  8. I removed this story from the forum. To read the rest of this story, please visit my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/Ypsami
  9. Thanks for the feedback. Paragraph spacing and indents have been added. My original formatting didn't copy over from my phone, so I edited the story on my computer and recopied it.
  10. I couldn't sleep last night, so I ended up writing this on my phone. It's not my first work of fiction, but it is the first story I've ever posted on here. Anyway, without further adieu, I present..."A Scene." Inspired by a brief encounter I had at the gym yesterday. A Scene, Part 1: The Gym It was just a normal day at the gym for me. I was on the cable row machine when I first spotted him. He confidently saunters into the gym, dressed in Nike high tops, basketball shorts, and a stringer tang top. If he didn't already look like a typical meathead, his look was topped off with a backwards baseball cap and black over-the-ear headphones. He stores his gym bag in one of the cubby holes and starts mixing up some pre-workout in a blender bottle. He looks around and his eyes lock on mine. I quickly look down at my phone, pretending to text. He returns to his task and I look back at him. He's about the same age as me, maybe two or three years older. He's not super tall, but still an inch or two taller than I am, maybe 5' 10" or 5' 11". He's got mass though, and he's pretty wide. His neck is thick and traps are high. His shoulders are round, and his chest is wide enough that his nipples lie well outside the straps of the stringer. The timer on my phone goes off--I should be moving on to my next set, but I can't look away. He's got a tattoo sleeve that runs up his right arm, but that does nothing to hide the mass and the thick veins, which are clearly visible through the intricate network of black lines and shapes. He turns away to rummage through his gym bag. His back is wide enough that his meaty triceps rest clearly on his lats, both jostling for space on his frame, causing his arms to bow out slightly more than they normally would. He turns back and catches my gaze again. I quickly look away and stand up, gathering my things to move on to the next exercise. I walk over to the water fountain to get a drink. I lean down to take a sip and stand back up. When I turn around, my heart jumps. He’s there, standing in front of me. I look at him, and he stares back with a look of impatient expectation. I realize I'm staring too long. "Sorry," I mumble, and he replies with a deep, vacant "No worries, bro." I quickly move away from the water fountain, but I catch a glimpse back at him as he's filling up his bottle. His legs are thick and you can clearly see his quads through the basketball shorts. They aren't skin tight, but I bet they get real snug when he gets a good pump on leg day. Further down, the top of his red high tops are rubbing against bulky calves that flex and bulge whenever he takes a step. His bottle is almost full. I turn away and move over to the benches. I grab a pair of 40 lb. dumbbells and start my shoulder presses. He walks over, head bobbing to the unheard music from his headphones, his thick, veiny arms wrapped in wrist straps, water bottle full of pre-workout and creatine in one hand. He's all pumped up and ready to go beastmode, I think to myself. I finish my set and drop the weights to rest. He sits down at a bench next to me. As he starts his warm-up, I can't help but watch. Staring every chance I get, then quickly looking away when he makes eye contact. I push through the rest of my shoulder presses, catching glimpses all the while at the muscle beast working out next to me. I put the dumbbells back on the rack and wipe down my bench. He's finishing up a set of dumbbell front raises, his shoulders engorged with pumped mass. He slips off one of the ear cups of his headphones and takes a step toward me. "Hey bro," he says. I make eye contact, but say nothing, simply raising my eyebrows as an interrogative gesture. "Would you mind giving me a quick spot?" He smiles, just a slight lift of the corner of his mouth. My pulse quickens and my breathe catches. "Sure," I quietly reply, giving a slight nod. "Cool," he replies, and returns to the bench. I stand behind him and he readies the 85 lb. dumbbells at his sides. "I'm going for seven reps. Let me struggle a bit before you start helping, though. Tryin' to break my plateau." I nod again. He quickly lifts the dumbbells up to the sides of his head, ready for shoulder presses. I rest my hands on his meaty arms to steady them. I can feel the heat from the thick masses, hard and pumped from the stress of exercise. He pushes up. One. Down and up. Two. Down and up. Three. Down. He grunts. Up. Four. Down. He takes a deep breath and pushes hard, grunting again. Five. Down. Grunt. Up. Six. Down. Up. Slowly. He starts to struggle. He grunts and breathes hard. Then stops midway through the lift. He struggles for a few seconds and then nods, indicating the need for help. I quickly grab the underside of his arms, near his elbows, and apply pressure until he completes the lift. He lets the dumbbells drop to the floor with a loud thump, and stands. He turns to me. "Awesome, bro. Thanks. Name's Brent." He reaches out a thick arm. "Brandon," I reply, reaching out to shake hands. "You lift often?" he asks. I gesture down at my lean body, "Almost every day. Tryin' to pack on some mass ya' know?" He smiles big, "Yeah? You look good." I feel my cheeks start to tingle and flush. I quickly say thanks and turn to leave, embarrassed. "Hey." He catches me before I step away. "Do you mind helping me take some progress pics? I need to update my photo log." I stare at him, suppressing my surprise at the unusual request. "Uh, sure," I blurt, not knowing how to react. "Cool," he says and gestures for me to follow him. I walk behind his confident saunter. My quick, lighter steps in deep contrast with his heavy gait, his bulky legs force his steps wider. We walk into one of the bathrooms and he locks the door behind us. I quickly glance up at him, a look of concern on my face. "Don't want anybody interrupting," he says, and pulls off his stringer tang. He looks into the mirror and flexes a bit, smirking confidently at himself. "Fuck yeah," he mumbles under his breath, then turns to face me. He walks closer and I start to back up, afraid of what this muscle-bound stranger was going to do next. My breathing gets heavier as panic sets in. He keeps inching closer and my back hits the cold tile of the bathroom wall. He moves closer still and puts his calloused hand on the wall to the left of my face. I can feel the heat from his massive arm, the thick, tattooed flesh pumped and bulging, against my cheek. He leans in close and half whispers in a low voice "I saw you, bro. Staring. Watching my every move. I can see the need in your eyes." He stares at me, a confident smirk smeared across his firm stubbled jaw. "Wh...What?" I breathe. My voice barely comes to me. He lifts an arm and flexes his fat bicep in my face. "This, bro. I know you want this. The mass. The size. You wanna get big like me, dude?" "I...," I whisper again. He drops his arm and moves his head close. Before I could finish answering, he pushes his lips against mine. I try in vain to pull away, the back of my head hitting the tile and preventing my retreat. He pushes into me more and kisses me deeper. I fight for a few more seconds before I give in, granting full access to my mouth. He keeps kissing for a few more seconds before he gently breaks his lips away from mine. He looks me in the eyes and smiles, the corner of his mouth lifting. He licks his lips. "Mmmmm. Fuck yeah, bro. Gonna make you huge." Turning away from me, he grabs his stringer tang top, drops it over his head onto his meaty frame, and saunters out the door. I stand there, my back still against the cold bathroom tile. I walk up to the mirror, breathing heavily, and stare at myself, wondering if this was all just a weird dream. I spot something out of the corner of my eye and look down. There was a piece of paper crudely stuffed into my pocket. I reach down and unfold it tentatively, afraid of what I might see. In the middle of the page was an address. And written underneath--"Meet here. 1pm. Tomorrow." I folded the paper back up and stared back into the mirror. What was I getting myself into?
  11. Here's a story chain on CYOC. A guy gets changed into a sex-obsessed super-roided bodybuilder and changes other people in the gym into roid freaks. http://www.cyoc.net/interactives/chapter_96974.html
  12. Arms so pumped I can't even touch my shoulder.  I wish it was like this all the time!

    image.jpeg

  13. Fuucckk. I just wanna be big. I need me a juicin' gym buddy. Somebody just blow me up already!!!

  14. Not having a gym partner sucks. ):

    1. Forced2Waddle

      Forced2Waddle

      Not really I would rather have no gym partner than someone who is not productive

    2. growcubgrow

      growcubgrow

      You got a whole forum of gym partners to cheer you on!

    3. LondonMuscle

      LondonMuscle

      I agree with Forced. There's nothing more frustrating than an unreliable training partner. At least when you're training solo, you're not encumbered by anyone else's crap :)

  15. This was a story I read a while ago on the old Musclegrowth forums. It involved a man stopping at a gas station and meets a huge muscular guy. The huge guy ends up transferring his muscle (and the curse) to the man and then steals his car and drives away, leaving the newly-muscled man abandoned at the gas station. The story involves the new guy meeting up with other huge people and he lives with them for a while, and he also finds out about the curse. It has several parts to it, but I don't remember the name. I tried searching the archive, but no luck there. Help! ):
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..