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Part One: The hook

Tom was a big goof, but I couldn't have gotten where I am without him. We had started working out together several years ago at the same corporate gym. Neither of us had been a jock in school, but we both shared what we knew about working out and developed some routines we both enjoyed. A few years and a couple of jobs later, and we stayed connected enough to usually find a gym convenient for both of us and workout a couple times a week together. Tom was never very serious about anything, but he almost always showed up at the gym when he said he would. We hung out a couple times after a workout, grabbing a bite or watching a game, but outside of the gym we really didn't share much in common.

We both made decent progress over the years, sharing similar goals to look good naked with lean, athletic bodies, even if we never played an actual sport. But lately, I had started to feel like Tom was holding me back, keeping me from pushing my body to the next level. I looked at the bigger guys at the gym with a desire that Tom didn't seem to share. Sure, I didn't have to stay with the same weights that Tom used, and with dumbbells I sometimes went a bit heavier than Tom. But, even when Tom encouraged me to go heavier, it felt a little like betrayal of the routine and the comfortable relationship we had built.

"Fuck, I forgot shorts," Tom exclaimed as we were unpacking our gym bags in the locker room. "I guess I gotta go fishing," he said with a grin.

I chuckled along and lightly shook my head as Tom went back to the front desk. It started as a joke. Tom lost his watch at the gym just a week after joining. As I left after that workout, he went to the front desk to ask if it had been turned in. The attendant showed him a crate of belongings and dug out a couple watches. At our next workout, Tom grinned wide as he showed off his new watch. We hardly ever saw the same person twice at the front desk, and about once a month Tom would decide to "go fishing" and say he lost something. He could give a detailed description of the item he "lost" because he would try to remember some of the contents of the crate each time they brought it out. One time, he randomely got a lock that he didn't even know how to open. "I'll google how to crack it," he said then.

As Tom went fishing for shorts, I started my warm up on the treadmill. He came over soon with a child-like grin, pointing at his black shorts that looked a little small and short but showed off his legs pretty nicely. "They have a whole other box for clothing," he whispered. "This one looked clean."

The next week, Tom gave me a tank top that had "Do you even lift, bro?" on the front. At first, it felt odd that Tom bought me a gift, especially one that was a size or two too big for me, but then I realized he had gone fishing for it. He assured me that he had washed it at home and bugged me to try it on. He laughed at how low and baggy it fit on me. I don't think he realized how much I wished I had the huge muscles to fill that XL tank. I don't think I really realized it until then, either.

The next day I did a workout on my own and I had a growing frustration that drove me to go heavier than usual. Without a spotter, that meant mostly using machines rather than free weights, but my muscles felt a good, deep burn that I hadn't gotten in a while. I looked again at one of the bigger guys with jealousy that almost felt like anger. My thoughts were distracting me while I showered and changed. I thought about confronting Tom, either sharing with him my true desire and hoping he'll support me, or telling him I'm moving on, or was there a third option?

I saw another new person at the front desk and in my restless frustration I decided to go fishing.

"Hi, I, excuse me, I lost a, um," I fumbled. I thought of what I wanted, really wanted to get, and blurted out, "jar of muscle growth formula."

As I froze and felt my face turn red, the attendant laughed. "I saw that this morning and thought it was funny," she replied, then turned and bent down to a lower shelf and produced a generic screw-top white plastic jar that had a piece of masking tape on it that read "Muscle Growth Formula".

I was stunned and tried to smoothly say, "Thanks" with a forced chuckle. Trying not to look as awkward and confused as I really was, I grabbed the jar, placed it in my bag and headed out the door.
 

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I actually know guys that get so caught up in their “normal routine” and, yet are frustrated that they’re just maintaining. I love it when one of them finally steps outside the box (and actually listens to ANYONE with some good advice) and really responds to a new routine. Though, “a jar of muscle growth formula” from lost and found is definitely a new kind of shake up.

Looking forward to where you take this story!

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Part Two: The line

I got home, tossed my gym bag into my room, and focused on dinner. It was Friday night and my roommate mostly stayed at his girlfriend's place on the weekends which was usually great for me, but I was craving distraction from the multitude of questions bouncing in my head. It would have been nice for someone to reassure me that I wasn't going crazy, but maybe I was. After dinner and a few minutes of not really watching TV, I decided to at least make sure the jar wasn't a figment of my imagination.

But there it was, in my gym bag, looking pretty normal. I opened it and it was mostly full of whitish powder. I closed it again. No instructions or ingredients or expiration date or anything on the container except for that bit of masking tape. There wasn't even a scoop inside that I could tell. Who only knew what this stuff was. But, it wouldn't be poisonous, right? It might just taste bad. Or be some kind of drug.

I poured a couple inches of milk into a glass, stared at the jar, opened it, stared at it again, walked away, got my phone to maybe ask the internet or a friend for help, wasn't sure what to ask or say, put the phone down, got out a spoon, got out a smaller spoon, dipped the edge of the spoon and took out a small scoop. It looked like sugar, or maybe salt. I shook the spoon and watched a couple grains fall back into the jar. I touched the powder with my finger and a few grains clung to it. I rubbed those few grains off my finger and into the milk. "That would be safe. That couldn't hurt," I said aloud, trying to convince myself.

I swirled the glass around and it still looked like just milk. I picked up the phone.

"Hey, Tom," I began. "I went fishing today. Yeah, well, I ended up with this jar that had 'Muscle Growth Powder' written on it. Yeah, seriously. Well, I put some in some milk and ... yeah, I'm gonna try it, of course, but what do you think ... yeah, it's a good joke ... no, I haven't had any yet ... oh, okay, yeah, I'll let you know, ha-ha. But ... okay, bye."

That went about as expected, I thought, but was more reassuring than I anticipated. I mean, of course it was a joke. I looked at the half-full glass of milk, grabbed it and thought about how stupid this was. What was the point? I asked myself. Either it's crap that tastes awful and is a total gag, or it's regular protein powder and I should just make a decent shake out of it. I thought about tossing away the contents of the glass and make an actual shake. Maybe I could get Tom to try it first ... but why waste a bit of milk?

I chugged the glass, which tasted exactly like milk, of course. I looked back at the mysterious jar and waited a minute to see if I would pass out or start hallucinating or maybe even grow some muscle. Nothing happened, so I brought the jar back to my room and put it next to the couple other supplements I sometimes took. Tom probably wouldn't have thought twice about just using the powder for a normal shake. I again took a moment to reassess if I felt anything strange or different, but then continued with my nighttime routine.

Later, I laid in bed feeling both mentally drained but also physically restless. I had had a good workout that day and was maybe still feeling pumped from the higher bit of adrenaline I got from the heavier weight and increasing motivation to challenge my body to grow. Yeah, it felt like I had a great workout, but wait, how did my muscles still feel so pumped? A realization began to dawn in my tired mind and I rushed out of bed to the bathroom mirror.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed aloud. I looked bigger. I flexed a double bi and a most muscular. I was bigger. I wondered if this was a dream. I felt over my hard arms and smacked my thick chest. I looked pretty good before, an attractive guy, but my reflection was now in stud territory. I looked over my wider shoulders, tighter abs, thicker legs, everything bigger and harder, with more visible veins and sharper definition.

"Holy shit!" I yelled louder and laughed as I realized this must have happened from the powder. It actually was muscle growth powder!

"Holy shit!" I gasped deeper. I had used a rice-grain amount. How much would a full scoop do? I dared to imagine myself with even bigger muscles, like bodybuilder muscles, like Mr. O muscles, like comic book muscles. My cock grew hard as my imagination overlayed on my reflection.

I jacked myself off, feeling over my improved body and flexing more and wondering if the powder also made my dick a bit bigger and harder, too. I definitely fired my cum harder and more intensely than I ever had. I nearly passed out from the pleasure, but my strong legs supported me. I got drowsy after the release and again wondered if I was having a dream. I walked back to the bedroom, feeling my thick legs move over each other and my strong back holding me even more upright than usual. I crawled back into bed, feeling my hard muscles bulge against the sheets and mattress in slightly new ways. I almost didn't care if it was a dream; it was worth it either way.

I woke up and felt my thick chest and bulging arms once again, still as big as last night but this time slightly more familiar. I smiled wide and stretched and flexed in bed some more, also feeling over my massive legs and inflating cock. Eventually, I got out of bed and spent some more time in front of the mirror. I watched my lats spread wide to my sides and my chest mound up thickly. My shoulders bulged wide and high, and rippled with the slightest effort. My biceps were hard, veiny mounds that flexed into high peaks and my triceps filled my thick arms. I was surprised at how even my forearms and hands looked huge and powerful. I shook and flexed my legs, marveling at the definition of the different quad muscles and felt the newly thick bulging of my hamstrings. My calves also bulged huge and I became fascinated with flexing them a few times at different angles.

Finally, I wondered what my new body would feel like in action. I felt like I could lift some serious weight now. I'd look exactly like those bigger guys I would notice at the gym before. And I could get even bigger. I raced back into the bedroom to make sure that same jar was still there, and marveled at how innocent it looked. I used my fingertips again to put just a pinch of the powder into an empty water bottle. It was such a small amount, but it was probably double what I took last night. I filled the bottle with water and put it in my bag thinking maybe I should not drink the whole thing in one day.

I next pulled out my roommate's scale. I now weighed 217, and was still lean. Previously, I had only gotten to 200 pounds by bulking up with some extra fat. I guessed that I gained almost 25 pounds of muscle overnight. Would drinking all of the bottle I had just packed add another 50? I picked out my baggiest shorts and the XL tank that Tom had given me. It looked loose, but definitely fit better than yesterday. With another 50 pounds of muscle, it'd probably fit pretty well.

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Part Three: The sinker

I kept flexing for myself on the way to the gym, anticipating a new wave of muscle growth. Earlier, I had made a large omelet and a regular whey-and-banana shake for breakfast and took just a mouthful of that special water bottle to wash it down. If I figured right, I now had several more pounds of hard muscle coming to me soon. I walked into the gym feeling strong and confident and flexed my muscles that were itching to grow more. I turned a couple heads and got a couple looks and wondered briefly if I was turning into an egotistical meathead. I flexed my chest again and felt the muscle writhe against the bands of the tank. I spotted a guy that I had thought looked big before, but I was less impressed now. Were we about the same size now? He looked back and seemed to acknowledge a fellow lifter in me. I gave a slight nod back, thinking I would soon outclass him. 

In the locker room, I tried to put on my lifting gloves, but they didn't fit anymore. Then, I suddenly realized my body was growing thicker and heavier and stronger once again. It was like one good pump on top of another, building me up in half a minute what would normally take a year of hard training. I flexed and felt over the larger bulges of my arms and chest and watched thick veins emerge over the ripped muscle. I was about to worship my even more massive legs when a couple guys came in talking about their workout. I was struck by how similar they were to Tom and I, a couple of bros keeping in decent shape. I was so ready to leave that status quo behind. I flexed my ripped softball-sized bicep again and noticed one of those guys glancing over. I guessed I had already left that behind.

I took another swig from the water bottle and left it in the locker about half full. I looked in the mirror and my clothes didn't look too big anymore, in fact my shorts were already riding up my thick legs. I was definitely bigger than that guy I saw earlier out in the gym. I thought about showing off my glorious body some more, both for myself and for anyone watching. But I was also curious to see what my muscles could do now, and experience a real pump. Of course, I was also about to grow some more again anyway.

I wasn't sure where to start. Between the workout with Tom and the one I did on my own, I already did exercises to hit most of my body in the past couple days, but everything felt fresh and primed. I spotted the pull-up bar that was near a mirrored wall. Tom had a strong back from swimming as a kid and could always do more pull-ups than me. I flexed the already thick wings of my back and decided that was a good place to start breaking my PRs. Plus, I could check myself out more in that mirror. 

I gripped the pull up bar and felt my chest fly up to meet it. I nearly let go in surprise at how easy that was. I did a few more, then a few more, and felt my back pumping with blood. I swung into a muscle up, which I was never able to do before, then did another and struggled with one more. My triceps also flared with a huge pump and even my chest felt plump with power. I hopped off the bar and marveled at my reflection as I hit a few quick flexes. I looked huge like an amateur bodybuilder and now filled the XL tank pretty decently. I looked down at my legs which ached to feel the same pump.

I thought about using the Smith machine since I was solo, but went over to a squat rack instead. I loaded up a plate on each side of the bar, then decided to add another. This was about as heavy as Tom and I would go, but I did a couple air squats to warm up my knees and my legs felt like rockets. Even though I expected the weight to feel light, I was still surpised as I easily completed 10 reps without much of a struggle. I also relished the feeling of the bar against the now thick cushion of my traps. I was adding another pair of plates to the bar when I felt another wave of growth. It felt more intense this time, maybe because I already had a slight pump, maybe because my clothes were becoming tight across my bulging body. I felt the straps of the tank stretch tight over my rising traps and across my expanding chest. My shorts were clinging tightly around my huge ass and riding up into my crotch from my even thicker legs. I also squirmed a second as my posture shifted and my arms and legs were forced wider. I hopped back under the bar and repeated another 10 reps with the increased weight, but had to slow down a little to keep my balance and good form.

I added another plate to each side for my next set, going heavier than I ever thought I would. I glanced around the room and wondered if other people noticed me gaining another dozen pounds of muscle in the past few minutes. I saw my reflection in a mirror and stopped in awe. I was huge: bigger, wider and harder than almost anyone I'd ever seen in person. I turned back to the 315-pound bar, ready for another set. The bar's weight pulled down towards the ground on my shoulders but my legs fought against that gravity, keeping the lift-off and first squat steady and controlled. I took a deep breath at the top of the first rep and went down for another. Then, I heard the back of my shorts rip apart and I nearly fell over in shock. Thankfully, I was able to control the weight all the way up and rack it. I felt back with my hand to confirm the hole in my shorts and it was not small. I looked around and nobody else seemed to notice, or they were avoiding embarrassing the guy who just squated 6 plates. Since I needed something I didn't have, I went fishing.

"Do you have a pair of 2XL shorts in the lost and found?" I asked, and indeed they did. "Yeah, that's the one." I walked away from the front desk with dark green shorts that I was happy had a drawstring to fit around my still tight waist, trying to take smaller steps that wouldn't open up the back of my ripped shorts too much.

I changed quickly in the locker room, pausing a few moments to feel over most of my body and the hard, thick muscle that bulged all over it. I flexed my arm and chest again in the mirror and looked like I belonged in a muscle magazine. Well, maybe not on the cover, but maybe some amateur up-and-coming story or an unknown model for a workout routine. I went back towards the squat rack, but it was occupied by someone struggling with four plates total on the bar. Was that the guy I spotted earlier when I first came in, who I thought was big? I hadn't noticed how top-heavy he was, with legs that probably looked like pencils next to mine, but even his upper body looked mundane compared to the beast I had just seen in the mirror.

His best feature was his chest, and so I was inspired to head to a bench for the next test of my body's strength. The only unoccupied bench already had some decent weight on it: a couple plates on each side. It looked abandoned and I paused for a bit, swinging my arms and stretching them behind me, before sliding back on the bench and hefting the weight above me. I felt my pecs and triceps engage and they felt eager. The first couple reps felt awkward, then the next couple actually felt easier and then I felt my pecs flex and pump and drive out more reps in a delicious way. I got to 14 reps before I racked the bar; already planning to add more weight.

"You wanna work in?" a guy's voice asked as I sat up.

This guy was huge. I don't remember ever seeing him at the gym, and he would have stood out, as he did now.

"Oh sure," I replied, realizing he was the one who had loaded the weight. "I didn't see anyone here."

"No worries, just went for a water refill," the guy replied as I stood up off the bench. "My name's Matt," he added.

I introduced myself and we shook hands. I noticed I was just a little taller than Matt before he slid under the bar and cranked out 12 reps. The guy was strong and jacked, and wore a tight string tank that hid little. I glanced at my own body in comparison. Was I that big, too? Maybe, almost.

"Going up?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied and moved to grab a 25, but Matt grabbed a 45 and loaded it on one side, so I did the same on the other. He might have caught my hesitation.

"I'll spot ya," he assured me.

I struggled with the weight, my arms shaking a little to control the bar, but I completed two reps on my own. Matt's presence was both reassuring and a bit intimidating. 

"Think about your muscle," Matt prompted from over my head. "Squeeze that bar up with every fiber of your chest." I couldn't help notice that Matt's pecs flexed and danced as they responded to his thoughts, whether intentionally or not.

Matt helped with the next rep as I tried to follow his advice, but it felt awkward. "One more," he prompted.

With a bit of desperation, I thought about my chest and the thick fibers flexing and working and growing. I let out a growl as something clicked and the press changed from being about the weight to being about my muscle and my will to grow. "Again," I muttered before Matt had a chance to rack the bar. The next rep was tough, slow, agonizing, but wonderful. It was a battle I never even thought about losing, because I decided I was going to grow to meet the challenge. Matt helped rack the weight and I opened my eyes to see him leaning over the bar at me with a smile.

"Great set," he remarked, and I felt his beefy paw smack onto my right pec with a quick mix of pain and pleasure. "Nice pump."

I felt the pump, but not like I had in the past, just enjoying the bloated size. It was like I could feel it from the inside, feel the muscle yearning to grow into that bloat. I flexed the thick mounds and marveled at them for a few seconds before Matt interrupted, "My turn?"

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