You stand on the stage in your posers, green as your eyes, the fabric filled out with inches of lupine flesh. Heh, what can you say, your flaccid penis as big as a human porn star's is erect.
You smirk, admiring all 410 pounds of you, solidly built and exquisitely chiseled. You look out over the crowd, letting them admire your brawn. You worked hard to get to this point, and you're going to put on your best show.
You execute through your poses with precise movement, making every fiber pop, every muscle bulge in perfect harmony. You had this down to a science but performed like it was a piece of fine art, every proud pound of lupine might playing its piece in the symphony of swole.
As you finish your routine, you can't help but break out in a flashy grin. You know you have this in the bag. It's only a-
You hear it before you see it. A loud metallic creaking coming from behind you. For a second, you're afraid something's giving way You spin your head around to take a look at the source.
You see him in the doorway. A musky, tusky water deer, in a grey blue poser, a pillar of flesh stretching it so that even at half-chub, several ebony-toned inches could be seen jutting at the base of the stalk. He's got a hand pressed against each side of the metal doorframe, pushing outward.
"Hey, tiny," the enormous stag growls in his sultry tone. Your eyes go wide as he presses, harder and harder. Drywall crumbles as the metal distends from the palm of his hand, curving out ever more sharply as the deer turns the rectangular doorframe into a handmade hexagon. Tristan's fangs flared in proud display as he practically crushed the sides of the door, he always did love to show off his strength, the trick was balancing it with his love of looking shredded.
The enormous stag enters the room, a smirk on his face. "Had trouble getting in, it's tough being this big. Maybe you'll find out someday," he says with a breezy, rather teasing tone. Gosh, he made you look like a toothpick. He takes a spot on the stage several feet away. With a smile, he flexes his right bicep. It's so big, he could cup his towering bicep with the palm of his hand. With his huge lats, billowing chest (the modest but dark bodyfur on his creme pelt really emphasized their mass), and tree trunk thighs, he could win this without breaking a sweat. He even cut back on the calories just enough to make all eight of his abs appear, though they weren't the most sculpted.
You hear metal again, and whirl your head around, wondering what it could be now. This time, it's a kangaroo, you can tell from the tail, barely visible between two immense legs. If Tristan hadn't widened the frame much larger than he even needed, this roo would have. Speaking of legs, that third legs from his crotch makes even Tristan's seem modest. It was technically clothed in a camouflage-style poser, but several inches of dark roo meat, no, a foot, protruded from a fiery red base of pubic fur.
You still had yet to see the roo's head, the top of the frame level with the top of his pec shelf. But the beast quickly solved that. With two hands on the top of the frame, he lifts up. Quickly, unfathomably quickly, he shoves it through steel and plaster, a sizable segment of the wall collapsing in a fan-shape as he simply demolishes the top of the frame with his bare hands, ripping it from its abused side beams with hardly a grunt as he plunged it well into the wall above. Through the dust, Andy's face appears, with a slight scowl and a gaze as hard as diamond.
Truth be told, you had wondered if the roo was stronger than he let on. One late night a month or so ago, you saw him lifting in Caucasus as you retrieved your forgotten phone, and the roo was curling Tristan's squat bar in one hand. It seemed too bizarre to be true, he never showed that kind of power even in a house of show-offs. It might just have been that the solenoid was off, or he was using iron instead of denser tungsten weight. But why do it in the solenoid room then, and why do the same apparent weight as Tristan? Privacy for a fantasy? It was strange.
The roo steps in, without a word, stoic as he often is these days. He pulls his arms back and pops a few bones in his shoulders. Was he still 800? Or maybe more? He was definitely bigger than his boyfriend, not that the stag seemed to mind. Not only was Andy bigger, he was more cut up than you were, you could polish rocks on those immaculate abs, or crush them between his powerful forearm and bicep, pecs, or shatter a boulder between the legs. If Tristan made you look like a toothpick, Andy's going to make you look microscopic at this competition.
You feel your heart sinking. But not as much as it does when you hear a deep rumble at the destroyed stage entrance behind you. What now?
You know what now. It's not the doorframe giving way, but the wall. Loud cracks echo throughout the wall from two point above either side of the frame. The splay and arc through the plaster, before suddenly,the hole wall begins to creak forward. You yipe like a scared dog as it collapses, the doorframe now a hole like a gaping chasm.
"Well hail, I had no other wait of gittin' in here," Ty bellows. The tan and white pit bull terrier was a colossus, as big and as wide as the hole he made. The poser he wore was obscene, straight out of a sex shop. It kept the head of his modest dick covered, but his oversized balls could be seen through fishnet fabric below.
"Ty!" You yelp, shocked at the pure size of him. That was probably a ton of beef, maybe 1.5 tons, and well over nine feet tall. How could he move? How could he function? How could he still be so goddamn gorgeous!?
"Heya Georgie, just figured I'd rack myself another trophy," he chuckles. He walks onto the stage and strikes a pose, the crowd roars as he performs a most muscular crab pose. Suddenly, he starts to growl. "Can't...hold on..."
You gasp as you see his crotch come to life. That 10" peen swells to full erection, and then it keeps going. Bigger and thicker, it breaks the straps of his poser and surges larger, 12", 16", 20", and beyond, a tower of pitty power with balls swelling big enough to feed the serpent. "Oh fuck, I'm so big..."
Ty can't hold on, as the flesh begins to pulse and throb on its own. You can hear his testes gurgle from here, his balls seizing up as they launch a gigantic load of cum straight over the audience, the crowd erupting into cheers not of terror, but delight, as Ty swings around and gives them a generous coating. "Shoulda brought tarp, folks," he calls out rather sheepishly.
Your legs quiver and you go weak in the knees. It was sexy, but you're...subatomic compared to that monster. You're hopeless. Gosh, you used to be one of the biggest beasts in the world, and now you couldn't even rank in a competition. That is a disaster, you feel so worthless...
You shoot up in bed, fresh sweat on the sheets, as well as a sizable spot of pre from your erection. Your fear, though, causes it to wilt faster than a flower in the hot August sun. You have to try and remind yourself as you look over Ty's junk - he's not that huge, Tristan can't compete, and neither can Andy.
But, as you glance at the clock, you know he might have a growth spurt soon, and someday the stag and roo might be approved for the stage. You'll be done for. Gosh, the fear grips you. Only a couple or so years ago, you were the pinnacle of achievement; you swelled to something not much larger than this, around 450, and ruled the roost. Hell, as your penis and testes surged, you would sit in the back of your class, whip your dick out under the desk, and furtively jerk it into a nalgene between your legs, drinking it at the end of class. As you grew, and your musk scared off neighbors, and you took up two seats, and you stared that professor and made it clear who the boss was...you could fill the whole thing. The day you scared the prof, you filled it twice. You weren't the nicest guy back then.
But now, you weren't on top. Other guys were. Heck, your cousin was 450. Your brother Jared was still bigger. Your friends, some co-workers, plenty of guys....it was harder to stand out. Bigorexia or not, that bothered you a lot.
You sigh as you get dressed for heading into the office. This was another place were you were once the resident big guy. But that was over two years ago. In that time, your boss, a raccoon named Gabe, became a real mass monster, and two of your other colleagues were way bigger than you: Noah, a suave and kindly pine marten, and Travis, a gazelle whose ego had swollen like his muscles. He was still a genuinely good guy, but he exploded during rut. He liked to boast, and Gabe would discreetly admit, that he pinned the raccoon to the wall of his executive office and railed him “like a new boss”. Travis was so big and sculpted, he was considered one of the top contenders for Mr. Cosmos this year.
You grab your stuff. Noah and Kaz, your senpais, would help you de-stress. They'd be sympathetic about Ty at least, saying another man's name...Conner, pfeh!
You pause. Conner. That was his sister's fiance. Enormous and hunky for a gator, but quite straight. You're not one to talk, but...gross, Ty. At the office...
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