Mirror, The (By Redwolf64)

By redwolf64

You stand in front of the full-length mirror.

You're dressed in a plain blue dress shirt, a tie, and khaki pants. You've just gotten off work. You have the whole evening to yourself.

You stopped at lunch by the parking lot of the gym to pick up the package from a mysterious "friend of a friend". God knows you paid enough for it. The guy made a lot of promises. But you've seen what it can do. Or, at least, what they say it can do.

You didn't even wait to get undressed. You stand there in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your left sleeve is still rolled up where you gave yourself the injection. You cap and toss the empty syringe in a nearby trashcan.

You feel like a junkie. Maybe you are. They say you only need it every few months to maintain. But you know the guys at the gym are shooting more. They're hooked.

Maybe you'll be hooked too.

They told you that you could feel it almost immediately. You don't feel anything. Or do you?

Your heart beats faster - is it the substance or just your fear and excitement?

Warm. You feel warm. Maybe the room is warm.

Your tie. So tight. Feel like you're chocking. You move your fingers to your tie, unbuttoning the top button of your shirt, ripping the tie from your neck.

There's a snap and rip. You hold the tie in your hand - ripped in two.

The material is multilayered and thick - you didn't realize you could just rip a necktie in two like that. You hold up your hand, examining the ripped cloth.

You notice it. A strange sensation in your hands. The veins - they look so prominent on the back of your hand. Your veins pulse with each beat of your heart.

You stare at your hand for a few moments, closing and opening your fingers in a fist. You feel strange sensations in your hand and arm, warm, tingling. The viens and muscles of your fingers and hands pulse and flex.

Is this really your hand? Are you hallucinating.

Your eyes follow the twisted, pulsing veins from your hand to your wrist. Still feel so hot.

You try to unbutton the cuff of your sleeve to follow the veins and muscles from your wrist to your forearm. Before you know what's happened, the forearm of your sleeve is ripped, the muscles flexing and bulging.

You squeeze the muscles on your forearm with your hand. You feel them tighten and move as you flex your bicep. The veins snaking all over your forearm, the straited muscles pulsing with each beat of your heart. The shirt sleeve feels so tight against your bicep. You flex harder.

Almost as if you're in a dream, the sleeve of the shirt begins ripping, bit by bit, against the force of your bicep. Your hand moves to your growing muscles. You flex your other bicep and the same thing happens.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are wide, alert. The sleeves of your shirt ripped, the pulsing, flexing muscles of your forearms and biceps exposed.

Is this really you that you see in the mirror or someone else? Is it a side effect of the injection, some strange fantasy?

You see the crotch of your pants in the mirror, a huge tent formed by your hard cock pressing against your pants. You never found yourself sexy before - why do you have such a hardon?

Hot. It's still hot in here. You sweat, moisture dripping from your face, your arms. You feel like a volcano ready to explode.

You flex your arms again, enjoying the mass of muscle, the sensation of power. You do a most muscular pose in the mirror. You notice your chest.

As you breath in and out, your chest seems to expand, the shirt so tight against your body. You reach up with your strong muscled hand and grab your pec. It feels so round, so hard, to tight - like an iron ball. The nipple of your pec is so hard, so sensitive.

You punch your pec with your rounded fist, feeling the sensation of strength, power, the deep thudding sound of your chest.

You flex your bicep. It feels fuller, heavier, pressing against the fabric of the shirt. Your eyes grow wide - you look in the mirror and see the seam of the sleeve stretched and starting to split. You flex harder - the arm of the sleeve feels so tight against your bicep. The seam rips open. You see striated, rock hard muscle pushing through the cloth.

You do a double-bi, looking at yourself in the mirror, the peaks of your bi's ripping and showing through the cloth of the shirt. You stretch the muscles in your neck and see the thick cords of hard muscle.

You growl with pleasure. Your chest vibrates with the low sound of your voice.

You didn't realize your voice sounded like this.

You flex your chest, your growing pecs stretching the cloth, so tight. A button flies off...then another.

You can't stand it anymore - you rip the shirt from you body, tearing it to shreds, throwing it to the floor.

As you rip the shirt from your muscled body, you hear your voice growl - a deep, animalistic, primordial sound, the vibrations of the sound waves rippling through your body. It surprises you, but only for a moment - you grab one of your massive pecs with your fist, squeezing it, feeling the mass and hardness of it, tweaking your erect nipple with your finger.

You look in the mirror, not quite recognizing the figure in front of you. You place your hands at your side; you inhale and exhale deeply, watching that massive chest expand. You watch, almost hypnotized, as the muscles in your pecs contract and ripple - is that really you in the mirror?

Without thinking you do a most muscular, veins on your arms visibly pumping and throbbing. You look in the mirror as you massage one of your biceps - so round, firm, hard as a rock.

You notice your legs - so thick, pressing hard against the fabric of your jeans. You reach down with your hands, massaging your thighs, feeling the mass of corded muscle, the strength and power - you flex your calves, feeling the remnants of your ripped jeans. Even your cock and balls seem larger, heavier, pressed out from your massive thighs, forming a tight bulge in your pants. You feel like you want to explode with power.

Then, suddenly, you feel it. Another surge. A strange feeling, as if you are crossing a threshold, a feeling of letting go, progressing to another level. A strange feeling of excitement and euphoria, a bit of fear.

Your shoes - the feel so tight. You look down, seeing your massive pecs flex; you look past them. The strings in your sneakers are tight, beginning to break. You feel your toes digging at the end of your shoe. You watch in amazement, hypnotized by the sight and the feeling, as your toes break through your shoes and the strings begin to snap.

You growl, feeling the ways of power overcoming your body. You hold your arms in front of you and flex, feeling the bones in your fingers grow longer, your arms lengthen. You watch in the mirror, seeing your legs grow longer.

You are becoming obscenely muscled - more muscled than any mere mortal and taller.

You place your hands at your waist, feeling your lats thicken and widen, flexing your back, your neck.

Is there any limit to what you can do.

The remnants of your jeans feel tight around your upper thighs and butt - you flex your calves and tighs, enjoying the sensation of the cloth ripping, the buldge in what's left of your pants stretching them to their limits.

You notice that your cock and balls are growing harder, thicker. Your immense cock pushes against what's left of your jeans, ripping them to shreds.

Your cock is hard, erect, pointed towards the sky, thick and muscular as any other part of your body. You admire it in the mirror, noticing the throbbing veins snaking all over the shaft, appreciating the thick head, enjoying the sensation of your huge balls hanging down almost to your knees.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You are not human.

You are a god. •

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