Room to Grow 3 (Patreon)

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By the second week of September, Pextreme’s beginner shakes had become part of Luke’s daily routine, and he had stopped trusting his bathroom scale. He still used it every morning, recording the numbers alongside measurements on his phone, and his weight kept going higher faster than he ever expected. He’d finished August at a lean 173 pounds, and he was nearing 180 after just a couple of weeks. His shoulders seemed rounder, his upper arms stretched his previously loose sleeves, and his chest looked thicker beneath his shirts.

Mason found Luke’s bewilderment hilarious. Luke treated his body like an engineering assignment, recording everything; Mason preferred to flex in the mirror and announce he looked fantastic. He was a patient workout partner, correcting Luke’s form and celebrating every improvement. Their old awkwardness had worn away at the gym. They could talk there without searching for subjects, then bring the easy mood home over dinner.

The advanced shakes were doing wonders on Mason’s body. He’d arrived at about 202 pounds, but by mid-September he was past 215 pounds, and his pecs were starting to overwhelm his physique. His shoulders and arms grew, but his chest seemed to collect muscle twice as fast. The upper section thickened toward his collarbones, while the lower part rounded outward from his ribs even when he relaxed. Luke blamed Mason’s workouts until he started looking freshly pumped at breakfast, hours before training.

Mason’s fitted polos had always stretched across his chest, but now the fabric pulled sideways from beneath his arms and caught beneath the lower part of his pecs. A green tank top that had been snug in August looked almost painted on. One morning Mason stood in the kitchen tugging its hem downward, only for the front to ride up again as soon as he raised his arms. He looked down at the two thick pecs straining against the cotton and grinned.

“I think my chest is eating my shirts,” Mason said, quickly flexing his pecs and making the problem even worse.

“Then buy shirts that fit,” Luke said. He was trying to make coffee, but his eyes kept going back to look at Mason’s chest.

“I did. Three weeks ago.” Mason laughed and ran a hand across his chest. “Almost 50 inches now, man. This stuff is insane.”

Luke watched Mason head for his bedroom a few minutes later, still complaining about clothes not fitting. Luke tried to be casual about it all, but the attraction was harder to dismiss, especially with Mason getting prouder of himself by the day.

By late September, Luke was in the low 180s. His pecs formed clear curves beneath fitted shirts, his shoulders made his waist seem narrower, and his thighs strained his jeans. He stood straighter and enjoyed seeing his body reflected in windows or mirrors. But Mason’s approval mattered more to him than anyone else’s, so every time the big guy complimented him after one of their gym sessions, Luke could barely hide his ridiculous excitement and pride.

Meanwhile, Mason’s chest kept growing at a ridiculous speed. Even when relaxed, his pecs were thick, heavy, and pushed a few inches from his ribcage. And when he flexed, the fullness hardened and pushed outward even more. When he walked or leaned forward, the mass bounced or swayed visibly. Mason adored every change. After years of slow progress, he finally seemed to be growing as quickly as he wanted. He began calling his pecs his “tits” because they were getting so round and full that the joke was irresistible and the word always made Luke choke on whatever he was drinking.

When October started, their monthly Pextreme deliveries continued, and so did their workouts. Within a few days, the new month made September’s gains look modest. Luke approached 190 pounds, with rounder shoulders, thicker arms, a deeper chest, and a V-shaped back that he never imagined was achievable for someone like him. His abdomen had tightened, while his ass and thighs grew so much that buying pants had gotten complicated.

He could feel the difference when carrying groceries or lifting weights. But the best part was seeing his reflection in a shop window. He was sometimes embarrassed by how pleased he felt, but it was impossible not to stare when his body had changed so much, so fast. But more than anything, it was impossible not to stare at Mason’s growing body.

Mason’s weight went past 230 pounds without losing his narrow waist. His arms reached about 18 inches, and his shoulders thickened even more. Still, his chest was the one body part that grew the most. The pecs widened and swelled so far forward that their rounded lower part hung more over his abs. They hardened when flexed, but when relaxed they looked round and full, much more like “tits” than before. A quick turn made them sway, and stairs made them bounce, which Mason loved much more than he wanted to admit. The tits were getting so thick that they altered how he held his arms, which rested farther from his sides.

One evening Luke found Mason in front of the hallway mirror, shirtless and turning from side to side. The first thing that caught his attention was the immense tits. The nipples were farther forward than they had been in August, and a deep central groove separated the pecs as their rounded inner sides pressed closer together. Mason cupped one of his tits, lifted it to test the new weight, then flexed. The satisfied look on his face was almost unbearable, but Luke could only smile at the scene.

“Seriously,” Mason said, watching Luke’s reflection. “Look at these fucking things. Pretty soon I’m gonna need a bra. Or start making milk.”

Luke laughed because he loved when Mason joked about stuff like that because the ridiculous idea matched the insane proportions. Still, he watched the massive tits a moment longer before going back to the kitchen. He wouldn’t admit it openly, but he had fallen for Mason’s kindness, intelligence, and maddening confidence as surely as he’d fallen for his body. He wondered if Mason had noticed any of it.

By Halloween, Luke weighed about 195 pounds and Mason nearly 241. Luke’s pecs stretched his fitted shirts, his arms filled the sleeves, and his wide back emphasized his narrow waist. Mason had grown into an exaggerated version of the already impressive athlete Luke first met. His chest approached 60 inches, with pecs so huge that even roomy tanks stretched around them. And he wore his newfound proportions with shameless satisfaction, and Luke could hardly blame him.

For Halloween, they decided to get drinks and food at a bar Luke knew near the apartment. Luke spent longer dressing than he usually did because, even though they hadn’t labeled what they were doing, the night out felt so much like a date that he wanted to look as best as possible. He finally chose dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that showed how much his chest and shoulders had grown.

Mason wore dark jeans and a deep red tank that barely seemed capable of containing his pecs. The front pushed so far forward, while his powerful arms and shoulders crowded the openings, that the fabric seemed on the verge of tearing in some parts.

He looked Luke up and down and smiled. “Damn. That shirt looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” Luke said, blushing slightly but pretending to be cool about it. “You look great. Not sure if the tank top will survive if you take a deep breath, though,” he added, looking at the red fabric fighting across Mason’s chest.

Mason laughed and shrugged, making the enormous pecs strain the tank even more. “We’ll see. It’s not like you’ll complain if I burst out of it,” he said and winked playfully.

A while later, they were sitting in a crowded bar. Mason drew stares on the way to their booth, then had to lean back when his enormous tits hit the table. He ordered a burger, fries, and so much extra food that it seemed enough for a small army. They laughed about workouts, ruined clothes, and apartment life in general, much more relaxed than when they first met.

The more time they spent at the bar, the more the evening felt like a date to Luke. Mason kept his attention on him, laughed at his dry jokes, and squeezed his shoulder for no reason. He complimented Luke’s body every other minute, stirring hope that Luke tried not to take too seriously. Their drinks made the signals harder to read, so Luke couldn’t fully confirm what the big guy felt for him.

After 1 AM, Mason was slurring the end of a muddled story, and Luke, who’d paced himself, decided they needed to head home. Getting Mason home was a workout in itself. His big arm settled over Luke’s shoulders, and nearly 240 pounds of unsteady muscle leaned against him as they followed the sidewalk toward their building.

Luke was stronger than he’d ever been, but Mason’s broad frame was awkward to support, especially when he laughed without warning. His enormous tits pressed against Luke’s arm, which made Luke’s eyes drop there and stare for too long even while trying to keep moving forward. Mason kept talking, remembering stories that didn’t seem to have proper endings, and every so often he squeezed Luke’s shoulder even tighter.

“You’re a good-looking guy, y’know,” Mason mumbled as they reached the building, with a cheerful grin on his face. “Like, seriously. All that lifting looks good on you.”

“You’ve mentioned it,” Luke said, blushing and steering the big guy toward the stairs.

They made it into the apartment without incident. Mason kicked off his shoes, wandered into his bedroom, and immediately started tugging off the red tank. Luke helped steady the big guy until the shirt came free.

“That feels better,” Mason said, dropping the tank top beside the bed. He sighed and sat down on the mattress, making his tits bounce while Luke stared openly. “Tonight was fun,” he added, slowly reaching up to rest one hand over his right tit. “Haven’t done that in ages. I’m glad I moved in with you, Luke. You’re a really good friend.”

Luke smiled and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’m glad you did,” he replied. “Even if you’re going to take over the whole apartment with those things.” He playfully gestured toward Mason’s massive tits. “It’s good to have you around.”

Mason chuckled, and his chest bounced as he laughed. He looked Luke over, clearly paying close attention to how the black shirt fitted across his new muscles. “I’m serious, you know. You look incredible. Everything looks good on you.” His sleepy grin widened. “You’re hot, Luke. Really fucking hot.”

Luke felt his cheeks heat faster than he thought was possible. He’d spent weeks wondering if Mason looked at him the same way he looked at Mason, and now his roommate was saying what he’d hoped to hear. The problem was that Mason could barely keep his eyes open, and his mind wasn’t the clearest at the moment. Luke knew better than to treat a drunken compliment as a sober confession, but knowing that didn’t stop his heart from beating faster.

Mason seemed delighted by his reaction, so he spread both hands over his massive tits and squeezed them slowly. His thumbs moved over his nipples while he looked toward Luke with the same mischievous smile he’d had all night. “Bet you’ve wanted to get your hands on these,” he whispered, digging his fingers into his rounded tits.

“WHAT?” Luke replied immediately, blushing.

“Don’t act all innocent,” Mason added, playfully pressing his tits together to draw Luke’s attention to the deep cleavage. Then his fingers moved over his areolas. “C’mere. Suck on one of my nipples. I know you’ve wanted to.”

Luke froze for a second while Mason moaned softly. He desperately wanted to lean forward and comply with Mason’s request, but he tried to remain calm. His hand lifted slightly, almost too willing to reach and touch, but he stopped because he remembered that Mason was very drunk. The big guy sounded teasing rather than serious, but the possibility that he’d noticed Luke’s fascination was as overwhelming as the invitation itself.

Luke wanted to ask if Mason really meant it or if calling Luke hot had meant anything beyond a drunken joke. But Mason was intoxicated and drifting toward sleep, and Luke wasn’t going to take him up on anything while he was like that. He stood, trying to make his voice sound normal despite the rush of embarrassment.

“I’m getting you some water,” Luke said with a shaky voice.

“I’ll be waiting, handsome,” Mason said, smirking and squeezing his tits some more.

In the kitchen, Luke filled a glass and stared at it for a moment before heading back. He could barely decide which part of the last few minutes bothered him most: the compliment, the invitation, or Mason’s apparent certainty about what Luke wanted. When Luke returned, he found Mason fast asleep, snoring softly with his hands lying across his enormous tits.

Luke placed the glass on the nightstand, checked that Mason was comfortable, and quietly left. He’d wanted to grow closer to his roommate and somehow ended up with a body he barely recognized, a friend he was falling for, and a man whose tits had grown far beyond reason. Tomorrow they’d have to face each other over breakfast and see if Mason remembered the things he had said and if he had really meant them.

...

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