Ghostly Gains- Part 3 (Patreon)

Taran's influence is almost complete, as he works to turn Milton into a mass monster- but his designs don't seem to end on the powerhouse of a cat. Enjoy!

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"Hey. Hey." 

The cat tried to keep his concentration; the way Taran's voice hissed in his ear, it almost tickled.

"Hey, Mil-ton! I'm talking to you, dude!"

"I-I hear you!" Milton grunted.

Being possessed by the restless spirit of a bodybuilder had caused more than a few life-altering decisions for Milton; he had redone his dorm room twice, and then moved to the ground floor after it looked like there may have been some weight-bearing issues with his augmented body. His D&D group had never been more popular— but given he could hide almost nothing behind his DM screen anymore, Milton had been quietly asked to resign as a DM— at least until he could fashion a couple of car hoods together into a DM screen to hide his notes. 

The cat was currently squatting, his now enormous legs billowing out, thick and round as car tires, bristling with a breath-taking depth of strength and power. His fat, tear-drop quads bobbed and trembled, calf muscles like polished balls of black marble, churning with each squat. His glutes, so thick and meaty they almost spilled out of his shorts, flexed mightily with each movement.

By his calculations, he was lifting two metric tons, the barbell warped over his mountainous shoulders, his now-mighty chest heaving, arms thicker than steel girders with plump, bulging biceps, and hefty, slab like triceps, his back spread out like a Warhammer campaign map— and if he was lifting two metric tons, that meant he was generating 19.62 joules of power— if he could keep this up for a hundred more squats, he could generate enough kilowatts to light a bulb with his brute strength alone. 

"W-what is it, Taran?" Milton asked.

"You know how I've been controlling you, wrapping you up in my web?" the ghostly spider asked, looming large in the mirror— but increasingly, there was less and less room for him.

"Yeah?"

"I haven't actually controlled you at all for like— a week, dude." 

"What?"

Taran chuckled low; Milton's fur bristled as he felt a chilly touch brush up against him. "You did all this yourself, my man. You're almost ready. We're gonna get a little revenge, Mil-ton. Just in time for Halloween."

"Wait— revenge? Revenge on who?"

Milton hissed as he felt his legs bend again, going for another set— Taran was tugging the string again.

"Less talking, more lifting!"