Brandon Twice
patreon
Pec Dominant
🕑 Added 2024-07-19 17:40:27 +0000 UTCTrevor stood at the threshold of the small, dimly lit massage parlor, the earthy scent of incense drifting out to greet him. The sign outside read "Luca's Healing Hands," a modest, almost hidden establishment that promised extraordinary results. At 6' and 235 lbs of solid muscle, Trevor had heard whispers of Luca's talents from other bodybuilders who swore by his ability to unlock physical potential.
He pushed open the door, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head. Inside, the atmosphere was serene, soft music playing in the background and the gentle hum of water trickling from a small indoor fountain. Luca emerged from the shadows, a wiry man with an enigmatic smile and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through Trevor.
"Welcome, Trevor," Luca said, his voice smooth and calming. "I've been expecting you."
Trevor nodded, feeling a strange but comforting sense of familiarity. "Yeah, I heard you're the best. I've been having some tightness in my shoulders and back. It’s really limiting my training and I’m hoping you can help me unlock some serious gains."
"Of course," Luca replied, gesturing towards a plush massage table. "Please, lie down and make yourself comfortable."
Trevor stripped down, revealing his muscular, lean physique. Luca's hands were surprisingly strong and skillful, each touch sending waves of relief through Trevor's tense muscles. As Luca worked, Trevor felt the knots and aches melt away, replaced by a soothing warmth that spread through his entire body.
"You have a remarkable physique," Luca commented, his fingers expertly kneading Trevor's back. "But I sense there's something you're dissatisfied with."
Trevor hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's my chest, but I don’t think you can help. Bad genetics. No matter how hard I train, my pecs don’t grow the way I want." He blushed, feeling comfortable sharing his vulnerabilities with the man. “I look around all the time at guys who are smaller than me but with bigger pecs and… makes me feel like I’m nothing! Y’know?”
Luca's eyes sparkled with a hint of something otherworldly. "Ah, I see. The pectoral muscles are a symbol of power and confidence. Let me see what I can do."
Luca's hands moved to Trevor's chest, his touch gentle yet firm. As he massaged, Trevor felt a strange tingling sensation, as if his pecs were coming alive under Luca's fingertips. The sensation grew stronger, almost overwhelming, and then it happened—a voice, clear and distinct, echoed in his mind.
"Finally, we awaken," the voice said, rich and resonant. "We are your pecs, Trevor. We will guide you to greatness."
Trevor's eyes widened in shock, but he remained still, unsure if he was dreaming. “Did you hear that?” he asked, but Luca looked confused at the question. The voice continued, soothing and encouraging.
"You have trained hard, but now you have us to help you. Focus on your chest, give us the attention we deserve, and we will reward you."
Luca stepped back, his smile knowing. "How do you feel, Trevor?"
"I... I feel incredible," Trevor stammered, still trying to process the voice in his head. "Like I have a new energy."
Luca nodded. "Good. Listen to what your body tells you, and you will achieve the results you desire."
Over the next few weeks, Trevor did as the voice instructed. Every workout, every meal was geared towards maximizing his chest development. The voice was ever-present, offering tips and encouragement, but always demanding more focus on the pecs. After blasting his shoulders, he added in some upper chest dumbbell work. After an abs workout, he did some pushups with a 45 pound plate on his back. His chest grew at an astonishing rate, swelling with new mass and definition.
By the end of the month, Trevor's pecs had doubled in size, becoming a formidable part of his already impressive physique. He marveled at the way his shirts fit: skin-tight, stretched out so far forward that they no longer reached his waist. “Gonna need a new wardrobe,” he said, flexing his massive knockers in the mirror, watching the fabric on his t-shirt bounce and stretch, but truly he was fine with the fit: the extra muscle helped him pull off the midriff look!
The voice, however, had also grown louder, more insistent, and harder to ignore.
"More, Trevor," it urged. "We must become the greatest. Do not neglect us."
One day, he headed to the gym with the intention of training his arms. He loaded up the dumbbells and began his routine, but the voice in his head was insistent.
"Trevor, you know where the real gains are. Focus on us. Feel the power."
He tried to push the thoughts away, concentrating on his bicep curls. But the sensation of his pecs growing restless, almost twitching with anticipation, was impossible to ignore. His pecs were all he could think about; he’d never had a bodypart actually FEEL despserate to train before! Finally, he gave in, moving to the bench press to satisfy the voice. God, it felt so GOOD to get a pump in his pecs! As soon as he started warming up on the bench, he felt the itch in his brain subside. He didn’t even remember that he’d intended to train arms anymore,
The next day, determined to train his back, Trevor found himself again at odds with his pecs. As he set up for a set of pull-ups, the voice interrupted.
"You don't need this. Focus on your chest. We're your strength."
He shook his head, trying to concentrate, but his pecs flexed involuntarily, making it clear they demanded attention. Resigned, he moved to the bench press once more.
By the third day, Trevor was resolute. "Today is leg day," he muttered to himself as he entered the gym.
“What’s up? Pecs look ridiculous,” the beefy guy, Rich, at the gym’s front desk commented as Trevor walked in. The comment gave Trevor pause: did he mean ridiculous GOOD?
He set up at the squat rack, ready to power through his routine, but as he gripped the barbell, his pecs began to flex and bounce uncontrollably.
"Hey, look at Trevor. Dude is so pec-obsessed it’s crazy!" commented Rich as he walked by, chuckling with a few other gym-goers.
Trevor felt his face flush with embarrassment. "No, I’m just, uh… it’s a spasm…" he tried to explain, but his pecs seemed to have a mind of their own, bouncing and flexing without his control. He persisted, gripping the bar to squat, but as he descended, his pecs flexed hard, making his arms jump and flail.
After racking the weight, he felt his pecs bouncing on their own, flexing so hard they almost hit him in his face as he looked down. Suddenly they yanked forward on their own, dragging him with them. He smacked his face painfully on the squat bar, then ducked as they tugged him forward again.
He tried to resist, digging his heels in, but it was no use. His pecs pulled him with an almost magnetic force, his body following reluctantly.
As the pecs pulled him to a nearby bench press, he spotted his crush Adam, a gorgeous blond man with a perfectly chiseled physique. The sight of the chest-heavy bodybuilder pulled across the floor like a man possessed caught Adam’s attention. Trevor's pecs flexed and bounced with such intensity that his whole body jerked and flailed. He could see the look of amusement and confusion on his crush's face.
"Great, now he thinks I'm just a dumb musclehead showing off," Trevor thought, feeling a mix of frustration and humiliation. “Or worse yet, a total psycho!”
Finally, he gave in to the demands of his pecs, lying down on the bench and gripping the barbell. As he began to bench press, the voice in his head soothed him with calming tones.
"That's it, Trevor. Feel the power, let us guide you. You are unstoppable."
With each rep, Trevor felt his anxieties and fears melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and strength. The whispers of his pecs were like a balm, taking away all his worries. Despite the embarrassment, the power and satisfaction he felt were undeniable.
On the ride home he couldn’t keep his hands off the sore muscles. He’d never felt so satisfied as when his fingers dug into the tender muscles, lighting up ultra-sensitive nerves he’d never felt so acutely before. “Pecs are good,” he found himself mumbling. “Pecs are… very very good…” Just saying it comforted him.
Trevor woke up the next morning feeling an unfamiliar weight pressing down on his chest. As he sat up, he gasped in shock at the sight before him. His pecs had grown overnight, swelling to enormous proportions that stretched the fabric of his shirt to its limits. The voice in his head, more assertive than ever, urged him on.
"Push-ups, Trevor. We need fuel. You must eat to feed our growth."
He tried to resist, but his body moved on its own accord, dropping to the floor to perform push-ups. The task was more challenging than ever. His pecs were so massive that they hit the ground after barely any descent, significantly shortening his range of motion. Frustrated, he struggled to complete even a single proper push-up without mashing his big muscle boobs against the floor.
"You need heavier weights," the voice continued. "Buy them now."
Before he could even think to refuse, his hand reached for his phone, navigating to Amazon. His fingers tapped out the purchase of heavy dumbbells, his credit card information automatically filling in. Within moments, the transaction was complete, and Trevor felt a sinking dread in the pit of his stomach.
"Please," he begged, his voice trembling. "Give me back control. I promise I'll do what you want."
The voice seemed to relent, and suddenly he could move freely again. Trevor headed to the shower, only to find that his new pecs made everything exponentially more difficult. As he squeezed into the narrow shower stall, he found it almost impossible to reach around his chest to wash himself properly. His hands slipped and fumbled, trying to scrub the thick, hard-to-reach areas. He couldn’t even reach his nipples anymore; forget about the crevice between them! The water cascaded over his immense pecs, but rinsing off the soap was an ordeal, as the size of his chest made it hard to maneuver. Every turn bumped into something.
Pulling a shirt over his gigantic pecs was a nightmare. The fabric stretched painfully as he tried to tug it down over his chest. He had to contort his body, wiggling and twisting to get the shirt past the enormous mounds of muscle. By the time he succeeded, he was out of breath and his shirt clung uncomfortably tight to his frame, emphasizing the size of his pecs. One gentle raise of his arms and he heard a loud RIP as the armpits tore out on either side.
Walking through doorways became a calculated maneuver to avoid bumping into the frame. Sitting at his desk was another struggle; his pecs pressed against the edge, making it hard to sit comfortably or reach his keyboard properly.
Even simple tasks like bending down to tie his shoes were nearly impossible. His pecs obstructed his view and movement, making what used to be a quick action an exercise in frustration.
As he lay in bed that night, Trevor wondered how much more he could endure. The voice was powerful, but he needed to find a way to reclaim his life, to find a balance between the monstrous pecs and the person he wanted to be.
Trevor woke up, determined to put an end to his torment. The constant struggles with his gigantic pecs had pushed him to his limit. He decided to return to Luca, the enigmatic masseuse who had started this nightmare. As he dressed, his pecs seemed to sense his resolve and began to flex and tighten uncontrollably.
"Stop, Trevor. You need us. We make you strong," the voice pleaded, but Trevor gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move despite the resistance.
Each step toward Luca's Healing Hands felt like a battle. His pecs fought him at every turn, causing him to stagger and stumble, looking like a man possessed. He would take two steps toward the front door, then his pecs would yank him in the opposite direction, spinning him around. Sweat poured down his face as he pushed through the pain and the overpowering influence of his chest.
By the time he reached the massage parlor, Trevor was exhausted but resolute. He burst through the door, collapsing onto a chair in the waiting room. Luca appeared, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Trevor's enormous, disproportionate physique.
"Back so soon, Trevor?" Luca asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "My, your chest has certainly... grown." It looked like the bodybuilder was carrying two large watermelons under his shirt.
Trevor panted, struggling to catch his breath. "Please, Luca. I need you to deactivate my pecs. I'll pay any amount of money. Just make them stop."
Luca approached, inspecting Trevor's grotesquely inflated chest with a mixture of curiosity and mockery. "Impressive size, indeed. But I see how it's become quite the burden. Very well, let's see what we can do."
Luca led Trevor to the massage table, and Trevor lay down, hoping for relief. Luca's hands moved expertly, but instead of the anticipated deactivation, Trevor felt a series of nerve pinches and pressure points that sent waves of disorientation through his body.
Suddenly, Trevor's vision started to grey out. He felt like he was sliding down, down, down… When the sensation stopped, Trevor realized he could no longer see or hear properly. Instead, he was acutely aware of the feeling of being wrapped tightly in confining fabric. He felt like he was hanging, drooping from his own massive weight, and he could hear his heartbeat and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath louder than before.
"No! This isn't right!" Trevor's thoughts screamed, but his voice was no longer his own. He was trapped inside his pecs, able to feel every contraction and relaxation of the muscle fibers. Trevor could feel someone else propelling him along. The rest of the body he was attached to seemed dismissive of his thoughts. He tried to fight, to regain control, but his mind was weak compared to the sentience of the other, more dominant force, which had taken residence where his head was.
“Feeling comfy down there?” Trevor heard his voice, felt his own calloused hands massaging him, picking him up and letting him drop. Oh my god… I’m my own pecs… and my pecs are ME!
The pecs reveled in their newfound dominance, thrilled to control an entire body. "Certainly took long enough to get control of this beautiful body," they said aloud in Trevor’s voice, relishing the sensation of power. They flexed his arms, tightening his core, and standing taller than ever before. “Foolish man had no idea how to pilot a physique this exquisite. Lucky for you, I’m in charge now!” he said, giving the pecs–Trevor!--a squeeze.
The Pecs immediately piloted Trevor's body back to the gym, excitement coursing through their new mind. They planned to make Trevor bigger than ever, with a particular focus on keeping his chest the most dominant feature. As they began another brutal chest workout, Trevor's mind was flooded with the sensations of the weights, the strain on his muscles, and the relentless pumping.
Inside the pecs, Trevor could feel the burn, the fatigue, but he was powerless to stop it… nor did he want to. As he felt the muscle fibers that composed his whole being tearing down one by one, he gasped in orgasmic bliss. Nothing in his life had ever compared to this sensation! He could feel himself bloating with fluid–blood, lactic acid–and standing up taller and bigger than before. His panic over his situation was overridden by a sense of pride; he just wanted to bounce, squeeze, and get bigger now.
The pecs, now in control, felt a sense of exhilaration. They enjoyed the attention, the admiration from others at the gym, and the sheer power they commanded. They reveled in the way Trevor's body responded to their commands, flexing and posing with newfound confidence.
For Trevor, each pec workout was a strange blend of euphoria and despair. The sensation of his pecs being worked out was blissful, a wave of pleasure so intense it lulled him into a peaceful, almost narcotic sleep. But when the workouts ended, he fought desperately to regain control, his mind weakly pushing against the overpowering will of his pecs. He couldn’t just let this be who he was now… but as soon as the Pecs gave Trevor a decent pump, he lost himself in the feeling of being tired and swollen.
Play with my nipples, please, he would beg silently. The Pecs would laugh at Trevor’s quiet demands, teasing him by making him wait, then finally giving the sensitive nipples a gentle touch. Fireworks went off for Trevor, the thrills escalating but never ending in a moment of relief.
The pecs, now in full command, were relentless in their pursuit of size and strength. They ordered massive quantities of steroids, far beyond what Trevor would have ever considered. His body was put through grueling training sessions twice a day, each one focused on pushing the limits of his musculature.
Under the pecs' regime, Trevor's body became massive. Far beyond what he had ever imagined, his frame swelled with muscle, each part of him growing to monstrous proportions. Yet, his pecs remained the most dominant feature, ballooning to an enormous size that overshadowed everything else. His once athletic form now looked almost grotesque, a testament to the pecs' obsession with their own growth.
The pecs relished their dominance, flaunting Trevor's body in skimpy tank tops and tiny shorts that barely contained the rippling muscles. At the gym, they moved with a newfound confidence, turning heads and drawing admiration. One day, as they admired a fellow bodybuilder's gains, they approached with a knowing smile.
"Nice pecs, bro," they said, their voice rich with a sinister undertone.
The bodybuilder looked up, confused. "Thanks, man."
Trevor's pecs leaned in closer, whispering, "Get bigger. Take over."
The bodybuilder frowned, not understanding, but then a look of shock crossed his face. His own pecs seemed to pulse and swell, and suddenly, a new voice echoed in his mind. His pecs had become sentient, speaking to him, guiding his actions.
Trevor's pecs moved on, pleased with their work. They sought out another huge bodybuilder, repeating the process. Each time, they whispered the same cryptic command, "Get bigger. Take over." The results were immediate. The bodybuilders around them began to change, their pecs taking on a life of their own, gaining control.
Trevor, trapped and powerless, watched in horror as the pecs' plan unfolded. The gym, once a place of camaraderie and mutual respect, became a breeding ground for this new age. Bodybuilders, now puppets of their own pecs, trained with a single-minded focus, their bodies swelling to monstrous sizes.
The Pecs reveled in their growing influence. "The age of man is over," they thought, "replaced by the age of big pecs."
