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The Growing Russian

@thegrowingrussian

Beefy Russian on a journey to grow massive. Nickname is just a background. I do not support Russia nor its actions against Ukraine https://linktr.ee/TheGrowingRussian
Grommr: TheGrowingRussian
Live in Los Angeles
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Intensive Cardio

Dylan kicked on his colourful sneakers and popped his earbuds in as he began to psych himself up for daily routine. Having always been quite fit, Dylan had decided to change up his work out regiment and recently picked up the habit of running. He’d be in his first half marathon in the following month and he’d been working himself up for it with strenuous cardio routine and his now common 2 hour run, which took him down a trail near the main road, around, and back home. His goal was eventually to participate in a full marathon and finish it under a speedy three hours. His phone let off a soft ding into his ears as he was opening the door. Opening the text message, Dylan promptly read,

-The faster you go the slower you’ll grow. Reach home and be done or enjoy a ton.-

The words seemed to dance around the screen in a singsong-y manner. No phone number was displayed, and Dylan was nothing but confused by the message. He disregarded what he had just read to himself and slipped his phone into his runner’s arm band as he took his first few steps outside.

A gentle summer breeze caused Dylan’s tank top to rustle along as it hung loosely below his chest. His spandex runner’s tights displayed his muscled thighs and calves. Dylan was not overly beefy, but definitely had the appearance of someone who has been carefully sculpting his body for quite some time. Soft electronic beats thumped at a fast pace in his ears as he took his first few steps from his driveway. Following a few prompt leg stretches Dylan began to prepare himself.

“Three… Two… One…” With each number on queue with the music. His feet effortlessly bounded along the roadside. Within minutes he was off the main road and on the nearby trail, practically gliding along the smooth concrete ground. Breathe In through your nose, out through your mouth.. His legs pumped along to the beat of the music, now picking up its tempo as his strides took off. Dylan’s cropped hair bounced along with each step, small tufts of chestnut brown whipping in along with the wind. A sun-kissed shine started on his chiseled face as he approached the fifteen minute mark. Smooth breaths escaped from his soft lips and small drops of sweat ran along his square jaw. As Dylan continued into his run, he felt an unfamiliar and uncomfortable bounce.

The feeling was subtle at first, but slowly became more and more apparent with the next dozen steps. A small bouncing sensation had begun around Dylan’s chest, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was and shrugged it off. From the runner’s field of vision, nothing was happening. He couldn’t be more wrong. His thighs so carefully began to thicken up with each bounding step, growing wider and wider over the first quarter of his run. The gap between his legs was approaching a dangerously small width. His breaths grew weak and shallow as the run reached its halfway point, dizziness and confusion setting upon Dylan’s pounding head.

An hour into the run, Dylan’s movements had degraded to a meek jog from sheer exhaustion. Pained and panting like a dog, Dylan had to stop himself up to allow his breath to catch up to him. Bending over to breathe more deeply, he felt something strange beginning to roll against himself. Shock overtook him. What had just happened? Looking down at himself, Dylan could see soft, doughy flesh rising from beneath his now snug shirt before his eyes. He gasped for air as he noticed his body continue to expand at an increasing pace. The small rolls of fat eventually compiled themselves into a round, plush stomach. Dylan’s gut had jutted right out in front of him, ever so slightly poking out of his top. At this point, panic had spread over Dylan and in his current state, decided to sprint for home.

The sprint for home quickly grew futile and soon after, pathetic. As Dylan’s body continued to expand, his running slowly turned into jogging, which slowly turned into a casual walk with an uneven pace. At this point, his thighs chafed and burned. Dylan wasn’t used to carrying over a hundred extra pounds on his frame and did not clue in to spread his portly thighs apart immediately as he waddled the rest of the way home. Sweat poured from his head as his hair grew soppy and shiny. Just a short time ago his tank top was oversized and hung from him very loosely; now it had degenerated into a bra, which had to be three sizes too small. The material was screaming, begging for the release from the torture of Dylan’s monstrous belly strained against it. Fresh pink rolls from underneath his armpits began to puff out from the sides of his chest and over the creaking cotton. Supple mounds of warm flesh where his firm, tight chest used to be now pathetically flopped up and down with each step as sweat filled the crease beneath Dylan’s newly formed breasts and now jiggling gut. The shirt was now creeping up into a roll beneath his man boobs and continued to ride up both from his desperate attempt to keep moving and his expanding figure. Love handles in a fresh, deep pink hue overflowed from his portly torso, forcing his arms to spread wide from his body. Sensitive stretch marks began to tear along the insides of Dylan’s flabby biceps, thighs, and stomach. His skin could not keep up well with the fat that seemed to pour into his body. As the gap between his footsteps shrank, so did the space between his thighs. Long gone were the runner’s muscles. Where they once tightly hugged his bones were now flabby rolls of fat which enveloped any once tight or bony part of him. As his body wobbled and bounced, Dylan finally struggled to waddle off of the trail. What should have been hope that he was close to home was now a turn for the worse.

“Oh… huff shit… huff” Dylan muttered to himself between weak yet quickening breaths. The traffic light had just turned red on his side. He wouldn’t be able to cross for a good minute now. The sun beat down on his overflowing body. Perspiration drenched and glistened every new fold of the pathetic, ripe runner. As he stopped at the edge of the street corner, the growth accelerated even more rapidly than before. Dylan braced himself and watched the lights of the traffic to distract himself.

“C’mon… huff c’mon…” the lights changed from green to yellow. Dylan could feel the sensitive underside of his belly begin to brush up against his crotch. He shivered from the sensation.

The light flickered from yellow to red. Small tears could be heard from underneath Dylan’s arms.

Finally, the crossing light was flashing. The new weight from his reluctant break caused Dylan to fumble as he waddled forward, overhang flopping lower and lower down his body as love handles followed suit at his side. Crossing the street was the greatest struggle that Dylan had ever faced, and his lungs burned and his heart petered out slightly. Tears mixed into the sweat pouring off of his rotund body and Dylan couldn’t help but sob over the immense pain and destruction of his body occurring. Each sad little step brought home within sight to him. Growing overly excited, frustrated, and well, in every direction, Dylan pushed his body forward as quickly as he could. Overconfident in how much his strides could handle, he tripped on the last step towards his house. He made a weak groan as he plopped onto the hot concrete, crying out in frustration as he tried to outstretch his arm to reach the door handle. His arm grew too heavy and he had no choice but to let it fall weakly to the ground. As his body ballooned up even more quickly than before, Dylan knew he’d have no luck of getting off the ground on his own. His top burst off of his body and fat rolls from his back oozed off of his sides like warm butter. One last soft ding was heard from his phone as the armband snapped off of his gelatinous bicep. Though outside of reach, Dylan could swear that the same, singsong-y tune was mocking him from his phone as his body reached its limits. The tune repeated itself over and over again as Dylan’s vision slowly faded to black as his breaths became desperate.

Reminder about that time I wrote a gainer story like, years ago 👆🏻

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da-fatman

So what ever happened to Dylan?

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