You’ve finally gotten your gym goals in order. 6 days a week without fail, perfect split and set lists that really optimize your growth. No less than an hour and often many more than that.
It’s a dream come true and you go at it 200%. Even got the hardest part of it down with your diet. Eating enough protein for an apex predator to feed the needs of your muscle.
You’re blowing up like crazy, even further in excess of the newbie gainz you were told to expect.
You are absolutely in love with it. Total beastmode. A new phase of your life uncovered with no going back.

One day you find yourself gazing in the mirror. Since beginning this journey you’ve found yourself doing it more often. Lingering. Your eyes always eager to notice something new. You’d be lying if you said your dick didn’t notice too. The first time you blew your load at your own reflection you felt a little guilty and weird. That was 3 months ago. Those feelings are gone now, replaced with more than a few stains on your mirror.
There was no shame in it. You loved how your body was shaping up. The way your jaw was sharper and more defined now. The juicy pecs that gave your hands something to grab on to. The clean cut Adonis belt. Fuck! It was good to grow.
But that wasn’t really what made you stop today.

It was small but it instantly caught your attention. A slightly discoloured gash of skin over your delts. A stretch mark.
You were stunned. You’d always been a kind of scrawny guy. Never had much first hand experience with them apart from maybe a few down your side or up your back that came with a prepubescent growth spurt.
You’d always sort of hated the way they looked, but these ones had a different texture to them. A different energy altogether.
You prod at it with your finger. It’s different to the rest of your skin. Slightly tender.
You don’t know why it makes you so happy at first to see it. But then it hits you.
This is a sign that you’re growing so fast and so efficiently, that the rest of your body can’t quite keep up.
Another stain added to the mirror.

The symbolic significance kind of went to your head a little.
You sought them out every time. Every month you’d find a new one. A new streak along your skin. Tiger stripes or lightning scars. Over your delts, down your upper chest, Up your obliques and the flaring surface of your lats. A fair few over your glutes and thighs.

Most people would have been upset and tried to find a way to remedy them with creams and lotions and all kinds of stuff.
You didn’t though, You loved them. They were points of pride. Each one was a trophy to commemorate more and more pounds of mass shuffled beneath your skin. Your body trying its best to accommodate a passion that clearly spilled beyond the bounds of normal human excitement.

Most people would try to hide them with long sleeves or pump covers. You never do. You display them happily. Draw attention to them and the bulging, throbbing muscle that seems to just grow exponentially.
Those stretch marks seem to feed into your drive, ramping your…lets call it what it is; addiction higher and higher.

Soon you find that a lot of other things in your life start to stretch because of your newfound passion. But not all of them kept up as well as your skin.

After a year of counting stretch marks you had to say goodbye to your old wardrobe. You were loving the tight, painted on look for a while. But 7 torn pants and sleeves that were starting to stretch and deform was a good sign to at least go up a size.
It was pricey. Especially since you knew in your heart of hearts that you’d have to do it again in a year or two at the rate you were growing.
It was worth it. And at the very least you felt a bit sad that you had to part with some of those clothes that had sentimental value.
The same couldn’t be said for other things.

A lot of your relationships strained too. You had way too many people in your life who just didn’t get you. They couldn’t stretch to accommodate a new version of yourself. They wanted you to remain the you they had always known.
How fucking selfish.
They told you to stop or slow down. Got upset when you chose the gym over them and their bullshit issues. Got offended when you just suggested that they needed to lose a couple pounds.
They said your passion was a problem. And they pointed to your stretch marks as a sign of that.
You instead saw it for what it really was, a sign that you’d simply outgrown the people in your life.
It was surprisingly easy to cut them out. You were too big to waste your time with small people..

Once they were gone it was like a strap had been loosened around your mind. You’d always known people like that held you back, but it was only after you removed them from your life that you saw the full extent of that truth

Your mindset and worldview started exploding along with you.  It had stretched and grown to accommodate a lot over the years. Endless meal plans, setlists, maybe a cycle or two or a dozen.
But just like your skin, there’s a point where that consciousness stretches and breaks a little.

And you find yourself redefined and remolded, almost without noticing. Social Isolation, echo chamber effects, exposure every day to more and more extremes of your addiction. How could these things be “problems” when they worked so fucking good.
Who cares.

Long ago you were without blemish, your soul was lilywhite and unstained. Now you were marked.
But you loved imperfection. The addiction and lust and raging anti-social behaviour. That felt better than being the flawless little cunt the world wanted from you.
And just like the stretch marks you got off on those blemishes regularly. Flaunted them for the world to see.
They were points of pride. Trophies to the achievement of completely outgrowing the old you.

The Model featured is Andrzej TomalskiCheck them out. And If you want to support the creation of more hypnotic experiences and writing, then you can do so by subscribing to my Patreon, or to my Youtube channel. And if you want to interact more closely with me and my supportive community you can join my Discord serverAnd check out my file archive on my website.