The Pump (Patreon)

A mix of seven different chemicals was running through his veins for several weeks now. The cycle should have ended days ago but he couldn't stop. 

He threw another pose in front of the mirror while taking the deepest breath possible, his chest swelling big enough to press against his chin forcefully. He couldn't look down properly anymore but he wasn't minding this circumstance for a single second. His eyes were fixated on the man in the mirror; the beast of muscles and strength. 

"Bigger," he whispered, his teeth clenched. And so he took another breath and his chest swelled out further. The tanktop holding everything together finally ripping along his neck. He put on a wide grin that was almost getting lost in the valley between his pecs.