Short Story by a good friend @/corrque.bsky.social

"Since when have I been this big though?" His thick hands continuing their roaming appraisal of his hefty form. Hard to tell exactly how you looked without a mirror after all, trying to judge from first person what's familiar or new. One palm circling the broad curve of his well fed stomach, the other moving upward, to cup at his heavy chest. Chest? A vague memory of wishing his chest was bigger flicked through his head. Why would he think something like that? His pecs were huge, after all. Massive meaty slabs that heaved into view when he looked down, pushed out with hefty muscle and generous padding. Too much to even get his big hands around, he noticed as he gave one an appreciative squeeze. Felt good, just like before. Couldn't help but let out a little sound, halfway between a hum of appreciation and a moan of pleasure.

"Mmmmh, it's good to be this big, though," Couldn't deny that thought as that feeling kept coming up again. Whatever momentary memory or curious question he'd had was washed away as it rose. Like a warmth radiating from wherever he was feeling, to a tingle shivering up his head, right to his skull where it felt like gentle sparks going off in his brain. Felt good to just keep going. Rubbing and squeezing his stomach, sliding his hands along his sides, feeling the width of the rolls wrapped around from his gut. The way he could feel muscle beneath the mass of his middle, pushing out along with the well fed fat to make him seem that much more massive. Sliding one hand up his arm, squeezing and flexing the enormous mounds of muscle bloating out his biceps, deforming his deltoids into mountainous peaks.

Crossing an arm across his chest to feel up his thick traps, noticing how difficult a time he had squeezing his big arm across his big chest, flexing and tensing muscle against muscle. That feeling, just growing and growing and growing, the more he felt, the more he appreciated, tingling it's way up to his head, into his mind.
"Mmmmmrooohhh. 'S pretty good, bein Big." Sliding both hands up either side of his girthy traps, behind his thick neck. His thick, bovine neck. He'd never thought of himself that way before, but he didn't take notice. He just kept slipping his hands up, feeling the divot of flesh where meaty head and thick neck met, the fuzz of his well shorn haircut. He fingered his curved pointed horns, ears flicking against his forearms as they did when brushing against something. As they always did, of course. He arched his back in a big relaxed stretch, letting out a satisfied grunt of exertion. Leaning back, stretching his arms out to his side, only exagerated his already enormous proportions, pushing his shirt up the curve of his gut, straining the already enormous armholes around his shoulders. Was already hard finding clothes that fit a bull his size. Might have to size up.

"Mmmmoooououhh. Get'n, mmmroooh, bigger." Just a fact about a bull like him. The dull recognition that he was bound to keep growing. He kept lifting more, kept eating more, kept wanting more. This big bull was just going to keep getting bigger.