My Bulk-Up

First of all, I Bear-Bear feel the need to clarify something. I believe this piece of information to be incredibly obvious, something that nopony should doubt AT ALL. But haters are gonna hate, so I Bear-Bear must add a disclaimer.

I was NOT weak before my bulk-up. I Bear-Bear have always had a body that other osos are deeply jealous of; they wish that their muscles bulged the way that those of me Bear-Bear do; they wish that they had my toned physique; they wish that ladies flocked to them like Cheesy to her mediocre loaf Cracker the way that they flock to me Bear-Bear. I Bear-Bear have always been an Adonis, a picture of peak male form.

However, the fact remains that I Bear-Bear have bulked up even more. It occurred to me Bear-Bear, while I was watching superhero movies which feature that inferior "hunkybuffman" Chris Hemsworth who the ladies so admire for some unthinkable reason, that some people may find my level of swolness... attainable. 

Once this thought had entered the mind of me Bear-Bear, I shuddered. I gasped. I rolled around on the ground while coughing up chicken feathers and screaming like Cheesy's siblings when she tried to kill them (but none of my family reacted to my screams, like how I ignored the pitiful cries of the second-fiddle siblings).

So I Bear-Bear resolved that I had to bulk up more. Obviously (based on my swol body) I work out extremely often and I build muscle with the utmost ease and comfort. So I Bear-Bear took an afternoon out of my exceedingly busy schedule (since I have so many friends and admirers who all want a piece of this hunky beef) and spent it working out.

Now I Bear-Bear am... perfect.

My muscles ripple beneath my fabric as I make my way effortlessly about any room of my choice. My legs carry me Bear-Bear along my path like two sublime, ethereal steeds. My neck is so thick that my bow tie threatens to snap; the threads nearly come undone under the unimaginable strain of trying to hold this elevated garment together. And my arms... mmm. There are no words to describe the bewitching state of these limbs, except to say that even the great redwood, when I Bear-Bear visited the forest, cowered under the vast superiority of my appendages.

My buffness is matched by that of nopony. Ladies continue to run screaming towards me Bear-Bear, begging for permission to touch my gorgeous biceps. And at one word of affirmation from my plump lips, I am swarmed. They surround me on all sides, all reaching out for just one touch. I am a noble, desperately desired being. I grace these ladies with my presence. They loaf me Bear-Bear deeply, greatly, with reckless abandon.

I Bear-Bear am, without a doubt, peak male perfection.

(Ladies, come and get me lol u know u wanna xoxo)

Comments

  1. Bear-bear, you were clearly having some sort of delusional episode. The question in my mind was--why?

    Could it be that you were concerned about the arrival of Theodore? Did the arrival of a new bear who looks so much like you, and yet so much fresher and newer, cause your mind to reflexively conjure an overcompensating fantasy to protect your fragile self-image?

    Or maybe it wasn't insecurity that sent your brain skittering off in this direction. Maybe it was the trauma you felt when Blob sat on you the other day. You seemed powerless as he squashed you with his massive bulk. We thought that there wasn't anything in your head that could be damaged--but maybe we were wrong.

    There's a third possibility. That you actually believe this. But that just seems too crazy.

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