The Witch Doctor starts to indulge with the sudden growth hoisted upon his increasingly broad shoulders, but with no sign of slowing down, just how big will he get? Enjoy!
*************
Jaimundi let out a breathless gasp, gulping for air as every fiber of his being was soaked in his volatile and potent potion, sinking into his scales until he swore he could feel the power pulsating in his very veins, the potion permeating down to his blood. The lihzahrd witch doctor's heart was pounding madly in his augmented chest to keep up, and his mind reeled at the implications. He was a seasoned practitioner of magic and his craft; he had studied every kind of plant and arcane ingredient, studied their reactions and effects tirelessly for years— and he still couldn't pinpoint where this sudden growth was coming from, and where it would stop.
He tried to focus, but two forces pressing against his mind kept his thoughts blurred and muddled, unable to think of a solution. The first was the increasing feeling of pressure, as he could feel his body pressed against the solid stone ceiling of his home, and a near euphoric, adrenaline-fuelled sensation as he felt his body growing larger and stronger, muscles bulging out at such overwhelming size they beggared belief— even as his logic roared that he needed to think of something fast to counteract this, an increasingly louder voice roared for more.
His body unfurled— already massive burls of brawn continuing to grow in pulsating waves. His chest surged forward like a tidal wave, while his enormous arms continued to expand, filling in the space all around with triceps like oversized anvils and biceps rising up like two green hills. His legs were brimming with so much mass and power, as his trunk-thick thighs rolled off one another, he could feel the stone floor crack under his feet. This power was intoxicating as it was liberating— Jaimundi entertained a notion that he could do practically whatever he wanted now; no physical block or obstacle would be too great for his titanic strength to overcome. But then, he felt the stone ceiling weighing on him— he saw the cracks of light peeking through. His reason returned as he quickly held up the ceiling as best he could, but it was too late to think of a cure— the ceiling was just about to collapse, and Jaimundi was still growing. All he could do now was ride the wave until it crashed against the shore.