Ginga is starting to size up world records in his sights, and he's aiming to smash them all- of course, when he's snatched up all of them, where will he go from there? Enjoy!
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"Alright, now we know that this isn't an olympic year, but you wouldn't know it with our next contestant— Ginga himself is competing this year in the International Weightlifting Federation's annual strongman contest, and he's still wearing the olympic colors!" "Well of course he is, John— the jaguar's yellow and green— and there's a lot of him for that yellow and green to cover."
"That's right, Bill— people are aware of Ginga's unique ability to grow; his workout and weightlifting videos have been exploding all over online, and so has he! He's tipping the scales at— uh, actually Bill, what is his weight?"
"Well, there's been a few numbers floating around, but uh… none of the scales the IFW has for their official records are able to calculate it. They top out at six hundred pounds— and apparently, that's how much one of his legs weighs."
"Good God. And he has been tested for any sort of… illegal material? Because— Wait, wait, Bill, i-is that an earthquake?"
"No, John— that's Ginga."
The stage trembled as the jaguar stepped up to the weights. He had pushed himself as far as he had ever dared, and then pushed even further— he was starting to wonder if he even had a limit after all. Here he stood— the biggest weightlifter in the world, and soon, officially, the strongest man in the world to boot.
The titanic feline's already impressive musculature had begun to reach supernatural levels; more muscle than any animal had ever packed on to their frame. Now wider than he was tall, his legs were girded with dense swells of muscle more impressive than fluted, marble columns, meaty, sculpted glutes stretching the lower half of his singlet out smooth, his mammoth, brick wall of a back spreading wide, lats spilling out of the sides. As he gripped the barbell, loaded down with over a ton of steel weight, his arms flared out with atomic bomb-like biceps and triceps thick as anvils, his steely chest heaving out, nearly snapping the straps of his singlet and overtaking his strong jaw.
"He's attempting almost five times the current world record for the clean and jerk— and, oh, here he goes!"
Ginga let out a deep, guttural growl as he heaved up the barbell in one fluid movement, the stage buckling under the sudden shift in mass, as the beastly jaguar heaved the barbell up over his face. And then, with the world watching, Ginga grinned toothily as he carefully balanced the weight, and rolled the barbell over to one arm— that one musclebound limb steady as a rock, every tendon of muscle solid as stone.
"Oh my God. He's done it, folks! He's more than done it! Ginga is now the strongest man in the world— the only question is, what's next?"
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