Description Join Jonathan and his best friend Todd on their four-year journey from geeky 14-year-olds to veritable mountains of mind-blowing muscle!
|Updated||30 May 2020|
I’m so excited. I’m 14, I’m done with 8th grade, and, yes!, Dad and Mom bought me the weight set! Not only did they buy me the weight set, they tricked out the entire basement, power rack, dumbbells, mirrors, the whole nine yards. Dad said it was because he and Mom figured they’d get their money’s worth out of it, too. I’m guessing not; they’re way too fond of swimming (Mom) and racquetball (Dad) to give up their gym time. More likely they figure it’s a good way to keep me out of their hair and out of trouble!
The only thing they made me do was promise not to lift heavy without a spotter—or the power rack. Fortunately, I’ve been looking at YouTube for weeks now, and not just at all the muscle guys (although that’s certainly fun!) It’s amazing to me how much information there is out there on how to do stuff! How did people like Dad manage when all they had were books?
Mom also donated a weight scale and height measure from her office and volunteered to measure me:
About what I expected. Now the question is: Will I grow?
I am going to aim for updating this log every week or so. I’ll keep track of my workouts in a separate section.
That first week nearly killed me! Now I know what they mean about over training! The first two days after my first workout I could barely move! And by the end of the week I’d actually lost 2 pounds. Dad has a friend who is a big muscle guy. According to Dad, Mr. Smith says that if you wanna get big, you gotta:
Get plenty of rest!
So I’m working on eating and resting. It seems to be working. Today I’m up to 127 pounds, 2 pounds more than I was 2 weeks ago and 4 pounds more than I was last weekend!
Wow! I broke 130—in fact, I’m up to 133 today! Mom has started complaining that I’m going to eat her out of house and home. As if! It’s just the three of us, of course, and they make plenty of money. Plus I think Dad’s on my side, as far as this is concerned, not that Mom’s opposed. He’s the one who does the shopping and the cooking, and he’s been filling me up.
I made a great discovery! I like tuna! A lot! Which I think explains how I managed to gain 6 pounds in 2 weeks! Actually, 4 pounds in the past week, all of it A.T. (After Tuna!)
142 pounds, woo hoo! The tuna seems to be working!
Uncle Mark (Mom’s brother), Aunt Jen (Mark’s wife), and my two cousins, Ben and Alex came down for 4th of July. They’re both soo big now. Alex, who is a year older than I am, has nearly caught up to Ben, who is two years older than Alex. They’re both right about 6 ft. Ben is pretty muscley, 175 pounds, but Alex is still pretty skinny—he’s 145 pounds, only 3 pounds more than I am!
Ben said I was still a pipsqueak but growing up FAST—that made me happy! Ben said to Alex:
“He’ll be bigger than you are if you don’t start eating sometime, beanpole!”
Alex just snickered.
“Keep it up, meathead. In another year you’re going to be looking up at me!”
Meathead or beanpole? I know which one I’d rather be!
Cool beans! I weighed 150 pounds today! Better than that, I benched 150 pounds today—10 times! When I started 2 months ago I could barely do 75 pounds once!
Mr. Smith, Dad’s friend, is quite impressed with my gains. He game over this weekend to hang out at the pool. Gee, that man is huge! He’s old, early 30s or something, but really, really built. I worked up my nerve and asked him: He’s 6 ft. tall and weighs 250 pounds, all of it muscle and fur. He’s exactly 100 pounds more than I am!
Woof! Funny word, isn’t it? That’s what Mr. Smith said when I made a muscle. Actually, I should say, when I flexed my biceps. Then Mr. Smith—he told me to call him Dave but I can’t really bring myself to do so!—flexed HIS biceps! 21 inches cold, he said! Wow! He told me I probably wouldn’t continue to grow this fast! 25 pounds in 2 months is more than most people gain in a year, he said!
“You’re seeing beginner gains now and that’s great! But don’t be disappointed if you slow down.”
We’ll see. If I keep growing at this rate…Well, that’s crazy!
My friend Todd came over today to hang out by our pool. I haven’t seen him all summer! He and his parents were in Alaska doing some crazy volunteer project. Mom and Dad say the Lerners are “very granola,” whatever that means. Todd and I have been best friends since the 5th grade. We’ve always been just about the same height and the same weight (in other words, the skinny side of average.) When he and his parents left for Alaska, Todd was about an inch shorter and 10 pounds lighter than I was.
“Jeez!” Todd exclaimed when I pulled my shirt off. “Yer fucking huge!”
I glared at him.
My mom doesn’t get upset about much but she thinks the junior members, as she calls anyone under the age of 18, “ought to keep a civil tongue in their heads.” Todd covered his mouth and then whispered.
“But you really are, ya know!”
I guess he’s right. I’m up to 162 pounds. The last time he saw me was on my 14th birthday when I weighed 125 pounds.
“How much?” he asked.
I told him.
“37 pounds?!!” Todd exclaimed. “That’s crazy. You’re, like, ya know, 30% bigger than you were in June!”
Todd’s always been good with the math.
“And look at this,” I said.
Then I flexed my biceps! I thought he was going to lose it right there!
“Mmm,” Todd said. “I think I better get in the pool and cool off!”
I think he meant he needed time to let his boner go down! Like me, Todd has grown about an inch taller over the summer and he’s even gained a little weight—about 5 pounds.
“You outweigh me by more than 40 pounds,” Todd said, shaking his head.
I squared my shoulders and puffed out my chest—it’s more than 40 inches now!
“We just need to get you hitting the weights, that’s all!”
First day of class and…I got asked to go out for football! Can you believe it? I was in gym class and Coach Jones was showing us freshmen boys the basic weightlifting routines. Of course, I already know ‘em all!
“Okay, Harris, you demonstrate,” he said.
It took me a minute to figure out he meant me! And then I realized I was about the biggest kid there. Not the tallest—only 5’9 (Mom measured me again, that’s another inch, woo hoo!)—but one of the beefiest. Coach started me with bench press. I cranked out 20 reps with 135 pounds. Coach added a couple of quarters, bringing it up to 185 pounds—and I did 20 more reps!
“You’re not even sweating, are you, Harris?”
I grinned and shook my head. He peeled off the quarters and put on 2 more 45-pound plates.—225 pounds.
“You need a spot?” he asked—and I shook my head again.
Ten more reps, nice and easy.
“You’re just yanking my chain, huh?”
I’m sure my jaw hit the floor.
“No, coach, just tell me what you want.”
This time he added two 35 pound plates—285 pounds! That’s the most I’d done on my own at home, and only for 2 reps.
Today, though, I managed 8 reps, although I was seriously struggling on the last two.
“Harris,” Coach said. “Maybe you’ve had enough…”
I stood up, took off the 35s and put on two more 45s—315 pounds!
“You’re sure about this?”
I looked at him.
“To tell you the truth, Coach, I don’t really know. This time I will definitely need a spot, probably, uh, a what do you call it, lift off, too.”
He gave me a really weird look. And I did it! 315 pounds for 1 perfect rep!
“Harris,” Coach said when I was done. “How much do you weigh?”
I’d weighed just that morning, of course, butt naked out of the shower, as always, although I didn’t tell him that.
“175 pounds, sir.”
“Harris, I think it’s probably safe to say you’re the strongest freshman in the history of this high school—you ever think about playing ball?”
I am so bummed! Mom wouldn’t agree to let me join the football team!
“It’s too rough,” she said.
Dad tried to argue her out of it, saying it was a good opportunity and all that, but I could tell his heart really wasn’t into it. I dunno, maybe my heart really wasn’t into it, for that matter. It’s not like I’ve ever actually watched a football game. I was trying to bone up on it but those rules didn’t make a whole lot of sense!
So instead I’m going out for wrestling. The season doesn’t actually get started until about December so it’s not too late to try out for it! Coach Telatovich was kinda grumbling about it but Coach Jones smoothed it out with him.
183 pounds today!
Todd is acting sorta freaked out about how fast I’m growing. I’ve had him in the gym for a month now and he’s up to 125 pounds!
“Which means you outweigh me by nearly 60 pounds, doofus!” he pointed out to me when we measured last.
I made it up to him by letting him take my measurements, something Mr. Smith—uh, I mean Dave—suggested. Here they are:
Quads (thighs): 26
I offered to take Todd’s measurements but he passed on that idea! And, yeah, that night I took another measurement! I kinda thought it was getting bigger, too. I suppose I should have measured it soft but thinking about it made me totally hard:
9 x 6½
I think that actually might be pretty big, based on the glimpses I’ve had in the locker room. I’d ask Dad but he seems to think that I know everything.
“Well, you guys see everything when you shower, of course.”
“Hello,” I said. “Stalls, shower curtains?”
He thought that was odd.
“You mean you don’t all shower together?”
Can you believe? When he was in school they had what he called “gang” showers, one big room with lots of shower heads. That must have been a blast!
So much for wrestling!
Coach Telatovich doesn’t like my attitude! I mean, what the hell?! He likes that I’m fast, he likes that I’m strong, but then he started talking about “making weight” he kinda lost me!
“What’s that?” I wanted to know.
You would lose weight on purpose to be in a certain class?
“That’s crazy,” I blurted.
“You got a problem with that, Harris?”
Coach Wayne is a big, tall guy! He sorta loomed over me.
“Uh, well, uh, no, I don’t have a problem,” I answered.
He glared at me.
“No, sir, I don’t have a problem,” I continued. “I just don’t see why…”
And then I went into this, uh, well, I guess Dad would call it a tirade, about the fact that people who can get bigger and stronger ought to get bigger and stronger.
“So what you’re telling me is you’re better than everyone else, huh?”
Where does he get these ideas?!
“No, sir, not at all, it’s just…”
He cut me off, sent me to the showers. Oh, well. Maybe I won’t have a sport. I mean, it’s not like I need one. Todd and the Chess Club guys keep me pretty entertained. I was just kinda, ya know, hoping I’d make some jock friends, too. Maybe branch out a bit.
192 pounds today—that’s only about 10 pounds less than Dad is!
Hurray! Coach Jones saved the day!
“Harris,” he said after class two weeks ago. “I want to start a powerlifting team and I want you to be the first member, okay?”
What an honor! And I’m the captain! The junior / senior football players are kinda pissed about that. They don’t seem to think that have a freshman captain makes any sense. So Coach Jones said we’d do it fair and square, have a competition. Whoever could bench twice their body weight for a single rep would be the captain.
I tried not to laugh. I knew he knew that I could do it. What I didn’t know was nobody else could do it, nobody else came close.
405 pounds for 1 rep. (which was a little bit more than twice 195 pounds!)
The next closest was Jason Hudiburg, who got 350—and he outweighs me by like 60-70 pounds (most of it around his middle.) After Jason, it was that Greek kid, Stan Vallisomethingreallylong. He’s very impressive! Did 325 pounds and he’s only 180 pounds. You could tell Jason, a senior, was pissed off about that fact he was beaten by a freshman. He came and got in my face. He really IS a big ox, 6’2 and probably 260. But I stood my ground.
“Hey, Harris,” Stan said, interrupting us. “Give me your shirt.”
I don’t know why but I whipped it off and threw it to him.
“Now flex,” he said.
So I did, my 18½ inch biceps popping up like softballs.
Amazingly enough, Jason gulped and blushed and then turned around and stomped out. Stan flicked my shirt at him on the way but only he and I saw how close it came to hitting Jason’s fat ass. Stan brought me my shirt.
“Good job, bro,” he said. “Don’t let those senior assholes push you around.”
Damn he was hot! Standing there a foot or two from me, I could tell just how thick and hard his muscles were. And for a sophomore, he’s furry as fuck, lots of curly black hair. I guess it’s those Greek genes or something. “Not that they could,” he added. I know I blushed. Do you think he likes me?!
205 pounds today. I’m now officially the same weight as Dad although he declined to do a muscle comparison for some reason!
“You can do a pose down next time Dave comes over,” he said!
I don’t really know how to begin, it’s just not something I really expected to be writing about now. I mean…okay, I’ll start at the beginning.
So yesterday we had our first power lifting competition. It was a regional meet, so guys from all over our half of the state. Stan and I totally kicked ass, winning our weight classes (Stan is up to 190, so he was in the 85-90 kg. class; I’m right about 213 now, so I’m in the 95-100 kg. class.)
That’s right. We beat out every guy in our half of the state! And we’re only freshmen and sophomores! And…Well, okay, I might as well pat myself on the back. I benched 455 pounds, which was the record for my age group and it was second place overall (behind this huge guy who must be close to 300 pounds—he benched 500!)
It was an away meet and Stan and I wound up rooming together. And…He was sitting there in his jockeys and looking so frickin’ HOT and he wanted me to pose. So I did. Then he wanted to measure me. So I let him. 19 inch biceps. 50 inch chest. 30 inch waist. And that got me hard.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I knew it was big but damn!”
I blushed but then—I don’t know what came over me!—I asked him he wanted to measure IT, too!
“I don’t really know whether it’s big or not,” I told him.
He rolled the tape along the underside, then whistled.
“10 inches,” he said, and sorta gulped. Then he measured it around. “7 inches,” he said, and he whistled.”Biggest goddamned cock I’ve ever seen,” Stan said.
!! SMILE !!
That made me happy!
“Uh, can I see yours?” I asked.
He pulled off his shorts and kicked across the room before I could say lickety-split (or Valliannos, which is his last name, it turns out.) And then…It was beautiful. Not as big as mine but long and thick and smooth as silk! Before I knew what I was doing, I was sucking it! God it tasted good! Rubbing my hands through the thick, curly black hair covering the hard thick muscles of his body, I thought it couldn’t get any better but eventually he pushed me away.
“Pose for me, Big Man,” he said.
!! GRRR !!
So I did and if I was hot and bothered before I was ready to explode after he ooh’d and ahh’d and ran his hot thick muscley manly hands all over my body.
“Fuck me, Jon,” he said. “You gotta fuck me!”
“But I don’t have…”
He looked at me.
“Have you ever had sex before?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Have you ever had a blood transfusion?”
“No,” I answered.
“We’re good to go, in that case.”
So I did it.
I’m slowing down.
215 pounds today, only 2 pounds more than last week, only 10 pounds in the past month. Still, I guess that’s pretty impressive. It’s been a little less than 6 months and I’ve put on 90 pounds of solid muscle. Todd seems to think it’s impressive. He’s up to 130 pounds now, woo hoo! Of course, he keeps referring to me as The Genetic Freak Bastard, so I’m not altogether sure he approves.
The pup tent in his pants seems to suggest otherwise! I’ve been making sure I spend plenty of time with him and the Chess Club guys. It would be nice to spend every waking minute with Stan but he put the kibosh on that idea right away.
“Look,” he said. “You’re totally hot and I totally want you but I really don’t want the rest of the world knowing our business, man. It’s high school, fer god’s sake, they’re vicious.”
Blink. Well, I guess. Of course, I’m not sure how much good it’s doing. Today it was just me and Todd at lunch, which I think he probably arranged because the first thing out of his mouth after we sat down was:
“You did, didn’t you?”
I’m pretty sure I snorted milk out my nose. It felt like it came out my nose.
“Ur, ahem,” I said, after cleaning up. “Did what, exactly?”
He rolled his eyes.
“You know,” he accused. “The deed.”
“With Stan,” he added.
“Uh, well, I mean,” I stammered. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Todd tsk’d, tsk’d.
“Jon, I’ve known you since 5th grade,” he said.
“And I’ve known you were into guys since the 5th grade,” he added.
I really hate it when he gets that My friend Jon is a congenital idiot expression but I guess he does so for a reason.
“Hello, Sherlock, smell the coffee,” he said. “I know because it’s something else we have in common.”
I sat back.
“Oh,” I said. “I guess that explains…”
“Why I’m a walking hard-on whenever Mr. My Best Friend Jon is Now a Greek God is standing around? Yeah, that does explain it!”
He got up and patted me on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, doofus,” he said as he walked away. “I’ll deal with it.”
Deal with what?!
Maybe I’m not slowing down that much after all. It’s been three weeks and I’m up to 225 pounds. You read it. Two Twenty Five! Exactly 100 pounds more than when I started six months ago.
Mom and Dad had their annual holiday get together this evening. Mr. Smith was the last to arrive.
“Oh, that’s probably Dave,” Mom said, when the doorbell rang. “He’s always running on GST,” whatever that is.
She and Dad were busy whooping it up in the kitchen with the other guests so I went to get the door, which I would have done anyway—he’s such a hottie!
“Jesus!” he said when he got a good look at me. “Yer effin’ huge!”
“I’m another inch taller, yes,” I agreed. “Up to 5’10 now.”
He shook his head.
“Jon, I wasn’t talking about taller—I was talking about the fact that you’re a goddamned gorilla!”
That made me blush.
“Uh,” I asked shyly. “Could I get some posing advice from you?”
I pointed out that with the cocktails flowing no one was going to notice our absence for a few minutes. He nodded and we stepped into Mom’s office, which has a nice wide framed mirror between the two book cases. I peeled off my sweater, which didn’t leave much to the imagination to begin with, and he gasped.
“Damn, boy,” Mr. Smith said. “You look like you’re made out of marble.”
I gave him a double bi.
“Check it out, Mr. Smith,” I said. “20 inches cold—and I won’t be 15 until June!”
He sucked in a breath.
“Shit, Jon, if you ever decide to compete in bodybuilding you’re gonna fucking clean up!”
I blushed, then worked up my nerve to ask him to take off his sweater. He looked around.
“Trust me,” I told him. “They won’t come looking.”
He pulled it off. Crap! I’m not the only one who’s been gaining. He told me he’s up to 260 pounds now, 10 pounds from this summer and even though he said it’s his off season look he looked fucking incredible to me!
“Damn, Mr. Smith,” I said, trying not to drool. “You’ve got a totally awesome bod.”
He put his big meaty paw on my pec.
“Jon, call me Dave, okay? Someday you’re gonna make me look like a widdul gurl, no point pretending otherwise. You may be 14 but you’re already a man in every physical sense of the word.” My big dick started plumping up. “So put that shirt back on and let’s go greet the revelers, okay?”
I did so and we walked down the hall to the kitchen with his huge arm around my shoulders. Damn that felt nice! He kept saying.
“Someday, someday, someday.”
But he never told me what he thinks is gonna happen when someday gets here!
First day back after the holidays. And, damn, they were good holidays! Somehow Stan and I managed to find time together almost every day! And when I wasn’t with him, I was lifting. And when I wasn’t lifting, I was eating! Before I left home this morning, I weighed myself, first time in a couple of weeks:
That’s 15 pounds in 3 weeks! People noticed. They didn’t say anything but I could tell—their eyes bulged out, their lips parted. I’m pretty sure Jason Hudiburg, who’s been trying to lean up ever since Coach Jones told him I was gonna captain the PL Team, creamed his pants.
Well, I say no one said anything. Todd, naturally, had something to say.
“You’re a fucking gorilla,” he snarled at lunch.
I just lifted my right arm and squeezed off a biceps flex.
“If you say check it out, bro, I’m gonna slap you,” Todd said, completely seriously.
I raised an eyebrow but held the pose.
“Okay,” he said. “How big?”
I looked right and left, then leaned over and gave it a quick lick.
“21 inches,” I said.
Todd sucked breath, winced, shuddered.
“Uh…” I began. He nodded.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Thanks a whole helluva lot.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Don’t do that,” Todd mumbled.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Shrug your shoulders,” he replied. “It looks like an avalanche.”
“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Todd gave me a look that made me felt like I was a butterfly in a display box.
“I want you, goddamit,” he said, he whispered.
!! SPROING !!
I was instantly rock hard and throbbing.
“Uh, well, uh,” I stammered.
Jesus, I thought. I’m totally fuckin’ in lust with my little dweeb best friend and I didn’t know it! Todd got up, walked around the table, and stood next to me, his little fists clenched. And he’s totally fucking beautiful. When did that happen?!
Before I knew what to say, Todd bent down and kissed me full on the mouth. Every turned and stared. Then he walked away. It was a good thing I was sitting down, with my lap under the table top: Jason and Todd weren’t the only guys to have a little accident today!
I’m feeling very confused—Stan dumped me!
He came over the night after all those little accidents happened and we did what we always do, got it on hot and heavy at first… And then he stopped. He was on top of me, his big strong hands resting on my shoulders, while bouncing up and down on my big thick cock.
“Oh,” he said.
He rolled off of me. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you?”
I blushed. “Got, uh, the hots?!” I stammered. “For who?”
Stan looked at me. “Your little dweeb boyfriend,” he said, bitterly.
I shook my head. “Todd is not my boyfriend,” I protested. “He’s like my brother, for heaven’s sake. I mean, shit, I’ve known him since we were in 5th grade!”
Stan started getting dressed. “It’s okay, Jon,” he said. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. He’s really hot for such a little guy.”
I sat up. “Stan, what’s the deal?” I asked, somewhat desperately. “What’s going on? It’s not about…?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “The kiss?” he asked. “Yeah, you could say it’s about that. I’m not going to compete with him.”
I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the floor (I’m not sure I succeeded!) “Competing? With Todd? Are you crazy? And the kiss, that was his idea, not mine!”
Stan slipped on his shoes and pulled on his jacket. “The thing you need to realize…”
I interrupted him. “I realize that you’re a totally fucking drop dead gorgeous major strong as shit muscle hunk, isn’t that enough?”
He shook his head. “No, actually, it isn’t,” Stan said. “It’s gotta be about me, dammit, all the time.” He walked out and hasn’t been back.
Oh, yeah, and:
242 pounds this morning.
Well, that was unexpected. Not Stan, that is. Well, he was unexpected, too, I guess, it’s just…
Hmm, okay, let me try to get my thoughts together. Stan dumped me: that was unexpected. Yesterday Todd came over, first time (now that I think about it) since last summer. It was like old times—we played some chess, we watched a movie…And it wasn’t like old times: He hung out while I lifted. He got really boned when he realized that I was curling—for reps (lots of reps)—a lot more than he weighed. He fucked me.
That was nice! He’s got a nice dick, not as big as Stan’s but just as pretty, and it felt way good bumping my happy spot. I offered to return the favor but…
“Are you fucking kidding me?” was his response. “I could take a baseball bat better than I could that thing,” he added. “The only thing I could do with something like that is put it over my shoulder and burp it!”
I felt kinda disappointed. And then he showed me I had no reason to be.
246 pounds today.
It’s been a while but life’s been really busy.
School, lifting, fucking. Setting up the first Gay-Straight Alliance in the history of our school. That was Todd’s idea, naturally. And growing, of course. Mom and Dad finally noticed, I guess.
Well, okay, they noticed all along, but when I hit 250 (about a week after Todd fucked me the first time) they sat me down for one of those talks, ya know? The we’re very concerned sort of talk.
“Son,” Dad said, “it’s just not normal for a kid your age to double in size between the ages of 14 and 15.” (And, yeah, “son” is always an indication that it’s a serious talk.)
“Your dad is right, Jonathan,” Mom added. (And, yeah, when she calls me Jonathan instead of Jon, that’s another sign!) “We want you to go see an endocrinologist.”
So I went. Guess what? I’m fine. Dr. Parikh told ‘em:
“Jon is exceptionally healthy, Mr. and Mrs. Harris. His growth is outstanding but it isn’t really outside the range of normal and he has suffered no ill effects. Far from it!”
So that was that.
“Did you tell the doc about this?” Todd asked, thwacking the Bazooka (as he calls it) against my rock hard eight pack abs.
“What about it?”
He looked at me. “How big was it last summer?”
I thought back. “In August I think it was 9 x 6½,” I answered.
He pulled the tape measure out of the drawer. I was hard instantly, of course, but I refused to look. His expression was, well, I don’t know. Eerie. Like a vampire looking at a particularly juicy virgin?
“10¾ x 8, doofus.”
I blinked. “Damn,” I said. “I guess that’s big, huh?”
Todd pinched my left nipple—hard! Naturally I started leaking!
“Most porn stars would kill to have a dick this big,” he pointed out.
!! THROB !!
“For that matter, it ought to be registered as a deadly weapon,” Todd observed. “You could kill someone with that thing.”
I grimaced. “That’s an icky thought,” I muttered.
He put his mouth on my right nipple and jammed his eight inch juicy cock up my ass.
“Is that why you’re harder than you’ve ever been?”
I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. They say you need a lot of sleep if you want to grow. Somehow that doesn’t seem to apply! This morning:
That was totally unexpected! I had sex with Dave, uh, I mean Mr. Smi…, uh, Dave! Apparently Dr. Parikh wasn’t good enough; Dad and Mom wanted Mr. Smith’s assessment, too.
“Your mom and dad say you’ve gotten pretty big,” he told me on the phone. “Want to catch a work out together?”
So he came and picked me up and went to his gym… Well, we were going to go to his gym. We never made it that.
“Holy fucking shit,” he said when I let him in the door.
I just grinned. “You want to take a look, Dave?”
He looked I dunno, desperate maybe? I pulled off my triple XXL hoodie, so it was just me in my wife beater and a pair of oversize sweats.
“Jesus wept,” he muttered.
I flexed my left arm and I thought he was going to lose it right there. “Check it out, Dave,” I said. “24 inches cold.”
He gulped. “Just how much…?”
I pulled my shirt off and flexed my 60 inch chest. “275 this morning, Dave,” I said. “Two more months until I’m 15.”
I could see the big snake in his pants getting riled up. “That’s what, Dave, about your size, right?” I asked.
He coughed. “Uh, kid, that’s about 10 pounds more than I weigh now,” he answered.
I stepped closer to him and flexed my lats.
“Well, you’re still taller,” I pointed out. “I still haven’t made it to 5’11—maybe by my birthday?”
Dave’s big, muscular, hairy man’s hands were on my chest, trying to pinch some skin (he couldn’t, my body fat is that low), sticking his fingers in the deep cleft between my two pecs.
“Jon, you realize could compete professionally, don’t you?” he said, in a husky whisper. “Ronnie Coleman doesn’t have anything on you.”
I pinched Dave’s nipple; I thought he was gonna cum on the spot. As it was, he sagged a bit, like he was weak in the knees. I put my other hand behind his head and drew his mouth to my own. God, he tasted like a man. Like protein powder and Scope and the beer he had with his steak and salad the night before.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” I told him.
He blushed. “I liked it,” he whispered.
The Bazooka liked it. I let go of his nipple and pulled down my shorts. It flopped out, all 11½ inches of it.
“You think Coleman’s is bigger?” I asked, directing his attention that way. “I mean, I’ve heard that black guys…”
Dave looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “Holy fuck,” he said. “Coleman ain’t got nothing on you in that department either, Jon. Neither does Kai Greene, and I’ve seen his.”
I laughed, then changed the topic. “Hey, wanna warm up in the basement?”
Dave just nodded silently and followed me like a puppy. “I wanna show you something,” I told him.
He snorted. “Jon, I think you’ve shown me just about enough.”
I laughed. “Not like that, silly!”
I had the weight bench already set up with 315 pounds. Still with no shirt on, I lay down and pumped out 30 reps. Dave whistled.
“Two more please,” I said.
He added two more 45s, bringing the weigh to 405. 25 reps.
“Two more please,” I said again. He looked skeptical but he added them. I knew that 495 was close to his one rep max. 20 reps.
“Fuck,” he said, and added two more without asking.
I did 10 reps at 585 pounds. By that time I was getting a really good pump, the striations and separations rippling every time I moved. I looked at him and nodded.
“I’ll need you to spot me on this one,” I said.
He shook his head. “I don’t think I can manage,” he observed.
I winked at him. “It’s okay, Big Man,” I told him. “I can manage.”
675, 6 reps.
“Jesus Fucking God,” he said when I’d done.
I felt like a beast. Hell, I was a beast!
“And your 1RM?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Don’t know yet,” I told him. “Last week it was 725—but that was last week.”
He whimpered when I said that.
“You like that?” I asked, stepping close to him.
“You like this?” I asked, flexing my engorged right arm.
He licked his lips.
“I’ll bet you like this, too,” I said and I picked him up under his armpits and pinned him up against the basement’s brick wall. His toes dangled and inch or two off the floor. I pressed in against him and his big thick man’s cock bumped against my steel hard abs.
“Uh, Jon,” he said after I’d held him there 4-5 minutes. “Maybe you ought to let me down?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You think?” I asked. “I’m not tired yet.”
He nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “But these bricks are kinda rough, ya know?”
I let him down—he fell into me. I wrapped him arms around his neck. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Mister?” I asked him. “I didn’t want to hurt you!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, like he couldn’t face it, and then he said. “Fuck me, Jon, fuck me. You gotta fuck me, shit, I can’t believe that I’m saying this but…”
I picked him up again and ran up the two flights of stairs from the basement to my bedroom where I threw him down on the new California King my parents had bought for my room. It went on a long time.
“Ya still want to go to the gym?” I asked after the third or fourth round.
He winced. “Jon, I gotta go home,” he said. “Maybe another time, okay?”
I stood and stretched. I could see him start to get hard again, despite the fact he’d already cum four or five times.
“You’ll call me, right?” I said as he was leaving.
He held my face in his hands and looked at me for a long time, like he was trying to memorize my face or something. “Not tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe not the next day. But, yes, I’ll call you.”
I asked Mom and Dad about Dave tonight at dinner. It’s a week and I haven’t heard from him. I was shocked as shit when they both blushed. Dad cleared his throat and said.
“Well, Jon, the thing is, Dave has moved to Oregon.”
My jaw dropped. “What?! When did this happen? Why?”
Mom patted my hand. “We know you really looked up to him, Jon,” she said. “We were very surprised that he left so abruptly. He was gone before we knew what was happening…”
Dad nodded, then added. “Dave said he had an amazing opportunity that he couldn’t pass up. His real-estate agent is taking care of packing up the house and forwarding all of his stuff.”
I just stared.
“Pretty damned, uh, unusual,” Dad continued. “But ya never know with people.”
After that I didn’t have much appetite so I came up here. Damn. What did I do? Why did he leave? Sigh. Oh, yeah:
Last night I told Todd about Dave. !! Urggg !! That didn’t go so well!
“What was it like?” he asked, calmly.
So I told him. “It was really great,” I said. “He’s huge and hot and I fucked his lights out.”
He nodded, then asked another question: “Did he fuck you?”
I shook my head. “I think I was too busy fucking him for him to give it much thought,” I continued.
Todd let out a breath. “Well, that’s a relief,” he muttered. I looked at him.
“Uh, ‘cuz why?” I asked. He gave me a pitying look.
“Do you have any idea how many men he’s had in his life?” he grated. “I mean, shit, Jon, the man’s 40 fucking years old.”
Oh, I thought.
“Do you really think yours is the first dick he’s had up his ass?”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
Todd pinched my nipple, hard.
“Listen up, bud,” he said. “I don’t care where you put that big schlong of yours, so long as it’s not up my ass…”
Jeez, I thought, Todd is going all Rambo on me!
“But my rod is the only one that goes up your hole, got that?”
It occurred to me that I could crush Todd like a grape. “Uh, well,” I said.
He sat up and gave me a dirty look. “Wrong answer, dipshit,” he said. “Call me when you know the right one.” And then he walked out. I don’t get it. I’m twice the size of that little bastard. I mean exactly, literally, twice his size: I was 288 pounds this morning. He told me last night he was up to 144 (can you believe it? The boy is getting big!)
Sometimes I’m not really sure what I want out of life.
Still no word from Todd. Whenever I see him at school, he heads the other way. It’s clear he’s not talking to me. And people keep giving me really nasty looks. Did he tell? No word from Dave, either, although I really wasn’t expecting any. I think it’s affecting my training, I’m slowing down. I was only 293 pounds this morning.
Maybe it will be an okay birthday after all. Todd called last night.
“Hey, doofus,” he said. It took me a minute to recognize his voice, it’s gotten so much deeper over the past few months. But who else calls me doofus?
“Oh, hey, Todd,” I said. “Good to hear from you!”
He cleared his throat. “So, uh, like,” he stammered. “Am I still invited to your birthday party?”
I paused for a moment, then answered. “Well, that depends.”
I could hear him wince on the other end of the line. “Depends on what?” he asked.
Am I really going to say this? I asked myself. Then I did.
“On two things, Todd,” I told him. “One, it depends on whether you’re going to pull any more of that Rambo shit, which is just frickin’ dumb, because, two, yours is the only dick I want up my ass.”
Silence for enough seconds to make me wonder whether we’d been cut off, then:
I rolled my eyes.
“All that and OK is all you have to say?” I said, sarcastically. More silence. Since when did he turn into the strong, silent type?
“Jon,” he said. “I’m in love with you.”
!! SPROING !!
Oh, yeah. It was a nice birthday! For one thing, the idea that Todd was going to be there had me working out like crazy. I wanted to achieve maximum hotness! That morning Mom measured me: 5’11” tall: Exactly 3 inches more than one year previously. And then I got on the scale: Exactly 300 pounds. I gained 175 pounds in a frickin’ year!
Everybody was at the birthday party, and I mean everybody! (Well, not everyone. Dave wasn’t there.) But the entire school, it seemed. I still don’t know why Mom and Dad ponied up for such a huge shindig. I mean, hell, we had a band, even! Todd was the last to show up, wearing jeans and a tight, tight polo shirt.
“Damn, Todd,” I said. ‘Look at those arms. How much do you weigh now?”
He grinned. “A buck fifty,” he said, and gave me a quick flex.
It was a good thing I was standing behind the punch bowl. “Hey, Rambo,” I said. “Knock it off! I gotta be hostly.”
He snorted. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “We wouldn’t want Mr. B scaring all the guests away.”
In all honesty I have to say the party could have ended right then, as far as I was concerned. The fact that it was another six hours had me extremely well-acquainted with something Dad calls blue balls.
“I bet there’s one thing your mom did not measure,” Todd said, when we were alone at last. I laughed. “And just what might that be?” I asked. He put his hand on the Bazooka, which was already close to exploding. “May I have the honor?” Todd asked, oh so politely. I nodded my head.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Exactly 12 inches! I guess I’m three inches taller there, too! Maybe 3½? I didn’t measure it until August so I don’t really know what it was a year ago!
“I can see why Dave wanted it,” Todd said, licking his lips. I looked at him.
“Well, don’t get any ideas, Rambo,” I told him. “I’d be afraid of breaking you in half.” He straddled my hips, sucked in that minuscule 27 inch waist, and gave me a shot of those 14 inch biceps of his. “You think you can break this?” he asked.
I didn’t laugh. I just put my hands behind my head and squeezed. “Jesus,” he breathed. My arms are now 26 inches when flexed, even when cold like they were then. Just an inch smaller than his waist.
“Jon,” Todd said, a note of quiet desperation in his voice. “You gotta fuck me.” I looked him up and down. “I want to fuck you,” I told him. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” He nodded.
“In that case,” he said. “There’s only one solution.” I raised an eyebrow. “You gotta make me big,” he blurted. I wrapped my hand around his pulsing, rock hard, 9 x 7 dick—mine isn’t the only one that’s gotten bigger!
“I think we’re off to a good start!”
I can’t believe it—Mom still won’t let me go out for football! Last year she was afraid I would get hurt. This year she’s afraid I will hurt the other players! I guess I can’t argue with that. I grew another inch over the summer, so I’m 6 ft. now. Oh, yeah, and I gained another 50 pounds. That’s right: 6 feet. 350 pounds. 5% body-fat.
My guess is the other players will be relieved. Coach Jones? Not so much. He begged me to join the team. Got down on his knees and begged. Got down on his knees and sucked my cock and begged.
I guess I should feel guilty. I knew Mom was going to say no. I guess I wasn’t feeling too guilty, though. After a few minutes of sucking, I flipped Coach over his desk and started pounding his ass with my 13-inch telephone pole. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Coach Jones minded too much either.
Plus I recruited someone else for the team, namely: Todd! When he puts his mind to it, that boy can grow! He’s still an inch behind me in height but he kept up with me on the muscle front. At 5’11 and 200 pounds, he’s built like a brick shit house and strong as an ox. I took Todd by Coach’s office and had him pull off his shirt—Coach just licked his lips. Then Todd dropped his pants and his thick 10 inch rod popped out.
“You’re hired,” Coach said.
Actually, it turns out I’m going to be on the football team, too, only as part of the coaching staff. The state power-lifting association banned me from any future competitions in the teen division, which means I’m effectively barred from competing at all until I turn 20. I guess that YouTube video of me benching 1050 for 30 reps got some people upset, I mean, what the hell?
So Coach Jones put me on the roster as the strength coach. I have to be careful to remember what the guys can and can’t do but they seem to appreciate my efforts and they’re all growing. About once a week I put on a little show for them in the weight room and they all grow down there, too! Todd says I’m a good motivator!
Speaking of Todd, I heard from Jason that Stan Vallianos has a crush on Todd. Stan’s hotter than ever, of course, although at 17 it’s clear he’s already started on that receding hairline bit. Naturally, Jason has the hots for Todd, too. He (Jason) sure has turned around since being such a jerk in the locker-room last year. A lot hotter, too, now that he’s buckled down and turned all that flab into rock hard muscle. I’d do him, which is more than I can say for Stan—wotta a whiny cry baby! I sure wouldn’t mind getting Jason in bed with me and Todd, although it would have to be a helluva bed to hold 830 pounds worth of men!
You’re not surprised that we crushed every other football team in the state, right? Todd was the first sophomore in the state to win the All State MVP award (although it was kind of a close thing, he was nominated in three different categories and nearly canceled himself out!)
Of course, just looking at him was every football scout’s wet dream. 6 ft. tall, 250 pounds, 22 inch biceps, 600-pound bench press, drop dead gorgeous. Naturally, he had a lot of offers every time we went on the road but he kept turning ‘em down. Lotsa disappointed looks (and a few broken hearts, I think) but he’d just point at me.
“You want to compete with that?” he’d ask, and they’d just sorta melt into the ground.
Every once in a while we’d fool around with someone, mostly because I really needed to get my dick up someone’s ass. If Todd’s dick was up my ass at the same time, all the better! Of course, not too many guys can handle either one of us, much less both of us. At this point, I’m up to 6’1 and 400 pounds, doing biceps curls with 300-pound dumb-bells, and all that shit. And, yeah, the Bazooka keeps growing. Fully hard it’s up to 14 inches now.
I’m happy to report Jason IS quite capable of handling us. He gained another 20 pounds, too. The three of us together are closing in on a thousand pounds so I had to get the bed frame reinforced and that was after Mom and Dad exiled me to the basement.
“Son,” Dad said. “I think the flooring can handle you but, uh, well…”
I just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “No prob, Dad,” I said. “I like it down there!”
So now we can be a lot rougher! Speaking of which, Todd’s been bugging me to fuck him but I don’t think he’s there yet.
“You think you can break this?” he asked the other night, flexing his 57 inch chest. I bent over and flexed my 32 inch arm next to his 29 inch quad. His eyes got big.
“You’re getting there,” I said. “But check this out.”
I pointed at Jason and said: “Yo, Bud, you want…?”
Jason, all 300 pounds and 6% bodyfat of him, trotted over like a puppy. “You want daddy to fuck you, little boy?” I asked.
So I did it. Right there in the locker room. I picked Jason up with one hand. Sat him on my 14 inch dick. And slid him up and down like he was my own personal fuck toy. Jason put his arms around my keg-sized neck to keep from falling off, which was just as well since his eyes rolled back in his head and he came close to passing out. Eventually I put Jason back down.
“Anyone else want to go for a ride?” I asked the dozen or so guys, including Coach Jones, who were watching in slack-jawed amazement. No one took me up on the offer, including Todd, who, like all the others, had cum in his shorts.
“At the rate you’re going,” I told Todd. “It won’t be much longer.”
Sixteen years old today, woo hoo!
My birthday present was Todd’s ass and, Jesus, what a sweet fucking ass. He’s Jason size now, of course, or close enough, 6’1 and 300 pounds of rock solid muscle. It’s fun to watch him walk through a crowd, at school or the mall or wherever. It’s like he’s some hypersteroidal Moses and they’re the fucking Red Sea.
It’s a bit trickier for me. At this point I’m so big that it’s kinda difficult to navigate grocery store aisles and elevators and escalators and moving sidewalks. I can’t really get around people and they can’t really get around me! I guess it goes with the territory when you’re 6’2 and 450 pounds of gigantic muscle.
Every once in a while some big jock wants to give me some lip about taking up too much room. I tend to stay kinda covered up when I go out (most people can’t handle it, I’m afraid) so I just pull up my sleeves and flex my impossibly huge, hard, vein-covered 30-inch forearms, the ones with the giant fists attached, and that usually shuts them up.
But back to Todd’s ass.
I was kinda worried. The Bazooka hasn’t slowed down any. How was his virgin manhole gonna take 15 inches of super thick cock? Turns out I had no reason to worry. Jesus, if my ass feels as good on his cock and his does on mine I should have been charging him rent! I could fucking take up residence in there and never leave! Which may happen. Todd’s parents and mine have agreed that there’s no reason he can’t move into the basement with me. I really can’t imagine what that conversation was like.
God I’m looking forward to summer!
Summer rocked and it looks like our junior year is going to be just as great!
Todd and I didn’t do anything except lift, fuck, and eat, all summer long. Mom declared the basement a Toxic Waste Site and refused to enter, which was just as well since I don’t think she would have enjoyed watching the two of us go at it. Well, the weights, maybe, but not the other part! Of course, things got a little dicey when she threatened to stop buying groceries (we do all our own cooking, of course) but we made an effort and put it right again.
The trickier part was that we basically outgrew the equipment. (Well, I did, Todd is still catching up.) There wasn’t enough room to do everything we needed / wanted to do and, besides that, the equipment we had couldn’t hold all the weight I needed.
So Dad bought us a gym!
Nothing fancy, just a big converted strip mall space, but every piece of equipment you can think of, every size weight and dumbbell, plus some stuff we specially ordered, and separate wet areas for men and women, including sauna and steam rooms. Not long after we opened we held a meet for the local power lifting community and I benched 2000 pounds for the first time. At that point I was about 465, so it was more than 4 times my body weight, a new world’s record. After that, we had people lining up to join. Dad quit his job (the guy’s loaded, ya know) and took over as manager. Todd and I take turns covering the desk when we’re not training or whatever.
The only downside to summer is that it has become clear that Todd isn’t keeping up with me, growth-wise. He grew half an inch taller and put on 35 pounds of solid muscle, which most guys would kill for. On the other hand, I grew and inch and gained 50 pounds. I can tell it pisses him off but all I have to do is say…”Fuck me, Big Man!”…and he forgets all about it! But, yeah, I guess you could say we’re both officially huge: Todd is 6’1½” tall and 343 pounds. Me: 6’3, 515 pounds. In fact, we had a meeting with the school administration to talk about how they were going to accommodate us this year.
“The fact is, Jon here is too big for the school,” Coach Jones said. I think he’s still mad at me for not playing football! Dad started to protest but Coach squashed him. “Yeah, he can fit through the doors, if he turns sideways, but he can’t fit in any of the desks.”
So Todd and I are doing the “home school” thing, only with a twist. The teachers are coming to us, we’re not doing it on our own. The principal was a bit surprised when he asked for volunteers and half the teaching staff offered to teach us one on one! As it is, we have three instructors: Coach Jones, Coach Telatovich, and Mr. Estes, the hot ass biology teacher and himself a power lifter. He’s pretty old, too, about 35, but he’s as tall as I am and not a whole lot smaller than Todd, probably right around 300 pounds.
We set up a classroom at the gym, of course, so they didn’t have to go all the way to our house and it seems to work just fine. They like having the free membership in the gym and, well, uh, I think Coach Jones and Coach T have got something going on, which is little unexpected—I thought they were both straight! I keep thinking it would be fun to take a crack at Mr. E but Todd keeps saying no. I think Todd doesn’t like the fact that Jake (well, that’s what I call Mr. E when the two of us are alone) is taller than he is.
“But you’re bigger,” I keep pointing out. “In fact, you’re a lot bigger.” He just grumbles and mutters something that sounds like, “Not big enough…” My guess is Mr. E would find Todd’s 11 inches more than enough but that’s a different story!
Oh, well, who knows what the Fall will bring?
It occurs to me that I’m really fucking huge!
Actually, I guess I’ve been that way for a while, come to think of it! I was looking at Todd when it dawned on me just how ridiculous the two of us are. Todd’s up to 6’2—and 375 pounds of solid muscle! I mean, think about it. He has a 75 inch chest. He has 30 inch biceps. He has 40 inch quads. And “I look like a piece of spaghetti next to you,” he told me the other day.
He’s right! I’m 2 inches taller than he is. I outweigh him by 175 pounds. I mean, how ridiculous is that? 6’4 and 550 pounds? There’s never been a man as huge and muscular as I am. My chest is up to 110 inches—that’s nearly half again around as I am tall! My biceps are 4 inches bigger than Todd’s quads.
We finally got around to nailing Coach Estes’ ass a week or so ago. Jake’s still an inch taller than Todd but the fact that Todd now outweighs him by about 70 pounds. I guess finally constitutes big enough, at least for those purposes. It was kinda tricky, the three of us going at it at the same time. Jake could just about handle Todd’s 11 inches but there was no way he was gonna take my 17 inches of supersized fuck flesh. Eventually we just dispensed with the bed frame, ya know, and covered half of the basement with super thick, heavy duty mattresses. And just as well. No way a bed frame was going to handle more than 1200 pounds of men going at it like bull elephants!
I don’t go out much anymore. I tend to scare people. Plus it can be kinda tricky getting through doors and stuff. At this point my shoulders are five feet across and from front to back I’m nearly three feet thick. Driving has gotten to be a pain in the ass, too, although that hybrid Hummer Dad bought is doing the job—at least for now! Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a normal size guy, you know, like Jake—6’3”, 300 pounds. He’s huge and he’s hot—and only a little more than half my size. And then I think:
“Why would I want that?!”
Let’s face it—I’m a freak! God I love it!
My 17th birthday! It’s hard to imagine that three years ago, when I turned 14, I was 5’8” tall and 125 pounds! Today Mom measure me again, the way she always does:
That’s 9 inches taller in three years! Of course, I know a lot of guys in their teenage years grow that much in a single year. Most of ‘em don’t start out at 5’8, though! And then there’s the other part, which I’ll get to in a minute. Todd’s really pissed with me these days because I’m pulling ahead of him in the height department. I grew an inch taller, he only grew half an inch. And he only gained 25 pounds this semester!
“Only?! Most guys would kill to gain 25 pounds of solid muscle in a single semester,” I keep telling him. I mean look at him: 6’2½” tall, 400 pounds of solid muscle! There’s nobody in the whole fucking state who compares! Hell, there’s no one in the IFBB who compares! (And, yeah, we’ve developed a very profitable sideline having IFBB pros come visit our gym. They all want to see the Super Teen Freaks, as the magazines call us, and, yeah, we really do freak ‘em out!)
He just growls at me. “And how many of ‘em have a boyfriend who…”
Well, yeah, there’s that I guess. Like I said, I’m 6’5 now. The Bazooka is up to 18 inches, which means that even soft it goes quite a way down my leg and hard, well, that’s something you gotta see to believe, especially since…okay, well, I’m just writing this for myself, right, who am I keeping in suspense? 600 pounds 5% bodyfat.
Mom and Dad gave up being freaked out a long time ago, although they’ve been pretty unwilling to allow unlimited amounts of publicity. They’re cool with the pros visiting, they’re cool with the photo shoots, but they don’t allow vids and they don’t allow recorded interviews. I keep pointing out how much money Todd and I are not making as a result of this dumb rule! Dad just arches his eyebrow. You’d think a little 6-foot, 200-pound guy couldn’t make me wince like that, would you? But you’d be wrong!
“Look,” he said, finally. “In a year you’ll be 18 and you can do whatever the hell you want. In fact…” He went on to point out several opportunities that I hadn’t even considered! “The only thing I ask is that you run it by me or a reputable attorney to make sure you’re getting the maximum leverage out of it, okay?”
Which just makes sense, now that I think about it. But why…?
“Let’s face it, Jon,” he said. “You’re a star. More precisely, you’re a phenomenon! But you’re still, for another year, underage. I know what you want and you know what you want but anything that happens now your mom and I have to sign off on. We don’t want anyone saying, ‘oh, they’re just taking advantage of that poor kid,’ like you were Macaulay Culkin or something.”
(And, yeah, they had to explain the Culkin reference but I figured it out, ya know, like Miley Cyrus…)
So I’ll wait. I can’t imagine what it will be like! I can’t imagine what Todd will be like! I can’t imagine what I will be like! A year to go!
Probably safe to say that having me and Todd show up for graduation last night created something of a sensation!
We had to special order the gowns, of course. It’s not like we’re really outside the bounds of normal in terms of height (6’4 and 6’8, respectively) but how many valedictorians (that would be Todd) weigh 500 pounds of solid muscle? For that matter, how many salutatorians (that would be me!) weigh half again that much?
Yep, that’s right. 6’8” tall, 750 pounds of solid muscle. I’m exactly a foot taller than I was four years ago when I turned 14—and I weigh six times as much as I did then! The Guinness people came and measured me last week. Someone got the bright idea that I ought to be in the book!
Biceps (cold but flexed): 60 inches
Neck: 60 inches
Chest: 150 inches
Waist: 60 inches
Quads: 80 inches
Calves: 60 inches
And, yes, my shoulders are, in fact, 80 inches across. It’s not an illusion, I’m exactly as wide as I am tall!
I talked about, well, whatever it is salutatorians talk about. My guess is that it’s the first time in high school history that everyone, including the teachers, the grandparents, and the kid brothers and sisters, hung on every word. Probably the first time in history, for that matter, that a salutatorian’s speech was regularly punctuated with screams of “Show it!” and “Take it off!” For the record, no matter what anyone says, I did not take it off!
Okay, well, that’s probably just a quibble as far as some people are concerned because at the end I did pull one of the sleeves back to give ‘em a biceps flex. The intake of breath in the auditorium was audible, then it was pandemonium. Principal Harkness looked dizzy when she handed me my diploma and Todd gave me the look of death.
“Thanks a lot, hot shot!” he snarled as I took my seat next to him. “No way I’m gonna top that!”
It took at least ten minutes for them to settle down, and then Todd talked. Unlike those of most valedictorians, his speech had them hanging on every word. He talked about, well, a lot of stuff. School and the future and making your dreams come true and being gay and being in love and a whole lot of stuff. And then there he was thanking me, Jonathan Laurence Harris, for making his dreams come true! I was bawling like a baby by that point, as was half the audience, and then he came and kissed me, long, deep, passionate, right there in front of everyone, and everyone went crazy and started chanting.
In counterpoint. When we let go, Todd looked at me with an evil grin, and quirked his eyebrow to say:
Hell yeah, I nodded back.
And then (not during the speeches!) we pulled off our robes! Neither of us was wearing anything but a poser underneath and we gave them a pose down! You thought there was pandemonium before? HA!
They nearly had to call the cops! I’m not sure who they would have arrested, us or all the people, young and old, male and female, who were acting like they were having orgasms or something. (And, no, the entire football team did not pull out their dicks and start yanking, that’s another rumor that needs to be quashed. They didn’t do that until after the ceremony, when they surrounded us in the parking lot!)
You know how tricky it is to get a 20-inch dick in a posing strap? Believe me, it’s tricky!
Todd and I had a fine time when we got home!
Oh, wow! Dave showed up for my birthday!
I was so happy to see him I sorta kinda forgot myself and wrapped him up in a big bear hug and was close to squeezing before Todd yelled at me. Then I dropped Dave back down to the floor and just shook his hand for a long time! Funny to see him so short, looking up at me like that. He’s what, like 6 ft., or something? I remember when he seemed so tall! Well, for that matter, I remember when he seemed so huge! Not that he’s little, mind you. He’s up to 350 pounds of solid muscle, pretty damned huge and hot for 45. (Actually, Todd tells me Dave is totally fucking huge and hot for any age; I guess my perspective is a little warped!)
Half the town was there for my birthday, including the mayor and the president of the Chamber of Commerce, but eventually I gave Todd a glance and he nodded. I beckoned Dave to follow and we sat down in Mom’s office, the same place where, uh, how do I talk about that now?
“Why did you leave?” I asked. He looked uncomfortable with the question but I just stared at him. Damn, he really is a fucking handsome man!
“Jon, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said, finally.
I nodded. “Damn right you did.”
He sighed. “But you gotta think about it from my point of view, okay? I’d just had sex with my best friend’s 14-year-old son! I was totally beside myself.”
I looked down at the ground. “Were you afraid I was gonna, like, ya know, turn you in or out you or something?”
He stood up and put his hand on my gigantic shoulder. Even standing he was only a little bit taller than I was sitting down. “Not for a minute,” he said. “That’s why I knew I had to leave. I knew there was nothing you wouldn’t do for me…”
“Or to you,” I muttered, and he laughed.
“Yeah, that, too,” he admitted. “And that just would not have been fair.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I can deal with that. But…”
He looked me in the eye. “But…?”
I grinned. “Can we take up where we left off?”
Dave laughed so hard I thought he was gonna herniate himself, so much so that he didn’t even hear the knock on the door, which was Todd’s signal that he was coming in.
“I guess it went okay, huh?” Todd asked. My lascivious expression was all the confirmation he needed. “Oh, goody!” he exclaimed. We were good boys, of course, and waited until after everyone left.
It was probably just as well that I had fucked Dave once already, otherwise I might have been tempted to do so again, and there’s just no way that would have worked. As it was, he made a valiant attempt to plug my hole with his little 9-incher but considering the boulderish mass of my glutes (I hate to say it) he barely reached my rosebud. I don’t think he minded much.
We traded things around and I loomed over him, blotting out the sky, as he kept saying, while Todd did the pounding. God that felt good, having Todd on top of me and Dave under me! My only real concern was that it would feel so good my arms would give out from general happiness and then, splat, Dave would be crushed under 1250 pounds of man muscle! He seemed to be thinking the same thing, I could see it in his eyes, only in his case, it was clear he liked the idea, which just got me that much more excited.
When I came… Well, it was a good thing he had that giant walk-in wet area installed where the weight set used to be! Frankly, I can’t think of a better way to have spent my 18th birthday! Can you?
Somehow I don’t think that when Mom and Dad bought that weight set for my 14th birthday they had any inkling I’d turn out to be part of the hottest act in Vegas! Never would have occurred to me, either! But that’s what we’re doing, for now. Me and Todd, that is!
Cirque du Friques is the most sought after ticket in town, even though there is zero advertising. It’s an unofficial show, of course, inasmuch as there is nudity and simulated sex and…Well, you know, it’s like this:
Todd and I enter the darkened theater in the round. The lights come up. The 95% male audience gasps. We pose. I clean and press the Hummer and do a few other things like that. After we’re both good and sweaty, we strip. The audience gasps again. And why not? I’m 6 feet 9 inches tall in my bare feet and 800 pounds of solid muscle. My cock is 16 inches soft and as big around as a baseball bat. Todd’s not much smaller: 6 feet 4½ inches, 550 pounds.
Every night, five nights a week, every seat sells out, every seat is a thousand bucks. In 12 weeks we’ve grossed $60 million! Will we do it forever? Hell no! In fact, this time next year we’ll both be commuter students at UCLA. We’ve already been accepted, we’ve already bought and paid for the luxury condo in Santa Monica.
For now, though, it’s a fun gig, one that leaves us plenty of time to eat, train, fuck, sleep. We’ve met a lot of hot guys, too, although it’s becoming increasingly clear that most guys can’t handle us. Which is why it’s nice we have Dave around.
He quit his job and went to work for us, sort of as our combination house mother / fuck toy. You might think a career executive would think twice about taking on a job like that in middle age but as far as we can tell, he’s happy as a clam! He keeps getting bigger, too—up to 400 pounds! We keep telling him he may need to join the Cirque if he keeps it up! Every time he does, he gets this gleam in his eye, like he’s thinking about something. Probably along the lines of, how the hell did this happen? To us and to him!
On occasion he says it out loud and I just shrug my shoulders, something that causes a thousand throats to moan and groan in pleasure when I do it on stage but Todd and Dave are, well, used to it, I guess! (And, no, I am not miffed; they think of ways to make it up to me!) The Bell Shaped Curve notwithstanding, it seems pretty unlikely to think we’re the only two teenagers in the world who weigh more than 500 pounds of gigantically huge, ripped hard muscle. We haven’t found ‘em yet but we keep looking!
Do you know any? Are you one? If so, let me know! Todd and I have a proposition we’d like to make!