Diary of an MGIT- Muscle God In Training

[V.R.Goh]

Feeling creative? Don't hold it in, share it. Here's another outlet for those creative juices.
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Jounal entry- September 9th

I finally worked up the nerve to go to the gym on campus. After so many years of being the skinny kid in high school, I made up my mind that today would be the day. I wanted to have the thick, rippling, sinewy muscles that a lot of guys have and I don't. Granted, I don't have a lot of body fat, which is good. Except, I don't have a lot of muscle either. I was of average height at 5'8", but I weighed all of 125 pounds soaking wet. One of my friends told me that I was "kind of cute," but I wanted to be in much better shape.

As I walked into the gym, I looked around at the numerous machines and free weights. I knew the basic mechanics of each exercise, but I lacked the knowledge of how to assemble those exercises into a workout plan. As I walked in, I heard a rhythmic grunting coming from one corner of the gym near the free weights. I followed the sound toward the far end, where a number of benches and free weights were set up in a separate section of the gym. Facing away from me was what had to be the biggest man I have ever seen.

He was positively humongous! His football-shaped traps merged with his neck, forming one muscular column. His deltoids were striated and reminded me of ripe melons. His immense lats gave him the silhouette of a king cobra flaring its hood. His meaty arms raised and lowered the heavy weights in time with his grunting. His perfect pectorals (maybe I should call them 'perfectorals') were round and full, yet unyielding in their strength. It was obvious that he spent ample time building up his chest. Supporting his muscle-tits was a washboard eight-pack of adamantine abs, standing out in bold relief. His Herculean legs looked like they could lift 500 pounds with hardly any effort, while his calves were huge and as hard as diamonds. In short, he had the massive hyper-masculine musculature that I craved. On top of that, he was drop-dead gorgeous. His dark hair flowed in rippling curls across his lifeguard shoulders while his brown eyes displayed an intensity, almost feral ferocity, in his workout. This is a guy who deserves the right to be called a muscle god.

When the muscular hunk finished blasting his arms, he returned the dumbbells to the rack and flexed his mountainous biceps. Instantly, veins jumped across the surface of his arms, while his bulging biceps split into twin peaks. I was so astounded at this divine display of steely sinew that I gasped. His gaze turned away from the mirror and toward me. Immediately, I felt the urge to go home. Then he gave me a smile and motioned with a meaty paw to approach him. Slowly and sheepishly, I approached the godlike figure.

"Hey," he said in a rich baritone. "This your first time here?" I nodded. "Well, if you need any help, let me know. The name's Brett." He held out a meaty paw. I shook his hand, nearly wincing at the strength of his grip.

"I-I'm Arnold," I said, nervously.

"Arnold, huh?" he said, cocking one eyebrow. "You looking to gain some muscle, Arnold?"

"Is it that obvious?" I asked with a slight grin. He nodded.

"Tell you what," Brett said, draping his powerful arm across my narrow shoulders, "I'll train you. You'll have mountains of muscle in no time."

"Do you really think I can gain muscle?" I asked, slightly anxious. "Maybe, some day, I could be as big as a muscle god like you." I quickly clapped my hands over my mouth. "I can't believe I said 'muscle god.'"

"It's all right," Brett said with a good-natured laugh. "People have called me a muscle god before. It's a fitting nickname. Now, let's get started. By the time I'm done with you, there'll be two muscle gods on campus." So, he started training me right away. That's when I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I wouldn't give up until I became as big as, if not bigger than, Brett. For now, I'm just an MGIT- a Muscle God In Training.

[V.R.Goh]

Journal Entry- September 10

Yesterday was an incredible day with my new training partner, Brett. He put together a workout plan for me to follow, and shepherded me through the routine itself. It seemed pretty easy, but I knew instinctively that it wouldn't be easy for long. We agreed to meet at the gym to workout at the same time every day.

After our workout, he took me to a nutrition store in town that he recommended to pick up some protein supplements. It looked out of the way, almost like few people know about it. When we walked in, it had the appearance of a typical nutrition store. The shelves were lined with a number of products, from vitamins and energy drinks to protein powders and mineral supplements. They even had wheatgrass drinks, which no one will ever catch me dead consuming. I have no desire to drink someone's front lawn. When the door closed, it caused a bell to ring. All of a sudden, a muscular man of about twenty years walked out from a back room. Seeing the able-bodied Adonis accompanying me, he smiled.

"Brett," he said, as if greeting an old friend, "What's up, bro? Here for the usual?"

"Hey, Mike," said Brett, shaking the hand of the store clerk. "Give me my usual and some of the same for my friend. Arnold, this is my best friend, Mike. Mike, this is Arnold. He's looking to resemble his namesake."

"Is that so?" said Mike, looking at me with surprise. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, kid. No one who trains with this behemoth stays weak for long, especially after trying this stuff. I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared behind a beaded curtain into the back room. I looked at Brett curiously.

"What does he mean 'this stuff?'" I asked. Brett bent low enough to be able to whisper in my ear.

"Mike has friends that develop nutritional supplements for sports athletes," he softly said in my ear. "He managed to convince them to send him a stock of it for testing. Of course, he told me and I was all too eager to help him test this new product. Supposedly, it packs on pounds of muscle without the harmful side effects of steroids and HGH."

"So, no liver damage, bad acne, heart problems, 'roid rages, shrunken balls and gynecomastia?" I asked, clarifying what he meant.

"That's right," he said. "In fact, the developers told Mike that it will increase the size of your equipment, not to mention your sexual appetite." I was eager to test this new supplement already. Mike then came out carrying two large jugs of a mystery powder.

"Here ya go, Arnold," said Mike, handing one of the jars to me and the other to Brett. "Just mix two scoops of this powder into eight ounces of milk or water." I pulled out my wallet, preparing to pay him when Brett placed a muscular hand on my arm.

"They're on me," Brett said, pulling out his wallet. "That's one of the perks of being a successful fitness model." My jaw dropped!

"A fitness model?" I said, incredulous. Yet, it made perfect sense. I mean, this guy is massively muscular, simply shredded, and radiantly beautiful. It would only be logical that he would make a fortune as a male model. "If you're a fitness model, what are you doing at college?"

"I need something to fall back on, just in case," Brett answered. "Besides, I've always wanted to be a personal trainer and own my own gym."

When I got back to my dorm, I decided to mix up something to drink. I grabbed a measuring cup and poured eight ounces of water from my water pitcher (the kind that filters the water) into the former. I then poured the water from the measuring cup into a large cup that I had used for packing small items. I opened the jar of mystery power and grabbed the small scoop from the top. I emptied two scoops of the white substance into the cup of water and, with a stray spoon, stirred the concoction until it was well mixed. I closed the jar of protein powder and held the protein shake to my lips.

"Well," I said to no one in particular, "bottoms up, Arnie." I drank the shake in one shot and slammed the cup onto my desk. I released a satisfying 'aaah' as I noticed that it tasted like bananas. Then, I wrote all of this down. Man, I'm more tired than I thought, and it's only 9:00. Oh well, good thing I don't have class tomorrow. Good night.

[chocomus]

This story is going well, i like it. It surprise me it doesn't have more responses... anyway. I liked the "perfectorals" and the name "Arnold". It was a nice touch

[V.R.Goh]

Journal Entry- September 11

I had a weird dream last night. I'm in the gym and there's Brett flexing in front of the mirror. His biceps were ginormous, with peaks that could contend with Mount Everest. His forearms rippled with sinewy cables that could probably crush steel barehanded. He was pulling mind-blowing flex after mind-blowing flex, showing any unseen onlookers just how much of a muscle god he really is. Then, he turned to me and told me to flex. Show off those huge muscles, he said. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I stepped up to the mirror anyway.

This is where things really get weird. In my dream, my reflection looked like I did yesterday, but only at first. Then, it started to grow. My muscles began to swell like balloons being pumped full of helium. Only, my body was being filled with huge, rippling, godlike muscle.

My traps, once invisible, sprang up like weeds towards my ears. My shoulders inflated to the size of melons, covered with striations that made me look like a lifeguard. My arms went from stick-thin pipes to thick, meaty cannons that would win any arm wrestling competition. My abs, once covered by a thin layer of fat, now became a shredded, adamantine eight-pack of brawn. When I looked down at my muscular midsection, my view was quickly obstructed by my burgeoning chest. My pecs turned into armor-like slabs of steely muscle, with quarter-sized nipples that seemed to point downward in shame. My thighs swelled to the former size of my waist, while my calves became huge and diamond-hard. A noticeable bulge appeared in my shorts and continued to swell. Soon, my shorts disappeared, only to be replaced by a set of red posers that bodybuilders wear. The same bulge that was in my shorts remained in the posers.

I was utterly shocked. In the span of a few moments, I had turned into a big, beefy, beautiful muscle god worthy of the name Arnold. I began to flex my new muscles, enjoying the feeling I received from them. When I did a front double biceps pose, my upper arms were capped by peaks that could rival the Rockies. The whole time, I could hear Brett cheering me on.

"Yeah, that's it! Flex those pythons! Looking good, Terminator!" he said enthusiastically. Terminator? Guess that was an Ah-nold reference. Kind of makes sense, except I'm not really this gigantic.

"Show 'em those abs, bro!" came a shout from Brett, so I put my hands behind my head. I flexed my abs, turning a defined six-pack into a rock-hard eight-pack of iron. It felt incredible, and kind of arousing, too. I brought one leg forward and tightened my quads, showing off my wheels of steel. I did pose after pose, showing off my muscular body. From abs and quads to side chest to side triceps, I performed all the poses I could think of. When I did a lat spread, my back spread out into a pair of wings that I swear I could've used to fly. The whole time, I thought I heard a crowd cheering for me, almost like I was on stage.

"Lookin' good, bro!" shouted Brett enthusiastically. "Give 'em the big finish!" Somehow, I knew what he meant. So I went into the ultimate bodybuilder's pose, the one that wins contests: the most muscular. When I flexed the most muscular, every muscle popped out into bold relief. My body was covered with veins and striations I didn't even know I had. When I thought I saw my cock peering out of my shorts for a view of my godlike physique, my alarm went off. Like I said, weird and erotic.

[V.R.Goh]

September 11-continued

When I finished my classes for the day, I dropped off my books at my dorm and changed into a pair of shorts. With my keys tucked into my shoe, I walked over to the gym. The whole time, I was thinking about last night's dream. What did it mean? Did it have anything to do with the supplement Brett bought me? I was still turning these ideas over in my head when I walked into the gym. When I turned toward the free weights, there was Brett bench pressing what looked to be about 200 pounds. He put the barbell back on the rack and sat in time to notice me walk in the door.

"Hey, Terminator," said Brett, "How's it hangin'?" I was slightly shocked, and must have visibly shown it. "Was it something I said?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I responded. "I just had a weird dream where you called me Terminator last night."

"I guess great minds think alike," Brett responded with a shrug of his broad shoulders. I dismissed the dream as my subconscious playing tricks on me as we started working out.

"Let's work on your arms," said Brett as we walked over to the free weights. I grabbed a couple of 10-pound weights and he spotted me while I did some standing bicep curls. I controlled the weight as much as I could while keeping my abs tight. After about three sets of ten reps, we moved on to preacher curls., then barbell curls.

"Lookin' good, Arnold," Brett said, encouragingly as I finished my last set of barbell curls. "Keep up the good work and you'll have guns like these." He then flexed his beefy, bulging biceps. I had to focus on the workout to keep Little Arnold from coming out to play. Then, we moved to triceps. We kept the same intensity of the workout. Through each set, Brett kept encouraging me to keep going. He corrected my form where it was needed, and congratulated me on a job well done.

After my workout, I took a good look in the mirror. I could've sworn that I looked a little bigger than when I first walked in. There were a couple of veins running down my biceps. Brett saw me admiring my progress and came up behind me. His 6'3" muscular frame dwarfed my 5'8" puny physique.

"Not bad for someone who's never worked out before," Brett said with a smile. "Keep it up and you'll be huge!" He accented the word "huge" by flexing a most muscular. As he did, all of his muscles jumped out in bold relief and became covered in striations and veins.

"Thanks for the help, Brett," I said with a smile. "I never thought I would actually start working out."

"No problem, Terminator," Brett responded. "See you on Monday?"

"Count on it."

[V.R.Goh]

Journal Entry- October 31

It's been seven weeks since I started working out with Brett. In that time, a number of changes have occurred. Brett and I became best friends since we started training together. He'd always win, of course, but it helped my confidence. We would hang out whenever we could, both in and out of the gym. He's helped me along with my workouts and, thanks to him and the special protein powder that he buys every time we run out, I've managed to gain 70 pounds in lean muscle mass and a full two inches in height. Starting off, I was 5'8" tall and weighed 125 pounds. Now, I'm 5'10" tall and I weigh 195 pounds of rock-hard muscle. Girls are starting to notice me since I gained weight. They come up to me, wanting to feel my bulging biceps, my muscular pecs, and my six-pack abs. Of course, I happily oblige. Best of all, I feel much better about myself then I did when I started. My self-esteem rose with the amount of weight I'm lifting.

Of course, I have a long way before I catch up with Brett. He's still been putting on muscle since I met him. He was about 190 pounds when I met him. Now, he weighs 240 pounds of lean muscle, and he's still as ripped as ever. I don't think he'll stop growing until he's the biggest man in the world. He started looking into becoming a professional bodybuilder. With his physique, he should get his pro card in no time.

About the end of September, we would have these posedowns right there in the gym. We'd hit pose after pose in the mirror, even though he'd always win. One day, after a particularly intense workout, we decided to do individual posing routines. He was standing in the mirror, hitting pose after mind-blowing pose. First, he went with a front double biceps, his vein-strewn upper arms bulging obscenely with peaks like the Himalayas. Then, he straightened his left arm in an archer pose. He turned to the side and hit a side chest pose. His pecs were so full and thick, they were practically horizontal. Then, he hit a front lat spread. His back was so incredibly wide that he would match a barn door's width. From the rear, each and every muscle was clearly delineated. Then, he put his hands behind his head and put his right leg forward. He growled as he flexed his ripped quads and his eight-pack abs, showing the two of us just how sliced he was.

"Alright, big finish. GRRRRR!!!" he shouted as he hit a most muscular. Every muscle on his body stood out in bold relief as he hit this pinnacle of poses. He panted as he finished his posing, his body pumped up and accented by veins across his arms and chest.

"Fuck, yeah!" he said, panting as we left the gym. "That was intense. I can't wait for tonight's Halloween party. You got your costume, bro?"

"Yup," I said. "I picked it up yesterday." I didn't tell him what it was because I wanted to surprise him. Likewise, he did the same with his own costume. We parted ways, since he lived off campus, and I went to my dorm to get ready for the party tonight.

I took a shower at about eight the same night, making sure I was clean all over. The hot water felt real good on my aching muscles, but it was a good ache. It's the kind of pain that tells you that you had a good workout that day. I dried off and wrapped my towel around my waist. I went back into my dorm and proceeded to get ready for the party. After putting on a pair of black boxer briefs, I put on the one-piece blue spandex suit with the red briefs-like design that was part of my Superman costume. I carefully zipped it up in the back, making sure not to pinch myself. The suit fit perfectly, accentuating the size of my upper body while the trademark S sat neatly across my armor-like pecs. The red cape attached to the costume from the back of the neck opening draped down the back, giving me the look of a superhero. Afterwards, I slipped on the red high-top boots. I grabbed the black Man of Steel wig and, facing the mirror, put it over my head. I adjusted the wig so that none of my real hair was visible. Once the final touches were made, I looked at myself in the mirror.

It was as if the costume was made for me. The spandex suit fit so snugly, it looked like a second skin. The big S was displayed proudly on my meaty pecs. I quickly flexed my biceps (something uncharacteristic of Superman, I know) and admired the way the suit stretched to accommodate my bulging 21" cannons. I was happy with how I looked as the Son of Krypton.

"Well," I said to no one in particular, "up, up, and away." I opened the door to my dorm room and headed for the party in the student union building.

I loved the feeling of my cape fluttering behind me as I walked to the location of the party. When I got to the front door of the student union, I saw a couple of girls from my speech class. One of them saw me and waved. She was dressed in a French maid's uniform, complete with feather duster.

"Hey, Arnold," she said with a smile. "Nice costume."

"Merci, madam," I said with a sweeping bow. "You don't look so bad yourself, Alice." She giggled.

"Hey there, Superman," said her friend, Chelsea, who was dressed as what I guessed to be Queen Elizabeth. "Care to escort us inside?"

"I'd love to, Your Majesty" I answered, holding both arms out. They stood on either side of me, Alice on my left and Chelsea on my right, as we walked into the party.

The place was almost bumping with the beat of the DJ's house music. I saw a lot of great costumes, from vampires and Power Rangers to witches and firemen. I even saw a few people dressed as the ubiquitous Harry Potter. Alice went to find another friend of her while I danced with Chelsea. Then, Alice comes back in the arms of Brett, who was dressed in a white toga, which displayed one pec proudly, with a garland of leaves on his head. Either he's an extra from Animal House, I thought, or a Greek god.

"I guess I should start calling you Superman, now," Brett said with a big smile. "Your costume looks great."

"Thanks," I responded. "You look pretty amazing yourself. What are you supposed to be, an extra from Animal House?"

"No," he said with a laugh, "I'm Apollo. You know, the Greek god?" I avoided laughing at what has become a private joke between the two of us. So we enjoyed the party and danced the night away.

It was a fun party, a good way to celebrate Halloween. Everyone was taking pictures, especially with either me and/or Brett. We both asked for copies of each picture. One picture consisted of a girl dressed as a reporter leaning against me, one hand on my herculean chest, while I wrapped her in my strong arms. Another had Brett posing with Alice. She was laughing as he held her over his left shoulder while flexing his right biceps. My personally favorite was a solo picture of me in a classic Superman pose: fists on my waist and slightly flexing my chest. It was a party I won't soon forget. Besides, being able to successfully pull off wearing a Superman costume was, in my opinion, a sign that I was one step closer to muscle-godhood.

[V.R.Goh]

Journal Entry- November 6

I am seriously psyched at how fast I'm growing! I gained 10 pounds of lean muscle mass over last week, bringing my current weight to a ripped 205. When I look in the mirror, the reflection staring back at me is that of an amateur bodybuilder. Not that I'm complaining, but what is going on here? So, I asked Brett about it during today's workout.

"Got me," he answered in between bench press sets, "I don't know what's in the stuff either, but you can't argue with the results." He then hit a most muscular, showing off his 260 pounds frame. We continued our workout, promising to talk to Mike afterwards. We kept up the intensity of our usual workouts, shouting encouragements to each other during the sets.

Once we finished lifting, we headed over to Mike's store to talk to him. When we arrived, there were two black stretch limos parked out front.

"That's weird," I said, puzzled. "The biggest customers that store has is the two of us. Who would stop by?"

"One way to find out," answered Brett as he parked his car. As we got out, I could see that, inside the store, Mike was having a conversation with some men in business suits. When we walked in, Mike called their attention to us.

"Gentlemen," said Mike in a professional voice while pointing at the two of us, "Here is proof of the success of your product." He then walked over to me and put his heavily muscled arm around my shoulders. "Eight weeks ago, This young man weighed a pitiful 125 pounds. Since he has purchased your supplement, he has put on an astounding 80 pounds of lean muscle mass."

"With the help of his personal trainer, Brett Anderson," he continued, pointing to Brett, "he can be the spokesperson for your product." One of the suits, a man of about 40 years, approached me and shook my hand.

"Mr. McKinley," said the businessman, "my name is Alexander Karras. I'm the spokesperson for Herakles Fitness Products, the creators of the protein powder that you tested. My associates and I would like to extend to you and to your trainer a chance to work as a spokesperson for our product. We've sent samples of our protein powder to nutrition stores like this in hopes of testing our product. Now that we know that it has met with resounding success, we're ready to ship it worldwide. So, what do you say, Mr. McKinley?"

"One moment, please," I said and Brett and I pulled my trainer and best friend aside. "What do you think? I want to continue my education, but this is an incredible opportunity."

"I'm all for it," Brett answered, "but what does your gut feeling say?" I thought for a second, then I came to a decision. I turned to face the gentlemen.

"We just have two simple requests," I said, confidently.

"Name them, and we'll arrange them" said Mr. Karras.

"First," I began, "Brett and I would like to be able to continue our education. After all, we have our priorities."

"We can shoot the commercials around your school schedule," answered the spokesperson.

"Second," I continued, "once we graduate, we'd like to open a gym here in town. That way, Brett can have his own gym and you have another place to sell your product." Brett looked at me with surprise, unaware that I was going to pull that out of my hat."

"I'll talk to my boss and make the arrangements," said Mr. Karras.

"Then, Mr. Karras," I said, holding out my right hand, "you've got yourself a deal." We shook hands, sealing the deal that would make our careers. We then drove to his office to draw up the necessary paperwork for the contract.

[V.R.Goh]

Epilogue

It's been two years since I started working with Herakles Fitness. I continued to workout with Brett and managed to stay in incredible shape. In fact, thanks to Herakles's new protein powder, now known as MusclLife, I've become positively enormous. I now stand 6'3" tall and weigh 325 pounds of powerful, ripped, muscle. Brett has become no slouch either, measuring 6'6" tall and weighing an even 350 massive pounds. Despite all of the poundage, we are still very flexible and very much mobile.

During my time at college, I've filmed numerous commercials for MusclLife. One of them involved a young man who was joining a gym. Sitting in an office, he tells me how he wants to gain muscle mass. He looks up at me in awe of my huge frame. I look at him with an encouraging smile and say, "With MusclLife, plus exercise and a proper diet, you can gain pounds of muscle in no time at all." Then I flex my bulging biceps and say, "I'm living proof that MusclLife works." Sales went through the roof. Thanks to my contract, I earned 10% of the profits from the sales of MusclLife. That amounted to more than enough to pay for my MBA from a prestigious business school.

After Brett earned his personal trainer license, he opened up Muscle God Gym, a gym geared specifically toward men who wants to get into the best shape of their lives. Most of the client?le are hardcore weightlifters and bodybuilders. Some are skinny guys looking to gain muscle, while others are fat guys who want to lose weight. By offering protein shakes made with MusclLife, the latter two groups of guys changed into ripped musclemen in little time.

Just yesterday, I went into the gym as I do every afternoon to give Brett a hand running the place and to get in a workout myself. Brett was busy with a client, so I went into my office and changed into my workout clothes. I went out onto the floor, and all eyes fell on me as I walked through the gym.

"Yo, Terminator!" said Alex Karras, who had joined the gym two months after I started working for his company.

"Hey Alex," I responded. "Still growin'?"

"You know it," was his response. The regulars who knew my name greeted me with the same nickname. Nearly everyone looked like a weightlifter, a bodybuilder, or a powerlifter. Both Brett and myself had the ripped physique and the raw strength to be both. Our bench press maxes each are over 600 pounds for reps. I was about to start my workout when I heard a young man's voice.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" said the timid young man. I turned toward the source of the voice and saw a boy who had to be about 19 years of age. His mil chocolate skin and curly black hair advertised his African ancestry. He was wearing a pair of red shorts and a white T-shirt. Standing about 5'8" tall, he looked up at me in awe and admiration.

"What's up, kid?" I asked the young man.

"Well," he said with slightly more confidence in his voice, "I've been skinny for most of my life, and I want to put on some muscle. Can you help me?"

"Sure," I said with a friendly smile. "I used to be as skinny as you, believe it or not. Then, I started working out with a friend of mine and, well, the results speak for themselves."

"Really?" said the kid, his brown eyes wide with optimism. "I want to be a professional bodybuilder, and I hope that I can be as big as you someday."

"What's your name, kid?" I asked him.

"Arthur," he responded, "but people call me Flex because I'm so flexible."

"Well, Arthur" I said as I gently draped my massive arm across his shoulders, "by the time I'm done with you, they'll call you Flex for your big muscles."

[TheMM]

Originally Posted by V.R.Goh

MusclLife

Mmm, well now, is this "MusclLife" named after a certain member of this board, or just a coincidence?

[V.R.Goh]

Both. I pulled the name out of thin air and it happened to be the similar. Anyway, feel free to expand on the story.

[TheMM]

Originally Posted by V.R.Goh

Both. I pulled the name out of thin air and it happened to be the similar. Anyway, feel free to expand on the story.

I might, I might not.

Everytime I say I'll add-on to a story here, I never do.

[V.R.Goh]

After years of torment, I finally decided to join a gym. I finally got sick of it all. All through middle and high schools, I was smaller than everyone else. I was always picked on because of my lack of big muscles. Every other boy grew bigger than me and either bullied me into doing their homework or tossed me into this or that trash can. The bright side is that my intelligence got me a full academic scholarship, as long as I kept my grades up. For me, this shouldn't be too hard. The only thing I can brag about is my straight-A average in high school and being the valedictorian. First, let me introduce myself properly.

My name's Arthur. I'm 19 years old and, if you saw me, the word "geek" would come to mind immediately. I'm 5'8" and I weigh 125 pounds if I'm soaking wet. That I wear glasses only makes me look like more of a nerd. I have a milk chocolate skin tone and curly black hair. My facial features betray my West Indian and Hispanic heritage. My mom's from St. Thomas and my father's from Puerto Rico. My dad is a corporate lawyer who made a fortune representing top companies. My mother is a doctor with a private practice. Dad was on the wrestling team when he was my age, but I wasn't blessed with his genetics for muscle.

I only had female friends in high school, who have said that I was "kind of cute." Of course, I knew it was only as a friendly gesture, since all of their boyfriends were on one of the sports teams. I lived in a town where, unless you were on a sports team, you were nobody. The only thing that made people sit up and notice me was when I graduated at the top of my class.

Back to the topic at hand. My father told me, before I left for college, that if I were to join a gym and commit myself to getting into shape, he would pay for the membership. Well, I told my dad which gym I would be joining before I arrived. I told him about the gym, how it was started by this personal trainer and a guy who grew mountains of muscle in a short time. When I got down to the Muscle God Gym, I was blown away.

All around me were muscular guys and toned women who were in incredible shape. Some seemed only to be there to pick up a date. Those people were obvious: they were either sitting at the machines staring at the shapely bodies or doing the same at the treadmills. One of the guys was gigantic! He was wearing black lycra shorts and a white tank-top with the gym's logo, a flexed bicep surrounded by a laurel wreath. I gathered up as much courage as I could and spoke to the titan of muscle.

"Um, excuse me sir?" I said, sounded meek and tiny. The behemoth turned to me, and I nearly came on the spot. Not only was he muscular, but he was ripped to shreds and achingly handsome.

"What's up kid?" he said in a rich baritone voice.

"Well," I said with slightly more confidence in my voice, "I've been skinny for most of my life, and I want to put on some muscle. Can you help me?"

"Sure, kid," he said with a smile that showed two rows of dazzling white teeth. "I used to be as skinny as you. Then I started working out with a friend and, well, the results speak for themselves." I saw his plate-like pecs bounce beneath his top.

"Really," I said, amazed that someone that huge was ever small. "I want to be a professional bodybuilder, and I hope that I can be as big as you someday."

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Arthur," I responded, "but my friends used to call me Flex because I'm so flexible."

"Well, when I'm done," he said, draping a meaty arm across my narrow shoulders, "they'll be calling you Flex because of your big muscles." With that he took me into his office to put together a workout plan. I knew my life would never be the same again.

[MAZIVKAROLY]

Great beginning for a lot more potentials to come on and come in for growth. Love to get my hands on that special protein formula and grow even more... Thanks for an inspiring, motivating story...

[MAZIVKAROLY]

Thanks for Arthur and all who are yet to come and cum...

[aiden831]

Oh, I do hope that that isn't the end of this cool story! I'll even add my own cheap 2-cents into the mix if someone keeps going with this story!

[V.R.Goh]

When I got back to my dorm, I was still in shock. I, skinny little Arthur, had joined a gym. Throughout high school, I had steered clear of the gym. It was frequented mostly by the jocks who made my life a living nightmare. Every single guy who walked into the gym could probably break me in half. Even the girls were stronger than me. But, somewhere between graduation and now, I got up the nerve to start working out. I continued turning this over in my head when my roommate, Scott, walked in.

Actually, Scott is the reason that I decided to join the Muscle God Gym. He's a member there, and he recommended the place to me. That gym really agrees with him, because he's simply HUGE. He stands about six feet tall and two hundred and who-knows how many pounds of solid, lean, bulging muscle. His body looks like it was carved by a master sculptor in the image of a Greek god. His shoulders were a yard wide and each deltoid was the size of a cantaloupe. His biceps must have been about 20 inches or more around and peaked like the Himalayas on a good day, while his triceps looked the horseshoe of a Clydesdale. His full, meaty, steel-like pecs sat proudly on his torso, while his nipples pointed downward past his chiseled abs that could clean laundry. His legs looked more like ripped tree trunks, and his calves were the size of my upper arms. I had to focus to keep from cumming right then and there.

"Yo, Artie," he said with a distinct Brooklyn accent, "what's good, man?"

"Not much," I replied meekly. "I just got back from the gym."

"Alright," Scott cheered, slapping me on the back. "You join MGG?" MGG was the local name for the Muscle God Gym.

"Yup," I responded with a little more confidence.

"That's good, bro," Scott said with a smile. "Stick with them, 'cause they'll make you thick in no time. Maybe you'll be as big as me." He emphasized this by crunching his massive muscles into bold relief with a most muscular and a Hulk-like growl.

"I hope so," I said to no one in particular.

That night, I had the strangest dream. In my dream, a massive figure approached me through a cloud of fog. At first, I could only see his massive muscles. He stood taller than Scott and positively ginormous. Every muscle looked like it was near bursting with size, but his body was also shredded beyond belief. You could see every striation in his titanium pecs, every block of sinew in his abs, and every bulge in his legs. His biceps bulged like a bodybuilder's into twin peaks of boulder-crushing mass. When I saw his face, I was taken aback. The face was mine. This massive muscle monster was me. I was shocked, confused, and turned on beyond belief at the same time. I hoped that this dream would come true.