Rage: Part 4

[xythan_shadow]

He left me standing there, mouth wide open in shock, and returned to his group. Every now and again, he would turn to my direction, point and do some other hand gestures that I couldn?t figure out. But the smile on his face told me all I needed to know. He wasn?t lying when he said he was impressed.

It was that simple fact that sealed the deal for me. I knew that I would have to do everything in my power to keep on lifting like I did today, not only because he was impressed and he would let me work out with him, but because it was obviously working. Even standing there, I could feel new muscle occupying my upper torso. It was scintillating.

I quickly went to the bathroom, not wanting to bone up in front of the mid-day gym rats. But soon as I got in the bathroom, I stripped off my shirt. Funny, a few moments earlier, I would never have even thought about rolling up my sleeves, and there I was exposing my chest again to anyone that wanted to see.

The bathroom had a handful of mirrors. Most were over the sink, but on the wall opposite of them were large ones that you could use to examine your face or shave or what have you. Next to those, though, was my target. The full body mirrors that I loathed passing were now my best friend. I stood there, bare-chested, and examined myself with a furor that I never did before.

The mirrors in the aerobics room did nothing to prepare me for a close up view. I stood there dumbfounded as I stared at my new chest. It was breathtaking. I almost started crying. Granted, it wasn?t huge like the trainers or ripped like the twinks, but to me, it was nothing short of miraculous. They were two solid mounds of muscle sitting there, waiting to obey any command I could think of. The combination of the incline, flat, and decline presses I performed did a great deal. The definition I now possessed compared to what I had not three hours ago was undeniable. I spent at least an half hour focusing on how to contract and relax the various muscles in my newly enhanced chest. By the time I saw another person walk through forty-five minutes later, I could flex my chest like a pro. It made me so hard seeing my chest in the mirror flexing. I could even roll the muscles at that point.

After the period of self-realization, followed by a quick jerk in the stalls, I got dressed and left the gym. Even though I had resigned myself to allowing the rage to take over all my workouts, I still had reservations. My logical nature wanted to test different stimuli and situations to see if it applied to those as well as it did lifting. I also wanted to see if there was any information online about what I was experiencing.

The next week was spent doing so many experiments, I was almost driven insane. I tried to see if I could draw the rage up when I was doing other stuff, like cooking or cleaning. That was a bust. I then tried to see if I could do it while playing football down at the park. That experiment didn?t proceed as well as planned, but it did provide some insight.

I got to the park and saw several college age students tossing the football around. I smiled and approached them, something I would?ve never done a scant few weeks before, and asked to join their game. I could see the laughter in their eyes as they examined my body, but they agreed. What followed was something my pride took a few days to overcome, but it was worth it in the end. They stood there for around five minutes arguing who would have me on their team, because I was obviously a handicap.

Being talked about like that was definitely not what I was expecting, but I stood there and took it because I was more curious about myself than I was worried about their comments. Finally, I was placed on a team and we started. The first few plays went by without incident, but around the fifth play, one of the bigger of the guys that was playing lineman opposite of me decided he was going to take it a little too far. I unexpectedly took a hard hit from him and was knocked on my ass. But what really annoyed me was he said afterwards, ?Fat guys like you don?t have no place out here.?

Instantly, I felt that familiar sensation rise up from the depths. I didn?t even hesitate a moment this time. I knew I wanted it more than ever. In the gym, I was tentative, but here was different. Here, I wanted nothing more than to show this little punk what this ?fat guy? could do. By the time I was back into my three-point stance, the rage had completely engulfed me. The ball was hiked and I powered up with a force that would?ve moved a bus. I put my forearm ahead of me slightly and I hit him straight on before he fully stood up. I ended up lifting him a few feet off the ground before I slammed him into the grass. It sounded like he landed a little hard, but I didn?t care. My target was their quarterback. He barely got the ball out of his hands before I engulfed him and drove him into the ground.

Both of the people I hit were slow to get up, but I was more energized than I ever felt before. The guy that was talking shit earlier yelled, ?What the fuck man?? at me.

I simply looked over my shoulder, and with a growl, said, ?What? Did this poor little fat guy hurt you? Fragile guys like you have no place out here.?

The rest of the game was amazing. It became a contest between me and him. But I had my rage fueling me. As the game went on, I kept getting faster and faster while he seemed to tire. I felt unstoppable. Every snap of the ball he did his best to try and deter or stop me, but I felt strong as a bull. I slammed him or shoved him aside each time. He even tried playing dirty. A few times he tried to chop-block me, but my legs just absorbed the impact, which should?ve surprised me.

It was a few hours later as the game winded down that I started to realize what was happening. My shirt was fitting a lot looser, my sweatpants were getting uncomfortably tight around my thighs and, even though I was pushing myself harder than I ever had before, I wasn?t even winded. Somewhere deep inside of me, my brain stored that information away, but at that moment, nothing mattered but the game.

The kid who decided that I didn?t belong went for one final act of defiance. The last play he would be in would be his undoing. Before our guy hiked the ball, he decided to rush me. Normally, that would be a foul, offsides, but we had no ref. He was intending to go a lot farther than offsides though. He was trying to hit me squarely in the jaw with his knee, but my rage heightened reflexes let me do so many things he didn?t expect. I saw him rushing at me, and at the last second, I shifted to the side and powered straight up. His leg, which missed its target, was hooked onto my shoulder, and when my legs muscled me upward, he lost his balance. I took one step forward and he started to fall, which in turn caused me to fall on top of him. His leg was still stuck and when we both hit the ground, an audible pop was heard, followed by him screaming in agony.

I got up as his friends ran over and dusted myself off. I glared at him with no remorse and said, ?I guess that means the game is over.? I don?t think he heard me, but his friends did.

?Don?t you care man, you probably dislocated his leg!?

?Fuck man, it was only a game!?

?You didn?t have to play so rough!?

I could feel the rage draining from me, but I didn?t even turn around to see if he was ok. I knew I should?ve felt some pity or sorrow or something, but there was only one emotion that was left after the rage receded.

Satisfaction.

[xythan_shadow]

As usual, comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.

[Dan]

Another great chapter. Keep them coming.

[Ryne]

It's always sweetest when a bully gets their just desserts...

[Norsejock]

Great story so far, Xythan.

I like the tension of wanting to be that muscle beast but also wanting to be a good guy.

I see that tension a lot in these stories. Some guys get off on the big guy being a softie and a good man. Some guys get off on the cocky asshole who has the body of a god.

I've always enjoyed your stories because your characters usually have good hearts. So this story is interesting because he is tapping into that dark side we all have. And he has very immediate benefits to giving in. Which, I can only assume, will make it harder to stop.

What happens when the rage pits him against someone who wasn't rude to him ( a la the taunting football player)?

Hmmmmm...