Muscle Cousin 3-The Change Begins

[banania7]

One night, about a week after Tony's arrival, we went up to our room as usual. Tony lay back on the bed, pulling off all his clothes until only his underwear remained. I plopped down on my mattress, trying not to stare, but eagerly awaiting Tony's instructions. He glanced over at me, looking for a long moment. I started to feel shy, wondering what he was thinking about. You see our relationship had started to evolve. Though we were very different, we had started to get to know each other. I was the one with the rich emotional life, but I barely made a dent in the world around me, fearful and weak, struggling to find my place. Tony had had to scrape for everything he had, doing whatever he needed to in order to get by, always learning how to thrive in any situation, and dominate if need be. He taught people to fear and respect him whatever milieu he was in.

Yet there were things that connected us. We both felt alienated from our fathers, me reacting by distancing myself and retreating, Tony reacting by expanding and dominating with his own presence. We both were high-achievers in very different disciplines, and we were essentially loners as well. But most importantly, we complemented each other well, Tony with his need to dominate and gain control, myself with my ready desire to please and submit.

Thus, I started taking care of Tony's needs, however mundane, always trying to anticipate his desires. As the week progressed, he seemed to appreciate my efforts, and we began spending more time together. I would usually be doing some task while he relaxed, telling me stories from his past, and I was always content to listen, happy to be in the company of this cocky, young stud.

That night, something seemed different. Tony smiled at me, sighing happily and stretching himself from head to toe. The room was warm, and his body glistened slightly from a faint layer of sweat. He scratched his belly absently, letting his hand slip down towards his waistband. Slowly, he started playing with the elastic, the faint popping sound echoing in the stillness of the room. I watched surreptitiously in the twilight, spellbound.

'Brent,' Tony said finally. Then he patted the space next to him on the bed. He had to do it again before I got the hint, slipping beside him, my heart pounding.

'Dude, can you give me a foot massage. My dogs are really barking today.'

I bounded quickly for the end of the bed, almost relieved that that was all he wanted. I grabbed his left foot, kneading it softly, surprised at how meaty it was. I was hardly an expert, but I did my best as always, massaging the soles and the toes, apparently doing a good job as Tony moaned softly, his eyes closed.

'Don't stop, man, I love your little hands on my feet.' This carried on for a time until Tony said, seriously, 'Brent, tell me something about yourself. I mean it. I want to know more about you, and your school and your friends. Remember, I'll be joining you there in a couple of days.'

Though excited at the opportunity, I wasn't sure what I wanted to tell him. Should I pretend everything was great, paint a pretty picture? Or should I outline my daily humiliations, outcast status, the constant bullying? Would it be worse to lie and have him discover it himself, have him lose all respect for me? Part of me wished he wasn't coming to my school, so he would never learn just how big a loser I was.

'Dude, you stopped. You ain't gonna leave my other foot hanging, are you?'
Tony opened his eyes then, looking at me. He saw my look of distress, and the sadness behind my eyes. Tony was a lot of things: tough, hard and shrewd among them, but he wasn't stupid or mean-spirited. Yes, he'd always done whatever he needed to to survive, but he didn't lack compassion. When he looked at me, he saw I was bothered, and I felt a tremendous wave of tenderness come towards me.

'Hey buddy, he said, reaching a hand towards my shoulder. Don't worry, you can tell me anything. I just want to get to know you better, to know what you are up against. Trust me, I know how hard things can be sometimes....I would never make fun of you----you can tell me.'

Suddenly I felt safe. I smiled, letting out a big sigh of relief. Troy was the only other person I had ever opened up to. Something told me it was time to trust someone again.

'But hey, don't stop massaging that foot. That shit feels good!'

I started. Initially, I gave an overview of the whole school, the various cliques and hierarchies. I slowly got more personal, telling my own story, outlining my struggles, my loneliness and alienation. I told him about my tormentors, The Coach, The Jock, Stuart and of course my Dad. Focussing on my task, I worked vigorously, massaging my way up his body, caressing his legs, arms and torso as I continued talking, rarely looking at him. But when I did look at him, what I saw there reassured me. Tony was definitely listening, giving me his full attention, never commenting or interrupting me; he would sometimes frown at certain comments or nod encouragingly when I would start to falter. But it was his eyes that helped me most, bearing a steadiness that gave me comfort, feeling like some sort of embrace. When I was finally finished, I felt spent, exhausted but also something else; I felt understood.

We both lay there, just breathing in the darkness. Then I felt Tony grab me, his strong arms pulling me towards him. He pulled me inward, cocooning me in the warmth of his body, his strong heart beating against my back. We lay there, silent, until I could hear Tony snoring, a comforting rumble, that finally lulled me off into my own deep sleep.

When I woke up the next day, Tony was already up, but I wasn't worried because I knew he was downstairs doing his workout. I loved to go down and watch him, marvelling at his burgeoning strength, awed by his growing muscularity. His strong, sinewy frame was reacting quickly to the workouts as if starved for the opportunity to grow. He seemed able to add poundage every time, his muscles demanding ever more resistance, craving a greater challenge every day. He also ate like a young bull, piling on the protein and drinking gallons of whole milk. My mom was delighted, happy to provide him with all the sustenance he needed. My dad too took every opportunity to praise his appetite, often comparing it disparagingly with my own bird-like one. Dad would laugh raucously at his own jokes, but unlike Stuart, Tony would never join in. Instead he would just look at my dad, hard and immobile, never cracking a smile. This would unsettle my dad, grumbling to himself about people with 'no sense of humour.' He was already resentful that Tony seemed to prefer spending time with me, consistently spurning his invitations to 'watch a game' or 'throw the pigskin around.' How could he possibly prefer being with me? Conversely, their exchanges left me glowing inside, barely able to contain my happiness.

So Tony continued working out, building more muscle every day. 'Dude, check out this bicep,' he'd say, crunching it into a small, concrete peak, now around the 14" mark. 'Hard as a fuckin' rock and twice as strong.' Actually, he wasn't far off, because as he demonstrated on that first night, he was inordinately powerful for his size. Though thrilled, he seemed completely at ease with this bizarre strength, now that he was curling 650 pounds with his 14" biceps, and bench-pressing nearly 800 pounds in strict form with his 40" chest! 'YEAHH!' he would roar as he gained more ground, hitting 1,000 pounds on his squat, his gorgeous cannon-ball glutes straining mightily as his powerful thighs pressed the weight upward. He was constantly flexing too, checking his progress between sets at the mirror. He still wasn't that big, maybe 165 pounds at 5'9" now, but his body showed a hardness that made him look like he could walk through a brick wall.

'Get over here and check out this chest!' he would shout, flexing slowly into a front lat spread. As I watched, I heard a loud RRRIIPP! as the shirt gave way, splitting down the middle, unable to contain his new, hot, sweaty muscle. 'That's right, can't control this muscle stud!' he growled, working himself into a frenzy. His shorts were also straining in front, precariously close to tearing as he turned himself on. He turned around then, stomping towards me before hitting a bone-crunching most muscular. 'Soon, NO-ONE will be able to stop me!' I felt dizzy, overcome with lust as his shorts finally gave way, unleashing his throbbing horsecock, dripping and angry. We looked at each other, hesitating a moment, he: growling like an animal, me: white-faced but willing, but then we heard a noise, a car pulling up....

It was my dad! We had to act fast. You see, he didn't know about Tony's workouts. Tony always made sure to go downstairs when my dad was working, as he always worked the early shift. He would finish his workout in plenty of time, always replacing the weights with my dad's far inferior ones before exiting the gym. Thankfully, my dad's ego was so huge that he had bought far more weight than he had ever been able to handle. My dad would have probably been happy for Tony to use the room, but he wanted his transformation to be surprise, and he relished the future opportunity to show himself off.

But dad had come home early, so I went upstairs to see why. Apparently, he had decided to come home for lunch, having forgotten to bring it to work. Luckily, he'd also picked up some groceries, so I helped him by putting them away, taking as much time as I could. Finally I finished, excusing myself to go upstairs. Once out of sight, I snuck down to the basement, making sure the coast was clear.

'Tony,' I whispered, waiting for a response. 'Tony, where are you?' I looked around the room, everything was in it's place---except, oh my God, the bench press! It was loaded with 9 plates on each side, about 850 pounds! How could Tony have forgotten that--there was no way I could lift it! I rushed over, struggling to remove one plate when I heard footsteps behind me.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE?!' A rough voice said. I turned around to see my dad, glaring wildly. 'Didn't I tell you to stay out of this room? You're not fit to be in here. I'll teach you not to listen!' He started towards me, unspooling his belt as he approached. I stumbled backwards, pleading and scared. He reached out to me, and I prepared for the worst, but suddenly he stopped in his tracks, looking past me.

'Tony,' he said. What are you doing over there?'

In relief, I turned around, and there was Tony, having just exited the bathroom, bare-chested and barefoot, only wearing his workout shorts. He had clearly found some baby oil in the bathroom, as his hard, muscular physique gleamed from head to toe, at once magnificent and intimidating. He passed in front of me, settling between me and my father.

'Well, I guess you've discovered my little secret. I'm the one that's been working out down here.' He was flexing unconciously as he spoke, tensing and un-tensing his muscles. 'I hope you don't mind too much.' He moved forward, standing toe to toe with my dad, now almost the same height,[had he gained another inch in the last few minutes]?

My dad stuttered impotently at the sight of him, and before he could respond Tony walked over to the bench press. Squatting in front, facing the bar, he gripped it ferociously. With a small grunt he cleaned it effortlessly to his perfect chest, pausing it for a mere second. Then he pushed it upwards, military pressing it with ease above his head. Then this boy, maybe 5'10" and 170 pounds, starting walking with it, all 850 pounds pressed at armslength, walking straight towards my dad, looking like he could have carried twice as much. When he reached him, he paused, looking him in the eye, his impossibly virile, almost-naked body shaming my dad's flabby, useless one. Then he dropped the weight, sending it crashing down to the concrete, landing mere inches from my dad's feet. Dad jumped back, looking at him, dumbstruck.

'YEAHH!' he roared, victorious. 'THAT WAS FUCKIN' EASY! So I hope you don't mind me using them. Looks like you weren't putting them to much use anyway.' Then he patted my dad on the shoulder, clapping him hard enough to buckle him at the knees.

'Oh, and by the way, Mr. Davis,' he stated in a low, menacing voice. Brent
will be at all my workouts---you see, he seems to have a calming effect on me. That's probably a good thing right now, don't you think?'

Dad didn't answer, couldn't answer, angering Tony. 'ANSWER ME, MR. DAVIS! he thundered, causing me to shiver.

'Yes, sure, whatever you say. he croaked.You're right!'

'Great! That's settled then. Come on Brent, let's get me all cleaned up. I can't wait to go meet all your friends at school tomorrow!'

[dimarvalc]

Whew!!! I am so glad that Tony is getting along with Brent, that he isn't another bully in his life.

I wonder what happened of Troy, though. Hmmmm...

Thanks, banania7. This story is really fun to read. I'm always looking forward to read the next part.

[sierraca]

Now that Tony seems to be the protector of Brent from Brent's father, will Tony be Brent's protector at school and the jock, Mark Blanchard? And now that Brent will help Tony with his workouts, with Tony's guidance, will Brent muscle-up? What about Stuart, the next-door kid. Brent has a crush on him. If Brent muscles-up, will they get together? Or will Tony become a muscle-freak and totally dominate everyone around him. Time will tell. Keep writing!

[bobaroo2]

This is taking a turn I didn't expect, and I'm really liking it