Up-Sized Neighborhood, part-2

[muscle16a]

Up-Sized Neighborhood
by muscle16a

[email protected]
[email protected]

(part one - http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=13428 )


Part Two: Starting Anew

I am running through the swamps of Dagobah, Yoda sitting piggy-back on my shoulders. My chest heaving with every breath, my massive pecs rising and falling, in and out, in and out, as I pump my arms forward and back with each stride, my enormous biceps and triceps flexing with every step as I run at top speed, my quads and calves bulging with huge and defined muscle with every step. I notice Mom standing nearby watching me.

“Hey mom - look at me,” I shout. She smiles.

“That’s nice, honey. Don’t get mud all over yourself.” I move on through the swamp. The ground is a bit less even here; it is harder to run, but my body is up to the task as I summon more strength and increase speed.

"A Jedi’s strength flows from the Force," Yoda intones, as he squeezes my broad dense shoulder muscles. "But first, your true enemy you must face."

I enter the cave, Yoda watching from a distance. I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. It’s 11 year old Mikey, his face tense with pleasure, his steel hard ripped muscles bulging with every thrust as he sticks his enormous dick into Billy’s hard, round, and totally smooth muscle butt over and over again. Billy is grunting and moaning in ecstasy as his rock hard cock bounces up and down with every thrust of little Mikey’s mighty muscles. Then, with a scream of delight, his foot-long shoots a huge stream of cum through the air with the force of a fire hose and hits me right in the face. I taste it. I like it. Tim grabs me from behind.

"That wasn’t for you. It was for Georgie," he whispers, as he begins to nibble on my ear, keeping my arms pinned behind me. I fight back, but he’s too strong for me. My dick is rock hard and dripping with pre-cum as it brushes against my chin. I struggle to get free and Yoda laughs at me.

"Anger, aggression, the dark side are these things." Yoda approaches me and places my dick in his mouth. It feels good, but it’s not right somehow. I look down, and it’s not Yoda I see but me kneeling in front of me sucking on it: Skinny, weak, soft, nerdy, brainiac me.

No! I won’t give it up! It’s not fair!! With a shudder, I shoot my load into "my" eagerly sucking mouth. There’s so much cum "I" start to drown. I can’t breath. NO! I’m not ready for this! Please! With a shudder, I awaken. I’m soaking wet. A dream. Well OF COURSE it was a dream, I think, as I return to full consciousness. That’s what I get for falling asleep with muscles and sex on my mind and Star Wars playing in the background.

I’m slick with sweat and . . . sticky. I had a wet dream! My first one in well over 2 years, since I started my daily "routine" before I turned 12 years old. I am slow to move. I realize that I can barely move at all; I ache badly. My muscles are as sore as they’ve ever been. Every movement hurts. I open my eyes and look to my left. My parents are in the motel bed next to me, sleeping soundly. To my right, my little sister Miriam is also sound asleep on the motel’s roll-away cot. I look towards the window. The violet tinge of early morning is just beginning to filter in through the shades. With an extreme effort, I lift my head slightly towards the alarm clock on the night table. My abs constrict in pain at the slight effort, my neck is as sore as the rest of me, but slowly I turn my head and see the soft glow of numbers: 5:48 am. It’s 72 minutes until the "wake-up call" is scheduled to come in. I think to myself: I’m going to need every one of those minutes to remove the evidence and make myself presentable.

Slowly, painfully, I raise myself onto my elbows and attempt to swing my legs to the side to get out of bed. It hurts, but I hold back the groans of pain. I don’t want to wake anybody, not in my current condition. I reach down and feel my hard-on. It’s as hard as it gets, and pushes my pajama pants far out in front of me. There is more cum pooling in my crotch, soaking into my pajamas, dripping all over my legs and stomach, than I have ever produced before. My bed sheets are soaked with it. Somehow, I manage to get to my feet without making any sound, and stagger into the bathroom. I look back, and everybody is still asleep. I shut and lock the door and turn on the light.

In the mirror, it looks as bad as I thought it would: I am totally soaked from head to toe in sweat and cum. My face is flushed, the sweat dripping down my forehead and cheeks as I begin to remove my soaking pajamas. It takes some effort, but I manage to get naked. I thought to immediately wring out the excess moisture into the sink and rinse out my pajamas as best as I could, but the sight of my naked body in the mirror causes me to stop short. I look different.

My body is as flushed as my face. My skin is shiny with sweat and cum glistening in the florescent light, and my skin is covered with dozens of prominent veins standing out from my pale still-skinny frame. It is the vascularity of a professional bodybuilder but without any of the muscle. I can actually see my veins throbbing as the blood rushes back and forth between my different muscles and my heart and lungs. I am breathing heavily, but not out of breath. I realize that I’m still not entirely awake, I must be seeing things, so I slowly, painfully, bend down and grab my pajamas, put them in the sink, and struggle into the shower. It takes a few minutes, but the hot water begins to revive me and loosen me up as I start to recall the events of the night before.

That’s how I remember the first few moments of the new me, my new life to be. Whatever was in that pill I had taken the night before, it definitely was, as Billy said, "the real deal". It had definitely done something to me. What, exactly, I was still not sure. After what must have been 10 minutes of simply standing there letting the steaming hot water cascade over my sore body, I began to feel like myself again. The pain began to subside, and I actually began to feel good. Weird, but good. And as I begin to soap up, I take some time to feel and squeeze a bit. No, I don’t feel at all like myself.

My muscles were harder, stronger feeling, but not really any larger as far as I could tell. With the pain subsiding, I tried to flex a bit. That hurt, but the pain wasn’t as bad. Actually, flexing made the pain seem to fade away. Of course, I began with my biceps - every boy’s favorite muscle. What I felt under my hand was NOT my biceps, it was somebody else’s. Somebody stronger. Looking down, I saw a tiny peak of muscle, two muscles actually, as there was a clearly defined split running down my upper arm separating the two heads of the bicep, one of which rose up into a tiny peak. I squeezed, and almost squealed like a little girl in delight at how hard it felt. I wasn't huge, of course. In fact, I doubt my biceps had grown at all in size. But they felt completely different. They were rock hard; tiny, as before, but strong feeling. Two prominent veins ran the length of both my biceps, sticking out at least an eighth of an inch past my skin, and several smaller veins running in other directions all over my ripped upper arms. I had never seen anything so hot before, but it was also kinda gross seeing all those veins pulsing and throbbing under my skin without the bulging muscles that usually go along with such vascularity! I continued my exploration of my body.

My skinny forearms rippled with small but highly defined muscle fibers. As I felt them more carefully, it was clear to me that there was no size difference; but just as in my biceps, where I had been soft yesterday, I was rock hard today. As I told you already, I was very VERY skinny, with almost no fat at all on my body, when we started this trip. It now seemed that I lost what small amount of fat I had previously, and all that was left was the muscles, skin and bones . . . muscles pushing out under my skin, and with no fat to hide their shape, every muscle group, every fiber, even as small as they were, was clearly visible and separated from the ones next to it. And unlike my previous mushy muscles, my new muscles were those of a well toned athlete. I felt really strong. REALLY strong. Stronger than I ever felt before. The pain I felt when I woke up was fading into memory. I was getting excited, and my dick was still rock hard, as it had been since I woke up.

I vaguely remembered in my dream my dick brushing against my chin. I should have known it was a dream instantly just from that preposterous memory, and of course as I looked down and took myself into my hands, it was nowhere near such a ridiculous (and unmanageable) length. But it was bigger, I think, just by the feel of it. Maybe it was just my imagination, I don’t know. I was so horny, I started to jerk off with both hands. Nothing unusual about that - it was part of my regular morning "routine". But running my hands up and down as I jerked, I thought again that it had grown. Not much, but maybe a quarter of an inch or so. Or it was merely my sex-crazed imagination. As I continued to jerk it, I felt myself reaching orgasm. It felt incredible, much more intense than ever before.

Forcing myself to remain silent so as not to wake anybody, I came. Harder than I had ever cum before. Streams of jism shot out of my dick and slapped against the wall of the shower with a sharp popping sound, over and over again. I wasn’t counting, but it must have been about 20 shots or so. At least it seemed like that. When I considered the amount of cum soaking into my pajamas when I woke up, it amazed me that I still had so much cum left! I cupped my balls in my hand, and they felt engorged. Larger than before, much more sensitive to my touch, almost throbbing. I finished washing and got out of the shower. I wanted, needed, to look at myself in the mirror now that I was fully awake.

Stepping out of the shower and wiping the steam off the mirrors, I was amazed by what I saw. My arms were still really skinny - maybe even skinnier than before - but they were muscular and veiny instead of smooth and shapeless. My biceps were still very very small, but they were noticeably bulging out even with my arms hanging down without flexing. I leaned with my hands on the counter, and was rewarded with something I hadn’t ever seen before on my body: Triceps. Small, naturally, just like the day before, but bulging out in a shallow horseshoe shape on the back of my arm. A bit higher up, I could see where the triceps ended and the deltoid began. Before that day, with my arms hanging at my sides, you could run your fingers up the outside of my arm from elbow to shoulder blade in a perfectly straight line. This morning, starting at the elbow my tricep bulged out a bit, and then back in, and then bulged out again where the shoulder muscle comes in. I could actually see my shoulders were ever so slightly broader with muscle than the day before. Not a lot of muscle, but it was clearly visible, ripped, covered with pulsing veins and hard as a rock.

The mirror continued to clear up, and I noticed that my veins didn’t just run up my arms, but they actually extended up and across my shoulders and into my chest. My chest! I still didn’t have much in the way of chest muscles, but you could no longer see all my ribs (only some of them). It’s not like I had much of a chest at all, nothing at all like Billy or Tim, not even close to young Mikey. But where I had absolutely nothing before but ribs, there was now a very slight bulging on both sides of my sternum. I felt it with my hands, and it was hard. I flexed my chest and saw the pecs jump a bit. I flexed harder, and I could see the individual muscle fibers of my chest on both sides as they rose up from the sternum; what the bodybuilders call striations, covered with veins. I was still really skinny, but I finally had pecs.

I looked a bit lower, and almost immediately got rock hard again. I had abs. No doubt about it, I could see my ab muscles clearly visible even without flexing. When I did flex my abs, I almost shot right there: I had a 6-pack. No, more than a 6-pack. I counted eight individual little rectangular bricks of small rock hard muscle pushing out from my tiny waist, and the tops of another pair about half way between my navel and my groin. An 8-pack plus. I was ripped! Veins ran up from my groin to my abs, like a bodybuilder’s does. My dick slapped against my stomach as I flexed, precum started to drip. I did a double biceps flex, and at the sight of my tiny but rock hard and ripped biceps rising into a defined split peak of muscle power, that’s all it took. Without even touching myself, I began to shoot again. For the third time that morning (counting my wet dream). Stream after stream of cum shot out of my rock-hard dick, striking the mirror in front of me, making a muffled but audible noise as it struck. Just like a few minutes earlier in the shower, it must have been about 15 shots. Maybe more.

This was getting out of hand, but I couldn’t stop just yet. I flexed my thighs, and once again was rewarded with a bulge of muscle. I could see four distinct muscle groups pushing out on the front of my skinny thighs, with a large number of veins snaking their way up from ankles to hips on both the front and the back of my legs. I was in awe of what I was seeing. Whereas before I was skinny and soft, I was now skinny and HARD. Rock hard. And I felt strong, really strong. My dick started to rise yet again, if you can believe it. I decided to get back into the shower and stop all the nonsense. My family would be getting up soon.

My second shower only took a few minutes. I had to do something about my dick, so I jerked off again. And before too long, I came again. Not as much as the last two times, or even as much as in my wet dream, but still about twice the amount of jizz as I usually shot during my morning ritual. But this time, I forced myself to not feel my new hard muscles. Instead, I got clean and then got out.

Rinsing out my pajamas, I hung them over the shower bar to dry a bit. I then cleaned up all the excess cum from the floor and the mirror, cleaned up the bathroom as best as I could, wrapped a towel around myself, and slowly and silently opened the bathroom door. Everybody was still asleep. The alarm clock showed 6:45. I had been in the bathroom flexing and cumming for almost an entire hour. But finally my dick was back to its limp state, though it seemed fuller, thicker, as it hung against my bulging skinny and vein covered thigh muscles. I quietly crossed the room and got dressed. Underwear, socks, jeans (I stopped to check the pocket - the second little yellow and green spotted pill was still there), and t-shirt. I took a long sleeved t-shirt from my travel bag. I didn’t want my family to see too much of me just yet - at the sight of all those pulsing veins running up and down my arms, I knew my mom would want to rush me to a hospital. But I didn’t need a hospital - I felt better than I ever felt before. Even the stiffness and aches that I began the day with were completely gone. Once I was dressed, I went back into the bathroom, took down my pajamas (still wet), and put them in my bag, and then straightened my bed. So long as mom didn‘t lift up the sheets and bedspread, the morning‘s little “incident“ should remain a secret. I took another look around to make sure that there was no evidence of that unusual morning, and as I wiped down a few remaining splatters of cum from the bathroom counter, I heard the telephone ring. It was the wake-up call.

"Rise and shine, kiddies,” Dad called out. “We have a long way to go so let’s not waste any time." Miriam groaned. She never liked getting up in the morning.

"Morning, Dad," I said, as I bounded out of the bathroom.

"You’re up early, Jake-o. And so full of energy! Already showered and dressed?"

"Yup. I fell asleep earlier than the rest of you. I’m going to take a quick jog while you all get cleaned up and dressed." In fact, I was famished and wanted to grab some food before we all went down for breakfast. I knew for certain from the empty feeling in my stomach that one breakfast would not be enough for me that morning.

"That’s nice, honey," said mom. "Be back by quarter to eight. We have to eat and get on the road as fast as possible to get to the new house before dark."

Outside the room, I breathed in the air. I felt more alive than I ever felt before. The pain and muscle stiffness of the morning were completely gone now. I filled my lungs with air, ran towards the stairs, and then changed my mind. With a leap, I grabbed onto the railing with one hand, and threw my legs over the side jumping down to the ground floor. My legs took the pressure of the landing like it was nothing at all, and I then ran full speed down the street to the McDonald’s I noticed the night before, about three hundred yards away. And I’m not exaggerating when I say "full speed". But when I arrived, I wasn’t even totally out of breath. I felt GREAT! Full of life. I wanted to keep running, I wanted to exercise, push ups or something, my muscles were craving some intense stress. But my stomach won the contest and instead I went inside and ordered three egg McMuffins and three bottles of orange juice. (I was really thirsty, which was no surprise considering the amount of fluid I lost that morning!) I ate and drank every drop during my leisurely walk back to the motel, tossed the empty wrappers into the trash can outside the lobby, and checked my watch. It was only 7:30.

I spent a few minutes looking at the coffee shop menu to decide what I wanted for second breakfast, and then bounded up the stairs, three at a time, to our room. But before I went in, an idea occurred to me: I went back down the stairs and stood in the parking lot, looking up at the second floor walkway. I bent my knees a few times and then jumped and grabbed onto the second floor railing. I flexed my arms and to my surprise, my body began to lift upwards. I had done a chin-up! Now, you must understand that I had tried that before, in gym class. But as I told you, I wasn’t just skinny and soft; I was weak, and had never been able to do even one single chin-up despite my low bodyweight. Well, not anymore. I gently lowered myself down and flexed my arms again, and my arms dutifully raised my body until my chin was over the railing. Two reps and I wasn’t even tired! I kept going, eventually pumping out a full 10 repetitions before I dropped back down to the asphalt. Glancing down at my arms, I noticed that my long sleeves had, when my arms were above me during the chin-ups, fallen up my arms exposing my forearms entirely. I saw the many veins that I had seen before, and they seemed to be throbbing even more after that mild exertion. I flexed and was rewarded with a slight bulging of my forearms muscles. As I felt my dick beginning to stiffen again, I stopped what I was doing and went back into the room. Dad and mom were done and packing up, Miriam was still getting ready.

"Hey, Jake-o. What’s the weather like?" asked my dad.

"It’s a beautiful day!" I exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. Miriam groaned again. But when my parents set a deadline they keep it, so we all managed to be out of the room with all our bags by 7:45 as planned. We went back to the coffee shop for breakfast, where I ordered a ham and cheese omelet, bacon, toast, hash browns, an extra order of bacon, and a bowl of cut up fruit. My mom watched with amazement as I scarfed it all down in record time.

"Jake, honey, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache, eating that fast." But I only smiled back at her. I felt great!

"I can’t eat any more," Miriam said. Without warning, I reached across the table with my fork to spear what was left of my sister’s pancakes, and popped it into my mouth, licking at the excess syrup as it dripped down my chin. I didn’t want to lose a single drop.

"Jake-o, do that again," dad said.

"Do what again?" I asked.

"Reach out your arm," he replied. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I reached out my arm towards Miriam’s plate like I did before. Dad put his hand on my extended shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. He looked at me with a slightly puzzled yet pleased smile.

"Where did this come from? Have you been working out?" I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but when I looked down at my extended arm, sure enough I saw a very slight (VERY slight, but noticeable) rise in the t-shirt where the shoulder muscle was - at least where a shoulder muscle was supposed to be on a person with shoulder muscles, which I certainly didn’t have any of before this morning! Think fast, I said to myself.

Fortunately, being a brain has its advantages. I immediately sized up the situation and realized that I needed to cover myself in case the pills really were everything I hoped they were. I thought for a micro-second, and then answered as casually as possible.

"Yeah, dad. We had weightlifting class in gym at school this last quarter. I kinda liked it." I was very proud of thinking of that so fast. It occurred to me that if I could keep my parents from seeing my body for the next week or so, and IF the pills really did what I hoped and prayed they would do, this lie about weightlifting class could provide an excuse for when my parents did see my new body . . . like I had been slowly getting buffer (instead of the fast-track plan that I seemed to be on) and they just hadn’t noticed it until then. Looking at my Dad’s face, I concluded that my plan was going to work.

"Excellent," he told me with a smile. "Like I always say, you need a strong body as well as a strong brain to make it in this world." To be honest, I can’t remember my dad EVER saying any such thing, and judging from the expression on my mom’s face, she hadn’t either. But I liked my odds and decided to play it out for all it was worth. This was my chance.

"Yeah," I said, "which reminds me. I was going to ask you to buy me a set of weights when we get to the new house. I want to work out this summer and build up my body for high school." I held my breath.

"Great idea," dad replied, and I exhaled. "As soon as we’re settled in, we’ll go out shopping for a set. With our new bigger house, we’ll have plenty of room for some exercise equipment. Maybe I’ll even start up again. I used to work out when I was younger, you know."

I didn’t know that. In fact, it surprised me. Dad is about 5'10" tall, and is kind of skinny like me. But he is sort of fit in an old man kinda way, now that I think about it. To be honest, I never really thought about it. He’s kinda fit but not muscular at all. More like a runner’s physique. Or somebody that used to run and now just sits at a desk. He has a pot belly like most old men.

"I think Jacob would look good with some muscles. He’s too skinny," said my sister, laughing.

"Shut up, shrimp," I replied. Miriam laughed again and mom gave me a stern look. With breakfast over, we all got back in the car, and pulled out of the motel. We were on our way to Florida. No more motels.

"That was a much better stop than the first night," dad said to mom. "Except for the bathroom. I swear, there was some kind of a funky smell in there this morning. Must be the cheap plumbing."

"We’ll be in our own home, our own new home, tonight," mom replied with obvious relief. All four of us cheered at that thought. Sitting back, I prepared for the final 9 or 10 hours of our journey. We got quiet as we got on Interstate 95, listening to the radio and getting into the rhythm of the traffic. I spent some time surreptitiously flexing my muscles - at least, as much as I could without anybody noticing. Then, I remembered the book about bodybuilding I bought two nights before. With all the excitement of last night and this morning, I almost forgot about it!

I pulled out my bag, reaching underneath my smelly and wet pajamas, and took out the book and began to read. As I already told you, I’m a total brain and I love books. I started reading all about beginning bodybuilding, the exercises to perform, what muscles are used by what exercises, how much rest you need, what kind of diet, etc., etc. I was soaking up the information as fast as I could turn the pages. I had big plans for myself: Big plans to get big, and there was no time to waste! With that book, and the occasional flexing (and, when Miriam wasn‘t looking, feeling my muscles), time went by very pleasantly. I was enjoying the feel of my brand new rock hard biceps, but all I could think about now was making them bigger. I casually flexed my right arm and felt the muscle for what must have been the 50th time that morning.

“What are you doing, Jacob,” I heard Miriam ask quietly. She was watching me flex and feel my arms. A few days ago, if a member of my family caught me doing that, I would have been embarrassed by it and would have tried to pretend I wasn‘t doing anything. But for some reason, I was feeling bolder as well as stronger today, so instead of denying what I was doing I flexed again, as hard as I could, and leaned over to her.

“Feel that, shrimp” I said. She put her hand on my right upper arm and squeezed. Her eyes grew wide as she made an ooooooh sound.

“Mommy - Jacob’s got muscles,” she exclaimed.

“That’s nice, honey,” Mom said, smiling as she looked in the rearview mirror at her two children playing nice for a change.

We made pretty good time to southern Florida with only a short stop for lunch and a few stops for gas. Nothing worth telling about except that for lunch, once again, I ate like a total pig. We went to a Country Time Buffet just outside of Jacksonville, and I must have made 8 trips to the counter to load down my plate with food: Roast beef, turkey, hamburger, hot dog, meatloaf, roast chicken, fried chicken . . . I ate so much my parents both looked at me with some concern.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jake honey,” Mom said. "I’ve never seen you eat so much. Are you feeling sick?” I insisted I felt fine, better than fine.

“Leave the boy alone, Jackie,” Dad said. “He at that age. Probably going through a growth spurt. And he needs lots of calories if he’s going to fill out that skinny body of his.”

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I dozed and read my bodybuilding book, and every few minutes or so, Miriam would reach over and grab my arm or my shoulder and I would do a flex for her. It became like a game, and the time passed pleasantly.

We arrived at our new house well before sundown as planned. We were moving to a town just outside of Fort Lauderdale called Coral Springs. Like our last house, it was in a planned community, but it seemed totally different here. For one thing, the weather was hot. I mean, not just summer weather, but HOT steaming summer weather. Driving through the community, I noticed a lot of kids around my age biking and skateboarding and running around the neighborhood. A lot of them had no shirts on as they played. Most of the driveways had basketball hoops. Some kids were playing baseball in the street as we approached in our minivan, and had to wait while they stopped playing and moved to the curb. I couldn’t help but notice there were a few really cute ones in that group. A few of them looked right at me as we passed, I smiled and my dick started to stiffen up. A couple of blocks later, I saw a few guys who looked like high school age playing football on somebody’s front lawn. Shirts and skins. The "skins" were showing some real muscle (of course I noticed that) as they struggled with each other, but it was clearly a friendly game. It was beautiful and green and warm and a little bit too humid. The people seemed tan and happy and healthy. But when we pulled into our new driveway, Dad let out a groan.

"The moving truck isn’t here!" he exclaimed. "Damn those incompetents!"

"Richard! Language!" mom intoned, as always. So instead of spending our last hour or two of daylight moving in boxes and furniture, we just emptied the minivan and began to explore our new house. It was big and empty. My room, on the second floor was so cool! I had a walk-in closet and my own bathroom and everything, including a door leading out onto a balcony overlooking the back yard. I stepped outside and looked around. Just across our back yard was a group of guys, a bit older than me I think, hanging out on skateboards, doing tricks and stuff, messing with each other. Once again, I couldn’t help but notice that a few of them were really cute. One of them in particular had his shirt off and was showing some nice muscles. Nothing like Billy and Tim from the night before. Not even as good as little Mikey. But still pretty hot. Once again, my dick began to stiffen. I walked inside, into MY BATHROOM (that was so cool), prepared to pop off a quick one, when I heard my dad calling.

"Jake-o. Come on down stairs. We’re heading out for supplies." I took a glance at my watch, and realized it was now exactly 24 hours since I took the first of those little yellow and green spotted pills. Reaching into my pocket, I removed the baggie, took out the remaining pill, popped it into my mouth and swallowed. Then, I ran down to where the rest of the family was examining our new kitchen. At least the appliances that came with the house were there, and mom wanted to fill up the fridge.

We piled back into the car, and headed towards a shopping center we passed a few miles away. There was a supermarket called "Publix", which I never heard of before, right next to a Home Depot, and across the parking lot from those stores was a building with a large sign out front that read "Dick’s Sporting Goods". What a name, I thought! It was huge - two stories at least, as big as the Wall-Mart in my old town!

"Hey dad - while mom is getting food, can we go over there" I pointed to Dick’s "and look at weights?"

"Sure thing, Jake-o. Your mom doesn’t like me interfering with the food shopping, after all." Miriam laughed at that, and so did I. Mom liked to do the food shopping herself, as she had made abundantly clear on many occasions in the past. Dad tended to buy too many deep-fried and chocolate-covered things.

So while mom and Miriam when to the Publix, Dad and I went to Dick’s. The selection was amazing, a different section for all different kinds of sports, a huge clothing area with football and basketball jerseys and workout clothes, a whole wall with nothing but golf clubs. (Dad looked at that area with interest.) And off to one side, about 1000 square feet of weight lifting equipment: Weights, machines, benches, dumbbells, belts, straps, everything you can imagine! Leaning against the counter was a boy who looked to be about 16 or 17, wearing an employee name tag: His name was Pete. He was only a few inches taller than me, but MUCH wider. He obviously used weights and didn’t just sell them. His uniform shirt had short sleeves, and I could see some nice sized biceps bulging as he moved. His chest pushed out the cotton of his shirt to the point that I could see his nipples through the fabric. He had a narrow waist, a nice butt, and what looked like solid thick legs underneath his work pants. And, as I had been doing for a few years, I quickly glanced at his crotch and was rewarded by what appeared to be a nice bulge. Only his face spoiled the moment. The kid was UGLY! He had a big nose, pockmarks and acne scars on both cheeks, ears that stuck out to the side, thin lips, and his teeth were slightly crooked. I thought it was such a shame that a boy with such a nice body didn’t have an attractive face to go along with it.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked my Dad.

“Yes you can. I’m interested in a weightlifting set for my son here.” Pete looked down at me, and didn’t appear to be too impressed. But he was a good salesman, and so he began to show us some of our choices. They had a beginner’s weight set for $99.99, a price that seemed to make my Dad happy. (Did I mention he is generally a cheapskate?) The weights were plastic and filled with sand. It came with 110 pounds of weight and a bench that, to be honest, looked kinda flimsy. I said as much.

“A lot of young kids start with the 110 pound set, because most people who start lifting don’t keep up with it. This way, you’re only out a hundred bucks if you decide to give it up.” Pete then put his hand on my right shoulder, giving a bit of a squeeze and then another squeeze a bit lower down my arm. A look of surprise showed on his face.

“Well, you do feel pretty firm there, little dude. Do you think 110 pounds is enough to start with?” I told him I didn’t know.

“Well, try it out, Jake-o,” Dad said, pointing to a curling bar loaded with some weights. With Dad and Pete watching, I picked up the bar and tried to do a curl with it. I was heavy, but I tried to keep my back straight (like I had read in my book that morning) as I flexed my biceps and the weight slowly rose up until the bar almost touched my chest, and then I lowered it again.

“Not bad, dude,” Pete said, clearly a bit more impressed than he initially was. “There’s 50 pounds on that EZ-Curl bar. Lots of kids your age and size can’t curl that much. And you used really good form.” Pete seemed to be re-assessing his initial opinion of me. “Have you lifted before?” I told him the same lie I had told my parents that morning. Pete and Dad continued to look at all of the choices, but I wasn’t paying attention. I had just curled 50 pounds! This was definitely not the Jake of a couple of days ago. My biceps felt warm from that one repetition I had just done, as I could feel blood flowing up and down my arms. It was almost an erotic sort of feeling as blood pumped into my small muscles. My dick started to stiffen, but I didn’t care. I curled 50 pounds. I was NOT a weakling.

“I think we should go for the good stuff, Jake-o,” Dad said turning towards me. “After all,” he said to Pete, “I am thinking of starting to work out again along with Jake here. Let’s go for some good quality equipment.” So, we decided to get the 300 pound Olympic set of weights (made out of metal, not plastic and sand!), and a bench with a number of attachments. Pete was really pushing that bench.

“The bench can incline and decline depending on what you want,“ Pete said. “You can put this here, for preacher curls.” I knew what preacher curls were from the book I had been reading in the car that day. “Or, you can flip this thing over here THIS way” he demonstrated, “and use this here for dips. Or, you can flip this other thing the other way and lift it up and it’s almost as good as a squat rack.” Pete continued on with his sales pitch to Dad, while I went back to the curl bar for another go at it. This time, it felt a little bit easier to lift, and so I continued to play around with it while Dad and Pete moved towards the counter to pay for everything. As I curled the bar a few more times, I felt that pleasant warmth in my biceps as blood rushed to them in response to my exercise, and I also felt an even more pleasant warmth in my crotch as blood rushed to my stiffening rod as it pushed against my jeans. I kept curling. As Pete took my Dad’s credit card, I couldn’t help but notice that he glanced in my direction as I was doing curls with that 50 pound bar. I clearly saw his eyes move down my body to my crotch. His eyes widened when he saw the big bulge in my pants, and then he looked back up at my eyes and, slightly blushing, turned back to Dad with some paperwork.

This was a momentous event: The first time I was certain that another guy was checking me out. Too bad Pete was so God-awful ugly or . . . well, I’m not sure what I would have done if he were cute, but it scared me! As it was, I felt more pride in myself than I had felt since I tested at a 12th grade reading level earlier that year. Then, something occurred to me and I put down the curling bar.

“Chin ups,” I said to Dad and Pete. “We need something for Chin ups. My book says that’s one of the most important exercises.” So Pete showed us a good Chin up bar, Dad nodded, and it was added to the purchase. As Pete rang up the total, I couldn’t believe what I saw on the register: $597.44. Dad just spent almost $600 on weights for me, and wasn’t whining about the price or anything. As we arranged for delivery the next day and began walking out of the store, I turned to Dad and told him how much I appreciated it, and how much I loved him. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulder.

“It really is my pleasure, Jake-o,” he said. “To be honest, I’m very happy to see you getting interested in physical activity, finally, and in building your body up a bit. You know that your Mom and I value brains infinitely more than brawn, but I never wanted you to totally ignore your body!” As he was saying this, he gave me a squeeze, and I felt his hands feeling my newly hardened muscles. “And from what I can feel, you’re not.”

By the time we got out of the store, it was dark outside. Mom and Miriam were loading bags of food into the car, and my stomach started making loud noises.

“Is that your stomach, Jake-o?” I nodded. “Well, we need to get you fed. Jackie! This boy of ours is hungry!”

“That’s nice, honey,” Mom said. “It’s too late to start cooking dinner now, so I picked up a few roast chickens and some side dishes.” When we got home, unloaded the car and filled up the fridge, out came the food. We had no table to eat on, so we put down a blanket on the dining room floor and did it picnic style: Chicken, roast potatoes, broccoli, mac & cheese, green beans, salad, watermelon, and a chocolate cake. I ate an entire roasted chicken by myself, spoiling Mom's plans for cold chicken for lunch the next day!

After our “picnic” was cleaned up, Dad pulled out the sleeping bags which would be our beds for the night. We were all pretty shagged out from the trip, and nobody thought it odd that I said goodnight and went up to my new room. I put down the sleeping bag, and began to undress. My plan when I came upstairs was to get naked and check myself out to see if any more changes happened during the day, and perhaps enjoy some quality alone time. But I felt my eyes growing heavier and heavier as I laid out the sleeping bag. Just like last night, my body was screaming for sleep. I pulled off my pants and shirt and underwear, got into the bag, and was out like a light. I didn’t even put on any pajamas, and realized that as I was drifting off to sleep - it was the first time I went to sleep in the nude, and I liked it. I liked the feel of the fabric of the sleeping bag against my bare skin, the feeling of freedom as my dick and balls loosely flopped around with nothing but gravity to act on them. I could really get used to this, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.

[arpeejay]

Yep!

I'm liking it a LOT! Keep going!

xoxo

Richard

[middleman]

You're doing an absolutely awesome job. This has all the looks of a classic. Thanks so much for sharing.

[tonypal76]

Hope you keep the story going, it's great and has great potential. Your guy is enjoying Florida, land of shirtless young athletes and serious lifting. I'd love to see him meet the jocks at school and also high school and get recruited to join the football and track teams (in spring, track practice is a shirtless musclefest).

[Blake]

I have to admit that after being away for a few months, this is one cracking story to come back to.

Keep it going....

[hipy]

Awsome story again! cant wait for next part!!!

[philat99]

Nice little self-discovery story. Keep it going. Look forward to where you take it once Jake gets into high school.
Mike

[lead guitarist]

This story is terrific. I'm enjoying it more than any story I've seen on this forum in a long time. I love the slow build, the indulgent, lengthy descriptions of how Jake is changing and how he feels about it. Great stuff! Thanks for posting it!

[redroger11]

First rate, Man. Keep Writing.

redroger11

[wdcbob]

Great story! I like the way you're taking your time in building up Jake's body. I hope he gets bigger, but doesn't keep going to "muscle monster" proportions. And I can't wait for him to share that body with another guy

[musclemonkey]

I really like this! I can see it going several directions, keep up the good work!

[dolphinbad]

Wow! Excellent story! You write very well, guy!

[Otaru_grower]

You really capture the pubescent desire to gain weight really well. Good job all around.

[TemptationIV]

Really liking this story so far, can't wait for the next chapter.

[MAZIVKAROLY]

Outstanding part 2; you are an excellent writer, with a good deal of subtlety as well as a very human touch.

[Mass Driver]

Great stuff. More Please. and please do...
Keep Writing.

MD