Up-Sized Neighborhood, part-3

[muscle16a]

Upsized Neighborhood
by Muscle16a

[COLOR=#0000ff][email protected][/COLOR]
[COLOR=#0000ff][email protected][/COLOR]

(part 1: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=13428 )
(part 2: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=13468 )


Part Three: Settling In

I opened my eyes at the noise of a loud diesel engine. It sounded close, and was getting louder. Then there was the high pitched whine of airbrakes , the engine noise vibrated for a few seconds, shuddered and was silent. I closed my eyes, resting peacefully but now fully awake. I knew where I was: In a sleeping bag in my new bedroom. Slowly the events of the past few days began to run through my head as my right hand rested on my bare torso, my skin warm to the touch and dry - that was the first thing I noticed. After the events of the previous morning, I had been worried that I would wake up covered in sweat and cum again, something I might find hard to wash out of the sleeping bag. Why wasn’t I? I remembered taking the second pill the night before, so I had expected the same sort of reaction . . . but no, today I felt a strong sense of calm and peace. I was breathing deeply, slowly. A ringing sound called out, a doorbell but an unfamiliar one. What’s going on? It’s barely light outside. As this thought went through my mind, I heard Dad’s voice calling from downstairs.

“Jake-o! Miriam! Up, up up! The moving truck is here. Everybody out of bed.” The moving truck! Finally my furniture and stuff had arrived. I opened my eyes and looked out the glass paneled door leading onto my balcony: I could see the horizon past the yards and homes of my new neighbors, a red glow clearly visible and directly in my line of sight, getting brighter. Oh my god - it wasn’t even dawn yet! I reached over to my right for my wristwatch, and pulled it to my face: 5:25am. I don’t believe it. While I had gone to bed fairly early (before 10) the night before, after stuffing myself with roasted chicken, I sure could have used a couple more hours of sleep!

“Jake-o! Out of bed NOW!” Dad’s voice came crashing through my consciousness. “Throw on some clothes and move it!” I heard other voices now, muffled, coming from downstairs. The movers were already inside. Then there was a knock on my door, the door opened and Mom walked in.

“Jake, honey, we need you downstairs right now. Just throw on some clothes and come. We need every pair of hands. Right now! You know your father.” She then retreated and closed the door behind her, and I heard her enter Miriam’s room next door. I knew what a struggle that was going to be and I didn‘t want to listen to it, so I stood up and threw on my clothes from the day before and headed down. In the doorway, I saw the moving guy and his assistant carrying two chairs inside. Dad heard my feet pounding on the wooden stairs, and turned to me.

“Good. You’re wearing your clothes from yesterday. You’re going to get dirty, so might as well not waste a clean shirt and pants! The truck’s right out front. Go on out and start bringing boxes inside. Leave the heavy stuff for the movers.” Dad barked his commands at me, as he stood in the entryway as sort of the foreman, directing the movers with the chairs to the dining room. I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but my dad is kinda cheap. At least he always was, until the day before when he spent $600 on weights and equipment for me with no begging and whining on my part at all! But when he contracted with this moving company, he was still the “old” Dad . . . and he got a great deal on the move! The only catch was that it cost by the hour to unload the truck, and the mover (a guy in his 50s or so) and his younger (although not young) assistant didn’t seem to be moving all that quickly. Well, I thought, Dad spent a wad of cash on me the day before, so the least I can do is work my ass off moving in.

I walked outside and out to the curb where the diesel truck and it’s long trailer was parked, right in front of our house. It was not yet fully light, but there was plenty to see by. I walked up the ramp into the trailer and grabbed a box. It felt light as I lifted it up, so I set it down and put another box on top of it and lifted both. I handled the weight quite easily, feeling the blood pumping into my flexed biceps and shoulders as I carried the boxes towards the house, although the size of the boxes made carrying them a bit awkward. It occurred to me that I hadn’t even taken the time to examine myself in a mirror that morning - everything happened too fast, and already I was dressed and hard at work (well not that hard yet, I thought). I wondered if I had grown. If those freaky veins were still covering my body. If I still had that wicked definition. As I brought the boxes into the kitchen (they were clearly marked “K” on top so we knew where to put everything) and set them on the floor, I looked down at my wrists poking out of my long sleeve t-shirt. The veins on the backs of my hands and leading up my wrists to my forearms were bulging out like a lot of fit boys’ do, perhaps a bit more than most boys but not (I thought) as much as they had the day before. What I could see of my forearms where they began at the wrist seemed looked strong. I placed my left hand on my right wrist intending to move it up my arm and feel around a bit, when I heard Dad’s voice coming towards me. I turned and started towards the door again.

“Hard at work, Jake-o?” I told him I was, and tried to sound enthusiastic about it. I felt that I owed him some good attitude during the work, in exchange for last night’s generosity. He smiled and patted me on the shoulder as I walked by. “I’d better go hurry up your Mom and sister, or we’ll never get done!” Dad yelled for Miriam as he climbed the stairs, and I headed outside for more boxes.

I won’t bore you with too many details; but eventually we had the entire trailer emptied out and our house filled with furniture and boxes, and all by 10 am. I was an unloading and unpacking machine! I only wasted a few seconds here and there to glace at the strong arms of the mover and his assistant as they did their job, impressed at how much they were able to lift and move around with what appeared to be so little effort. I knew from my bodybuilding book that muscles get stronger from regular stress, and I figured that being a mover and lifting furniture every day was a good way to build strength! The head mover, a guy in his 50s I would guess, had those ropey, thick-looking muscles that old guys who have done heavy labor their wholes lives seem to get. Not huge but strong looking, with thick veins that popped out every time he lifted something. He reminded me of this Youtube video with a bodybuilder son, huge and heavily muscled and maybe 19 or 20 years old, who armwrestled his dad, an older guy with those ropey, blue-collar type muscles, and the dad totally destroyed his son despite the boy’s superior size and muscularity. The assistant was in his 30s, I would guess, and he was big, but mostly fat. You could hardly see his muscles bulge through the layers of fat on his body, but MAN was he strong - handling heavy pieces of furniture by himself with an ease that showed he did this for a living. But neither his nor his boss’s body attracted me, which was just as well. If our movers were two young cute bodybuilder types, I might not have been very productive that morning.

But our movers definitely had shown a muscular strength that I envied, and that thought was part of what motivated me to work so hard while unloading; I concentrated on my straining muscles as I lifted and shifted weight during the job. And when they had finally finished, and while Dad paid them, Mom set out breakfast. We had all been working hard for a more than four hours, carrying boxes, moving around furniture trying to find just the right position and alignment, and we were all hungry. I was starving! I can’t even remember what we ate, but I do remember there was a lot of it. As we sat and ate, Dad gave us our marching orders for the rest of the day.

“Now there’s nothing worse than an unpacked house, living out of boxes. So there will be none of that” he said. “After breakfast, we’ll start unpacking boxes into closets and drawers. And no dilly-dallying either. I want all of us as close as possible to completely moved in before we break for the day.”

Miriam groaned and laid her head on the table, but I gave Dad a smile. I was fine with doing it all at once. Even though I had been carrying boxes for a few hours now, and helping carry some of the heavier furniture with the moving guys, I wasn’t tired out at all. My muscles had been craving stimulus since the day before, and other than a bit of running and a few chin-ups this had been the only exercise I had had. To be honest, I felt great. Pumped. I was dying to go up to my room and check my body out in a mirror. But first I had to pay back Dad for the expensive gift of the previous day, and I was determined to do so by being the most helpful and obedient son I could be that day. As Miriam began to whimper about how tired she was, Dad looked at me. I gave him the thumbs-up sign as I stuffed more of Mom’s breakfast feast into my mouth. He looked pleased.

Box after box after box, taking out items, putting them in drawers, onto hangers, folding up the empty boxes and bringing them downstairs, moving furniture into a different position, and then changing minds and moving it back again, over and over and over. Dull and tiring work. But eventually, I had pretty much finished my room. I stood and looked around, amazed at how much more space I had with my furniture set up than in my old bedroom. Reaching into the last box, I removed the digital bathroom scale. That reminded me that I hadn’t weighed myself since before we left Michigan! I decided I deserved a break from work, so I brought the scale into my bathroom, found a good place to set it on the floor, and stepped on. It read 106 pounds! Nine pounds heavier than only 3 days earlier - could that be right? That was with my clothes on, but they couldn’t weigh too much. Could I really gain that much weight in just a few days? Well, I thought, my muscles did feel harder; and harder meant denser which meant heavier, right? I gave a quick flex and felt my right bicep (always the first muscle I went for), and sure enough it was just as rock solid hard as it had been the day before. Was it bigger? I couldn’t tell for sure by feeling it, but I thought it was. At least, I hoped I thought it was. I needed to see it, and the rest of me, so I began to take off my shirt in front of the mirror. I had one arm almost out of the sleeve when I heard Mom’s voice from downstairs.

“Jake, honey! I need your help with the kitchen stuff.” I cursed under my breath at the timing, but then shouted back as cheerily as I could that I was coming. I regretfully put my left arm back into my t-shirt and went downstairs.

Eventually we were finished. In the end, I had to help Miriam finish her room. I had to use all of my willpower to keep from grumbling when Dad told me to, but it was all worth it - we were finally done! It was just 4 pm as I placed the last few items (stuffed animals) from the last box onto Miriam’s bed while she sat on the floor and played with her dolls. I almost yelled at her to help me, but I was just too exhausted to start a fight right now. From downstairs, the aroma of meat beckoned me. Mom had cooked some kind of roast, or hamburgers, or steaks, or stew, I couldn’t quite tell. But there was definitely meat involved.

“Lunch everybody!” she yelled, and Miriam and I ran for the stairs. Despite having eaten a ton of food for breakfast only 6 hours earlier, I was famished again. And unlike that breakfast, I remember exactly what Mom cooked for that 4 pm lunch: An enormous meatloaf, dripping with juices and all shiny on top where she glazed it with barbecue sauce, a big bowl of mac and cheese (the blue box stuff that Miriam liked), salad, and garlic bread. And a few pieces of leftover chicken and leftover side dishes from the night before. As Dad passed me the knife, I cut myself a huge slice from the loaf -maybe about a pound and a half in weight - and Mom raised her eyebrows at the size of the slice I took, but then laughed as I moved it to my plate and began to shovel it into my mouth at a furious pace.

“Eat up, honey. You have been putting forth a lot of effort today.” She smiled at me, and so did Dad.

“That’s for sure, Jake-o. Your mom and I really appreciate how hard you worked. And without a bit of attitude!” I beamed at the praise.

“Glad to do it” I said, between mouthfuls. “I’m glad to have gotten it all done. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight!” Everybody gave a cheer at that thought. Two nights of motel beds and then a night on the floor left all of us dreaming of our own beds. When we all finished eating, we continued to sit around the table talking about our new house. I was eager to explore the neighborhood, but even more eager to go to my room and spend some quality “alone time” - preferably naked. I hadn’t even performed my morning ritual today, I thought! That thought took it’s normal place right in the front of my brain, and my dick started to stiffen, and I began to look for a way to escape upstairs. Miriam started to doze a bit, and Mom yawned and said she might take a short nap. After we cleared the table, I made my way towards the stairs when suddenly, the doorbell chimed.

“Jake-o! Get that, would you?” Dad called to me as he helped mom do the dishes. I moaned at this latest delay, feeling the pressure in my crotch, and ran to the door. There was a man wearing a work shirt that said Dick’s Sporting Goods on the chest pocket. He told me he had a delivery for Richard Powers. I had forgotten!

“Dad!” I yelled, “my weights are here!” Dad said he’d be right out, and I followed the delivery guy out the door where I saw a truck at the curb. It said “Dick’s” in big red letters on the side. What I name, I thought! In my half aroused state, I think it sounded funnier than it really was.

Since we bought the weights set the day before, Dad and I had been talking about where to set it up. We had decided on the garage: Our new garage was big enough for three cars. It had one two-car sized door, and a one-car sized door next to it. We only had one car right now, though they planned on getting a new one, but we had no need for the third section of the garage, and Dad thought it would be perfect for our gym equipment. Our only concern was that the garage wasn’t air conditioned (obviously) and we thought it might get really hot, especially in the summer. But Dad felt it was the best place for it, so that’s where we put it. Box by box, the Dick’s delivery guy used his dolly to bring the weights and bars and bench and attachments into the garage. All thoughts of going to my room and jerking off were pushed from my mind. All I wanted to do was set up my weights.

Dad didn’t pay for assembly, so we did that ourselves. Removing the plates from the boxes, stacking them on the metal stand that came with the set, putting together the bench and its attachments and mounting the chin-up bar on the wall . . . We were tired already from the full day of moving in and unpacking, and after an hour or so Dad said he needed a break and was going to lie down. I kept on working. By about 7:30 or so, I had finished. I took a look at my new gym, and got very excited. I began to make my plans, considering what exercise I should do first, while I put some plates onto the two dumbbell bars. I loaded each one with 20 pounds, sat on the end of the bench, raised the dumbbells to my shoulders and began to push the weights straight up above my head as my book instructed: Dumbbell military presses. The dumbbells felt heavy, solid, in my hands as I slowly raised them and lowered them, concentrating on keeping my back straight and not using any muscles other than my arms and shoulders to move the weight. I did about 10 reps with each arm, and could have done more but I stopped.

I could feel blood rushing to my shoulder and triceps muscles as I moved the weight: It felt good, but I wanted to try more. I did curls with the dumbbells. I adjusted the bench as Pete had showed us and did some dips, just like my bodybuilding book instructed. As I lifted my bodyweight with each dip, I could feel my chest muscles bunching together, and as I lowered by body below the handles I could feel my chest stretching. Up and down as I did my dips, I became mesmerized by the feeling of my chest muscles and triceps, stretching and then bunching, stretching and bunching. I could feel the blood flowing between my arms and my chest. I felt powerful. I stopped before I had to, and moved to the chin-up bar. I jumped, grabbed on, and began to lift my chin above the bar. I shifted my hands further out, and tried lifting myself so that the back of my neck touched the bar instead of my chin (as my book instructed). I could feel my back muscles (latissimus dorsi, or lats as I learned they’re called) stretching and bunching with each repetition, my shoulders began to feel flushed as I pumped my muscles. I put about 60 pounds of weight on the barbell bar, placed it on my shoulders and did deep knee bends - what my book called full squats. I felt blood rushing to my thigh muscles with each repetition, and even my butt seemed to be getting a workout from that exercise. It was hot and humid in the garage, and I felt the sweat dripping off of me and soaking into my t-shirt. The same t-shirt I wore the whole day yesterday! I was sure glad nobody could see me in my filthy and probably smelly clothes. After a short time sampling a few more exercises, and as I was about to try my hand at the bench press, I heard my Dad come into the garage. It was almost 8:00, and Mom wanted to know if I was hungry. I thought about it for a second. I was!

In the kitchen, mom had made sandwiches from the leftover meatloaf, and with it was a pot of chicken noodle soup. (The leftover chicken from the day before made its appearance. Nothing gets wasted at my house!) Miriam and the folks only seemed to pick at the food, but I ate as if I hadn’t just consumed over two pounds of meatloaf a mere 4 hours earlier. As I finished up, I let out a huge yawn and Mom looked over at me with concern.

“You must be tired, honey. You’ve gotten up very early two days in a row, which is not like you. But nobody will wake you tomorrow. We’re all sleeping in!” Miriam gave a shout of joy at that, and we all laughed.

As I staggered up to my room with thoughts of FINALLY being able to strip and check out my body, and shower the sweat off of me, it occurred to me that I hadn’t showered all day; I hadn‘t showered at all since that motel outside of Charleston. I jumped right out of bed to working and hadn’t taken any breaks except for meals, peeing, and my workout (which certainly didn’t help my odor any). I didn’t even have a break to take a dump! Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember moving my bowels once in the past few days. I’m just tired, I thought, and not thinking straight. As the thought of getting into the shower began to really appeal to me, just like the night before I began to feel an intense sense of exhaustion coming over me. I walked into my room, my bed was bare: I hadn’t put my sheets and comforter on. But as I began to remove my clothes, I felt the overwhelming need to sleep overpowering my desire to get clean, and to examine my body, and to jerk off. All I could manage was to pick up my sleeping bag off the floor and place it on my mattress and crawl inside before I lost consciousness.

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There was light shining through my closed lids, but I felt no inclination to open them or even to move my head away. I felt good, a bit groggy, a bit stiff, but at peace. That feeling you only get when you sleep in, and allow your body to wake up on its own instead of at the command of an alarm clock. It must be late, I thought, to be so bright. Curtains. I need curtains, and I made a mental note to tell Mom.

I turned over and felt the moisture soaking the inside of my sleeping bag. I’ve been sweating, I thought. I lifted my left hand and placed it on my chest, feeling the sweat drops on my smooth skin as my hand cupped my right pec. Wait . . . cupped my pec? That got me awake, as I felt my chest. Sure enough, I could feel a hard and noticeably raised plate of muscle on my chest. I ran my finger from the side towards the center, to the bony place where my sternum lay, and then up again on the left side of my chest. I had a chest! All I wanted to do was get into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I felt my dick begin to stiffen. What’s this? I didn’t wake up with morning wood? That must have been the first time in over two years. I felt a moment of concern, but shrugged it off as I forced myself fully awake. I looked over for the alarm clock and only saw the wall. No, this is my new bedroom, I thought, the nightstand is on the other side. I turned my head and read 8:30 am. I had slept nearly twelve hours!! I needed it.

As I squirmed out of the sleeping bag, I could feel the sweat on my body. Reaching my hand into the bag I could feel that it was soaked. The stink from my unwashed body of the previous day, and the sweat of working outside in the summer heat and humidity, and of working out, had all seeped into the bag - it smelled pretty rank. Well, I thought to myself, at least I didn‘t cum like a firehose inside of it, like a few nights ago. I decided it needed to air out (I didn’t even know if you can wash sleeping bags, but this one sure needed it). I unzipped the bag so it could be laid flat, and then opened the balcony door and stepped outside to lay it out on the balcony railing. As I draped it over the railing it suddenly occurred to me that I was naked! I wasn’t used to sleeping in the buff, and in my groggy just-woken-up state, I didn’t realize what I was doing! With a start, I jumped back into my room and closed the door. All I could do is hope that nobody saw me. I then turned towards my bathroom and all thoughts of embarrassment faded from my mind, and my breath shallowed with excitement as I entered to see what had become of me.

Wow. I stood there for a few seconds with my mouth hanging open at the boy in the mirror. Then, a broad smile came to my face and my previous half-hard dick began to rise to its full length. I looked great! I had a body! Now don’t get me wrong: I was still really skinny. But I looked like a jock. My super-ripped condition from two nights prior was still there, but the freaky veins that had been sticking out all over my body had receded some. I still showed an extraordinary degree of vascularity, on my arms and shoulders and my lower abs and my legs, but more normal in a jock sort of way instead of simply bizarre. The first thing I noticed were my shoulders. They stuck out by what looked like over an inch from each of my shoulder blades, which was a major improvement from before the trip when the outer edges of my shoulder blades were the widest part of my body! The deltoids stuck out in separate muscle groups on the front and back of my shoulders as well as the sides, and two distinct veins ran across the front (although in slightly different patterns on each arm) and down my biceps. My biceps! They both bulged with a strength I had only dreamed of ever possessing. As I lifted my forearms towards my shoulder, I was rewarded with a bulging peaking little muscle that sent my dick up to its full size. Yes, my biceps were definitely bigger than the other night. Not a lot bigger, but noticeably so.

Were they as hard as the other night too? I lifted my right arm and flexed, looking in amazement and joy at the rippling split peak that formed, then took my left hand and placed it on the muscle and gave a squeeze. I still wasn’t very big, but my muscles were as hard as they ever were, and bulging and bigger than before. As I lowered my arms to the side, I saw my triceps bulge out even without me flexing them. I turned to my side and did just that, and was rewarded with a surprising thickening of my arms as the horseshoe shaped muscle bulged out. I loved the way that the triceps bulged out distinctly from the deltoid bulge above it, as if they were meant to look that way (which, of course, they are). I turned to the other side, and saw that my left arm looked as good as my right. And then, my chest: The pec I had cupped in my hand while still half-asleep looked as good as it had felt. I could no longer see my ribs!! I had clearly visible chest muscles on both sides of my sternum, a shallow crevice in between each plate of muscle, running from the bottom of my rib cage all the way up to my collarbone. My chest wasn’t huge, or even big, and it certainly wasn’t thick; but it was shaped exactly like the chest of a huge and ripped bodybuilder, only a smaller version.

My cock caught my eye, bouncing and waiving in front of my abs as I flexed my chest in what my book called the "most muscular" pose (trying to see my “cleavage“), as a drop of precum leaked from the tip and began to drip down the length of the shaft. I couldn’t decide what to look at: My abs, ripped and rippling, or my dick, throbbing and demanding attention. I chose both, taking my steel-hard rod in my right hand as I rubbed my left over the shallow cobblestones covering my stomach. The 8-pack I had seen so clearly two nights ago was still there, and even more impressive. Each of the little bricks of muscle had grown a tiny bit, pushing out from under the skin creating a slight depression between each of them. I slowly ran my left index finger around each of those 8 rock hard ridges of muscle as I jerked my dick with my right hand. I felt myself getting close to cumming, so I let go. I wanted this to last!

My gaze continued down to my legs. The insane vascularity of two nights ago was gone, but there were still a number of veins prominently snaking their way from ankles, across my calves and up my thighs towards my groin. My calves jumped as I got up on my toes, I could see every muscle as I flexed, and as I reached down to feel them with my right hand, still wet with precum, I was rewarded with a bulge of muscle that was as hard as my biceps were. Above my knees, my thighs also looked a bit bigger. My legs were still thin, of course, but the muscle that there was bulged out as I flexed. I could see the teardrop-shaped muscle inside each knee, and it was bulging out as far as my kneecap as it rose upward sweeping to the inside of each leg, while a larger thicker muscle sweeped up the outside of each leg giving my legs just a bit of thickness from side to side that I never had before, a look that made me want to wear shorts more often! My eyes went back to my amazing rippling abs. I tried a pose I saw in my bodybuilding book, lifting both arms above my head and bearing down on my ab muscles to make them pop out. I was rewarded with … the most vile stench of BO coming from under my arms. I got into the shower.

The hot water flowed over me as I ran the bar of soap over my body, washing every crack and crevice, rinsing off, and washing again. I finally felt clean, and went back to flexing and feeling my muscles. I felt so strong! I had more energy than I ever had before, and my muscles were crying out for exercise. I placed both hands on my ass, admiring the roundness … especially considering how bony it was only three days earlier. As I squeezed my butt-cheeks, my dick slapped against my abs and I felt the pressure increase in my balls. As the hot water continued to rain down over my body, I moved my hands from my ass to my dick, right hand stroking as my left hand caressed my nuts. They were sensitive to the touch. With each slight squeeze of my nutsack, my dick produced another drop of precum. I squeezed again, a bit harder, and moaned with pleasure. My balls hung down low and felt heavy as I pumped on my rod. I placed my right hand next to the left and began stroking with both hands as I felt myself getting close to cumming.

My dick felt bigger than before - a bit longer, perhaps a bit thicker too. I made a mental note to myself to dig out my measuring tape to find out for sure when I had some time. A familiar warmth spread from my throbbing balls into the rest of my groin and I knew I was almost there. I looked down as both my hands furiously stroked my hard cock, my biceps bulging with the exertion, and that’s what put me over: My bulging biceps. I released with an audible moan and a huge stream of cum shot out of my dick at what seemed like high pressure, striking the shower wall hard. And again, and again. The orgasm must have lasted for 30 seconds or more, and I lost count of how many shots splattered against the shower wall. It was easily as intense as that first morning in the motel room outside of Charleston. As the erotic spasms began to subside, I washed away the evidence, took one final rinse, and stepped out.

Even with the mirror fogged up, I could see the body of a buff-looking slim jock boy looking back at me. I wondered how much I weighed, and so after opening the door to air out some of the steam, I stepped on my digital scale: 107. I was a pound heavier today, naked, than I was yesterday wearing clothes! I took stock: There is nothing very impressive about a 5’5” tall 14 year old boy who weighs 107 pounds. I was still very skinny. But I had gained 10 pounds and my muscles were healthy and strong, and it’s amazing what a difference that makes in how one looks. And the fact that all my body fat was gone means that I gained more than ten pounds in total muscle mass, something my book had explained. All in all, I was ecstatic at how I looked … but I still wanted to get bigger, of course. I took one more look in the mirror and winked. My green eyes flashed through my long dark eyelashes, and for a moment I saw something that I had never seen before: I was cute. No, better than that: I was hot. Then the moment faded and I saw only me looking back. A buffer me, but me nonetheless. It must have been my post-orgasm-induced imagination, I thought. Unless Mom was right all along.

“Jake, honey, you are a gorgeous boy” she had told me once when I was feeling very low about myself, “unusually so. You just need to learn to see yourself as others see you. That‘s what self confidence is all about.” Of course, she’s my Mom, so naturally she would see me as gorgeous. I looked at myself again. Yes; I was cute, I decided. My dick started to stiffen again, but I was hungry! I stepped back into my bedroom, went to the closet, and picked out a three-quarter sleeve t-shirt and a pair of shorts that reached to my knees. I got dressed and ran downstairs to see what was there was for breakfast. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the smell of sausages overwhelmed me. I shouted good morning.

“Good morning, honey” said Mom from the kitchen. I entered and she was standing over the stove frying a pan full of sausage links. Miriam was at the kitchen table eating cereal, and I went to the fridge, grabbed a carton of milk and poured myself a big glass. “Scrambled eggs, honey?” I told her yes, that I was starving. She laughed.

“With the appetite you’ve had lately, you must be in a growth spurt, Jake.” I told her it was about time, and she laughed again. I drained the glass of milk I had poured, and went back to the fridge to pour myself another. As I drank it, I heard a clanking sound coming from the garage. Mom heard it too, and saw my curious look.

“Your dad is working out, if you can believe that!” she explained, showing a bit of surprise in her voice. “He used to work out every morning before you kids were born. Now if I can just get him to stop eating junk food!” Miriam laughed at that. I thought it was awesome, and said so. “So do I, honey” Mom replied. “He had nice abs when he was younger. Very sexy.” Miriam really laughed at that, but I was embarrassed to hear Mom talk about Dad that way.

“Jake, honey, your father and I are human too. Isn’t that at least part of the reason why you started working out? To be more attractive to … uh, to other people?” My eyebrows arched at that curious pause from my Mom. Despite being a housewife, she was a summa cum laude psychology major at University of Chicago (where she and Dad met), and was no dope! “Come on, sit down. Your eggs are almost ready.”

I was halfway through my massive breakfast of eggs, sausages, toast, orange juice and milk when dad came in from the garage, covered in sweat.

“Morning Jake-o. You slept a long time last night” he said as he ruffled my hair with his hands.

“Ewww. Dad, you stink” I observed, as I straightened my hair again, and he laughed.

“Oh yeah? You should have smelled YOU last night!” He laughed loudly at that, and Miriam joined in with glee, as did Mom still standing at the stove. Dad walked behind her and gave her a quick kiss on the back of the neck. Mom jumped with surprise.

“Richard! Aren’t you feisty this morning. And you do stink.” Dad just laughed again and went up for a shower. I finished my food, brought the plate to the sink, and started out to the garage when Mom stopped me.

“Jake, honey, sometime today we need to sit down and discuss what your plans are for the summer.”

“Plans?” I replied, “I don’t really have any.”

“Yes, that’s what we have to discuss.” Mom didn’t approve of wasting time. She liked to see our days filled with ‘productive activities’. All I wanted to do this summer was to explore our new hometown and meet some kids to be friends with, and other than that ... to eat, sleep and lift weights so I could be bigger for High School. I told her so. “Well,” she said, looking me up and down for a second, “we’ll see.” And with that, I headed out to the garage for my first serious weightlifting workout of my brand new life.

[arpeejay]

Yep! This is what we live for! :-)

(Well, not entirely, but it sure makes life nicer!)

xoxo

Richard

[scotsrugbyjock]

Hey mate awesome series so far defiantly very entertaining, thanks for taking the time.
ScotsRugbyJock

[sierraca]

Truly enjoy the slow development of Jake in this story. Not that I don't enjoy a "magic pill" type of story, but this one seems much more closer-to-home for me. Thanks.

I'm really liking how this story is turning out. While the whole "magic pill" premise is fine in most stories, I somehow usually find myself alienated from the main characters. If you just pop a pill and get huge it's almost anti-climactic. I much prefer the slow-build style of story and seeing the two melded together is a real treat. Nice job!

[redroger11]

Aww. You are doing this kind of story, proud. I'm with the guys that like the steady progress on these kind of stories. Good stuff. Keep Writing;

redroger11

[muscle16a]

Originally Posted by muscle16a

The head mover, a guy in his 50s I would guess, had those ropey, thick-looking muscles that old guys who have done heavy labor their wholes lives seem to get. Not huge but strong looking.... He reminded me of this Youtube video

I can't find the video I was thinking of, but this one is similar:

YouTube - Arm Wrestling My Dad

[chocomus]

really good story!
normally i like growth in a quick transformation, ripping clothes and all, but this growth is awesome too!
Sometimes, slow growth is cool too
and the family relationship is great. it's so cool that the dad work outs too and that they aprove on his son growing and so

[philat99]

It's definitely not a fast-acting pill as in so many stories. I enjoy the pace and self-discovery descriptions. Well done!
Mike

[musclemonkey]

I am REALLY enjoying the light and happy tone this story has. It is actually a lot more realistic than I first expected it to be. Great job! I can't wait for more.

[MAZIVKAROLY]

Love the way you're introducing Jake's Dad's entry back into weights.

You are doing one hell of a job here!