The Summer of 1981, Part 15: Mister Sandman

[Padraig]

For those of you who would like to catch up, here are links to the earlier chapters:

Part 1: The Best of Times
Part 2: Wasn't That A Party
Part 3: The Boy From New York City
Part 4: The Voice
Part 5: Feels So Right
Part 6: Sausalito Summernight
Part 7: The Waiting
Part 8: All I Have To Do Is Dream
Part 9: Urgent
Part 10: The Theme From The Greatest American Hero
Part 11: Rock And Roll Dreams Come Through
Part 12: Life of Illusion
Part 13: America
Part 14: Deep Inside My Heart


Any feedback is very much appreciated - I would love to hear from those of you who have been reading. Or if you just want to reminisce about some of your favorite music or memories from 1981, please feel free to share. Thanks!!


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Mister sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen

Tug walked along the sidewalk outside of his high school, then sprinted up the steps, three at a time, until he reached the front door. Usually a man his size would be huffing and puffing after bounding up 30 stairs, but Tug’s bulk was composed of powerful muscles, so he completed the task with ease and grace.

Tug pulled open the heavy oak door as if it were made of tissue and began walking down the crowded hallway of his high school. A hush fell over the other students as they quickly moved out of his path, almost like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, to make way for the most popular jock in the class. They weren't frightened of the gentle giant, but rather just wanted to make sure he had enough room to manuever his massive physique through the hallway.

It was warm in the school, so Tug took off his green and gold letterman’s jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, then continued walking with only his tight white crewneck t-shirt covering his torso. He whistled softly as he walked, thinking that it was going to be another great day for him.

Everyone around gawked at the BMOC, staring at his magnificent body and his handsome mug, and Tug drank in all of the attention. Some students were even brave enough to reach out and pat him on the arm or shoulder, under the pretense of wishing him a good game tomorrow night, but their true motive was that they craved even just a fleeting touch of his gigantic body.

Tug stopped off at his locker to hang up his coat, and then proceeded down the hall to his homeroom, where he took his usual seat in the back of the class so as not to distract anyone who would have to sit behind him. He listened carefully as the teacher read off the announcements of the day, and he watched intently as those seated closest to him sneaked furtive glances in his direction. On this particular morning he caught Stu Belknap checking out his chest, so Tug gave a couple of quick flexes to bounce his pecs up and down in order to give Stu something really special to remember.

After homeroom, Tug headed to the gym for his first class: PE. His baseball coach had said he didn’t need to bother showing up, since he didn’t want the star athlete to be tired for the state championship game on Friday, but that’s not how Tug operated. He would never miss an opportunity to work out his muscles.

Tug entered the changing area and went straight for his gym locker, which he had specifically chosen because of its proximity to the giant mirror than ran the length of the wall outside of the shower stalls. He loved to watch himself get undressed – again, not only to look at his 300 pound bulk in all its glory, but also to see who was checking him out.

He opened his locker and got out his gym clothes, which he sat on a nearby bench. Then Tug grabbed his shirt at the bottom and proceeded to take it off over his head.

Ahhh, there we go. Nothing like being shirtless…

The other students in his row all stopped dressing to watch the show as Tug's mighty arms, shourlders, pecs, and abs made their first appearance of the day. They all looked like little boys when compared to Tug, and every one of them would have given anything they had to develop muscles only half as big.

Tug hung up his shirt, and then brought his hands up to his meaty pecs. He gave each one of his nipples a tweak, and then gradually slid his hands down to his cobblestone abs.

Perfect…I have the perfect body…

Tug then unbuttoned his tight Britannia jeans and slid them down his colossal legs. He loved wearing this particular pair of pants because of the way they showed off every muscle in his quads. He hung the jeans up and was about to take off his boxer shorts when he heard the coach’s whistle blow.

“Come on, ladies, hurry it up!” said Coach Atlas as he roamed through the locker area. “Those ropes aren’t going to climb themselves.”

The coach came to the row Tug was in - he was young, maybe only 7 or 8 years older than Tug, and still in great shape from his years as a college athlete - and gave another blast on his whistle. The other boys stopped their staring, quickly finished dressing for class, and darted toward the stairs up to the gym. Tug, however, stayed at the same deliberate pace and slowly slipped off his shorts.

The coach eyed his prized athlete up and down and said, “Remember, Tug, I want you to take it easy in class today. We can’t afford you getting hurt before the big game.”

Tug dropped his shorts into his locker and turned to his coach. “Trust me, coach,” he said as he hit a double bicep pose. “These shoulders and arms are unfaltering. I can climb 100 ropes, do 100 chinups, and 100 bicep curls today, and tomorrow, I guarantee you they will still swing the bat harder and throw the ball faster than anyone else on that field.”

Tug then put his arms down to his side and puffed out his chest to its maximum proportion. “And this chest? Well, you know, coach, it’s indestructible. Truly unbreakable. No amount of working out today is going to slow it, stop it, or tear it down. Tomorrow it’ll knock down any guy that gets in my way as I run those bases – heck, it’d break through the Berlin Wall if you needed it to.”

Tug then unflexed his mighty chest and pointed downward. “And these legs? Well, they are just unstoppable. If you want me to run 1,000 laps today, I will do it, because you know as well I do, coach, that they will be ready to run 1,000 more tomorrow. None of the guys on the other team will be able to tag me because they won’t be able to catch me, even though I outweigh most of them by 100 pounds.”

Tug then rested his hands on his hips, a pose which always made him feel a little like Superman, and also drew attention to his shredded abs. “I’ve never taken the easy way out, coach, and I never shy away from a workout. And look what that approach has resulted in – a perfect body for winning championships for you and this school. So I think I'm going to go up there today and push myself as hard as possible, and I’ll be back tomorrow and push myself hard then, too. And trust me, there is no way we will lose tomorrow."

Coach Atlas was at a loss for words after Tug’s speech. He wanted to reaffirm his authority, but the display of muscle from his student had rattled his brain to the point of confusion. “Look, um, just don’t...I mean, keep…well…OK.” And then he turned and left the locker room.

Tug chuckled at his coach’s embarrassment and moved his nude body closer to the large mirror. He sauntered up closely to check out every little detail before getting dressed again. He started by bringing up his left arm, flexing it, and watching it grow bigger than it ever had before.

All those curls are paying off…it looks like a cannonball…

Suddenly, the locker room door opened and another student walked in. He was short and stout with a sizable gut, and he had locks and locks of curly blond hair and saucer-like blue eyes. And even though he was chubby, his face had a cherubic quality that wasn’t diminished by the extra weight – in fact, it may have even been enhanced by it. The student was wearing a pale yellow shirt and white San Francisco brand painter pants, both of which were a little too tight and made him seem huskier than his true weight.

Tug looked over at the student and was immediately struck by two things: one, he looked somewhat familiar, but Tug couldn’t quite place where they may have met before, and two, that this boy was about a “10” on the cuteness scale – not handsome or beautiful or attractive, but cute.

He looks like what you would get it a wizard magically transformed a big lemon cupcake into a boy.

The student saw Tug flexing in the mirror and gasped. Tug turned his physique to face the interloper and asked, “What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen a muscle stud before?”

“Not like you, and certainly not naked. You’re so b-b-b-big!”

“That I am.” He continued studying the angelic face of the boy, but still couldn’t determine why he looked so familiar. “Have you been in the class all semester?”

“No. I missed a few weeks of my regular PE class last month when I broke my arm, so I have to make it up during my free period in order to graduate.”

“What’s your name?” asked Tug.

“Max Sandow. And you’re Tug Yates!”

“That I am.” Tug, who was continuing to flex his left arm, gently nodded his head toward his big bicep. “So do you like muscle, Max Sandow?”

Max’s big blue eyes brightened and he smiled. “Yeah! I would kill to be as big as you!”

Tug smiled back, and then knelt down in front of the other student. He flexed his bicep even harder, knowing that it was over 25 inches around. “You want to get this big?”

Max quickly reached out to lovingly caress the giant muscle with both hands. “Yeah! I bet you are really strong!”

“That I am, Max. Would you like me to show you?”

“Would I? Heck, yeah!” exclaimed Max.

“OK, how much do you weigh?”

The jubilation quickly left Max’s face. He hesitated and then looked down to the floor, but kept his hands on Tug’s biceps. “I weigh…more than I should.”

“Come on, Max. Tell me the truth,” demanded Tug.

“250 pounds,” said Max meekly.

“That’ll just be enough of a challenge for me.” From his kneeling position, Tug dropped his palms to the floor and extended his legs behind him, assuming the standard pushup position. “Hop on.”

“Really? Get on your back?”

“Yes, Max. Hop on.” Tug lowered himself all the way to the floor to make it easier for the shorter boy to get on.

Max was trembling a little, but did as he was told. He climbed onto Tug’s back, face down, and wrapped his chubby hands around Tug’s massive shoulders. They were HUGE balls of pure muscle, developed from years and years of hard work and strenuous exercise. Max squeezed as hard as he could, but the shoulders were so thick and meaty that he couldn’t even make a dent in them.

Tug started doing his pushups, excited to take on the challenge of the added weight from Max.

“1…2…3…”

As Tug’s body went up and down again and again, Max’s hands gradually slipped down to Tug’s arms in order to get a better grip. Max could feel bulge after bulge as Tug’s triceps were working overtime, and he enjoyed experiencing their incredible power. He could only imagine what it must be like to have such raw strength and brute force in one’s arms, thinking that probably only Hercules or Samson or Superman could provide Tug with a suitable challenge in an arm-wrestling contest.

“17…18…19…”

Max gently moved his hands down from Tug’s arms to Tug’s chest. He began to knead the rock-hard pecs under his fingers – they felt like steel underneath the tightly muscled flesh. They were heavy, and manly, and powerful, and sexy, and Max was pretty sure they were growing bigger underneath his fingertips with each and every rep that the hulk beneath him completed.

Tug felt exactly the same as Max: he kept pumping away, enjoying the massage from his new friend, and knowing that each pushup was helping to increase his pecs in size and strength. The last time he had measured, his chest was just over 60 inches, and his goal was to have it up to 62 inches by the time he graduated.

“35…36…37…”

Tug had started to perspire heavily by the point, and a thick musky smell permeated the air around the boys – it was like a cloud of masculinity enveloping Tug and Max.

As the sweat began cascading out of Tug’s pores, Max’s hands slipped down to Tug’s stomach, where he felt rock-hard corrugated abs. Not an ounce of fat blocked Max’s access to these muscles, and he slowly rubbed and rubbed and rubbed them up and down. He thought about the thousands and thousands of situps and crunches and leg raises that Tug must have done over the years to develop such a tight core, and he secretly wished he had spent less time at the kitchen table and more time on the workout mat.

Tug stopped at the top of his next rep, cracked his head to the right, and looked up at the sweet face of his passenger. “Are you doing OK, little buddy?”

Max looked down at Tug, noting that with his brown hair, handsome face, masculine features, and the come hither gleam in his eyes, he resembled a younger version of Magnum, PI, sans the moustache. “Just peachy, Tug. Just peachy.”

“Excellent!” said Tug, who resumed his routine. “49…50…51…”

Tug knew he could do more a lot more pushups. He reveled in his strength, and he knew he was the most powerful person who had ever roamed the halls of this school. Nobody would ever come close to breaking his lifting records, and he’d already brought the school state championships in football and wrestling, and tomorrow he would add baseball to that list.

“63…64…65…”

Max had finished rubbing Tug’s abs and moved his hands down lower and lower, wanting to explore every inch of the magnificent body beneath him. He came upon a pair of gigantic thighs, which felt as big and as hard as tree trunks. They were so sturdy and immovable, like the shoulders, and wouldn’t budge even a millimeter when Max dug his hands into them. He wondered how much weight Tug could actually squat – 500 pounds? 750 pounds? 1,000 pounds? – but whatever the amount, it surely must be a record around these parts, if not the state or the country or the world.

“71…72…73…”

As for Tug, the endorphins were coursing through his body at this point. He began to feel better and better, bigger and bigger, and he knew he was becoming more and more of a stud. Tug should have been getting tired, but he was completing each rep at a quicker pace as he went along and didn’t notice a bit of fatigue in his system.

“79…80…81…”

Max moved his hands inward from Tug’s legs, and suddenly began to feel very warm, as if he had moved very close to a source of immense power. The heat was intoxicating – Max had never felt anything like it before. It was like he was next to a volcano, just before an eruption, when the superheated lava is pressuring to escape its earthly confines.

“87…88…89…”

Tug continued to pump out reps, climbing faster and faster toward 100. He felt euphoric and was confident his strength level would climax at a new high. Like he had told his coach, his arms were unfaltering, his chest was indestructible, and his legs were unstoppable.

“92…93…94…”

“Oh, Tug, I feel like I’m going to explode!”

“95…96…97…hang on, little buddy!”

“98…”

Max braced for the explosion and thrust his hands toward the mysterious heat source.

“99…”

Tug’s powerful body surged upward on the last push. He felt so strong, like he could have easily pushed himself all the way back to a standing position from the floor

“100!”

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Tug awoke with a start, as he usually did after these episodes. He didn’t have to check his groin to know that he had had another wet dream.

He looked over at his clock radio, seeing that the time was 2:16am. He climbed out of bed and went into his bathroom to clean himself up and change his boxers.

After putting on a fresh pair of underwear and tossing his old ones in his hamper, Tug headed toward the kitchen.

He spent the next 30 minutes eating the rest of a carton of chocolate ice cream he found in the freezer.

[Padraig]

This story was inspired by a version of "Mister Sandman" sung the wonderful and beautiful Emmylou Harris, who had a a minor hit with it in early 1981. And although the song barely cracked the Top 40 on the national pop charts, it was played a lot on the radio stations in my hometown all through that summer.

Sadly, I couldn't get a version of her video embedded here. You can see it at this link: Mister Sandman by Emmylou Harris

Or you can watch this one, featuring the original version by the Chordettes:

Mister Sandman