The Long, Slow Road to Hugeness (Part 6)

[arpeejay]

By Richard Jasper

Part 5: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=17123

Part 4: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=17120

Part 3: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/sh...ad.php?t=17109

Part 2: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=2102

Part 1: http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=2101

* * *

The folks at UCLA poked and prodded and ran the tests and scratched their heads and poked and prodded some more.

"Mr. Fentress," Dr. Xiao told me, finally.

Uh oh, I thought. I don't like his hang dog expression.

"Yes, Doc?" I mustered.

He scratched his head, pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"We have no earthly idea what is going on," he admitted.

Whoosh!

Well, in some ways that was a relief.

I was perfectly health, even better than healthy, by most measures. Blood pressure and heart rate were at the athletic end of high functioning, lipids were great, kidney and liver function were great, my lungs and glands and colon all looked completely healthy.

"You're just incredibly large," Dr. Xiao pointed out, which I already knew. "And incredibly strong for your size."

Which I also knew.

The world record bench press was hovering right around 1050 lbs. at the time -- and I was routinely benching 1100 lbs. for reps. I hadn't quite gotten around to trying to max out. It just didn't seem worth the effort to round up that many plates.

"We'd like to do a study..." the good doctor began but I held up my hands and shook my head.

"I don't think I'm ready for that, Doc," I said. "No offense but I've had quite enough attention for the past few years."

Xiao arched an eyebrow.

"We've had some inquiries..."

I grimaced.

"Let me guess -- DoD types?"

He nodded.

"Do me a favor and tell them that I'm not green, OK?"

He smiled at that.

I shook his hand and walked out. I good feel his eyes burning into my mile-wide back as I walked down the corridor.

* * *

"Ya know," I said when I got home. "Maybe we need to get a place in the country..."

Scott looked at me.

"The beach? The mountains?" he asked. "They don't do it for you any more?"

I chuckled.

"Hey, that's not it, you know it," I said. "I even like the traffic, for God's sake!"

Scott grinned at that.

"Pervert!"

I laughed.

"Takes one to no one!"

Then I turned serious.

"I think I could stand a slower pace," I said. "And a lower profile."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Hey, you don't have to convince me," Scott said. "You know I like to get out in the woods and run around naked."

Which is how we wound up moving back to Brook Harbor, or close enough. Compared to what Scott had spent on the condo in Santa Monica, the heavily wooded 20 acres we found at the far end of Bay Point was a steal. And private, too. There were 10 other houses on the Point, all with about the same amount of land, and it was a 10 mile drive into town.

Our high school friends and acquaintances were happy to see us, although at something of a loss regarding how they were supposed to interact with two giant gay men. Eric and Brent were equally pleased to see us (not to mention completely and totally in awe of us), especially after we bought, refurbished, and expanded the town's one and only hardcore gym.

"Ya know," we both told them, at one time or another. "If either or both of you guys ever want to get big, just let us know, OK? You've both got the genes for it and contrary to popular opinion it's completely possible to be big AND healthy."

They hemmed and hawed for a few months until Scott talked to Betsey, Eric's wife, and I talked to Brent's wife Karen. Then they got interested!

It was fun watching them -- and Scott -- grow! They put it on much faster than I did, of course. In three years Scott put on 40 lbs. of muscle, Brent put on 50 lbs., and Eric put on 60 lbs.

By the time our 20th high school reunion rolled around, Brent and Eric were up to 240 and 250 respectively, and Scott was a humongous 320 lbs. of solid muscle.

As for me, well, it was totally predictable:

Three years.

Thirty pounds.

Still exactly 6 ft. tall, the night of our reunion I was 380 lbs. of solid muscle, with 33-inch biceps and a chest that was pushing 80 inches.

The guys were always nagging me and Scott to work out with them at the gym but we preferred doing so at home. Scott relented a couple of times but I never did, and for very good reason -- we both agreed that most people were not ready to see someone benching 1500 lbs. for reps. Especially since doing so tended to make me hard as a rock; inasmuch as that particular part of my anatomy was now up to 13 inches, watching me work out was apt to create unintended (and possibly unfortunate!) consequences!

"They have trouble enough dealing with me," Scott said.

I hugged him close.

"Oh, I know," I replied. "I just thank God that you don't have any trouble with it!"

The reunion was a great success and we got the surprise of our lives when they announced that we were going to be crowned Reunion "King and King" in a mock prom ceremony.

"You guys are the best!" we gushed and then danced in the spotlight while the band played "Roxanne."

As soon as the music ended the guys in the black helicopters arrived.

You're not surprised, right?

[And, yes, there will be more...]

[Mad Dog]

Oh dear. Just let him be big in peace!

[anglekindle]

As always you spun a wonderful story. I'm enjoying this one alot actually.

[jsmi123]

arpeejay, i've been a lurker for the LONGEST time, but i just need to say that you write some of the best stories on this board.

[philat99]

Sometimes I just lose track. I again just caught up with this story and love your so true-to-life slow but persistent growth. My dad always said "Patience is a virtue." and "All things come to those who wait." I particularly chuckle at how overwhelmed Roger becomes with each "revelation" by Scott at how he had "improved!" Looking forward to the government intervention scenario.
Mike