Strength Series: The Tattoo

[giantr]

Okay, you guys are all probably going, Who's that? Yes, I've only posted one thing before, but I kind of thought about posting more. I've written muscle growth stories before, but I'm more of a macrophile. I enjoy my bodybuilders to be gigantic. However, I've seen that doesn't exactly sit well with all of you, so I tried to write something more in your realm. I probably will continue this story, but I have to warn you that A) it's quite possible that this dude will become a giant because, let's face it, that's what I like, and B) it's turning out to be more of a comedy because I don't write arrogant alpha males very well. So, please enjoy, and let me know what you think.


Outside the world was dark and overcast, with the smell of an oncoming rainstorm overwhelming the senses, but still it was a Saturday, so there were many people driving, walking, riding around town. Some to go to the store, some to go out to eat, some poor souls who had to work during the weekend, and some like Mitch who were wandering aimlessly.

Mitch had a lot on his mind, as always, but this time his thoughts centered mostly on dreams he knew he couldn't fulfill anytime soon. As is the hopes of many teenage boys, they wished their small, thin frames would grow taller and more muscular naturally, only to be propelled by constant time in the gym, and many boys that Mitch went to school with did gain muscle mass and become more like men. Matter of fact, Mitch seemed to be the only one in his high school who hadn't completed this transformation. Yes, he had grown tall enough to pass for a man at 5'8", and he did have some meat on his bones, but was still really skinny at 135 pounds. But compared to say his old friend Paul, who had shot up to become a tree of a man at 6'4" from 5'3" in the space of a few months and had gained significant muscle mass, he was quite small.

But he was nothing compared to that jock in high school that everyone knew. Everyone can think of a jock that made them wonder how he was blessed with such great genetics. The one that hailed from Mitch's high school was named Gary, who was the same age as him and had been stuck at the same scrawny size like Mitch forever, but just after Paul had his transformation, Gary had an even more impressive one. As a brand new Sophomore, Gary had decided to try sports, and had made it as a quarterback, but at the end of the season, his body shape was synonymous with the linebackers on the team. As such, he had begun working out a lot, and eating way more than he ever did. As a result, once he was a senior, his body had packed on muscle like a snowman is able to pack on snow, and he was huge. It didn't help Mitch's peace of mind that at the end of Senior year, Gary won a regional bodybuilding competition.

All of these thoughts consumed Mitch daily, and sometimes he just had to get out and take his frustration out with the help of walking and a very full iPod. When he did, he passed by all the shops in town, sometimes going in, but not really ever buying anything. He just needed human interaction, really, even if he wasn't technically interacting most times.

Today, he was about to cross the street to get to the sidewalk that would take him home when he suddenly was hit with a blow to his entire right side. It only took him a second to ignore the song playing in his ears and realize that someone had bumped into him. He took out his ear buds, but as he was doing so, the person who had collided with him simply said, "Pay attention, squirt," and took off at a run across another street that had cars streaming down it. Mitch took notice that this was a man not too much taller than him, but one who was very obviously strong and appeared to be punkish. He couldn't see the man well, but Mitch saw tattoo sleeves and a tattoo on the back of his neck.

Scoffing, Mitch replaced his ear buds and pressed the button to cross the street again. For a few moments, he fumed about the man's rudeness, but as he stood there waiting, a new idea sprang in his mind. Perhaps it was a psychological effect, or perhaps it would turn out to be fate, but Mitch began to weigh the decision to get a tattoo himself. He'd never really wanted one, because he didn't know what he'd get, but if this asshole appeared tougher with tattoos, maybe he would too?

He ignored the signal that allowed him to cross and he did a 90 degree turn to walk down the sidewalk he was already on, heading toward the tattoo parlor he knew was somewhere around here. In minutes, he found it, and he pulled the door open with a purpose and walked in. It was darkly lit by chinese lanterns around the walls and candles on every surface, and it depicted pictures of people showing off their prized tattoos. As he didn't really know what he'd get, he looked around. There were dragons, and landscapes, and symbols, and while all of it looked professional and good, none of them identified with Mitch.

"I wouldn't suggest the butterfly, boy. No matter where you put it, it will be a tramp stamp." Taken by surprise again, Mitch turned around and saw an older Chinese man who was a few inches shorter than him smiling. Mitch smiled back and said, "I was just looking. I have no idea what I want to get."

"Hmm," the man squinted his eyes and looked Mitch up and down. "I know exactly what you should get. Come with me, I'll show you." He turned and walked behind the counter, and Mitch followed him into a small office with a computer and a bookshelf with books and binders untidily placed on it. He took a seat when the man indicated to do so, and the man pulled a book that was almost too high on the bookshelf to reach down. He opened it and began flipping pages as he sat opposite Mitch in front of the computer. After a minute, he stopped on a page, and read it for another moment before showing Mitch.

It was a picture of a Chinese character for Strength, filling the top half of the book's page. The bottom half had a caption reading For the men strong of heart, failing desperately to show it through. There was more Chinese below the caption, but it seemed to be exactly what Mitch was looking for. He told the man so, and the man smiled and set the book down.
"Good, good," he said. "Then I will prepare, and you can wait just outside. Please help yourself to as much food as you like while you wait. But I won't be long." Mitch nodded and got up and out the door.

He sat down in a waiting chair in a private room with a table to lay down on and a table with a spread of sandwich meats, cheeses, and bread. He helped himself to a couple of sandwiches, complimenting himself for the great idea. This tattoo seemed exactly what he wanted. He'd be a bit more grown up after this, he thought.

Once he finished his second sandwich, the man came in with a kit and set it down on the table with the food. "Are you ready, boy?" he asked with a smile on his face. Mitch nodded and took a seat on the cushioned table. The man got a stool and stood in front of Mitch, looking down at him. "Now, are you sure you are ready to bear this responsibility?"

Mitch took a second and thought of any rammifications, but as long as the man used a clean needle, there wouldn't be any. "Yes," he answered truthfully. The man nodded, and Mitch told him he'd like it on his shoulder blade, so it wouldn't be visible to future employers but it'd still be there. And the man got to work quickly, using a brand new needle, and seeming to fly through the procedure. But as he did it, he sang a song in Chinese he said was to ease Mitch's pain, and it must have worked, because he hardly felt anything. After just twenty minutes, the man stepped off of his stool, finished.

Mitch used mirrors in the bathroom to look at the tattoo. It was about half the size of a playing card, and it was surrounded by reddened skin, but it looked perfect. It looked exactly like the picture. He went back to the man, who was cleaning up everything, including the food, and he thanked him.

"It's no problem," the man responded, looking Mitch over again, seeming to consider him. "If you'll give me a minute, I will meet you up front so you can pay." Mitch nodded and left, but his heart sank. He forgot to ask how much this would be. He paced in the front part of the store for several minutes, worrying that it might be a lot of money. He did have a good full-time job and he was able to support himself, but his budget only accounted for so much splurging. The man finally came out, still smiling, and let Mitch know that it was only thirty-five dollars. He was surprised, but happy at the same time. Pretty cheap for such good work.

Once he'd paid, the man went very quickly through cleaning procedures, as if he thought Mitch knew all about how to do it, and then turned to go back in his store with just a simple, "Enjoy your new you."
Mitch exited the store, and made his way home listening to music just as he would have about an hour or two ago when the guy bumped into him, but now he felt oddly empowered. Like somehow this tattoo would change everything for him.

Once he got home to his studio apartment, he cleaned up a bit, and just spent the rest of the night alone, playing video games, watching tv, doing whatever. It's what he'd normally do if all of his friends were busy, but usually he wasn't happy those nights. That night, he was. He was riding the high the tattoo gave him, and he went to bed a happy man.



Mitch was in a deep sleep when he heard his cell phone ringing on his bedside table. He opened one eye, grouchily grunting, and he reached over, closing his eye again, and groping for his cell phone. For some reason, it felt like his arm was bunched up in a tight blanket or something, and the extra weight was more disorienting, but even so, he found his cell phone quick enough, and answered without looking at who it was.

"Hello?" he groggily said.

"Mitch! It's Jack. Where are you? Are you still sleeping? You're fifteen minutes late for work, man!"

Mitch's eyes flew open. "Oh my God. What time is it?" Without waiting for a response, he turned to his alarm and saw that it was 2:15. His eyes widening, he simply said, "Okay, I'll be there really soon. Bye." He quickly hung up and tossed his cell phone on his bedside table. He sat up, and pulled the covers off, and as he set his feet on the floor, he realized that the blankets hadn't been responsible for making him feel heavy.

For one thing, when he set his feet on the floor before, his ass usually was on the edge of the bed. Now he was firmly on the mattress. He'd gotten taller. Much taller. And for another, his arms were so much further apart than he remembered, due to a wall of back and shoulder muscles, and the arms themselves had been infused with muscles and popping veins that were three or four times their normal size. He felt two massive pecs that were further away from his body than he ever thought possible for himself, right above a six-pack stomach. Most impressive of it all was the stomach sitting above a small, but bigger than before waist that had indications of being strangled, and his dick, when it had been decent before, now he could say he was well endowed. He looked behind him, and saw he'd left shredded boxers in his bed where he'd slept.

He stood up to his full height, and indeed now felt the weight of a body he wasn't used to. He guessed judging from his height before that he had grown a full foot taller, to become 6'8", and had muscles everywhere. He bounded into his bathroom, flipped on the light, and stared at the mirror. He recognized his face for the most part, but it was cut with a strong jaw now, but what he didn't recognize was the body of a super-heavyweight bodybuilder who had just returned from Mr. Olympia, and who probably won. He was so big that not all of his body fit in the frame of the mirror, and he had to turn in different ways to see all of his new features. He even saw a scar on his thigh he'd gotten from an accident early in his childhood, so he knew he was in the right body.

Suddenly he remembered that he had awoken for an important reason, and he rushed out of the bathroom to his closet. He opened it in vain, now realizing that even the biggest shirt and jeans he had before could not possibly hope to contain him now. If he tried, he'd just end up shredding it without even really getting it on at all. Knowing he had to go to work, he thought quickly of what he could do.

He remembered the one time Gary had stayed over because he'd gotten too drunk to drive, he'd left behind a pair of shorts and a tank top that Mitch had stashed on the top of his closet for if Gary ever came back. He quickly groped around for them, and found them all right, and he speedily put the shorts on. It was a hard thing to do. They came up past his calves easily enough, but once they hit the thighs, he had to maneuver them so they wouldn't rip right away. When he finally got them in place, it looked like he had a pair of black biker shorts on, that were pretty much a second skin. But they'd have to do. He threw on the wifebeater, which he encountered a problem with right off the bat. Yes, Gary was a bodybuilder. But he was not near Mr. Olympia. Mitch got the wifebeater on, but the neckline bordered his pecs, squeezing them so they looked pumped, and he had to tear it down the sides a bit to fit his lats in.

He went into the bathroom again, and saw how ridiculuous he looked with those clothes, but he shut the light off, went out and grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out the door, knowing that he would again be disappointed if he even thought about using his old shoes. He ran across the parking lot of his apartment complex, and sighed at his tiny car. It was an old two-seater that was very close to the ground. He gripped the handle gingerly, and pulled the door easily, feeling kind of like he could have pulled the door off if he'd tried, and climbed inside. He first stuck a foot in, maneuvered his massive thigh under and around the wheel, and had to almost literally pull his bulk in between the wheel and the chair, which was already at its farthest point to the back. He shut the door with difficulty, his left arm getting in the way, but when he did, he knew exactly how Alice must have felt when her limbs had to push through the house windows and doors just so she could fit. He didn't even bother with a seat belt, because for one, his bulk wouldn't let him reach it, and for another, his bulk kept him pretty much immobilized in this tiny vehicle anyway.

Mitch turned the car on, and drove extremely carefully to the nearest clothing store he could think of. He pulled into a space away from other cars, threw his car door open, and felt himself expand as he fell out of his car trying to maneuver. A few passersby looked over and one girl giggled, probably laughing at the huge bodybuilder comically trying to come out of a car that was meant for someone half, or even a quarter, his size. Mitch stood up and dusted himself off and power walked into the store.

Nobody he passed kept it a real secret that they were in awe. He towered over everyone, and he cast a shadow that was even bigger than an umbrella could do due to his huge muscles. Everyone's jaw dropped, and they kind of got out of his way as he made a B-line to the men's section, and he actually noticed many men who saw him get instant erections. Women who saw him became flushed in the face, and probably would have fainted if he'd stayed in their presence for longer than a second.

He tried to ignore them the best he could. He realized he was a giant among men, and it was something that this small town in particular probably never would have seen before, but he'd have to wait to show off for when he could flex without the possibility of ripping all of his clothes if he moved too much out of place. He found the polo shirts, which he would need for work, and he selected the biggest black one they had, and went over to the jeans and several sizes around what he thought would fit. He didn't mean to, but he was in such a rush that when he turned around from the jeans area, he bumped into a man who would have matched his size yesterday, his left pec smacking him in the face like a rock. He apologized, but the man was too stricken by surprise to be really pissed.

He passed by the shoes, and was suddenly surprised he wasn't stopped at the door for not having any, but realized that of all the things to stare at on him, his feet were not the main attraction. He got a size 13 tennis shoe, and forced it on, and it felt like it just needed to be broken in, then he'd be okay. He grabbed a pack of socks corresponding to his size, tore it open, and threw on a pair of socks and the shoes.

In the fitting room, he tried the biggest pair he'd found first, not wanting to rip any of their products unnecessarily. It was too big around the waist, but it fit comfortably around his massive thighs, and although he didn't look at it too much in the mirror, his butt would have looked decent in them. He adjusted sizes, and finally had to settle for some loss of blood flow to his thighs and calves so that it fit better around the waist. He pulled on the black polo, which was 3X, but even so, his massive pecs showed prominently, and his biceps did not want to fit in the sleeves properly. He took a quick look in the mirror for good measure, noting that if he weren't in such a hurry, the fact that he was now a tall bodybuilder in the tightest clothes he could comfortably be in would be extremely erotic. He left the shorts and wifebeater he'd come in inside the changing room, knowing that he didn't need them anymore, and he went straight for the cashier.

Luckily, there wasn't a line, but the teenage girl standing there wasn't especially paying attention until suddenly she was overshadowed by a big figure. She looked away from her magazine and she lost her breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a big huge bodybuilder, fantastic," Mitch said, kind of annoyed. She picked up her handheld scanner nervously and reached up to get the tag for his polo shirt, but his neck was actually out of her reach, so he bent down, feeling his butt graze the display behind him as he bent down so much, and she groped around his neck needlessly, probably trying to play it off as she couldn't find the tag, but actually just touching as much as him as possible. She scanned it finally, and Mitch returned to his full height, and turned around, showing her the tag on his nice, round ass which she swooned at, but scanned. She said she was finished probably after having taken a few pictures on her phone, but when she did, she quickly scanned the shoe box and sock package and told him the total, and Mitch threw down enough to cover it and a little more.

"Keep the change," he said, storming off. He knew whether or not that girl had another customer waiting in line that in the next minute, a Facebook post would be put up by her reading something to the effect of: "OMG I just saw the hottest man on the planet! Pecs coming...I mean Pics... :-D"

It wasn't chance that Mitch picked this particular store; it was in the mall where he worked. Good, because he wouldn't have to stuff himself into his tiny car just yet again. However, the bad thing was that the store he worked in was at the other end of the mall. At this time on a Sunday, now that church was out, the mall was packed. Probably with everybody from teenage girls one breathtaking bump away from throwing away their promise rings to adults who thought being so big was unnatural to little boys like he used to be, wishing they could be like him. Any which way, he was preparing to be stared at by everyone.

Just as had happened in the store, people seemed to part like the Red Sea as they saw the huge man blowing by like a raging bull, but they maintained close distance to see the mountain of muscle. As he jogged, he imagined this being kind of like a parade. As if the crowd was appreciating some sort of muscle hero.

He finally made it to the entrance of the store he worked at, a vitamin and supplement store, and saw Jack standing behind the counter helping a customer check out and Karen helping some man looking at protein powders. As soon as he saw her, he knew he was in real trouble. She wasn't supposed to work today, but the manager probably had to call her in to cover his shift. He walked in sheepishly, and as he got closer, Jack looked up, recognized his friend, and he had the same reaction pretty much everyone in the mall just had: jaw dropped, pupils dilated, drool, and as he was gay, probably an erection conveniently hidden behind the counter. But Mitch didn't stop to say hi, he went straight back into the office where he knew the manager Rob would be.

Rob was sitting behind a big desk with his back toward the door Mitch was now coming through with difficulty, as it was rather narrow and his lats extended past either side. He was writing something on the calendar, but he obviously heard Mitch come in, because he stopped writing.

"So, you decided to show up," he mocked. "How very big of you." He turned around in his chair, and ate his last words, his face now resembling Jack's and everyone else's in the mall. Utter surprise. To Mitch, who didn't like Rob too much, it was priceless.

"I'm sorry, I overslept, and then I had some complications," Mitch explained, raising his hand up to scratch the back of his head, his bicep bulging in his face in the process. Lowering his arm, he saw Rob's mouth open and close many times. After a full minute, he regained some of the color to his face, and his voice became shaky as he whispered, "Close the door and sit."

Mitch did so, now expecting the worst. When he sat down, he felt like the chair was a child's. He fit in it okay, but it seemed so small.
Rob stood up and rubbed his chin. "So is this why you were late? You were getting plastic surgery?"

Mitch shook his head. "No. Honestly, I don't know what happened. Last night, I went to bed, just looking like I always have, and this morning, when Jack called me, I was like this. I didn't have any clothes that fit, so I had to go buy some really quick." Rob nodded and responded with, "Well, obviously something happened. Whatever it was is your business. But I have my own business to run. You've never been late before, but I gave your shift away just in case you never showed. I'll write you up, but I think you should get out there. I think we could use you today. We seem to have a lot of men interested in bodybuilding today and women seem to be poking their heads in but leaving. With you, we'll probably get more customers. And that's the only reason I'm going to have you go send Karen home."

"Yes, sir," Mitch said. Rob promptly excused him, telling him to shut the door behind him, and he sat down in his comfortable chair as Mitch rose and got out. He shut the door, and immediately heard scrambling from within, and after a few minutes, he heard Rob moaning. Mitch smiled to himself, and wondered when there were three gay men working in the same store, how they hadn't really hooked up before. He guessed, as he entered the main store and saw Jack see him and swoon, that that would soon change. He walked up to Karen, who was behind the register doing something on the computer.

"Rob wants me to tell you to go home since I'm here now," he said, leaning on the counter, and meeting her eye-to-eye. She finally had another reaction from others. It was more like she was trying to make sense of him. She seemed to do many double takes to his chest that was covering the counter, and while every time she looked at it she took a deeper breath, in the end, looked him in the eye and growled, "This is ridiculuous." She stormed off to the office, and Mitch stood up, expecting her back any second once she realized she really didn't want to go in there.

He was right: she came back with a disgusted look and looked at Mitch like instead of muscle he was covered head to foot in fungus. She ran out of the store, and Mitch exchanged an amused look with Jack.

Just then, a customer walked in, an average man who looked like he'd never been in a store like this before. Mitch pointed to himself while looking at Jack, who nodded and returned to stocking the shelves. He strode up to the man, whose head reached his neck, and he said, trying to sound as manly as possible, "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

The man nodded and said, "Uh, yes, you would probably know. I've been looking into starting bodybuilding, and I was wondering what sort of supplements I'll need."

Mitch grinned ear to ear. He strained all of the muscles in his upper body, making them grow slightly, and hit a double-bicep pose, his biceps appearing like mountains and his forearms ridiculously thick and veiny. "You've come to the right place," he said.

[Lucas88]

Might give the tattoo-haters a second thought.

Good job! Hope to read more and wouldn't mind reading some of your macrophile work if it has muscle in it.

[philat99]

Very enjoyable! I, too, enjoy macrophilia and wonder whether you have stories on other sites.

[xboy]

good begin, please continue...

[silvershadow]

This is creative I love it keep it up. What also makes it interesting is that his life did not change. Everyone knows that this isn't the normal way he looks.

[Ryne]

Good Stuff! Can't wait to see more!