The Innocent Bystander (Part 3)

[florida20]

Part 1
Part 2

I thought about all the times my kid brother tested his strength on me only to find every effort in vain. I was a healthy sized teen, 180 at 5’11. I jogged, did pushups and sit-ups, and even made it to the gym every now and then. I didn’t turn heads but I wasn’t embarrassed to take my shirt off either. My brother was small for his age and over three years younger as well; brotherly wrestling matches were never in his favor. Until now.

I could see my brother mentally feeling his body, weighing it and letting its power absorb into his psyche. And I saw him take me in with a new perspective. It wasn’t menacing, it was more as if he had three jacks to my full house and had just drawn a forth. He had the best hand and he wasn’t going to hide it. I suddenly felt very small.

“What do you mean you don’t know what I’m talking about?” I asked more timidly than I intended.

My brother seemed to think my tone acceptable and he walked up to me. He was definitely taller than me now by at least an inch and, with the overhead light now directly over his head, seemed even bigger. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulder. His body felt like steel. “Just what I said, little bro,” he said. He playfully pushed my head down and ruffled my hair with his free hand. Resistance proved fruitless. “Let’s go to the gym. I want to throw some iron around.”

Part of me wanted to run away and part of me wanted to just smile and be happy for my brother. It left me very guidable apparently because, fifteen minutes later, we were both at our local YMCA. He was wearing one of MY sleeveless gym shirts, and it was nice and snug on his ripped body. I knew we’d be sharing clothes from now on and had a feeling he’d be getting first pick.

Eric went straight to the bench and put two 45 lb plates on the bar. He got under it and looked at it with a bit of hesitation. He had never worked out at a gym before, I suddenly realized. This was his first bench-press and he already looked like a collegiate fitness model. He lifted the bar and lowered it, then lifted it like it was a piece of paper. He smiled as he re-racked the bar.

“Let’s put two more plates on,” he said.

Now lifting 225, he performed twenty-five perfect reps. His chest swelled beneath his tank and its striations stared angrily as his skin flushed. A few sets later, he was grunting beneath 405 pounds of steel. Sweat pooled and glistened in the striations of his chest, now nearly purple and gorged with blood. I found myself smiling. My brother was a stud. My brother.

I couldn’t be prouder, I suddenly realized.

“One more, bro,” I encouraged. “One more.” Eric did as he was told. Jaw clenched and eyes shut, he gave everything he had on his final rep. His arms were shaking as he completed the lift, veins rolling across his chest like rivers through the Amazon.

“Woooh!” he said as he slammed the weight down. “That feels amazing.” He stood up, eyes still glowing like those of the excited fourteen year old he was.

“Eric?” a voice said behind him. My brother and I both turned and saw Randy Cunningham, another one of Eric’s freshman friends, walking up to him dressed in a karate gi. The size difference between the two was striking but Randy seemed to take in stride just like everyone else. “Holy cow, buddy,” he said with wide eyes. “You been working out?” Shocked as he was, Randy said it as if he’d only gained ten pounds instead of nearly a hundred today.

My brother flexed his bicep and an eighteen inch boulder rose from his arm. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll show you a few lifts one day.” I rolled my eyes. Strong as he was, my brother had a thing or three to learn about form.

“That would be great,” Randy said. “I gotta go, though. Class is about to start.”


And thus my crazy life crept on. My mind seemed strangely willing to take these events in stride and I slowly adjusted to this strange new world. A few days after the session in the gym, I spotted my brother talking with Toby in the school halls. Eric had been going to Toby’s house a lot these days and both were apparently spending a lot of time in the sun. Their too tight polo shirts stretched around their bodies almost comically. Randy Cunningham was talking with them too, sucking on an orange sucker and looking every bit the child he was when compared to the other two. The Justin Bieber clone didn’t seem to care he looked like a twig by comparison though.

I waved at my kid brother. He nodded back with a friendly grin. He was every bit my brother and was every bit as loving, friendly, and supportive as family was supposed to be. However, every word, mannerism, and gesture subconsciously and perpetually reinforced their new roles. He was the big brother and he would do anything to protect me, his little brother. With slowly diminishing horror I felt myself accepting this as normal.

“Wow,” my friend Michelle said to me at lunch the next day. “Your brother’s a hunk.” She was eyeballing him sitting on the other side of the cafeteria, laughing and living the life of an alpha.

“I know,” I said offhandedly.

“He’s just a freshman?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Damn,” she continued, her eyes filled with what I could only define as lust.

“Meaning he’s fourteen,” I said sternly.

She smiled but her eyes were unwavering. “You have any other brothers?”

I just sighed.

The next morning proved just how numb I had become. When I walked by Toby and my brother, they had another hunk talking with them. Of similar size and build, the new guy seemed to prefer t-shirts with sleeves short enough to reveal the deep cut triangle of his deltoids as they transitioned to arms which bulged without even flexing.

“Dude, I had to get another gi,” the stud said as I walked by. I barely missed a step. That mushroom haircut, the childish smile. It was Randy Cunningham. Their newest muscle initiate. I only continued walking. Of course he was a stud now; why wouldn’t he be?

Sitting in class, my thoughts drifted aimlessly. Mitchell was subconsciously fingering the ravines of his triceps as he tended to do these days. I found myself following his movements more and more, enamored by his powerful body. As he reached down into his backpack I caught a glimpse of his bulging lats and ripped abs as his shirt fell away from his body. He rustled through what appeared to be a few dozen suckers before pulling out his cell phone.

With a sweet tooth like that, I thought. He won’t keep that body for long.

“Like what you see?” Mitchell asked suddenly.

I gulped and felt my face flush and stomach drop. I pulled my eyes from his arm and noticed him staring right at me.

“Impressive” was all I could say.

“Damn right,” he said with a smile as he got up and walked out of class. I could see his ass cheeks flex with each step on his way out the door.

Eventually, I reached over and picked up my backpack. In doing so, I noticed two of Mitchell’s orange suckers lying on the ground. I picked them up and inspected them on my way to the door. They looked like any cheap, brand-less piece of candy. The kind you get at the doctor’s office for being a good boy.

I shrugged and put both in my pocket. Maybe he would want them back, I thought somewhat desperate for his positive attention. I could give them to him at swim practice.

After the school day ended I found myself in the bleachers bordering the school’s Olympic-sized swimming pool. Two other spectators joined me in watching as the swim team made their way out of the locker room one-by-one. Mitchell was one of the last out, his ripped and bulging body contrasting sharply with the lean bodies of his teammates. He noticed me as he threw his empty backpack aside. Instead of grinning, though, he cocked his head to the size and curiosity covered his face.

I was suddenly embarrassed. I shouldn’t have come.

I made a mental plan to leave after the first few minutes of practice.

The team began their individual warm-ups, stretching or swimming laps as they saw fit. My eyebrows rose as I noticed the development on a few of them. A couple of them had some pretty amazing abs and a noticeable v-taper. Standard swimmer’s build, I thought.

The coach walked in and blew his whistle. The team gathered around him as he spoke. I heard nothing; I could only stare at the bodies. I never noticed how amazing a swimmer’s back was. The simple act of putting hands on hips made their muscles dance. Each of them had varying degrees of development but they were all ripped. Their shoulders were so broad. Maybe Mitchell wasn’t as physically dominant as I thought.

I shook my head, wondering why my brain suddenly felt like mush. It was hard to form a thought. I looked back up.

I saw Damon Higgs, a friend of mine, and was surprised to see he had an amazing pair of pecs. He was looking down at them as if he’d just discovered them too.

When did that happen? I asked myself. The answer seemed very accessible but strangely elusive.

“For god’s sakes, Chapman, get a fucking pair of Speedos that fit,” the coach suddenly scolded in a raised voice. “It looks like you’re smuggling a squirrel in there.” He paused. “You too, Jenkins. Jesus.”

The two boys in the spotlight blushed and covered their crotches with their hands. I chuckled quietly and noticed their glutes were so developed it was stretching the fabric of their suits. I guess that’s what they get for showing off a giant package. As my eyes danced around the group, I had to recalculate my assumptions of what a standard swimmer’s build looked like. Apparently it consisted of eight-pack abs, bulging arms and legs, and a set of pecs the size of dinner plates. There were too many of them to fit that description for it to be a coincidence. They weren’t all as huge as Mitchell but some were close.

Damn, I thought. I need to take up swimming. Wait. Is it as simple as that?

The team got in the pool and began running drills to the coach’s whistle. Their bodies rippled and glistened in the water, setting off every detail of every muscle. I saw Riley Simms lift himself out of the pool, his triceps flaring like a bodybuilder’s. Deep lines ran down his shoulders and formed a set of deltoids the size of a cantaloupe. When did that happen? I asked. I shook my cotton-filled head. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Something wasn’t right.

I looked back at the team as they continued to practice. Did everyone have such ripped six packs a moment ago? I watched a swimmer dive in one side, swim a lap, and hop out the other side looking five or ten pounds heavier.

Is the water filled with growth serum? I thought wryly. The question made my brain jump and I felt like someone was screaming something at me through soundproof glass. I shook my head again and the feeling subsided.

The coach called for a break and the athletes all got out of the pool and started toweling off. Instead of swimmers in Speedos, they looked like bodybuilders in posing trunks. They seemed to take notice. As they mulled around the water cooler, more than a couple commented on how great another looked.

Shadowed thoughts tickled my brain but didn’t reveal themselves. I tried to grasp them but the effort forced them to flee like a fading dream. I looked at the team of jocks below. How could I have thought Mitchell was so big? Hell, he’s average.

The muted voices in my head screamed for me to listen but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I grabbed my head, intoxicated by the scene before me yet confused by it. I stood and ran from the room.

Before I knew it, I was in my car.

I drove.

I parked.

…A rap at my door. I looked through my driver’s side window and saw a middle aged man standing on the other side. His sandy brown hair was graying at the temples and his face bore the lines of a man who worried more often than laughed. His eyes were stern yet not menacing. His button-down shirt covered the torso of someone who cared about his physique. The man smiled wryly at me as I rolled down my window.

“Yes?” I asked.

“You mind telling me why you’ve been parked in front of my house for the better part of an hour?” he asked patiently.

“I-“ I began, looking around as if for the first time. My foggy brain cleared enough to recognize where I was. I was in front of Mitchell’s house…and blocking his driveway it turned out. “I-“ I said again, at a loss.

The man seemed to read me for a moment, eyes curious. Then he seemed to realize something.

“Come with me,” the man said. Instead of taking off like my brain instructed, I followed like a puppy. We didn’t walk far, only to a swing hanging from the branch of a large oak in Mitchell’s front yard. With that in mind, I looked past the years in this man’s face and suddenly recognized the features.

“You’re Mitchell’s father,” I said nervously.

The man nodded. “And you must be Eric’s brother.” I nodded and he paused a moment before continuing. “You look like him,” he said with a sigh. “How are you feeling these days?”

I shrugged and honestly didn’t know what to tell him.

“Confused?” he asked perceptively.

I nodded again, wondering why I was having trouble speaking. The man smiled slightly as if that were to be expected then leaned back into the swing with a sigh. “The brain is a funny thing, isn’t it? And every one is different.” He paused, eyes sad. “Have you seen Mitchell recently?”

I pushed through the fog and found an answer. “Yes. Swimming practice.” That was almost a question. “He…” I couldn’t remember. I grabbed my head, frustrated.

The man leaned back against the chair with a sigh; almost a sob. “A father acts like he doesn’t know when a kid steals the change in his drawer,” he said to himself. “This whole experiment was a mistake.”

What was he talking about?

He looked at me as if sensing my utter confusion. “Your head will clear in time,” he said knowingly. “If I’m guessing correctly, you’ve been hit with enough active pheromones to paralyze your synapses for a little while. You probably won’t even remember this conversation…I hope.” He smiled a bit desperately. The man was troubled.

“What is going on, sir?” I asked.
The man thought a moment. “The brain decides; the brain creates its reality. In many cases it takes only the data it wants and ignores the rest. I’ve spent years researching this phenomenon. I’ve spent years researching the whole body and only one thing has proven true. If you wish to change the body, you have to change the mind first. Then the mind will tell the body what to do.” He paused and looked at me, peering deep into my mind. “You’re a questioner, aren’t you?” he asked. “You need to know before you believe.”

“Are you asking if I believe in God?” I asked.

The man shrugged. “Perhaps. My son told me you saw him that day in the bathroom.” He paused and looked at me, his eyes narrow. “Do you remember that day?”

I looked at him, perplexed, and then tried to remember what he was talking about. I remembered the two of us alone in a bathroom, him flexing in the mirror. But he was a stud and that’s what studs did, right? “Sure,” I said. “But he didn’t look embarrassed that I caught him flexing in the mirror.”

The man’s smiled broadened. “What about your brother?”

A shiver ran down my spine. “What about my brother?”

“He’s so much bigger than you and only fourteen,” he said.

I slumped in the swing and turned away. “What can I say, he’s a genetic freak. Everyone is it seems.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I was just at the swim practice,” I said in spite of my intensions. No need to let this guy in on all of my insecurities. My brain would not cooperate and I continued. “All of my classmates look like bodybuilders and are strong enough to lift a car. And I’m just a plain old wet rag.” I could only shrug.

Something I said set of a spark in the man’s eyes but they soon narrowed again, investicgating. “Is that the way it’s always been?” he asked mysteriously.

I thought back, unsure exactly what he wanted, but my thoughts were still murky and unintelligible. “Um…yeah, I guess” was all I could say. For some reason, that seemed to be what the man was looking for.

“Fascinating,” he said. “My research isn’t complete yet, ya know? I still got a few kinks to work out.”

What the fuck is this guy talking about?

He got up and I exhaled as if I’d just completed a session with a psychiatrist. After walking a few steps, he turned. His grin was back. “Do you understand anything I’ve been saying?”

I was truthful. “Not a word” I said as I got up.

“Good. Go home and get some sleep,” he said simply. “Remember,” he said as he turned and walked to his front door. “Never accept candy from strangers.” Then he was gone.

Slightly dumbfounded, I made my way to my car.

“What a strange family,” I muttered to myself and returned to my truck.

My drive home was somewhat calming as the jelly seemed to slowly recede from my brain. I didn’t concentrate on that, though, I put all of my intension on singing to the radio with the window down. I’d been so depressed lately and didn’t want to think about why. I felt something in my pocket as I tapped my hand against my leg to the beat of the music. Pulling the items out, I realized I forgot about the two suckers. I shrugged, unwrapped one, and put it in my mouth. Mitchell obviously hadn’t missed them. It was delicious and I was on the second one before I knew I was done with the first. I pulled up to my driveway and jumped down from my truck, appreciating life like I hadn’t in a long time. As I made my way to the door, I put a finger under the sleeve of my t-shirt and pulled it from my armpit. For some reason, it felt tight there.

I opened the door and saw my brother in the back yard with Randy and Toby. They were shirtless as they always were these days and were messing around with some old weights from the garage. They looked like buff college seniors instead of the high school freshmen they were but that didn’t bother me anymore. I pulled at the collar of my shirt. For some reason it was trying to choke my neck.

I put my keys down and opened the sliding glass door to the back yard. The three of them stopped what they were doing and stood next to each other. I was a little intimidated as each had at least three inches on me and 20 pounds. In the sunlight they looked like mountains of bulging muscle.

“Dude,” Toby said playfully. “You may want to think about wearing a medium shirt. Those smalls look like they’re trying to strangle you.”

I looked down and had to agree. My body pressed against the shirt almost comically.

“My little brother has just been working out, guys,” Eric said. “Give him a break.” Eric walked up to me and slapped me on the back. “Show us your progress, bro.”

I flexed my arm, and to my surprise a nice muscle bulged from it. My arms were probably sixteen inches. My momentary glee was slightly dampened when Eric flexed his tanner and more ripped 18” bicep next to mine and dwarfed it.

“Got a long way to go, bro,” he said. “But looking good.”

I was surrounded by three muscle beasts tall enough to completely cast me in shadow yet I continued to focus on my arm. If only… I thought and I flexed harder. A vein suddenly popped up and ran across the crest of my arm towards my forearm where it branched into a dozen rivers beneath my skin.

“Wow, man,” Toby said, his eyes wide. “Look at that vascularity.”

I looked at my other, unflexed arm hanging at my side and noticed it was as vein-riddled as the other. And as thick. I looked down at my ever tightening shirt and watched as my chest visibly swelled beneath the fabric. I bounced them a few times, relishing at the tightness of my skin.

“Oh yeah,” I said and I let my mind swim in the raw power growing inside of me. I felt like I could rip a tree from the ground. It filled my chest with excitement I hadn’t felt since…the bathroom. A spark crossed my mind. Something about Mitchell. I—

Rrriiiiipppppp.

Any thoughts forming in my head were overwhelmed by the sound of ripping fabric. My shirt was ripping at the seams across my shoulder, the material tearing as if made of paper. Beneath the fabric swelled shoulders as hard as steel and as thick as a volleyball. My traps swelled like balloons as my back expanded out and out. I looked at my brother, smiling. Maybe he wasn’t so big after all.

In fact, all three of the other boys looked like they were getting shorter. I figured I was as tall as they were now. The hem of my shirt started to rise above the waist of my pants, revealing a set of abs seemingly chiseled from stone. I turned my attention to the three boys, each of their jaws hanging open in shock. I smiled and flexed every muscle in my upper body, most of which I didn’t know I even had.

My shirt exploded from my body and revealed a body bigger and every bit as vascular as the three others. My body rolled with energy and I felt a burning orgasmic rush in my gut as my body continued to swell. I looked at my brother and his gaping mouth. My little brother. Why did that seem so unnatural? Of course he was my little brother.

Everything was as it should be. I flexed my swelling bicep, feeling it pull my skin tight as it bulged angrily from my arm. I could feel myself getting thicker and thicker; my legs, my back, my butt, chest, arms shoulders, everything feeling godly against skin so tight it glistened like a bald man’s head.

The three…boys…continued to shrink before my eyes. Had I once thought they were huge? I silently laughed at the thought. Sure they were ripped, but didn’t have any real muscle. I looked down at my bulging, growing body and flexed every muscle I could. The other three boys actually took a step back.

A minute later I was nearly 6’6” and must have been three hundred pounds. Every part of my body felt like it was made of steel and was ripped to shreds. I was glorious. I looked at my speechless companions and smiled.

“Holy crap,” Randy said finally. “What just happened?”

I looked curiously at him as a question formed in my head. It felt like the first clear thing I’ve thought in weeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said honestly.



The End…I think.

[Hanugumo]

I knew this was gonna happen. It was do sad seeing our bystander kinda suffer like that the whole time. Seeing everyone become such huge bodybuilders aside from him. It's great seeing him grow up a lot~ bigger then the others too, he deserved it. ^^

Though to bad it's the end. I mean: There are still enough loose ends to make a part 4. <=3

[Mdlftr]

Great resolution! The explanation by Mitchell's father, the ambiguous statements, eating the magic candy and then: the GROWTH!

Loved it!

Mdlftr

[arpeejay]

Awesome! Many thanks!

xoxo

Richard

[Mass Driver]

I'm giggling.
That was just great.
It's all in the attitude.
At least I think that's what they say...
Keep Writing

MD

[Otaru_grower]

This was so worth waiting for. This was superb. So many great stories going around this board. Thank you. I loved the catch phrase! I loved the pheromone bit as explained by the scientist father about how the mind and body were connected.

I wish someone could make me believe that I could turn into a 300 lb hulk in a few minutes!

[elysiumfields]

Great story.

Especially the Swim team growth,but i'm biased as i'm a sucker for en mass muscle growth/the other characters growing muscle.
It was great to see the main character growing big n beefy but i would gladly have been the odd one out...

[philat99]

Excellent story. Thanks!

[Ayakitayama1]

Great ending of a great story! The final growth was very hot and long awaited... I love happy ends ;-)

[Aronymous]

I'm just going to be honest and say I don't like this part.