Ryan, My "Little" Brother (Rewrite) - Part 8

[tekuno]

This is a rewrite of BigBearMan94's original concept, done with his permission.

Original Story
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

This story is now complete. (Thanks for reading!) Each section ends with a link to the next section, but here are links to all the parts of the rewrite for handy navigation

Rewrite
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

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We're still in the part of the story where Alex grows. Don't worry, we'll get back to Ryan in a bit. (We have to -- the story can't end properly until more stuff happens to him!) Besides, there's more than one way for a character to "grow up", which is one of the things I'm trying to put into this story -- and not just for Ryan, either.

This part is a bit short, just like part 7, because it ends where there was a convenient dramatic place to break the action. (In other words, this is really the bit of part 7 which would have been there if I had had time to get it into the computer on Thursday.) Part 9 should be significantly longer, and I hope to get it up tomorrow (Tuesday) night.

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Ryan, My "Little" Brother
A Rewrite of BigBearMan94's Original Story (With Permission)
Part 8

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I hesitated a little when we reached the gym, because the price for two one-time workouts was a bit high, but I have to admit, all the new muscle I had grown made me almost desperate to test my limits. Besides, working out had been central to my life for years. How could I not lift that day of all days?

We went in and changed and got out onto the floor. Just as an experiment, I headed for the bench press stations and set up my former maximum, 425 pounds. It was like... well, I can't say it was like nothing, because 425 pounds is a lot of weight, and the momentum of the bar was significant. But it wasn't difficult, and certainly wasn't my maximum any more. I added more and more weight to the bar, testing myself gradually, and eventually maxed out -- in a tentative, "I've already lifted a whole lot so this isn't really my maximum" way -- at an even 800. I pulled back to 650 and did a few sets. I enjoyed the sensation of power that suffused my upper body as I pressed the weight over and over again. It wasn't just a pump -- there was a feeling in my torso that was like the physical equivalent of confidence.

Next I moved on to the free weights. Before even picking up a weight, I flexed my guns in the mirror, watching the peaks rise. My arms were beautiful, works of art attached to my body. I picked up a pair of 100-pound dumbbells and found that it was no challenge to do hammer curls. In fact, as I ran through exercises I found that practically none of them gave me any difficulty at that weight. There were only a few cases where leverage forced me to stop. Before long I was grinning like an idiot into the mirror and using the 150-pound weights from the heavy end of the rack to do set after set of curls, watching the massive man in the mirror on the wall pump up larger and larger. Insane veins ran all over my body; I felt like breaking out into laughter at my own incredible size, like a cartoon character. (Inside my own head, I tried various pieces of insane growth dialog, but I had to stop. Nothing makes you slack off like laughter.)

Then I had to make a quick detour into the bathroom, because whether I was incredibly sexy or not, having my hard cock tear through my gym shorts would probably get me arrested for indecency.

It was only after I had relieved this pressing need that it dawned on me that Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Oh, well, if he didn't want to test his strength, that was his problem. I was feeling more alive than I think I had ever felt before as I went from exercise to exercise, maxing out all the machines and filling all the bars. By the time I got back to the bench press, my pecs had recovered and I was able to handle 850 for a couple of reps. It would be hard to express in words just how I felt; suddenly I was doing feats of strength which I had always assumed were either in my distant future or else totally impossible for me. I was running with sweat and probably building up aches for the next several days, but since workouts had always been a form of stress relief for me it was enlightening to have one which was completely enjoyable.

It was quite some time later when Ryan suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. "Time for lunch" he said. "That is, if you can pull yourself away from your admirers."

"What admirers?" I looked around. Suddenly a lot of men and women who had formed an impromptu ring around me sprang into motion and started exercising, talking, or walking away. I grinned. "First time THAT's ever happened."

"Get used to it, bro. You're a show-stopper now." Ryan punched me lightly in the arm.

"Where have you been while I've been stopping the show?"

"Oh, around."

After everything he had done in the last few weeks, it would be foolish to permit Ryan to get away with an evasion like that. "Around where, precisely."

Ryan blushed. "Around the storage areas near the women's locker room, if you must know."

That was when I noticed that Ryan had lipstick marks on his neck. I groaned. "How many this time, Casanova?"

"Six."

"Geez, Ryan!"

"Relax, Alex. I brought condoms, it's all okay."

"You're a damn tomcat. I can't believe you did that."

"So? If I'm a tomcat at least I'm a responsible one. And except for that first one they always go away satisfied. But let's save the argument for later. I bet you're hungry after all that exercise."

"Now that you mention it..."

"Let's go cement that workout into place with some food, Arnie."

I was so pumped up that the brand new clothing from the morning was no longer oversized.

It was still only 1 PM, so we found an all-you-an-eat lunch buffet and stripped it bare. Or at least, I did. Ryan was eating hugely compared to his appetite a month earlier, or even compared with an ordinary adult male, but he hadn't done anything strenuous that morning. I, on the other hand, couldn't wolf down food fast enough. There was no conversation; Ryan just sat and watched me with a grin as I bit and chewed and slurped. Finally, I was finished; even my high-speed metabolism couldn't keep up with what I had just consumed, and my incredibly tight 8-pack bulged out. I could feel the rush of energy as my body started to work on the food, though. We left a good tip for the waitstaff who had to bus the enormous pile of plates on our table, and headed out.

"So, shall we head home now?"

"Well, actually..." Ryan was suddenly serious. "I hate to say it, but I wanted to actually get a workout in, not just a round of fucking. Would you mind if we went to that other gym now? We have more than enough time before we have to be home to meet James."

I sighed. I would have liked to refuse, but I had enjoyed working my body to its fullest so much, how could I deny Ryan the same feelings? We headed to the other gym, paid for a single workout, and went inside.

I had been planning to do some cardio and sit while waiting for Ryan. But after 15 minutes on the elliptical trainer, watching people do double takes at my body, I just couldn't resist showing off.

The afternoon turned into a repeat of the morning; once again I looked for maximums which seemed to have shifted. In fact, for most exercises where I knew anything about records, I was in the world-class record range. I actually managed to bench 1000, although with great difficulty and without anyone watching directly. (Although after I walked away I saw a knot of guys walk over and look at what I left on the bar.) Not that it mattered -- with the drugs in my system, I couldn't be a record-holder anyway. But it was an intense turn-on to know that I had world-class strength as well as world-class size.

Ryan had once again disappeared. After a couple of hours -- in which I once again lost myself in testing my strength and finding myself able to accomplish much more than I had thought -- I saw him enter the weight area. He did a perfunctory round of exercises. Or maybe it only looked that way to me; I was now so pumped up that I looked vastly larger than Ryan, and had to rush to the bathroom again when I saw the two of us in the mirror at once and realized just how huge my body had become. I could feel the same rush of hormone-driven aggression and drive that I had experienced earlier, but I held it in check to avoid ruining Ryan's workout. He lifted amounts which were impressive, to a normal person; I missed a lot of them, but I distinctly remember he managed 740 for his bench maximum. To give you some idea of how much testosterone was apparently in my system, I found myself sneering at him for not even being able to manage 3/4 of my max.

While I stood and watched, there was a fairly steady stream of people hitting on me -- both genders. The same sequence occurred over and over: first they would catch sight of me and stop, then they would pretend they hadn't, then they would run off, and then they would walk up and press a slip of paper or a business card into my hand with some variation on "Call me" and a phone number scribbled somewhere on it. If I had been Ryan, I could have had 12 women at my beck and call, and if I had merely had Ryan's ethics, I could have had 8 guys. (In fact, I kept 4 of those -- the ones who looked large enough that they could possibly withstand my incredible strength. I wasn't up for hurting someone by accident.)

Ryan finished, and grinned as he walked over, a towel around his sweaty shoulders in the classic "spent jock" fashion. "Got a few useful contacts there?"

"Shut up."

"Well, anyway, let's get showered and head home. You need to be presentable for James."

At the thought of James coming to see me, my cock once again grew hard. I had to make a stop in a toilet stall before heading into the showers. While I was soaping up, I realized with a shock that my stomach was once again completely flat; even concave! As a result, I flexed into a mirror as we left the shower area and almost had to head back to the toilet stall again. Not only was I huge and pumped to a size vastly larger than seemed even plausible, but I managed to have a trim, narrow waist where any heavyweight approaching my proportions tended to have a gut. It was almost unbelievably sexy. Huge guts are accepted on huge guys because usually they are an automatic side effect of being huge, and therefore are sometimes considered masculine -- but nobody had ever seen the alternative until I achieved it. I looked even more manly than any roided-out heavyweight. Not to be repetitive, but: fuck yeah!

We reached home at around 5:15. To my surprise, I had to duck through the front door. I also found that several internal doorways were now much too narrow for me, where this morning I had had no problems.

"Ryan, can we go back down into the basement and do a quick measurement?"

"Sure, Alex. Just hurry it up."

Sure enough, when I stood against the column where my height had been measured, it turned out that I was now 7' 2". Even though our scale couldn't give me accurate numbers any more, I was certainly much heavier, since my arms were now 30 inches and my chest was now 74 inches, while my waist had stuck at 31. I had arms nearly as big around as my fucking waist! This raised a suspicion in my mind.

"Ryan, please tell me you haven't given me more of those damn pills!"

"Nope! You've been clean since that protein shake yesterday."

"Then why am I bigger than I was this morning?"

Ryan grinned a smug grin. "I was wondering when you'd notice. Don't you remember? The pills take 3 days to work, and whatever you do during that time effects how you grow. I was worried you wouldn't be willing to spend the day lifting."

Shit. I should have remembered that.

"Oh, come on, Alex. You can't possibly pretend that being gigantic doesn't turn you on."

"You're right. I feel so goddamn fucking hot I can barely stand still. But also, I feel intensely HUNGRY."

"The protein powder is still in the usual place. Go nuts."

I headed upstairs and took the latest half-full tub of protein, poured in a bunch of milk, screwed the lid on as tight as it would go, and shook it as hard as I could for a couple of minutes. Then I chugged it -- messily; even giants like I now was have trouble drinking from a container that large.

Just as I finished the doorbell rang. Ryan answered the door as I wiped the drops of protein shake which had missed my mouth off my face and chest.

It was James. He had clearly come prepared for a date. Maybe it was the spruced-up grooming, or maybe it was my out-of-control hormones, but he looked absolutely irresistible to me. As he came in and stopped dead on seeing my new, incredible size, Ryan whispered something in his ear and headed for his own bedroom.

Since this is really supposed to be Ryan's story, I won't give you many details. It suffices to say that Ryan's descriptions that morning of what I wanted to do with James were only the beginning of what we actually did that evening. It was two and a half hours before the two of us lay back on my bed, James partially on top of the spread of my lats because there wasn't enough space for both of us otherwise.

"Say, can you tell me what it was Ryan whispered to you earlier? I was so caught up in wanting to rip your clothes off that I didn't think to ask."

James laughed. "He said 'I got him all revved up for you; keep him busy for a while'."

And THAT was when I noticed the thumping coming from the direction of Ryan's bedroom.

Part 9

[nnnrg]

Ryan has me VERY suspicious. Also, the kid seems to have a lot of confidence about the safety and features of those pills which is not really based in anything he should know, and he IS still (at least in terms of education) a kid, right? So somewhere in the emails or other messages to that doctor in Europe is a completely different story to what Alex has heard.

[tekuno]

There's a quote to the effect of "you'd be amazed how often your incompetence is mistaken for malevolence, and vice versa", often applied to local governments. Ryan is mostly just totally without any sense of consequences.

[hexdog3f8h]

Originally Posted by tekuno

There's a quote to the effect of "you'd be amazed how often your incompetence is mistaken for malevolence, and vice versa", often applied to local governments. Ryan is mostly just totally without any sense of consequences.

I can kinda agree with that. He is after all still 11 yrs old, even though he is in an adult body and crash coursed in the knowledge of sex. There is a lot of trust between the two brothers and there doesn't seem to be any future breakage of that no matter how Ryan strains it with that incompetence.