Andy's Summer

[BBMikeNJ]

...So much good stuff on here, it's hard to keep up, but I'd thought I'd try posting one of mine....Let me know what you think.


My name is Andy, and so far I've had a very unusual summer. I graduate high school in May, and my parents gave me a personal trainer. Well, actually, personal training sessions, not like the guy was my own pet or something. My parents are rich, but not that rich. My dad owns a meat import and distribution company, and works mostly with German products. Living here in Wisconsin, he does well. The cheeseheads love their sausages.
Anyway, the gift wasn't even a surprise, because I had asked my mom for it. She'd been thrilled to death to do it too, seeing as how I was pretty much a fat lazy slob up to that point. I'd never played sports, but loved to eat. Especially junk food. If eating was a sport, I'd have lettered in it. All four years. Unfortunately, with my activity limited to typing on my computer and walking four houses down to my friend Cheryl's house, I'd blossomed up to 280lbs of mostly blubber. I had grown to 6', so Cheryl always said I carried it well, but I knew that wasn't exactly true. She was pretty and popular. I was not. When I went with her to parties, the jocks swarmed around her, and pretty much acted like I was invisible. So did her cheerleader friends. But Cheryl and I had grown up together, so I was her closest friend and confidante. Yippee.
I wasn't exactly invisible to my dad, although he was overseas a lot. When he was around, sometimes I'd notice him looking at me in a way that did not seem proud. He was a powerfully built man, of German stock, the kind of man that looked like he lifted weights, but he never had. He was just very physical. Climb every mountain, ford every stream, daddy. I didn't exactly follow in his footsteps.
My first day of training, I was totally freaked out. I had to meet my trainer, Tom, at the downtown gym that he worked out of. I'd never walked into real gym before, and I wore the baggiest sweats that I had to hide my bulk. Tom turned out to be stunningly handsome, of course. All blue-eyed, dark curly hair, deep tan, muscled up like a surfer, only more so. A 24 year-old jock, the kind that would totally ignore me except for that fact that my mother was paying him about a $100 an hour. He was real nice to me though, flashing his perfect smile when I came in, shaking hands all friendly, showing me around. He said his friends called him T-Bone, because his last name was Bonifigliatta, or something like that, but I kind of thought, from what I could see through his sweat pants, that it might be for another reason too. Go figure.
He took me through a series of exercise machines, what he called a "circuit", to get my body accustomed. He set the machines on the lightest settings. It was sort of embarrassing, but was cool having him there, easing me into it. Although I felt like I could have gone a little heavier!
After the workout, he took me aside and went over what he thought I should be eating, and how I should do cardio on my off days, or after we worked out. The cardio, I thought I could handle. But the diet he gave me. All full of oatmeal, whole grains, steamed vegetables, tuna, protein shakes. No junk food. No cheat days. Fuck. He chuckled when he saw the look on my face as I went over the list he gave me.
"It's not that bad, Andy."
"Steamed vegetable?" I said, grimacing.
"You'll get used to it."
"That seems unlikely," I said.
"Once some of the fat comes off you, maybe we can loosen up the diet some. But for now, try and stick to it."
"When will that be?" I asked him.
"When you look like this," he said, pulling up his shirt and exposing a deeply cut 6pak.
"Jeesus."
T-Bone laughed and mussed up my hair. "Go on home now, Andy. Rest up for tomorrow, I want to try you out on some free weights."
I sighed, and headed for home. What had I gotten myself into?
The next day I woke up feeling like I'd been in a car accident. Everything ached. I sat up in bed and felt my arms. I couldn't even stretch them out straight, the pain was so intense.
I looked at the crook of my arm to see if it was bruised but it wasn't. It felt like it though. Deeply bruised. I wobbled my way to the bathroom, pissed, then took a super hot shower. That helped enough for me to realize that I was starving, but my arms still hurt like hell.
I went to the kitchen, and mixed up some instant oatmeal, like I was supposed to. That turned out not to be enough. So I made up three more. T-Bone would never know. Besides, at least it wasn't Devil Dogs.
I had to be at the gym in an hour, and thought about calling T and canceling. There was no way I could work out. But I thought I owed it to him to at least tell him to his face, and then he could see for himself that I wasn't faking it, so I went down.
T-Bone was less than sympathetic.
"It can't hurt that much," he said. "Let me see." He grabbed one of my elbows and began to rub into it with his thumbs.
"AHHH," I hollered out, pulling away from him. "Fuck."
"Come over here and do some reps with this EZ curl bar," he said.
"I can't fucking lift anything. I need to go to the emergency room or something."
"Calm down. Just do 3 or 4 reps, it will help."
I couldn't imagine anything helping. I was pretty sure I had damaged my arms for life, the pain was so deep.
"Take the bar, Andy," T said.
I took the bar.
"Lower the bar, Andy," T said patiently.
The pain was searing as my arms stretched out. I was sure I was going to pass out. But I didn't. I did a second rep. The pain was less. Not a lot, but less. The stretching almost felt good in a way. I did a third rep.
"What did I tell you," said T.
I did 5 more reps, and T stopped me. He rubbed out my arms again, and this time it did feel good.
"Now, let's try that workout," he said.
T got me through that workout, then the next, and the next. By the end of four weeks, most of the severe soreness was gone, but I was always sore. I did the cardio 5 times a week, and did pretty good at it, which T was surprised at. Guess I got good lungs. T was impressed by the "pump" I got from lifting too. He said it must be from all the bulk I was carrying, but the first time I let him see me with my shirt off was right after lifting one day, and he was stunned. Said I looked like someone had pumped me up like a balloon. I guessed that was a good thing. And the fat was already melting off, even I could see that. But my weight was staying the same, which confused T. I didn't want to tell him that it might be from me eating three times the amount he had told me to. No junk food, but three times the oatmeal, tuna and protein shakes, which I loved. Loved the full feeling from drinking a couple gallons at one sitting. Otherwise, I was hungry all day long, which I hated. I'd eat and eat, then check myself in the mirror. I could actually see some muscle. I'd get hard looking at myself, thinking about being one of those massive powerlifters I'd see on ESPN. I had a long way to go, but it still boned me up. And I was hornier than ever too. Got to jacking at least once a day, which I never did before. And maybe it was because I was losing fat down there, but was pretty sure my package was getting bigger. My balls definitely. And my unit felt like more of a handful. Maybe this jock thing had something going for it after all. It sure motivated me to train harder.
T was impressed by my progress too. One month into it and he already had me benching 225lbs. He had to spot me close, and I'd only get 4 or 5 reps, but he said that was pretty amazing, giving what I started out at. I loved how it made my chest and shoulders feel. T was right, like fully pumped up balloons. I could bounce my pecs now, even though there was still a layer of blubber. Even that looked and felt harder to me somehow. And my legs were changing. They'd always been big. I'd hated my huge German thunderthighs and ass, but now, after squatting, it felt so amazing. And I was starting to see veins come out, and snake down to my thick calves. My ass would feel hard as boulders. I'd seen T-Bone and the gym owner talking about me after I squatted one day, and heard one of them say something about "real potential". I sure popped one out to that after I got home that day.
I'd asked T-Bone when I could start eating more, cause I hated lying to him about it now, and he said, "as soon as you can beat me in arm wrestling," and had pulled up his sleeve and flexed out his super hard muscle. That might come sooner than he thought, cause I was secretly working out my arms in my room at night with a pair of 50lb dumbbells I'd bought at a yard sale. I could work them for a good hour now, and it felt so good. My arms got huge when I did it, and I'd cum a couple of times just from feeling my size and strength grow. Didn't even touch myself, just jizzed right in my shorts. Almost didn't even know it happened, cause my big fat arms felt like two huge hardons, I got that much pleasure from it.
Although, either my fat was getting harder, or it was being replaced by muscle. I could see it in the mirror. My shoulders were wider. Everything on me felt more dense and heavier. By the end of the month, my bodyfat had gone from 28% to 18%. T-Bone was stunned. No more than me, though, because during the week, I was working at a German specialty butcher shop, where my dad knew the owner, Helmut, who gave me as much red meat as I could handle. Our housekeeper would cook it up for me, and, after a day's work or a lifting session, I would shovel it in. Then I'd go to my room and do curls. And triceps extensions. And side laterals. All the stuff I was learning from T and could do with 50lbers. I already needed heavier weights, but it was amazing the pump I'd get from just these light ones.

[arpeejay]

Ooooh!

Totally up my alley, as usual -- I'm typing with a, well, uh, you know!

More please! Immediately!

xoxo

Richard

[vlad]

I've said it before, but you are my favorite author...everything you write is awesome. fat kids turned super muscular jock beasts are always the best.

[BBMikeNJ]

So, this is how I got started jogging:
My weight continued to go up, along with my strength. My trainer T-Bone said he'd never seen anyone pack it on like me, and, even though he knew I was adding muscle mass, he wanted me to lose some size, so he upped my cardio. But after I broke two treadmills and an elliptical machine, the owner took me aside and told me I couldn't use the cardio equipment anymore, I was too hard on it. He was nice about it, but I felt awful. Like a fat clumsy kid all over again. I would have stopped coming to the gym altogether if I wasn't getting so turned on by the whole thing.
"Where can I do cardio?" I asked the owner.
"Why don't you try running outside?" he suggested.
I looked out the window of the gym. Outside? It was hot outside. And humid. With a capital H. And I sweat buckets even in air conditioning. Didn't he realize I was an American? Outside. He must have seen me shudder, because he laughed, and reached up to tousle my hair. "Give it a try, kid, you might like it."
That seemed difficult to believe. Not only because of the heat, but outside, people would see me, big fat Andy, lumbering down the street in his sagging sweats in the middle of August, huffing and puffing away. If I hadn't noticed how much of my fat had melted away already, I would have skipped cardio altogether and lied to T-Bone about it. So, the next morning, I got up at six AM. I checked myself out in the mirror. My shoulders were definitely thickening up and widening. I flexed my arms and watched them ball up bigger than ever. They felt heavy, but in a good way. My morning wood jutted out toward the mirror. That was happening every morning now... used to be about once a week. I stroked myself a couple times and , god, did it feel good. Better than I'd ever remembered it feeling. And I don't know if it was because my gut was shrinking, but my cock seemed bigger than ever too. I cupped my balls...yep, they were definitely bigger. Used to be like almonds, now more like unshelled walnuts. I could have so easily jacked right then, but I had to be at the butcher shop for work by 8, so I shook myself out of it and put on my sweats and sneakers.
I headed out to the street and started jogging. My high school was only about a half mile away, and I figured there'd be no one on the running track this early on a summer morning, so I headed that direction. It was already pretty warm, and so humid it was almost foggy. By the time I reached the track, I was soaked, my calves were on fire, and I was breathing heavy, my lungs already burning. The difference between running on a treadmill and running outside was huge. I made one lap around the quarter-mile track, and was dying. I stopped to catch my breath, leaning over because of the cramping in my stomach. Fucking A. I started jogging over to the gate leading out of the track, but by the time I got there, I was doing better. I jogged around the track two more times. Then two more. I was huffing like a freight train, all 290lbs of one, sweat spraying off my nose as I exhaled hard. I jogged 3 miles, then headed for home. It was tortuous, but I had done it.
I picked up speed as I got to my street, feeling so stoked up. As I passed Cheryl's house, I saw her coming out of the front door. I stopped and bent over, hands on knees, breathing deep. She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Andy?" she asked. "Is that you?"
"Uh-huh," I panted out.
"What...are you doing?"
"Just took a jog."
"Outside?" she asked, walking over to me.
I stood upright. I felt like I was towering over her. Was I getting taller?
"You look so...healthy," she said. Cheryl had always told me that I was good-looking, but I figured she had to say that, seeing as how she was my best friend. "Have you lost weight?"
"No, not really. Must be all the fresh air," I answered.
"Fresh isn't exactly the word for it. It's muggy as hell!" she said, going over to her car. "I'm late for work. Call me later, handsome."
I walked the four houses down to my place, stripping off my shirt along the way. It was the first time I'd gone shirtless outside for years. Handsome, she'd said. Our next door neighbor, Mr. Trapp, was pulling out of his driveway. Mr. Trapp was an ex-marine, around 30 years old, who did some sort of government work now. Mom thought he might be CIA. I didn't think there'd be a big call for that here in Wisconsin, but who knew? In his spare time, he trained for ultimate fighting competitions, and had converted his three-car garage into a gym. He stopped his car when he saw me coming. He looked me up and down. Mr.Trapp was one of those people I had always been invisible too, only today, he nodded at me. I nodded back. In the four years he had lived next door, this was the longest conversation we had ever had. As he drove off, he continued looking over at me.
When I walked into my house, I saw my reflection in the hall mirror, but was it really me? I was all flushed from running. My chest looked huge and ruddy. I could see abs. I could fucking see abs. I clenched my stomach, and saw them even better. Still buried under a gut, but emerging. I walked over closer to the mirror. My jaw looked squarer, thicker. So did my brow. My stubble was thicker. I was beginning to look like a jock. A handsome jock.
At the butcher shop that morning, I worked like a maniac, unloading the deliveries with gusto. Helmut watched with amusement as I lugged beef quarters from the truck to the cooler, not using the meat hooks, but waddling back with them using my own strength. I was stoked. Later in the day, when I told Helmut that I was hoping to arm wrestle my trainer before the end of the summer, Helmut told me that he had been an arm wrestling champion when he was a young man back in East Germany. He was a big man, so I could picture him being a tough arm wrestler. He offered to teach me some technique, so when the store slowed down that afternoon, he cleaned off his big butcher block, and told me to get ready. He took off his bloody apron, then took off his shirt, so that he was only wearing a tight sleeveless undershirt. Helmut was heavily muscled, with a big pot belly that look hard as cast iron. His thick skin was smooth except for some hair on his delts and traps. His delts were monstrous. His arms were big and thick enough, but his forearms were massive and veiny from years of cutting and handling meat. His hands were beefy, and his fingers thick as rolls of quarters. I could feel the strength in them as we locked up. I was surprised to see that our hands were almost the same size. Our first training session was just pinning each other back and forth, with only slight resistance, to get a feel for the leverage. We did this for about ten minutes, with him giving me tips on how to put my wrist and shoulder power into it without lifting my elbow. He said my wrists were thick and strong like his, although I thought his looked thicker. We had to stop when the late afternoon customers starting coming in. Helmut left to help them, and I started cleaning up in the cooler. My arm, even from those easy back and forths with Helmut, was pumped like a balloon. I balled it up into a hard flex and slapped my other hand against it. Then I slapped my hand against a hanging side of beef. It felt the same. Solid. So solid. Strong. T-Bone was in for a big big surprise.
I was feeling hungry, so I went over to a vat of ground ham that Helmut used to make ham salad. I grabbed a handful of it and started stuffing into my face. My hunger sometimes got the best of me, but I couldn't help it. It tasted so good. I'd eaten about half of it before I realized, so I spread it out to hide how much was missing. I went to the small bathroom in the back of the store. My face was covered with ground ham. I looked like a freaking Neanderthal. But I felt so strong after eating all that protein and fat. So very strong. I rinsed off my face. Then I rolled my sleeve back and flexed my right arm. The muscle mounded up like a giant baked potato. I felt the hardness of it. I felt its strength. I dug my fingers into it and felt it not give. Damned if it wasn't making me hard doing it too. Good thing the workday was almost over. My big balls were full and aching for release.

[Ender]

It's really great to see stories where chubby guys get lean and muscular... there are far too few of them...

Looking forward to more of Andy's transformation

Ender

[BBMikeNJ]

Working at Helmut's butcher shop was a real bonus. We were both getting into the arm wrestling thing, and would go at it whenever the store was slow. We got to doing right arms first, then left arms, and back and forth. By the time we were done, both our arms would be heavy and bloated with pump. We could hardly bend them, they'd be so full. Helmut was worried that his arms were getting too big, and he would raise them up and flex them to see. I was amazed at how mounded up his beefy German arms would get. The dude was an ox, and the more we arm wrestled, the more his guns swelled. Helmut loved seeing how into it I was getting, though, and would send me home with as much beef and pork as I could handle so that I would grow bigger and stronger. And I was handling a lot. I had replaced Devil Dogs with red meat, and it was showing. (Ok, sometimes I'd hit the Devil Dogs pretty heavy too. A guy's got to have some fun.) Meanwhile, my weight had jacked up to 310lbs. And I was now 6'4". My strength was going through the roof. Sometimes, I would let Helmut win at arm wrestling, even though I knew I could beat him every time now. I think he knew too, but he still liked it.
Helmut gave me a couple 20 minute breaks during the day, and I would go into the coolers, and use the 400lb sides of beef to work out. I had gotten so into working my legs, and they were getting huge. My shoulders had gotten so wide, that I had no problem hoisting the hanging beef off the meat hooks and tossing them up over my back. At first, they were a little hard to hold onto, the beef fat making them all greasy and slippery, but after a while, I got the hang of it. I'd spend the whole 20 minutes just squatting. Hundreds of reps with 400lbs of beef on my back. Talk about a pump. My legs would be on fire. Bloated so tight and hard I could hardly walk. Helmut would come back to check on me, and just smile and shake his head as I stood there panting in the cooler. He'd say, "Show me da legs," and I'd unbuckle my belt and pull down my work pants. My quads would be deep purple, with steam coming off them in the cold damp air of the meat cooler. My thighs had swollen so much, that they hung out over my knees caps by about 2 inches. My calves looked like someone had implanted footballs in them. I'd pull the legs of my briefs up, showing off the entire thigh. Helmut would say "Ja, das ist gut," and head back out front.
After work, I would go home and eat. I'd be starving after work, so I'd put on some steaks, then stand with the refrigerator door open, just pulling stuff out. Sometimes I'd down a whole gallon of milk before the steaks were done. Or take the super-sized jar of Sam's Club peanut butter, scoop my hand in, and stuff it in my face. Sometimes I'd crack a dozen eggs into the four steaks I was cooking, then eat it right out of the pan like that, like a big freakzone omelet. I'd stuff myself till I could hardly think. I'd be sweating and breathing heavy. Then I'd go upstairs and crash on my bed for awhile, letting it settle. When I'd get up to get ready to go lift, I'd strip down naked and check myself out in the mirror. All that food would make me look so morphed huge. I was getting massive. Everywhere. My cock hung down like the big sausages in Helmut's shop window. It had gotten so thick, and felt heavy in my hand when I hoisted it, and the balls hanging down so low behind it, both of them big as the extra large eggs I was scarfing down by the dozens. Once I cradled my big club in my hand, I had to jack off to myself. Had to. So much jiz built up from working all day. Had to have relief.
Afterward, I'd pump up in my room for about 20 minutes. Still naked, I'd do a couple hundred push-ups and curls. Amazing how swollen my muscles would get just from that. Arms big as two hams. Chest like two water balloons, hard as sacks of cement. I could run my fingers up the deep crevice of my pecs and wipe up the sweat. It smelled healthy. Healthy dude sweat. Jock sweat. Then I'd get ready for the gym. Tank and sweats, work boots. I saw how guys looked at me when I walked in now. My shoulders were wider than anyone there by a good foot. My chest hair was growing in thick and curling up above my collar bone. My arms so big, looked like I could flip a car. Andy wasn't so invisible anymore. Andy was who they wanted to look like.
T-Bone was talking with the gym owner when I got there.
"Ready to hit chest, big guy," T said to me.
"You are really looking good, Andy," the gym owner said.
"Thanks," I said...for stating the obvious, I thought to myself.
T and I went to the flat bench. He loaded on 135.
"Let's go right to 315, today, T," I said to him.
"You should really warm-up first," he answered.
"I warmed up some at home."
"Yeah, kind of thought you looked jacked already," he said. "OK, if that's what you want, I'll be there to spot you." He loaded the bar to 315. I pumped out twelve reps, without even slowing down. I sat up. I could feel power surging through me, like I'd tapped into a portal.
"What's your max bench, T?" I asked him.
"I hit 350 once, but I don't go that heavy anymore, it hurts my joints."
"I want to try it."
"You shouldn't try and jump up that much weight, Andy. It's not always how heavy you can go."
"It isn't?" I asked him. "What's it about then? How much bigger I can get?"
"No, not that either, exactly."
I stood up off the bench. I realized for the first time how much bigger I was than T. And a much different bigger than when I'd first started training with him. I had him by 4 inches and about 100lbs of solid beef. I felt a shift in the air.
I put a 25 pound plate on each end of the bar, then laid back down on the bench.
"Andy, that's 365, man, you can't...."
I lifted the bar up and did ten reps.
I stood up and looked in the mirror. My chest looked enormous. The straps of my tank stretched out tight over the huge mounds before running down over my nipples. My arms jutted out to my sides.
"Fuck," said T.
I turned and looked at him. "I wanna arm wrestle," I said to him.
"What?"
"Remember you said I could eat as much as I want when I beat you at arm wrestling? I'm ready."
"Man, from the looks of you, I think you've been eating as much as you want already."
"I still wanna wrestle."
"You haven't finished your workout."
"I'll finish it later." I said. I knew T-Bone's macho jock side wouldn't let him back down from this, especially since some other guys were overhearing it.
"Let's do it then," he said. T got the owner to let us into the back office. He didn't want an audience, and I didn't care where we did it, I was just throbbing to get at it. There was an old computer desk in the back that the owner pulled out for us to use. He was going to be the ref. I took off my tank and tossed it into the corner. "jeesus," said the owner as he soaked in my size up close. I put my arm up on the table and flexed my fingers. T put his arm up on the other side. His biceps balled up and out of his tee. He was ripped to shreds, and had a deep split in his rock solid bi. He looked strong, but my arm looked huge next to his. We locked up hands. T had nice healthy jock hands. Attractive and perfect. Even the half moons at the base of his fingernails arched up full and flawless. But when locked up with my hand, his fingers looked almost feminine. Dainty. My palm was so much beefier, my fingers the size of hot dogs. I'd been using those #4 hand grippers at home, swallowing them up in my hands, and tapping the ends together like castanets. I had developed calluses, big as nickels, at the base of each finger. I was pretty sure that if I squeezed hard, I could crush every bone in T's little hand.
John, the gym owner, made sure we had a good grip, then started us out. I saw T's arm muscles tense and pop out like ropes. I was barely pushing back yet, and I was holding him easy.
"Dig a little deeper there, T," I said to him. I saw the split in his biceps deepen as he strained even harder. I pushed back enough to lower his hand by just an inch. I felt so fucking strong, and it was giving me a raging hardon. "Put your heart into it, T-Bone," I said to him, like he used to say to me when he first started training me. I saw the veins popping out on his forehead, and I took him down another inch. My arm was jacked with superhuman power. T could have used both his hands, and he wouldn't have taken me down. I took his hand down another inch, practically twisting his whole body sideways. His whole arm was shaking badly, as he strained against my vastly superior strength. The swollen python in my sweats was pushing to get out. I powered T's hand down all the way to the desk top and tapped him out. I held his hand against the desk longer than I had to, crushing down on it. I felt T release his grip, but I didn't release mine. I felt a brutish dark force rising up inside me, telling me to crush his hand, break his arm, snap it like a twig.
"That enough, Andy," said John, laying his hand on my shoulder.
"Whoa," I said, shaking my head, and, feeling the dark impulses vanish, releasing T's hand. "I just won, didn't I?"
"Uh, yeh, I'd say so," said T, rubbing out his arm.
I stood up from the desk, and felt my hardon swinging front and center. I didn't have a pup tent in my pants, it was more like a circus tent. My sweats stuck out about a foot. A big circle of precum darkened the part of the sweats that my pole pressed against. It was all I could do to keep from exploding right there.
John laughed and shook his head. "For crying out loud, kid, go take a cold shower before you hurt someone with that thing."
I waddled my way out to the locker room. I noticed for the first time that I had to duck and turn sideways to fit thru the doorway. Had that ever happened before? Damn, I was so stoked up, that even in ice cold water, I was going to have a hard time not knocking out a load in the shower.

[vlad]

alright, I've been waiting for this chapter! i don't really know what else to say, this is awesome.

[arpeejay]

What Vlad said (and more.)

That was splurtariffic!

xoxo

Richard

[RyBearATL]

This is really going great. Please keep it up!
-R

[MuscleMan166]

Is this story continuing, I want to know what happens next

[vlad]

Wow, talk about thread necromancy...

Check it out:
http://www.pridesites.com/omelissoko...msn/index.html

This is easily one of my favorite stories ever. It's listed under Andy. Obviously BBMSN has a lot of other amazing stories...he is my favorite muscle growth author. =)

[MuscleMan166]

I saw those parts, too, but i'm wondering if he's gonna continue that after the college finals series

[bigbearny]

I hope he does.. those other parts just got hotter and hotter!

[arpeejay]

I kept wondering why I was confused:

This story was continued. There are 11 parts total, not just the three posted here. Check out O's site for the rest:

http://www.pridesites.com/omelissoko...msn/index.html

xoxo

Richard

[MuscleMan166]

it also continues to "the goth valley", but finishes after part 1