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Old March 12th, 2013, 12:03 PM
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Convincing Argument

I hated writing this. I hhhhaaaaaaaaaattttteeeddd it.

But This was my writer's block. I couldn't write anything else, I couldn't focus on anything else, because I kept coming back to this idea. I still hate it. But I did need to post it. Spent the time to write it, someone might as well read it.

This is based off a real conversation I had with my dad. The setting, and conversation were real. The rest is definitely not.


Convincing Argument

It was on our annual Father/Son trip. This was maybe our 5th year going up to snowboard in the mountains. And, as usual, on our second night up there, we'd go for a nice dinner. During dinner, there was something I needed to bring up, I knew my mom wouldn't understand, but maybe my dad would.

"So, dad, I've been using your old weights for a few months now, and I haven't really been seeing results. And I just recently learned that they aren't standard weights. They're cheap, and right now my max weight on the barbell is 40lbs. A standard bar alone is 45lbs. It's kinda pathetic that I can't even bench a standard bar."

"What're you saying? You want real weights?"

"No, cause I wouldn't be able to lift them. I just think that maybe, I should start taking supplements. And I was wondering if maybe you could help me pay for them."

"You don't need it. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll start to get some definition. You don't need that stuff, you don't want to get freaky."

I look down at my food, a little heartbroken, because freaky is exactly what I want.

I changed the subject after that, to economics. Something I know my dad would rant forever about, and hoping that he would forget my request. Getting shot down like that was embarrassing.

Back at the hotel room, we were both in our beds. My dad watching TV, and me doing physics homework. Well, as far as he saw, I was doing physics homework.

In my head, I was angry. He doesn't know what I want. He thinks I want endurance muscles. He thinks I want lean muscles like him, just because he was a cross-country runner in high school. But I want mass! I want to be huge! I want to be a freak! A freaky muscle monster. He acts like becoming a beast means that it's all size and no strength. But it is strength, it's power, and the body that actually shows it off. And he just doesn't understand, he won't understand. My dad thinks size isn't everything, but size is everything! I just wish I could show him. I need to show him. If this is ever going to happen for me, I need to prove it to him.

I was officially off my physics homework, my eyes were scanning the pages, but my mind was on different thoughts. Maybe if I took roids? No, I don't want to deal with the side effects. I need someway to get really big, really fast and show...him...that.... No, that wouldn't work either. If I was the one to grow huge, that wouldn't help him understand. It's him. He's the one who needs to get big. I have to turn my dad into a muscle monster for me to have any hope of becoming one myself. But how?!

I could give him supplements, but there's a few problems with that. How would I get him to take it, and how could I pay for it?! I just asked him to buy some for me, cause I can't afford it. So that idea is out the window. Maybe a small dose of steroids? Actually, I don't even know where to get steroids. How do I make him big? If I started cooking at home, changed his diet, maybe he would start to grow, but that would take too long.

I need something to instantly make him bigger, but.....wait a second. If I make him big, and he becomes super strong, knowing him, he'll just act like it's his natural genetics and become all full of himself. He'll become a narcissistic muscle man, completely full of hot air.

Wait! Hold up! Air? Hot air? What if I blew up his muscles?! He'd see all the benefits of size without all that strength getting to his head and inflating his ego. Ha!

It'd be perfect! He'd be massive, and then I'd explain to him that that's what I want. But, is it possible? Can you really inflate someone's muscles? Well, tonight would be the best time to try.

At around 3am, I stumbled around in the dark, looking for my dad's jeans so I could get the keys to the car. I found them by the door, and went outside. My plan couldn't have been at a better location. The hotel was one of those where you park your car right outside of the room. This was perfect, because I know my dad has a spare tire pump in his truck. I was just going to hook him up to it, and he'd get huge in no time!

I got in the car, found the pump, plugged it into the cigarette lighter, and then turned on the car. Now all I needed was to hook my dad up to the other end, and flip the switch. I only hope the hose is long enough.

Back in the room I walk over to my sleeping father. I didn't think this through. Where do I insert the hose? And then, he snored. Thank god he snores.

I slid the hose into his mouth and went back to the pump. This was it, now or never. If I'm ever going to become a muscle freak, I have to turn my dad into one first.

A soft click and the switch was flipped. I sat on my bed. Just watching, and....nothing. It didn't work, why would it have worked. Of course it wouldn't work. Things like that don't happen. I was so desperate that I just wanted it to happen.

But I didn't realize that it was working. My Dad's breathing pushing the blankets up and down until, they stayed up, and kept going up. His chest was filling up with air and pushing outwards. It wasn't till they had doubled in size that I had started to notice the other bulges under the covers. His quads were filling up, arms thickening, chest growing wide. My dad was starting to look like a pro-bodybuilder in the offseason.

I just stared, jaw wide open. It was working! And honestly, I was jealous. I wanted the size my dad had now, but if this plan goes well, I'll be growing soon enough.

It was then that I noticed his inflating mass was starting to push the covers off of him. His shoulders looked powerful and broad. A couple more minutes and I'm sure he'd be too big to fit out the door.

My dad's lats flared out, forcing his arms outward. It was an amazing wingspan, his arms weren't anything to miss either. Each bicep was clearly bigger than my head. And his legs, I don't think it's possible, but they looked to be thicker than my torso.

I was completely awestruck that my plan was working, I started fantasizing about what I'd do at that size which I would guess would be somewhere above 350lbs if it was solid muscle. I thought about going to the beach, showing off for all the girls. I even thought about doing normal tasks. Just walking to class, and my jeans would rip as my muscles bunched up underneath. I'd be the biggest guy on campus. Girls would flock to me, asking to worship my body. I'd preform feats of strength for them. Picking up increasingly heavy weights as they asked if I could lift it. Life would be good as a muscle freak.

"MMMRPH!!!!"

I snapped back to reality. My dad, was now awake, sitting up and trying to grasp at the hose. His arms too thick for him to bend them enough to grab it. Even worse, his pecs had inflated so much, they were forced up against his chin, holding his mouth shut and keeping him from spitting the source of his growth out of his mouth. I had been so caught up in my daydream, I didn't even think about turning off the pump! I jumped onto his bed, grabbed the hose and yanked it out with all my might.

The hose pulled out and I fell off the bed. Looking up, I saw a mountain of muscle, I couldn't even see my dad's head from that angle. And part of me was afraid to get up off the floor. I didn't think about this part. What was I gonna say? WHAT WAS HE GONNA SAY?!

Then, he burped, long and loud, enough air escaping that his torso that had swollen up around his neck shrunk enough to allow him to speak.

"What happened?!" His voice boomed, a bit deeper than normal.

Oh god, this was it, I'm dead. Dead, dead, dead, so very dead. Can I just lay here on the floor and die?

"Hey! You there?!" Sounding less angry, was that a good sign? Or was it just building up to another fit of anger? With my luck, it'd be the later.

"Y-yeah, dad" my voice cracked from nervousness.

"What happened to me?"

Still laying on the floor, I put my head down and mumbled into the carpet, "I thought that if I made you big, you'd see why I want to be big. Why I want to start taking supplements."

Silence. Then a grunt, "Might as well check it out since you did it anyway."

I stopped banging my head on the carpet. Wait what?

He tried to look down, but his larger size had reduced mobility. "Feels like the soreness after a good workout."

What did he say? This wasn't like him.

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, he was standing over me, luckily not on me. "It feels good. So far this isn't so bad." Then he strutted. Yeah, not walk, strut. He swaggered over to the mirror and started to check himself out. He flexed a double bicep pose and a lat spread.

How does my dad know how to flex? This was out of character, maybe the air had gotten to his head. Maybe the oxygen overload was doing something in his brain! HOLY FUCK, I killed my dad and replaced him with an inflated ego muscle balloon!

Wait, maybe this could work to my advantage. Maybe he'll be more understanding of what I want now.

"Hey, squirt! Come over here and check out your ol' man."

That sounded so wrong on so many levels. But I got up, I walked over to him as he tried to take off his shirt. That didn't work, so he tried to rip it off. "Why won't it rip?"

"Dad, you're full of air. All size and no power." I looked him over as he struggled.

"Help me out here, I want to get a better look." He turned to me and held his arms up as best he could.

"I think I'm gonna have to cut you out of it." I grabbed a pair of scissors and I made one cut from the neck of the shirt to about halfway down his pecs.

"Wait, stop there." I pulled away as he reached for his shirt and ripped it down the front. He then promptly resumed his narcissistic flexing in the mirror. I was standing next to him when he wrapped his arm around me and put me into a head lock. "Look at me, son. I'm a real beefy stud."
With one arm wrapped around my head, he flexed the other and had me watch his bicep tense and bunch up into a tight flexed mass.

I pulled away, this was it, "So you like this?"

"Yeah, what's not to like?" We went through a couple other flexes, bouncing his pecs a little.

"So NOW do you see why I want this?!" I gestured to his whole body. "I want to be as big as you are, dad. I want size like that, but I want to do it right, I want the power to match it, that's why I want to start taking supplements!"

He was busy flexing his quads, but I could tell he was listening. I could see he was trying to mull things over in his head. When finally he said, "Sure. My wallet is in my pants on the chair over there. Go get some now. There's a gym in the main building of this hotel. You can start today."

I don't think I've ever smiled so hard in my life, I grabbed the wallet and headed for the door, "The store is right across the street, I'll be back in a few."

"Hey wait! While you're over there, pick up some for me too."

"Sure thing, dad! I knew you'd see that size matters." I walked toward the door, and when I put my hand on the doorknob, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

My dad turned me around, "Before you leave, kiddo. Think you could hook me up to the pump again?"
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