Confessions of the Ultimate Hulk, Part 1, Revised

[BamBam]

I haven't seen this relayed from the perspective of someone like myself, so I thought it might be of interest to those on this forum.


Confessions of The Ultimate Hulk, Part 1, Revised


Even when I was an infant, I remember my dad grabbing me out of the crib and the hardness of his forearms, the ripples of strength he had. He was a huge man, 6'2", 280 pounds of power, and that power and that mass was the theme of my life, only I didn't know that it would take me far in excess of his size. He had pounded the weights in our basement every evening for years, long before I came along as the only child. He couldn't have been happier than with my arrival. The potential of a son of his, with his propensity for weight gain, ripped condition and genetic shape, plus my mom's stocky build meant that their kid would have bodybuilding potential beyond most.

Muscle was IN me, beyond anything, beyond any measure from day 1. I don't know how I felt this in my crib, but it was clear to me energetically that moving my limbs, stretching, and yes, FLEXING, as an infant, energized me in ways I could not fathom. I was in a constant state of muscular awareness.

When I started to interact with other kids, it was clear I was stronger by many degrees, as I easily manipulated their little bodies in fake fights. I had to be careful not to hurt them. By kindergarten I was husky, even fat, but very powerful. The bars in the school yard were my refuge before, during, and after school, as I could easily lift myself, and I did constantly, until my own bodyweight had become too light for my level of development. My thickness in the form of baby "fat" hid the growing amount of muscle I was adding to my tireless and pudgy frame.

Dad had a complete gym in the basement, and we spent a lot of time there as soon as I could walk. This lifting of heavy objects seemed natural to me as I watched him body build. He would flex in the mirror too after each set, establishing in my little mind that this was for show and self-gratification. He would humor me as I would "play" with the weights. But I wasn't playing. I was serious as fuck as I felt the impact of weighted resistance against my young muscles. I had no concept of this, but it was an early version of muscle sex, my muscles being the sex organ. The more weight I could lift, the more impact it had on my body and that mirror became one of my best friends.

Soon I spent a lot of time in the basement alone, "playing". I developed form and sequence appropriate for muscle gain. I tensed the weight at the top of the movement naturally. I could feel my biceps, pecs, traps, quads, abs??..I became aware of every muscle group and every advantage to stimulate my muscles was there. I fully opted to maximize the potential. If I had known then what that potential was, I would've been even more enthused and more driven, if that was possible.

Mom was happy to see me lift. She prepared special meals for me, wonderful nutrition to feed me. Mom's know shit, ya know? She was following me closely, observing, assessing as I continued to spend time in the basement. She had a sense of what was going on inside of me and we had a symbiosis in my goals. She would also encourage me with words and when I would show her my muscles, she would say what a big boy I was becoming. I think she loved that her son was physically powerful in a Superman way.

Every once in a while she had a very very special meal for me. She described for me years later that one of the plants in her garden had particularly high nutritional value. It was nutrition just for me and my dad, a plant that stored energy in a way that others could not. The release of that energy was a rampant delivery of special nutrients to your muscles. As a kid, she just called it the muscle-making plant. What I did not know is that she made sure I got the bulk of the plant's fruit instead of my dad. I guess she knew what was coming. Mom's know shit, ya know? I guess dad was already big enough for her, and my potential seemed so much greater.

By the time I was 7 dad began to really notice. Mom had told him that after school instead of doing my homework, I was in the basement lifting. My form was perfect, my muscles were perfectly situated on my bones to maximize lifting and muscle size, and lift I did. I was exactly 4' tall, but weighed 72 pounds, about as much as a 10-year old. Thank goodness I was still chunky, or else people would've seen all the muscle and thought I was on steroids at age 7. I was solid as fuck, a husky lump of muscle power. And hard. When alone I would flex for myself and feel my muscles. They were as hard as dad's, and pound-for-pound a lot stronger. My genetic make-up was proving super human, but at the time, i thought this was how all kids felt and acted regarding their bodies and how they spent their time.

My dad started taking a greater interest in my lifting, as he could see I was going to break some records. My dead lift was 145 pounds, and my flat bench was 110. I would curl a barbell with 55 pounds on it. Age 7. Bodybuilder. Stocky. Powerful beyond my years. Living exactly as I was born to.

So dad decided that I would receive the best nutrition, the best supplements and a structured, organized lifting program. He didn't know mom was already on to this. He and I, in effect, became training partners by the time I was 8. I had proceeded to 4'-5" and 81 pounds of power.

Dad and I would always kid about feeling each other's arms when flexed, but one day instead of kidding, I asked dad to feel my muscle. He did the usual little grab of my biceps, but I insisted. I told him to hold down the muscles while I flexed and don't let my muscles rise up. He tried. But my arms were so full of power, even at age 8, I could expand his grip with my flexing. I watched his face as I did this and his eyes got huge, surprised. What he said was "that's good son", instead of what was in his head "omfg??this is incredible!" That day marked the beginning of my emotional and mental attitudinal changes. My little power monger inside had shown the outside world for the first time that I could challenge convention with my muscles. It was a thrilling start to my exposition of muscular power, a shift. I had launched.

By the time I was nine, there was some darkening hair on my upper lip. I knew this meant the drug was in me, the much-coveted and revered testosterone, the miracle I had been waiting for had arrived early for me. It only made sense, as my lifting energized my metabolism beyond anything normal. It gave me a growth spurt in height, and gave my workouts an edge and result I hadn't yet experienced, with harder, larger muscles and some veins now showing. As I turned 9 I was nearly 4'-7" tall and about 100 pounds. As I left nine, on my 10th birthday, I was 5'4" and 134 pounds. And the fat was going away?..it was now impossible to hide the muscles as my skin became thin and the ripples of muscle were everywhere. My pudgy waist was thinning dramatically as my leanness revealed itself. This was just a start, as testosterone does not come on full bore right away. I knew this. I knew what was coming. And there were other changes.

My mom's intermittent supply of the muscle plant coincided with increases in power I experienced in the basement. I wanted more. Of course. I asked to see the plant in her garden. She showed me a group of simple, delicate plants with brilliant red blossoms and broad veiny green leaves. A small section of the garden had 5 of these plants. I immediately asked her to get more plants. She said she'd think about it. I would check on the plants regularly, water them, and tend to them to see if they was ok. Soon I saw more of them, small at first, planted and thriving. I made it my duty to nurture them, as they nurtured what I coveted beyond anything else: muscle growth.

Muscle turned me on, excited me. I didn't know what these new sensations were, but watching myself flex in the mirror in the basement, and in my room, elicited a response in me related to my rise in testosterone. I began to notice my pump from lifting became enormous. My muscles would become even harder and larger and more ripped as time went on. And other parts of me were responding to my physique in a dramatic and honoring fashion. This all seemed natural to me. Dramatic as hell, but seemingly normal. I knew nothing else. I wondered what the other, regular, kids did for fun. Why didn't they lift? They were missing out on so much pleasure and excitement. And I was beginning to stand out in the crowd with my mass.

School changed for me completely then. Everyone wanted to be my friend. Everyone looked at me, guys, girls, teachers, the janitor, the principal??I was a freak and I was in heaven. My grades went up, even though I studied less, because the teachers were so in love with my body, which they couldn't help but see through my school uniform. It barely fit me??the dress shirt revealing my burgeoning muscle mass on my pecs, shoulders and arms. My thickness caused the fabric to move in ways unknown to the other kids as it hugged the hot meaty muscles I was growing. My pants waist was loose, while the butt and quads fabric was tight against my legs.

One day in the boys bathroom skinny Timmy Rhenquist asked to feel my muscle. Lots of kids had asked me this, and I would present my flexed arm. I surprised him though. Instead of flexing my relatively huge biceps for him, I took both of his hands. I placed them on my pecs and said

"Just hold them right there."

His eyes got big. Then I proceeded to do a front lat spread forcing my pecs upwards. I slowly clamped down hard while looking straight into his face. He felt my hard, flexing pecs slowly rise under his hands.

"Don't let go, keep your hands right there Timmy" I said.

I relaxed, then clamped them again, showing my extreme hardness and extraordinary mass to him over and over. He fidgeted with his mouth open and squirmed a bit. I thought his eyes would drop out of his head. Saliva dripped from a corner of his mouth. I finally gave him the ultimate flexing of my young pec pads and my buttons flew off and into his face. The rise of my upper pecs almost came to my chin, as I showed the weaker boy my incredible muscular superiority. Satisfied, I released my flex and allowed him to take in what he had just experienced.

"We're done Timmy" I now INSTRUCTED.

I told him to come over to my house after school and I'd show him some more.

[Sucka4Muscles]

That was an amazing story! Can't wait to read Part 2!