Confessions of The Ultimate Hulk, Part 2, Revised

[BamBam]

This second revision was more difficult. I hope It satisfies people.


Confessions of the Ultimate Hulk, Part 2-Revised

Timmy did not waste any time joining me on the walk home from school. At least it was my walk home, but his walk to see the hulking power boy pump up his muscles. We chatted on the way home, Timmy always turning the conversation back to talk about my muscles. He told me about his big brother Mac, who was in high school. He said Mac was as big as me, on the football team, and always in the weight room. I only had my t-shirt shirt on now, and in the heat of the April sun, my veins were coming out thick and blue as the sleeves and torso hugged my hardened body. My lat width and thickness made the shirt really tight against my huge pec mounds. My arms glistened with a light coating of sweat. I could feel my abs move under my shirt.

We got to the house and my mom had my post-school meal ready for me. 2 chicken breasts, 1 cup broccoli, 2 cups quinoa, 5 ounces of cheese, and a large glass of whole milk. I could see a side of the muscle plant, an extra-large portion. I'd never had that much at once, so I gobbled it down first. It had a different feeling in my gut from other foods. Mom was great in supporting me. She knew. She had my interests at heart and through her heart she knew what my destiny was. It didn't bother her in the least to see her son become hyper-muscled.

I downed lunch pronto in front of Tim, and we went to my room. I took off my t-shirt and Tim saw me for the first time with nothing covering my upper torso. The pecs he had just handled were jutting out from my stomach, hard and high, my abs were rippling, my shoulders mounded up, traps thick, and biceps and triceps extraordinarily large and veiny. I was the picture of young muscle, only I was 10 and my body looked like an early 20's bodybuilder in proportion and condition. I was compact, rough, thick with power. Watching him watch my body told me I was in total control by virtue of my muscles. It also gave me a feeling I couldn't describe, a tingling, almost an epiphany based upon my muscles.

"So, are you sure he's this big" I asked referring to his brother Mac as I flexed my bulging arm in front of his face. I had never been so bold with my muscles before, never so cocky. It felt totally correct to show it off like this to a smaller classmate.

"Well, probably. Let's see how big you are after your workout."

Tim knew about the pump, but he'd never seen ME pumped up.

"Let's go," I said, "I want to measure myself today".

Tim and I went into the basement and I got out the tape. My pre-pump measurements were 15" guns, 24" waist, 42" upper torso, 14" neck, 22"quads, 15" calves. I was going to be 11 in four months and I was 5'-8", 178 pounds, ripped to shreds. I decided to do a full-body workout to work everything and get my ultimate pumped stats.

My lifts were off the charts, since I had had a week off, plus the muscle plant supplementation that was now cursing through my body. The delivery of the plant was gradual, but the dose I just had made me super pumped and super vascular. I squatted for reps and pump, then did a max squat of 355, powering up the weight with my large glutes and quads. This totally energized me physically and mentally. The measurement of my quads was now 24" with definite ripped slits between my teardrop and my middle and outer quads. I inclined and declined bench, and did flys and dips, alternating with lat pull-downs, and pull-ups. This brought my upper torso to 45" pumped. The bench max was 295 and I curled 135 for a few reps. I alternated biceps and triceps to get the full pump and a measurement of 16.5" and a rugged Matterhorn peak. Calves got to 16". I flexed and flexed in front of Timmy, showing all the compulsory contest poses I had learned on line, my first real flexing show for a stranger. I did it easily, fluidly and like a professional, as I had practiced for years in preparation for this moment.

"So, Tim??..is your brother this big?"

I asked as I did a my most powerful, most arrogant, most cocky, most-muscular pose right in front of him. My sweaty, bulbous, thick, ripped pecs came together at my sternum, showing rippling insertions, my forearms glistened with sweat amid my small amounts of arm hair, my biceps bulging forth as I applied super human pressure to the flex, veins popping and writhing, and my deltoids showed striations and rips of section after section of hard meat delineating the three heads. He didn't answer, except for a slight grunt and a look of astonishment. He reached for my shoulder and felt it's hardness. I swear, his hand sizzled as it landed on the hot, hard mound of veiny stud power.

"Thanks Tim!" I said.

I don't know why gratitude was foremost in my mind, but that's the overwhelming feeling I had when he touched me. I was bewildered by it and excited in a way I had never experienced, except earlier when I had him feel my pec flex. This was something new, having direct hands-on contact. I didn't realize that this was the harbinger of the endless muscle worship I would experience later in life.

"Let's tape me again!" I said.

The dimensions rose. Arms went form 16.5 to 17.5. Upper torso from 45 to 49". Quads expanded from 22 to 24.5". Calves from 16 to 17.25. I weighed myself and I was now 192 pounds, still at 5'-8", the plant inducing hyper growth, engorging and strengthening me like crazy. I was a fucking fireplug of muscle. I sent Tim home and could not resist the temptation to pump weights for another hour. At dinner time my dad came and got me. He noticed my weight change.

"Son, what are you taking? Don't lie to me, you are taking steroids boy and I won't have it."

I told him I wasn't, that I just had a huge power increase due to the time off and this pump would decrease by morning. I wouldn't have believed me, but dad let it go. I woke up the next day even heavier, at 195, and buzzed with muscle repair pump. I had to wear a sweatshirt to cover up the mass I had gained, and it barely compensated against my phenomenal growth. Putting on my pants became an adventure in not splitting them and the waistband was still so loose anyone could put their fist down my pants. It was clear some wished they could.

My relationship with my dad was changing a bit. I was asserting myself more and lifting huge amounts in the basement. I could see the day was coming, very soon, that I would over take him in power. I would do that before I over took him in size, but my power was unquestionable. I wanted to be unquestioned by this man in the gym and in everything else. I wanted to show him that I WAS NOW THE MAN. The natural rivalry between father and teen son was now happening between a 10-year-old behemoth and his father. He didn't know it yet, or just wasn't focusing or worrying about what was going to happen to him, but the day of reckoning was nearly upon him.

At school that day Tim had been cool, told no one, and people just assumed that I was that super over-developed hulked muscle kid. The janitor spent a lot of extra time talking to me, clearly in lust with what he imagined underneath my sweatshirt and tight pants. While talking to him I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye to the left. I looked again. IT WAS MY SHOULDER! My shoulders were melons, rounded and hard as stone and protruding up. I always gave them extra work because they made me look so badass. I inhaled deeply and gave him a look through the sweatshirt of my outline underneath. The man gasped and spit at the same time. I was having so much fun.

Somehow the principal did not call me into the office for being out of uniform. Maybe he knew what was going on? I dunno. Maybe he was afraid.

That day after school, Tim came over right away, saying his big brother would follow in a half hour. I knew I needed an edge on Mac, not having ever seen him, but worried about his age advantage, so I led Tim to the gym. I now had a stash of the plant leaves, raw, in a Zip-Lock bag behind some cabinets. I think my mom knew I was taking more of it than she fed me, but whatever. Her response to my greatly increased size was calm.

I let Tim do some lifts, just to humor him, and I lifted alongside. I got a great pump on, as usual, and the plant seemed to be working. I had a handle on that plant now. It was my buddy, and we communed in the creation of my super-huge muscles. Tim had no testosterone yet. The weight training did him no good whatsoever. It was pathetic.

Engorged with pump and strengthened by the plant, I squatted 425, benched 350, and curled 185, all for reps. I was a fucking torch-on-fire of muscle. I then overhead pressed 275 to pound my shoulders into greater mass. I knew I was easily over 200 pounds, probably over 210, and my muscles were harder and more ripped than ever. I matter-of-factly slipped into another posing session just as Mac arrived. I didn't stop when he came into the basement, not wanting to interrupt my routine. Plus I was so fucking huge by now, the feeling of my muscles rubbing against one another was hotter than hell.

"Holy shit Tim??is this the guy?"???he was gobsmacked by my size. I did a front double bi aimed right at him to conclude my display.

"Hey Mac, I'm Julian" I introduced myself, and grabbed his hand gently as I had learned to do, but then applied enough force to let him know where I was coming from. Tim was BUILT for a sophomore, but he was small compared to me. He had compact, rigid, tough muscles, clearly, and his shape was perfection, which I think adds to your strength. He was a bodybuilder man of a boy, and surely his power intimidated most other kids.

"You're HOW old?"

"I'll be eleven in a few months."

"You're bigger than most of the guys on the football team??I mean??wider??I mean?.."

"Thanks Mac". I tried to be humble. I was getting used to people stammering around me, as my appearance was now, well, astounding to most people and certainly to anyone who knew my age.

"Why does he need me Tim?" he asked his brother.

"He needed you more a couple of days ago, but he's grown a bit since then."

We settled down to a workout among the three of us. My lifts were even better. I overheaded 300 pounds, my personal best, and watched as my shoulders engorged with power beyond Mac's, hell power beyond most humans.

"I was going to arm wrestle with you, but looking at you, I don't see the point" Mac mentioned.

"You mean WRIST wrestling, don't you?" I said as I held out my ham-like left forearm and slowly, powerfully twisted it into a shredded ball of massive veined meat. I flexed it a few more times, very very slowly and very deliberately, to really pump the shit out of my engorged arm, and scare the fuck out of Mac. I could not resist showing off my gnarly, craggy power, and I knew that emasculating another bodybuilder was something I was going to do again and again. They were inferiors now. I owned them. I flexed my other forearm, in and out, the muscle bulging up and down. It looked even bigger as it balled into hot writhing steel power. I swear, steam came off when I flexed. I had to repeat, as they were mesmerized by my arms, so with both forearms fully flexed, hot, pulsating, throbbing, unbelievably stunning,

YOU MEAN WRIST WRESTLING, DONT YOU?" I said with more authority than I knew I had.

"Yeah, that's what I meant."Mac mumbled with his head sort of down.

"Go ahead and do it anyway Mac" Tim said.

"Shut up you little punk??you wanna see me get my arm broken"

"Hey, if we use the proper technique, no one will get hurt" I said, knowing how to wrist wrestle from my dad. Plus I wanted to display. Display, display, display. My muscles were making people crazy as much as they were making me cocky. I wanted to dust the older bodybuilder.

"And Mac" Tim said "you've never been beaten".

"Oh, what the fuck??it'll be quick".

So we sat down to the table my dad had in the corner of the gym and rested our elbows on it. My arm looked like a side of beef next to his, making him look puny and useless even though I was sure he was one of the most muscular guys on the football team. I grabbed his hand and twisted my grip for stability. Even my fingers were much more muscular than his. We were just about to apply the pressure when my dad walked in.

"I see you guys are working hard in here" he said.

But then he did a double take, seeing my new size and my condition. The veins in my arms and shoulders and even traps were pulsating. He sort of gipped, but didn't say anything, except that we should go ahead.

I had been busted. The surge from the plant had ramped me up to enormous proportions, and I was about to waste an older high schooler??.older but far inferior to my enormous physique, even though he was jacked, probably with steroids.

"Go" Tim said.

I wanted to lose with my dad there, but it would be so unbelievable, so I gently laid Mac's arm down with even, easy pressure. My dad came over. He was pissed.

"Ok big boy, let's see how you do against this" and he rolled up the sleeve to reveal his 22" guns. The man was definitely competition-sized and full of power. He could curl 200 pounds max and reveled in his muscles before me in the basement always.

The man was about to teach me a lesson, and in front of my friends. This was a precursor to the hell I would have to pay when he started the inquisition about steroids again. We clasped hands. I could feel my hands had grown relative to his since our last wrist wrestle, but I could feel more. I swear the man was trembling when our hands clasped, there was a slight shake to his muscular paw.

"Go!" Tim said again.

I struggled, I really did??a bit?...but I could see that ultimately my dad was no match for me??today was the day I began to dominate my father. I could feel that his power against my arm was less than I had expected, and certainly nothing for me to worry about. I decided that if I was going to take punishment for allegedly using drugs, I was going to make him feel it in front of my kid friends. I applied more pressure. He was surprised and looked up. I let him power me away a bit, just enough to give him some hope. I let things stand right there. I purposely held our arms in one location to send a message to my dad. The message said, in no uncertain terms "I AM THE MAN HERE DAD?..I'M THE ONE IN CONTROL??..FEAR THIS!" and I began to apply my super power to his arm. His arm moved incredibly slowly at my desire, which I loved, and continued to move it at the same ridiculously slow pace, forcing him into submission. I stopped abruptly with his arm 1" above the table. Veins popped out of his forehead as he struggled with my superior strength. He looked up, worried and bewildered at the same time. I look right in his eyes, penetrated that man's being as I said "bye bye" and not only dropped his hand into the table, but grinded it in so that his knuckles were nearly bleeding when I had finished. I had emasculated my father in front of others??.I flexed triumphant double biceps in celebration.

"Holy shit Julian!" he yelled. "I want to see you after dinner???boy"

I took my time wrapping up in the gym. I flexed for Tim and Mac again, which they really enjoyed judging by their tongues hanging out of their mouths. They left and I went into the house.

It seems I was in trouble for being successful. After all, dad had introduced me, challenged me to workout with him in the gym. I had grown beyond his concept of what a boy should be, successful at overcoming the challenge, yet he was upset that I had now destroyed him, humiliated him with my massive muscles?..massive for a 10-year old. Wasn't that what a young stud was supposed to do to his dad in some way? I just did it with my muscles, where other kids would do it with computers or language or whatever.

After dinner of three of steaks, veggies, 40 ounce protein shake and half a gallon of ice cream, my dad summoned me to his office.

"Son, I know you have to be shooting something to grow that fast. There is no way anyone can do that, and you're not even eleven years old and you're beyond anything normal."

"Dad, I swear, I'm telling you I do not take drugs. Hell I don't even have the money for it, and I don't go to a public gym so I don't see guys who might be selling it".

"What about school? Don't some guys have drugs at school?" he shot back.

"That punk school doesn't even have a weight room dad???remember?"

"Oh yeah, but aren't there big bodybuilder kids there?"

"NO DAD, I'M THE BIGGEST KID IN SCHOOL!"

That sort of jarred him. The realization was sinking in. His kid was monstrous and more badass than anyone in his school and most kids in the city, probably the state. He was more powerful than even HIM. WTF was going on?

"Ok, so tell me: How did you do this?" he demanded.

"I'm just eating more and taking more time off. Plus the plant that mom says helps me."

"More time off since yesterday?!"

"Dad, I really can't explain it. Hey, I'll give a blood test."

This caused him to reconsider his anger. We had had a pretty good relationship for the most part, considering our mutual love of our physiques and all the time we spend creating them.

"No, no, no??.you don't have to do that. It's just odd J. that you have grown so much muscle seemingly in a few days."

"Remember when I was a kid and I had you feel my muscle and I opened your grip by flexing my arm?"

"Yeah, I won't forget that. We repeated it several times."

"Well, I'm just a freak dad. I can feel it. I can tell that my destiny is to be the biggest kid anywhere. I know where I am going, and I know how to get there, and I am perfectly made for supreme muscle growth. That's all." I then decided to take a risk and performed a double biceps pose in my tank top. I wanted him to know in no uncertain terms that I was now GOD! and he'd better fucking obey and comply or he could be in some serious trouble himself! Looking straight at him, I could see out of the corner of my eye that my guns had grown again. They were pushing 19, maybe 20" I was sure??the meat was hard and erect as I displayed to my father that I was out of his control. That ended the discussion, with my dad completely flummoxed.

I went up to my room, got in front of my mirror, and I did my usual flexing. My body was that of a professional bodybuilder, dry, ripped, shredded and bulging with muscle everywhere and pulsing veins on every quadrant. My midsection in my quad/ab shot was so intense that I noticed a reaction in my groin. I'd had it before, but now, looking as I did, it was pretty much out of control. I had striations on my striations. I weighed myself, I was 212 at 5'8" and almost eleven years old. I truly started to think of myself as a god, a musclegod kid. No one looked like this at my age. No one.

Tim was a good cheerleader for me, and was elated every time I would take off my shirt and flex. The boy/man was also getting into lifting, although to me (although I never voiced it) he was a pathetic loser, a weakling compared to my overwhelming power. I was 222 pounds at 5'9" on my 11th birthday.

"Nice numbers" I thought to myself as I forced my old t-shirt over my mass for a new day.

[Kit Werecat]

What can you say after stats like that?

Like the kid himself says: "Nice Numbers".

Very much looking forward to more of this story.

Keep up the excellent work.

[nnnrg]

This is a very interesting story, and it's well told, with some small snapping of the suspenders of disbelief, but nothing outside the trope. (Note, nothing here about the muscle growth and size stuff - that's done perfectly - and I'm not competent to comment about the realism of the worship/admiration stuff, which even in RL seems rather fake to me. Then again, fetish usually does.)


You're making this come out much more realistically this time, but I still have a hard time believing that any kid is thinking in the very adult terms of dominance you use there. I can see future-him seeing it in those terms, though I think he's probably not understanding the complexity of the relationship. And it's clearly written by future-him.

This is not to say that he wouldn't be HAVING rebellious thoughts. Since I don't want to cite my own experiences alone (because I'm a bit weird) there are some pretty clear trends in development that have been showing up in society. Note that by 'trend' here, I am referring to studies which identify social traits that are part of development, which tend to follow a bell curve based in this case on age, with the bell curve "center" moving up or down, and the height of the curve changing somewhat.

For instance, currently, boys ages 10-12 have been "more fashionable" due to peer and media pressure (and by media pressure read targeted advertising) which, even 20 years ago, started at age 12-14 instead. Sexual activity has been pushed down from 16-17 towards 12-14, and teen rebelliousness appears to be sliding to the same range. Teen rebelliousness appears to happen when kids realize that their parents are not "perfect" ... which they perceive as hypocrisy, and at that point in development, kids are idealists, very intolerant of imperfection in others, while ashamed of it in themselves.

So in this situation, our precocious muscle-kid is having an early testosterone burst, which changes mental functioning significantly (including, by the way, making it very easy to fall for someone else, and to form a more adult, long-term bond earlier, as has been observed in younger kids who have had testicular cancer and thus been given testosterone by injection, experiencing mature feelings of love and affection well before their peers even hit puberty.)

Since the 'challenge the parents' stage IS fed by testosterone to a degree, I can easily see him becoming prematurely assertive, but the sophistication of it is the question.

"I'm the boss," I can see the kid saying, or "you're not the boss of me", but parents have a lot more power than simple physical discipline, and most aren't as inept as the ones who end up needing SuperNanny. His father will need to establish some sort of respect relationship or the kid will become an intolerable arrogant prick because he won't respect anything but muscle, and if they don't do it, it won't come out well.

Discipline doesn't require punishment, and you've presented this family as not being one where violence is vector for punishment. Thus, they'd still have their normal protocols.

I also have a hard time believing that his Dad is reacting so passively to this. He doesn't seem particularly stupid or ignorant. I wonder about the family dynamic when the Mom feeds something that potent to her son knowing that he's getting physically powerful more quickly than he's getting mentally mature. Why is Dad so ignorant of what she's doing? How did he not notice that the plant is part of his own growth? Isn't he also having testosterone boosting?


There is of course the issue of story convention over reality. In these kind of stories, there's seldom a realistic push back from the many, many forces that exist: school, society, even (since he's such a freak) medical researchers. I see the same thing in Anime about teenagers, with absentee or hands-off parents being the rule rather than the exception, and no evidence of the very real world where parents push everything quite hard and question every activity that doesn't lead to SUCCESS!!! quite suspiciously.

In a realistic world, I can see an argument between Dad and Mom about the plant, and at least one threat that if he doesn't respect his folks, then they don't have to provide him with extra food, weights, and so on. It could break a marriage, in fact. Mind, there are many cases where indulgent family have overfed a kid to create an immobile obese blob-person, but that's a different kind of situation than what you've described here.

I'm looking forward to seeing where this story goes. I assume he'll be a real hulk by age 17, at the rate he's going now And when he hits his 20s, if he has his own plants by then?

[iceman75]

Really like the revisions, glad you decided to start fresh, I'm very much looking forward to seeing Julian develop his muscles and strength more as he grows older.

[BamBam]

Thank you for your very intelligent and insightful comments.

If I had left the first version up, you would've seen that the support of his family is discussed in detail. That will be repeated in part 3, as it is logical and very easy to understand how he can become independent of his parents' support, if that need arises.

Thank you for introducing me to a new word, trope, which I will attempt to incorporate into my vocab.

Don't know when I'll have time for part 3……..but i'm looking forward to it myself, wondering what will happen to this young musclegawd.

[Freaker!!]

He will, one day, realise that his Muscular Powers, if abused will result in a backlash. He therefore has 2 paths. Fight humanity or disappear. Both paths require helpers. But can he control them? The question then becomes, where does his prodigious power come from? Can he control/master it and can he keep it from spreading? Do his powers temper or provoke his emotions? Can he control his emotions? Does he have power to renew/regenerate? How long will his hyper-muscular body last?

[nnnrg]

Beware of the site 'tvtropes.com' - you will lose hours and hours and hours there, but it does cover a surprisingly large number of the different story types and character types in all sorts of fiction.