The Roommate - Part 2 - The Fantasy Continues

[Mdlftr]

http://www.musclegrowth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=7443

[Hello Everyone,

I was away for a while and was very surprised and pleased to see that so many of you had read the first part of this story (link above. It's post 7443 in this string). Someone said something about continuing the story. I had originally thought of it as a "one off" but I kept thinking about what happens next....Enjoy! Mdlftr]


The Roommate ? Part 2 ? The Fantasy Continues


?Seven, eight, niiine, c?mon now, push! and TEN! Good!? You rack the bar over head, slamming it into the uprights, having just completed a fourth set of barbell bench presses at your new ?best? working weight, 385 pounds. Your single rep max (not that your roommate encourages that idea, calling it ?a stupid, meaningless macho signpost? due to his fear that you will do yourself an injury during the effort) is 415. You savor the moment when you made that amazing lift, and you can?t wait until it becomes your rep weight. You lie on the flat bench, momentarily exhausted, your pecs thoroughly and completely worked out. Your heavy forearms rest on your belly, as you absently finger the edges of your 8-pack abs. Your roommate stands above you, looking down. He has been the coach during this chest workout for you, and you will return the favor for him at his chest workout this afternoon.


Over the eighteen months you?ve been working out together, your schedules have evolved to the point where each of you needs his own workout time, devoted solely to his own body, pushing it through a punishing, rewarding, growth-inducing workout. You alternate mornings and evenings. You are on mornings this week, he has evenings. He is your coach this morning, your slave driver, your taskmaster through the grueling workout. He is serious, focused, and grimly determined to push you through yet another record-shattering workout. His goal is to help you pump, blast and annihilate your chest so it can undergo another round of awesome growth. You only work each body part once a week now, but you need that long to recover.


During each workout, you will ingest over 250 grams of protein, slightly less than one gram for each pound of bodyweight. Afterwards, you will have another protein shake, followed in two hours by a carefully calculated meal that will contain more protein, plus essential carbs and fats for growth. This will continue throughout the day, with meals every two hours. It?s become routine, even though you chafed at the regimentation of it at the beginning (?Who can eat all this food! I feel like I?m gonna puke!?) but your roommate persisted, even grabbing you in a headlock at one point, pinching your nostrils shut with one meaty hand and pouring a protein drink down your throat as you opened your mouth to gasp for breath. You promptly gut punched him, then tried to throw up what he fed you, but it stayed down. A few minutes later, when you stepped on the scale and joyfully discovered you?d gained another two pounds of muscle that week, he smiled at you, rubbed his sore gut and sarcastically said, ?You?re welcome. You sucker punch me again, and I?ll kick your ass!? You jump over to him and sweep him up in a bear hug, crushing him against your chest.


?Dude! You?re awesome! Look at me! Look at how I?m growing!? You dance around the room with him in your arms, the two of you an awkward duet of muscle.


?O.k., O.k.!? he laughs. ?Put me down!? Brushing himself off, he looks up at you at grunts, ?Still got chicken legs, you lame ass!? You jump him again, and the two of you wrestle around, each fighting for control, neither quite getting it. You back off in a draw, chests heaving. Off to the showers to clean up.
These little power struggles are becoming more frequent ? testing, probing, and pushing. He still has a slight edge in overall muscle and strength, but you?re catching up. What will happen when you get to his level? What will happen when you surpass him? You think for a minute of the annual county fair you went to while back. There were displays of produce, various farm products and the animal barns. You remember one exhibit that captured your imagination. In the livestock barns, two bulls had been introduced into a shared stall, temporarily, due to severe space limitations in the rest of the exhibit. Apparently, someone miscalculated the space available for the number of cattle. Within moments of being penned together, the bulls began a struggle for dominance. Snorting, rolling eyes, ears back, pawing the ground; they faced off against each other. Head butting, ramming each other, the bulls went at each other, until, finally, one of them gained the upper hand and asserted his dominance. The opposing bull became quiet and complacent, with his great head down. He stopped resisting and allowed the other bull to push him out of the way of the best feeding spot. An eager 4-H student explained that this way ?Nature?s Way of making sure that the biggest and strongest animals stayed on top and had the most offspring.? You think about this now, as you finish your workout. People aren?t bulls---are they?



Today, you sit up on the bench, your thick abs effortlessly pulling you up. You see yourself in the mirror, dripping sweat, face flushed, boulder shoulders swelling up, nicely framing your thick pecs, the tops of which can be seen pushing at the top of your high cut tank. You reach down to your waist, crossing your arms (because of the bulk, you are conscious of every move) and pull your tank over your head. Your pumped, sweaty, flushed chest comes into view. Your pecs have grown enormously in the last year and a half. Your upper chest has ?filled in? to the point where it now thrusts out from your collarbone. It actually curves upward toward your chin before it thrusts out heavily into space. Your lower pecs are granite slabs, full and thick, heavily curving across the middle of your chest before arching up into your armpits. You have deep cleavage in the center of your ribcage, where the thick masses of muscle attach. You inspect yourself critically, assessing the sweep of your outer pecs, the fullness of the upper and inner pecs and junction of the pec-delt tie ins where your cantaloupe-sized delts meet your pot roast sized pecs. What is it about my chest and food, you wonder, as you reach down for the protein drink your roommate left for you. As you greedily slug back the protein drink, your left hand casually travels up and feels the contours of your right pectoral. Ah, nice and hard, thick and smooth. Just the way you like it. You smile cockily at your reflection. You look fantastic.


Your reverie is rudely interrupted by your roommate, who slaps your left hand down and growls, ?Listen up!?


You look up at him in the mirror, startled. He is standing behind you, at the head of the bench, in control. He has also thickened up over the last 18 months, but not as much as you. He already was thick and strong. Now he?s even bigger and stronger. But so are you. He?s constantly pushing you to lift more, eat more, and push out just one more rep to stimulate more growth. He?s always assessing you, testing, weighing, and measuring your progress. Now he meets your eyes, and then comes forward around the upright, until he stands directly behind your left shoulder. He reaches down and grabs your freshly worked pecs in both meaty hands. He squeezes, hard. You gasp in surprise, and double over.


?What do you call this, huh?!? He demands, squeezing your pumped pecs even harder.


?Ow! What the F* are you doing? Stop, that hurts!?


?You call this a chest??


?Ow! Yes! What the hell are you doing? Stop!?


?Some chest this is! Look at how these pitiful bumps of yours squish when I squeeze ?em! They aren?t hard at all!? Suiting the action to the word, he squeezes even harder.


You have no idea what?s going on. Obviously he?s gone crazy. You double over, trying to get away from his crushing hands. You can?t get away; he has you blocked with his hip. Your only choice is to stand and fight. You throw your head up and lock eyes with him in the mirror. He stares back, his face hard, expressionless. His hands are like vises on your pecs, his thick fingers digging into your pecs. You glare back, then flex your pecs as hard as you can. He responds by digging in even harder. You flex back. He grips. You flex even harder, your face contorted with the strain, the effort making your face and chest flush even harder. You can barely stand the pain, when, suddenly, it seems to lessen.


You flex harder, and make eye contact with him. His expression has changed. He seems confused. His heavy brows furrow. You flex harder. He grunts with effort. You realize what is happening. Your chest is pushing back against his fingers. You strain even harder; pulling more power from deep reserves you didn?t even know you had. He grunts louder, rising up on tiptoe as he tries to use leverage to gain control back over you. It isn?t working. His fingers begin to slip on the sweat that is forming on your chest. You keep flexing, knowing that you?re on the offense. With a final grunt, he tries to tighten his grip and boost himself up further. Instead, his fingers slide off your rock hard pecs. You stand up partway during this process and plant one mountainous deltoid into his diaphragm and he pitches forward over your shoulder. The air whooshes out of him as he sails over your head, to crash into the wall in front of the bench.



You stand up, your chest bright red with his finger marks, under laid by a flush of pumped blood from your workout and your recent flexing. You breathe hard, snorting through your nose like a bull, like the head gorilla that has just beaten the punk usurper. You are the alpha male, the top dog. You are THE MAN. You tower over your roommate, crumpled in a heap on the floor. He looks up at you, dazed. You reach down and grab him by the shirt, effortlessly dragging him up off the floor and slamming him against the wall with one thick arm. You are energized, psyched, crazed. You are pure power. You don?t even notice when it happened you are so stoked.



?What the F*CK was that!?? you bellow in his face, spittle flying. ?You practically tore my chest off! What the F*CK?S the matter with you?? You give him a little shake to emphasize your words, your dominance of the situation. You wait, panting slightly, your abused chest heaving up and down.



He looks at you from under his famous heavy brows. He?s in an awkward position, since you?ve got him pinned against the wall and are holding him so high that his feet are off the floor. He studies you carefully, his dark brown eyes assessing you, looking at each facet that you present to him: contorted face, thick arms, bulging with power, red, pumped chest and sturdy legs. A moment, a beat, and then he breaks in to a grin, his flashing white teeth bared as he begins to laugh. You don?t understand this at all. You toss him away from you in frustration. He crashes onto the floor, his two hundred plus pounds of muscle like a stuffed toy as you?ve effortlessly tossed him aside. He continues to laugh from his position on the floor.


?What so f--ing funny,? you scream at him.


He laughs harder, points. ?You are. You should see the look on your face.? He laughs even harder, deep belly laughs that render him helpless, crumpled on the floor.


You growl, deep in your throat and start toward him. He is helpless on the floor where you?ve tossed him like an old rag. You stop, disgusted. You throw yourself down on the bench, straddling it with your heavy thighs. You lean forward, planting your hamlike hands on each knee and stare at him. He is clearly cracking up.



Eventually, his laughter subsides to a few snorts, punctuated by the occasional giggle. He sits up, groaning, slumping back against the wall. He looks up at you seated on the bench. The assessing look is back. He speaks, ?Well, you finally did it.?



?Did what?? you rejoin aggressively.


?You finally asserted yourself. I thought you were never going to get your dick up and show a little spine, a little attitude. You sure did today! Man, my shoulder is killing me! Did you have to throw me so hard? You nearly killed me!? He collapses in amusement, his handsome face crinkling.



This doesn?t make any sense at all. In a single movement, it seems, you stand up, step over to him and jerk him to his feet. ?What the F**K are you talking about?!!? you demand, getting in his face. You are overpowering, dominant, in control. You emphasize your order with a shake.


He smirks up at you, unfazed by your attitude. ?This. This is what I?m talking about. You, in charge, taking control! Asserting yourself!? His voice rises as he goes on, looking hard into your eyes. ?I was wondering when you were going to realize what you?ve done here, when you?d realize that you?re the Big Man now. I was getting tired of your ?oh, I?m just some guy that lifts weights, oh pardon me.? He rolls his eyes, exaggerating the self-deprecating, servile air of a gym slacker.


?What are you talking about? I don?t act like that!?



?Oh, sure.? He says disdainfully. ?What about at the Twin Cities Competition we went to last weekend? When we met the class winners last week, I thought you were going to fall down and kiss their feet, the way you kept going on about their placing and ?all their hard work? and all that crap!?


?But they were great!! They were awesome, so big and cut and buff! They deserved to win. They work so hard!? You exclaim, defending your heroes.



?Hey, news flash, Einstein. You?re bigger than ANY of them! What did the Light heavy weight weigh??


?Uh, 185, I think.?


?Uh huh. And what about the heavy weight??


?He was 224.? You sigh, remembering his chiseled mass.


?And the winner and overall??


?Oh, that was the Super Heavyweight. He was 257 and thick as a brick. Man, he was stacked!? You sigh in remembrance.


?Uh huh. And what did you weigh, the last time you weighed in, last month??



?Uh, um,? you think about this. ?I dunno, 250, maybe? 252??


?Try 276. The scale?s been broken since last spring and I just never got around to resetting it. It reads 20 pounds too light.? He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you. He puts a hand on one meaty shoulder. ?C?mon, let?s go weigh you now. I just recalibrated it today, before your workout.? He marches you over to the scale. You step up, wondering. He works the controls, pauses to let the numbers settle down, and then announces, ?Well, I was wrong. You don?t weigh 276.?



?I don?t?? You are oddly disappointed. Anything over 255 would be a miracle, but the idea of being a bit bigger is exciting. Time to come back to reality. ?What do I weigh, 248??


?Not quite. Try 288,? he steps back so you can see the numbers. The numbers are there, glowing red. 288.


You gawk. ?I can?t be! I was just 250 last week!?


?Scale?s broken, dumb ass. I told you that!?



You gawk down at the number. It?s impossible. You can?t weigh that much. You just passed 250 last week! Wait, make that 270 last week! You are HUGE! You look up, wonderingly at him. He stares back, smirking.



?You are such a wuss! I can?t believe you weigh almost 300 pounds of muscle and you act like some 180-pound weakling is big stuff! Man, are you screwed up!? He laughs in your face.



You grab him without thinking, lifting him off his feet and pulling him overhead. You hoist him easily overhead, holding him at arms? length. ?Screwed up, huh? What about this!? you shout as you toss, yes TOSS him up to the ceiling.



?Hey! What are you doing!? Stop!!? He yells.



You catch him easily in your powerful arms, then launch him up again to the ceiling. ?Hey!? He screams, ?Put me down! Hey! STOP!? You chuckle, then scoop him up.



He?s like a child to you. Your 6 feet, 3 inches and 288 pounds of muscle easily overpowers his 5 feet 10 inches and 230 pounds. You are dominant, in control. You are the MAN, the alpha, the BOSS. You are the head bull around this barn. It?s time he learned that. From now, on, he?s going to help you get even bigger, but he?s going to show you some RESPECT doing it. You tell him that, as you continue to toss him like a rag doll. You easily press his bodyweight overhead, again and again. He whimpers (he really DOES hate heights) and agrees.



It?s a new day and there?s a new MAN in town. On your way to 300 pounds!


Life is good.

[arpeejay]

Whoosh!

Thank you for this GREAT exercise in one-handed reading!

xoxo

Richard

[viamanmax]

That was excellent. I enjoy the slow assertion of dominance that the other man wants him to have so much.

[Ender]

I liked part one a lot... And the shorter partner wanted the first person narrator to readjust his perspective and see himself as he is now is cool... what was disappointing was that when awaken to his new self the narrator immediately be comes the classic stereotype of an arrogant, self-centered, domineering, over-sexed creepizoid muscle head. The boogieman of every gym, feared by all that aren't creepizoid muscle heads...

The descriptions and everything else are great...

My problem with it is that it runs way too close to a personal nightmare fear that for a long time stopped me from making any progress toward building the body I wanted... because if I ever managed to achieve that goal I would turn into a creepizoid muscle head... Something so alien to what I consider to be me. I would find myself watching helplessly as what had been me inflicting on others the same torments and indignities as I had suffered and wanted to escape...

As I said good story but it hit a couple of cords I would have rather have not been reminded of...

Ender

[imfit]

I remember reading this when it was first posted. And now just read it again--vivid descriptions and a great fantasy, if only it came true in my life.

[nnnrg]

I really liked the first half. The second half did drift off into the muscles-make-you-a-crazy-asshole territory, but some people like that. I still vividly remember abusive bullying from 50+ years ago, so it doesn't thrill me much, but I can easily understand the attraction of assertive or even dominance behaviors, and I wonder if perhaps the roommate wasn't trying to get that kind of reaction so he could excuse his own attraction to the guy he trained into his physical superior. After all, if he's FORCED to submit he's not (all that isn't masculine). Right?

[dickasauras]

Well Arpeejay is a master writer, and if he likes the story; that's quite a compliment in my book. I tend to agree with the master. I'm looking forward to another installment.

[Mdlftr]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

I really liked the first half. The second half did drift off into the muscles-make-you-a-crazy-asshole territory, but some people like that. I still vividly remember abusive bullying from 50+ years ago, so it doesn't thrill me much, but I can easily understand the attraction of assertive or even dominance behaviors, and I wonder if perhaps the roommate wasn't trying to get that kind of reaction so he could excuse his own attraction to the guy he trained into his physical superior. After all, if he's FORCED to submit he's not (all that isn't masculine). Right?

..Thank you for putting waaay more thought into the underlying motivations of my characters than I did! When I wrote this, I wasn't thinking that the protagonist became a bully so much as he became more assertive and stood up for himself - becoming the dominant bull in the barn, and all that.

As far as the roommate wanting the domination so he could excuse his own attraction to the now physically superior training partner -- I'll repeat what I said earlier - sometimes "making a muscle is just making a muscle!"

[I'll bet you were a psych major in college! You may be right, on some level, but I honestly didn't think of that. So, what does that say about ME, hmmm? ]

Thank you for resurrecting this thread, and thank you for investing so much into it! I'm amazed and flattered that this seems to have struck some responsive chords.....

Mdlftr

P.S. I'm motivated to revisit these characters, so stay tuned....and thank you for reading and commenting!

[Maverick0095875]

well i loved this second chapter would love to see the characters continue the path set forth in the second chapter

[Ogun]

Originally Posted by Maverick0095875

well i loved this second chapter would love to see the characters continue the path set forth in the second chapter

actually I'd love to have a somewhat different path, where he becomes assertive but realizes he doesn't want to be a bully.

[nnnrg]

Originally Posted by Mdlftr

As far as the roommate wanting the domination so he could excuse his own attraction to the now physically superior training partner -- I'll repeat what I said earlier - sometimes "making a muscle is just making a muscle!"

Yeah, Freud made that remark when he was called out by others over his constant cigar addiction, at the time when he was propounding his now-somewhat-discredited "oral fixation" theories.

And he died of cancer of the mouth. So yeah. While we now know that the cause of his addiction was the biochemically addictive nature of the nicotine and the neural net that developed as he smoked to reinforce the goal-seeking behavior for smoking - which is the reason abstention followed by a relapse usually results in a profound reinforcement of the addiction.

Originally Posted by Mdlftr

[I'll bet you were a psych major in college! You may be right, on some level, but I honestly didn't think of that. So, what does that say about ME, hmmm? ]

Well, yeah. It was my minor after I managed to somehow fail a linguistics class. How to fail linguistics: study hard, have a perfect grade going into the final, miss the one class before the final where they give out all the answers, and discover that that one class basically negates and inverts everything else they taught during the term. Yeah. That. At that point, I decided, "OK, Linguistics may be a science but the organization and teaching of it is clearly not working here, so I shall find a different minor.