A Better Place

[pudzian]

Joe was an ordinary man. Extraordinarily ordinary. He wasn't good looking, wasn't bad looking; there was nothing interesting in his looks at all. In fact, he even failed to be uninteresting-looking. Twenty-four years old, medium build, only slightly paunchy in the waist, Joe stood five feet six inches tall and weighed 155 pounds. Medium complexion with brown eyes centering an unremarkable countenance. If pressed, many, possibly most, of his high school classmates, would have to admit they remember nothing about him at all though they had attended school with him five days a week for four years.

On this ordinary evening Joe had plans, however. He was getting ready for a Christmas party at a co-workers apartment. Several people from the office would be there and Joe was a bit anxious. It is always uncomfortable, Joe thought, meeting co-workers out of the office environment. He wanted to look good, give a good impression that he could be a relaxed, "cool" guy outside office hours. Joe was especially anxious about the coming evening because Sally's boyfriend, Chris, would be there. Sally was office manager and host of the party. There promised to be a good crowd since Sally and her roommate were known for their incredible holiday parties. Joe had met Sally's boyfriend only once ? in the parking lot after work ? when Chris had come to pick Sally up, but Joe had never forgotten the meeting.

Chris was everything Joe had longed to be all his life ? tall, athletic, good looking and built of solid, bulging muscles. It was incredible to Joe how anyone could be so blessed with all the physical attributes he so fervently wanted himself. Whenever he saw Sally, he thought about Chris, and he longed to be Chris, to stand out in a crowd with muscles popping, exuding a powerful masculinity. Being big like Chris had been Joe's closely held obsession all his life. But he could never get his muscles to grow and his lack of stature and good looks were a constant disappointment. Now, just thinking about being near Chris got Joe excited. If he could not be Chris, he wanted to be near Chris, to be friends with Chris?well, to at least have Chris think he was an all right guy.

Driving to the party Joe was distracted. Did he dress appropriately? He didn't go to many parties and wasn't sure how formally or casually he should dress for this one. He hoped he had guessed right that the Khaki pants and navy blue sweater he had chosen were so middle of the road that they would be appropriate no matter how others were dressed. And he was thinking of Chris and how he might make a good impression. Lost in thought, he aimlessly turned the sharp corner on Village Road near the library and suddenly there were two headlights bearing down on him, directly in front of his vehicle. The headlights were high off the road ? a tractor trailer ? and they shone directly in his eyes. He jerked the steering wheel to the right suddenly to avoid the oncoming vehicle, but his car swerved. It was unbelievable, it was happening so fast, his car was on a skid on black ice and heading directly into the path of the truck. The impact was massive. Everything went black in an instant.

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When Joe opened his eyes it seemed that only a moment had passed, but clearly a great amount of time had transpired. He could see immediately that he was in the hospital. Standing next to his bed there was a doctor in hospital scrubs. The doctor was young, not much older than Joe, he was smiling a reassuring smile and Joe relaxed as soon as he laid eyes on the good doctor. Somehow, as soon as his eyes met the doctors' Joe knew that he was going to be all right. He was in good hands; good, caring, capable hands.

"Joseph. May I welcome you back to us. We were concerned for a time, but you are going to be just fine. I am Dr. Angelo Buenasobras. Most people around here call me Dr. B. Feel free to do so yourself." "Doctor?Doctor B", Joe was stumbling over his first words, surprised he could make any sound at all. "What?Where?Where are we?" "We are at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital. You have been here for some time. Do you? Do you remember the accident?" Joe nodded. "Your injuries were quite substantial. You were in grave condition when you arrived."

Dr. B related in brief the heroic efforts of the hospital staff to keep Joe alive after the accident. Joe was incredibly moved. It was incomprehensible. Why had they done all this just to save him? He was no one special. He didn't deserve their devotion. No one had ever taken even slight measures, not to mention such extraordinary measures, on his behalf before. He was overwhelmed with gratitude. Tears filled his eyes. "Rest, Joseph. Rest some more and tomorrow we will talk again. There is much I must explain to you."

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The next day Joe was getting used to the realization that his body was useless to him. He could feel his hands and feet, he was not paralyzed, but he could not make any part of his body work. When he tried to make a fist his fingers curled only the slightest bit. He could not make himself sit up or even roll over on his stomach.

Around lunch time Dr. B. returned to tell Joe the rest of his story as promised. Once doctors had stabilized the massive internal injuries they took stock of his other injuries. Damage to bone structure, joints and muscle tissue were devastating. All agreed: Joe would almost certainly never walk again.

Dr. B was called in for a consultation. His research into a controversial treatment for skeletal tissue injuries might offer the best hope for something resembling a good outcome. The new procedure, called Radical Genetic Skeletal Reconstruction, relied on inserting new genetic code from stem cells into a patient. The genetic code would then reproduce in bones, tendons, ligaments and muscle tissue throughout the body, bringing with it instructions for producing healthy new tissue. In theory the body would generate an entirely new healthy skeletal system, self-repairing all injuries. If it worked, a patient could return to form without any lingering effects from an accident such as Joe's. Dr. B. explained that RGSR had been very effective in animal trials and one human trial on a healthy adult had just begun. The adult subject had shown no adverse effects thus far.

Dr. B. looked Joe square in the face and held his gaze. "Joseph, I am here to ask if you would consider RGSR treatment for yourself. Although I can make no guaranties, I have researched this procedure exhaustively and I firmly believe it is safe and will be effective in your case. I urge you to give it serious consideration."

Joe had already been told by other doctors that he would regain some strength and some usage of his limbs, but he would always be severely handicapped. Still, Joe had a few questions. He wanted to know all the risks of the RGSR procedure. "

Well, Joseph. First, there is the possibility that the genetic code will not self-reproduce. This has been the most difficult hurdle to overcome in my research. In that case, nothing would happen, you would receive no benefit; but no harm would be done either. The main risk comes from the fact that we do not know what kind of skeletal tissue this line is programmed to produce. I have attempted to get the healthiest and best genes possible for strong, healthy bones, joints and muscles, but we just can't be sure. You will have to have faith that the genes are programmed for healthy development."

Joe considered: RGSR might be risky, but the alternative seemed hopeless. And Joe felt he could trust this doctor. He looked Doctor B. in the eye and felt reassured. "I'll do it."

"Wonderful, Joseph. I am pleased."

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"Today's the big day Joseph!" Dr. B.'s eyes shone with good cheer. "Let's see if we can't get you out of that bed for once."

It had been two weeks since the RGSR procedure. They had inserted the stem cell derivative into the center of the small of his back. Results were dramatic and immediate. Healthy tissue began to form around the insertion extending to his front, down to his waist and up to his chest; his crooked limbs straightened, covered with taut new muscle. During the progression you could see the difference between the old tissue and the new. At one point as the genetic code advanced down his arms, his forearms looked tired, worn, thin, the skin loose and flabby, while his upper arms sported taut, new muscle that wriggled slightly with every move. At first he could sit up, then rotate his shoulders, raise his legs off the bed. Now he could make a fist and wiggle his toes. The progression was complete.

Joe sat up on the edge of the bed. With the help of Dr. B. and a nurse he placed his feet on the floor and stood up. He took a tenuous first step. It was like a miracle. He was on his feet! He was taking tentative first steps. After a few moments Dr. B. and the nurse let go and he was able to gingerly walk on his own. Slowly he was relearning the use of his body. He tottered over to the full length mirror in the corner. He had not seen himself since the accident. He was suddenly fearful of what he might see. He still felt weak and expected to see a tired, ravaged version of his former self. What he saw surprised him.

He looked?pretty good.

He had always been a little flabby, but now he looked tight, lean. Had he grown taller? The hospital gown looked a little small in the shoulders. His facial appearance had changed ever so slightly; leaner, a bit more angular a more prominent jaw line. He was pleased. Dr. B. had turned out to be a miracle worker. He had put his faith in the right man.

Dr. B. was looking on with pride and growing emotion.

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Dr. B. personally supervised Joe's physical therapy sessions. The first session was little more than a series of tests; simple physical tasks and measurements taken. Joe was still weak. He could not open a jar of peanut butter, for example. His measurements were equally unimpressive: upper arms ? 12", forearms ? 9", chest ? 34", waist ? 30", thighs ? 18", calfs ? 15". His shoulders were oddly broad, however, about two feet across. And he stood 5'8" tall. He had grown taller, if only by two inches. He still weighed 155 pounds.

Under Dr. B's supervision Joe enjoyed the physical therapy sessions where he worked all his muscles and joints until they were strong enough to do everyday tasks with ease.

One day, at the end of his physical therapy session, Dr. B. sat Joe down in his office. "Congratulations, Joseph. You have made tremendous progress; put on ten pounds since we started these sessions just two weeks ago. I think you are strong enough to go out on your own. I'm recommending your discharge from the hospital."

"Dr. B., how can I thank you enough? You have given me my life back. I can never properly repay you. I am intensely grateful."

"There is one thing you can do for me now that our Doctor- patient relationship is ending."

"Yes?"

"You can start calling me `Angelo'. And don't be a total stranger. I'd like you to check in with me once a month. We have to follow your progression closely. If you have any problems or any questions at all ? call me. Do not be shy." "Thank you Doc-?Angelo." Joe pondered just how much he would miss the good doctor.

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Everyone was shocked to see Joe back at work so soon, and shocked to see how good he looked. Somehow, he had a different look about him. If only Joe could hear the girls at the office talking about his return.

"Have you seen Joe. He's back from the hospital"
"Yeah. I saw him this morning. He looks good"
"I'll say. He's kinda good-looking, isn't he? I never noticed that before."
"Me neither. He's lost some weight or something. He looks taller."
"I noticed that too."

Joe felt great too. But he was not going to chance things. Dr. B. had shown him how to exercise properly during physical therapy and he planned to keep up the exercise. He did not want to get flabby again. During his first week out of the hospital Joe joined the local Gold's Gym and began working out regularly. For the first time in his life he could feel a pump in his muscles, he could feel his muscles filling with blood and getting rock hard while he exercised. He loved this new feeling. At first he went to the gym every other day, but soon he was going every day and he was growing, growing fast. His new clothes were getting tight and even his pants were getting short.

He thought of Angelo all the time and thought how proud the doctor would be of his progress at his next check-up. When the first month was up and it was time to check in with Angelo again, Joe could hardly control his excitement. He could not get to sleep the night before as thoughts of Angelo rolled through his head. Angelo's soft brown eyes, short, curly brown hair and strong capable hands appeared again and again before his eyes while he lay in bed.

The doctor emitted a slight gasp of surprise as he welcomed Joe into his office and waived for him to take a seat. "Well, I see we are looking well indeed, Joseph. Looks like you have kept up your exercises. Am I right?"

Suddenly bashful, Joseph admitted he had joined a gym and was working out. "I?I can't explain it but I love working out now. I go to the gym everyday."

"I see" said the doctor as he took down some notes for the file. "Well, let's get a look at you. We'll take some measurements today." Joe stripped down, no longer embarrassed by his body, and Angelo wrapped the tape measure around his arms, torso and legs, noting the dimensions in the file.

"You're quite the growing boy aren't you? You've grown another two inches and put on 30 pounds this month, all of it muscle apparently. I'm not surprised you're growing taller. The stem cells are young and don't know you are past the age for bone growth. They will figure this out and your growth should stop after another few months. But the muscle growth is a surprise. I tried to get the healthiest muscle genes I could for the RGSR. I guess I did too good a job" said the doctor chuckling.

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Joe loved his new life and new body. At 5'10", 185 pounds and growing he was becoming what he had always dreamed of. People were noticing him. Girls were checking him out in the gym. One day when he was up around 200 pounds he ran into Sally and her boyfriend Chris at the grocery store. Chris was bigger even than Joe had remembered, stretching the neck of his polo shirt, arms bulging from the sleeves. Sally introduced them, forgetting that Chris and Joe had met once before. Of course Chris did not remember Joe at all. Joes' cart was loaded with protein drinks and boneless, skinless chicken breasts. So was Chris' cart.

"Between the two of you," ventured Sally, "looks like you haven't left a scrap of chicken meat for anyone else. I swear I don't know how you can eat that much of the same thing again and again."

"You workout, Joe? I haven't seen you at the gym," said Chris.

"I workout at Gold's."

"Gold's?. That's for amateurs. You should join Mike's Gym. That's where all the serious lifters go. You need a little work, but I think you might fit in."

That was all Joe needed to hear. An invitation from Chris to join Mike's. When he went to join up the next day Chris was there working out and he vouched for him. Joe was in.

At Mike's Joe brought his lifting to new levels of effort and he grew steadily, shocking the other lifters in the gym with his lightning fast muscle growth. Soon he was almost as big as Chris, his new training partner.

At his second monthly checkup with Dr. Buenasobras Joe waddled into the office, carefully placing one thigh ahead of the other, his arms resting on his lats, extended out from his sides at an angle, his neck had become as thick around as his head, his traps mountains of muscle, his forearms were corded with blood vessels and his biceps rolled and popped into rock hard peaks when he curled his arms. His pecs were heaving slabs of muscle. The Doctor recorded his measurements: 6 foot and 250 pounds, 20 inch arms, 60 inch chest and 30 inch thighs.

Joe told Angelo that he had found a great training partner and he planned to explore his new body to the fullest, to see just how big he could become. He thought Angelo would be pleased. This would give Angelo valuable data for his research, but Angelo seemed strangely upset with this. "Your new partner will only hold you back. You should stick with me," was all he said.

Joe could not believe it. Angelo was?was?was what? Jealous? How could it be? Angelo had taught Joe a lot about exercise. Angelo was a big man, 5'10" maybe 200 pounds, but he was no match for Chris, a bonafide, 6'4", 270 pound bodybuilder. Certainly Chris would not hold him back. And certainly Angelo could not match Chris for knowledge and experience in the weight game.

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After this Joe lost interest in Angelo and his research project. He gave up on the monthly checkups. He and Chris became maniacs in the gym and fast friends outside of it. One day, relaxing at Chris' place after a grueling workout, Chris marveled at how fast Joe was growing. "I think you may be as big as I am now."

"Well, I doubt that. Since we teamed up you've been growing yourself, Chris."

"Yeah, but I can't keep up with you. Let's measure. Here you go," said Chris, tossing Joe a tape measure, "Let's start with you measuring me."

Joe ran the tape around Chris' massive chest. Chris' pecs clinched and fluttered, heaving up in response to Joe's touch. Joe ran the tape right across Chris' taut nipples, around his massive lats and back. Chris stood with his giant muscle-laden arms out from his sides. "64 inches," called out Joe.

Chris' rock hard six-pack abs measured 34 inches, an incredible thirty inch differential. 23 inch arms and 30 inch thighs rounded out his 290 pound body. He had gained 20 pounds of pure mass since beginning to train with Joe.

Joe was next. He wanted desperately to be bigger. If he were bigger than Chris, he would be the biggest guy in the gym. Joe looked at himself in the full-length mirror. Could it be true? Might he be bigger even than Chris? He took stock. He was not quite as tall as Chris but he was thick, superthick. His neck and forearms jutted out of his shirt and exuded power and size. His pecs were his best body part. He loved to work pecs. In fact, during today's chest workout his tee shirt ripped open, spilling his giant ponderous knockers out of his ripping shirt. Others in the gym involuntarily gasped in disbelief.

His shorts were slit up the sides to make room for his explosive thighs that jiggled and rearranged themselves with every lumbering step. He cinched the beltline of his pants up against his rack of abs with a length of clothesline.

Joe began to remove his shirt for Chris to measure him. It was getting harder to dress and undress himself these days. Now he could not bend his arms far enough to get his hands to the neck line of his tee shirt. Chris had to help him off with the shirt. He caught a glimpse of himself, shirtless, in the mirror as Chris prepared to measure. For the first time it really hit home hard. He was, in a word, magnificent. Hugely magnificent. A warm glow of happiness spread over him as Chris reported: 70" chest, 25" arms, 35" thighs, 35" waist. He was 6'2" and 300 pounds. He was as big as the biggest of bodybuilders.

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Occasionally he would get a card from Angelo. Angelo wished him well, apologized for being a bit terse at their last meeting, asked Joe to please resume his visits.

But Joe was too busy lifting and growing and enjoying new experiences to give the good doctor much thought. Wherever he went he was the center of attention. He had become an incredible muscle freak. He was monstrous, inhuman even.

He knew people must think he was on steroids so he began joining any drug tested muscle event he could find. At Musclemania, his 6'4", 350 pound frame towered over the others and made big men look puny beside him. In his first drug-free powerlifting association meet, at a body weight of 400 pounds he broke the world record in all three lifts, benching a stunning 1050 pounds.

He was constantly bulging out of his clothes and eventually had to hire a seamstress to custom-make all his clothing. Floorboards trembled with each ponderous step he took. The look of confidence in his eyes had made him even more handsome. He reveled in his new size and loved to flex and jiggle his massive mounds of muscle. He was living the life and enjoying every minute.

His enormously broad shoulders and gargantuan arm-raising lats made doorways a constant challenge. As a rule, he now turned sideways before squeezing through. And still he grew larger and larger. One night as he went to bed he realized he could not fit through his bedroom door even sideways. It was time for a custom-built house, with a custom-built gym and a built-in apartment for Chris.

With two months to go before his first Mr. Olympia contest Chris and Joe agreed Joe would hole up in the new house, working out with Chris in the Gym and Chris would do all the shopping. Joe would stay out of the public eye until contest time. And at the Olympia he would provide people with the shock of their lives.

It was well-known that Joe would be competing and he was the odds-on favorite to win. He was already known to be the largest and strongest athlete in history. But no one was prepared for what Joe had become. He had stopped growing at 6'6" tall, but his muscles had kept right on expanding.

As he walked on stage for the pre-judging the stage trembled. The floor noticeably gave way beneath him. His legs were so thick and the muscles jumbled and danced so much that he could only take small steps, approaching the lineup like a battleship under weigh. He had ballooned to an immense 600 pounds of solid muscle.

His lats pushed his muscle-engorged arms out to almost a 90 degree angle. His pecs danced and heaved with each movement of his body, occasionally slapping against the side of his face. His neck flared to almost twice the thickness of his head and settled into boulder-sized traps that almost engulfed his head.

His forearms were thicker than thick and rippling with corded muscle, tapering to the wrists like giant hams. When he flexed his arms the biceps rose majestically into basketball-sized orbs of solid, impenetrable muscle.

The pecs on his unbelievable 135" chest were thick promontories that held dominion over a thick, rock-hard 45" waist carved from rolls of ab muscles and slabs of obliques.

He was majestic. He was content. He had become as big as big itself. And he was loving it. His handsome face shone. He had arrived for all the world to see.

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Addressing the media after his Olympia win he thanked Chris, his 300 pound partner, of course. But he could not help but think of Angelo. It was Angelo really who made this all possible; made it possible for him to be the biggest muscle freak of all time and the strongest man to ever walk the planet. He missed Angelo. He needed to visit with Angelo. It was true that Chris could only take him so far. He had surpassed Chris by 300 pounds. Something told him that Angelo could take him even farther, make him even happier.

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As he waddled up the walk to Angelo's medical research building he noticed that a new wing had been built. "I should not be surprised," Joe thought, "enough time has passed. I have built a new house in the meantime as well." He was too large to enter through the front door so he knocked and waited.

"Joseph, welcome back" a familiar orderly greeted him as he came to the door. "We have been waiting for you. Please walk over to the new wing and enter there."

"I'm afraid I won't fit through the door. Can't Dr. B. meet me here?"

"Oh, don't worry. You'll fit. The new wing was built for just this purpose. It has extra-wide doorways and corridors."

Joe was a bit taken aback as he heaved his massive body down the walk toward the new wing. "We have been waiting for you," he repeated to himself. "Oh, really?," Joe thought, "they just knew I would be back, did they? They built an oversized wing, they were so certain I would be back." He was peeved that Angelo could be so cock-sure of himself. And more peeved because Angelo had been right, of course. He was back.

Just then, Joe spotted Angelo coming out of the new wing. And the sight stopped Joe in his tracks.

They had not built the new wing for Joe. Angelo was enormous. He was a tremendous mountain of a man, with muscles that rivaled Joe's in almost every respect. Angelo's scrubs were stretched to the bursting point, his giant pecs dancing, heaving with each step. Massive muscle-laden arms emerged from his shirt sleeves.

"Angelo!" Joe cried out, laughing with joy. "You're a monster! Why, you're almost as big as I am."

"Damn right Joseph. 550 pounds to your 600."

And suddenly Joe felt complete. He would stay with Angelo and Angelo with him, forever. And they would be happy and perfectly content. Joe just knew this to be true.

"Tell me all about it Angelo. How did you do it? Why did you do it?"

"Well, I told you there had been one other human trial before you, didn't I? I wouldn?t have tried RGSR on you unless I had already accepted the risks myself. It being my research and all, I thought I owed you that at least. I learned a lot from your case, from our cases, I guess you would say. You?ll be pleased to know that I have improved the genetic code with a new stem cell line. There won't be any more hyper-muscled RGSR patients after the two of us. Just healthy normal muscle for future patients."

"That's good?I suppose. But why? Why did you build yourself in the gym into a fellow muscle freak?"

"For you. Joseph." And a smile crept across Angelo's face.

"You know," said Joe, "ever since the accident my life has been almost perfect. I am living the life I always wished for. In fact, this is beyond my dreams. I am a muscle god; and now you are too. It's as if I died and went to heaven."

Angelo made sure to hold Joe's eyes in his as he said, "Precisely, Joseph."

And Joe understood.

[greedycigarson]

I don't post often.

This is a great story. Hits my personal fetish juust right. Reminds me of Immobilization of Jake, which is one of my favorite stories.

I noticed you don't have any other stories posted. If you have other stuff you're holding back on, let us see! And if not..

Definitely keep writing. A second chapter to this exploring truly freakish muscle would be great, but if you have other ideas, let's see that too. This is a great story.

[pudzian]

Thanks for your kind comments, Greedy. They were enough to get me up for writing another one; which I did and posted under the title "Build A Better Mousetrap..."

I wrote "A Better Place" some years ago and just got around to posting it yesterday. Until today it was my only muscle growth story. The new one took about 3 hours to do from concept to posting, but I got a little board with it about halfway through. Therefore, it 's not as polished. I 'm sorry but I would not expect more stories anytime soon. I'd do it just for a lark, but would need something completely original as I get bored pretty easy and would never go over the same terrain twice.

Still, I am truly grateful for your appreciation and encouragement. I hope you enjoy "Build A Better Mouse Trap..." but I warn you, it's quite different from this one.

[redroger11]

Well there you go again. a great story. It's got to have some heart to it or its just a wet dream.
These stories have some meat to them.

Redroger11