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Gym of Dreams
|"Oh God, I donít look like that do I?"
The day started out normally. I had just finished up my shower and was preparing to shave when I realized that I had run out of shaving cream. I wrap a towel around myself and I head towards my roommateís bathroom. He was already gone to work and I could roam freely around. I walk into his bathroom and grab the can of shaving gel he uses. Then I saw myself in his full mirror. I was appalled by what I saw. I used to avoid looking at myself, but being confronted with that shocked me. There I was, slightly wet and in a towel, and I hated how I looked. My shoulders hung down as if I were slouching. I had man-boobs that rivaled most women and my gut sagged over the towel around my waist. I hesitated before removing the towel, and I wish I didnít. Fat continued down towards my penis and it looked like thatís all there was. A small penis protruded from what seemed like a giant fat pocked. I dropped the towel on the floor and I cried. I sat there in my roommateís bathroom, an hour before I had to be at work and I wept as if I were dying.
"Elementary School was amazing. Middle School can only be betteríí Our sixth grade year was coming to a close and we all were excited. School was fun up till now, it can only get better right? Our entire class seemed to look forward to the new school. We were going to meet new people and see new things and it was going to be amazing.
How foolish I was back then.
Middle School seemed to be horrible for me. During Elementary School, I was smart, a little chubby, and an all around kind guy. Everyone accepted me for that. I was also a bit weird. I specialized in a unique form of martial arts and I naturally felt things that other people couldnít feel, and sensed things that people were unaware of. I always had a sixth sense about things and people, and it seemed I was one of the luckiest people there. Everyone knew that about me, but didnít mind it and appreciated it.
Middle School, all that changed. Going from where everyone was accepted to your normal cliques was a trying time for me. The friends I used to have became jocks and preppy people while I was resigned to "weird geek". For a while, I continued to hang out with them, but we grew apart. It was only made worse by the publicizing of my "gift". People that I could tell were spiteful began to taunt me about it. And because they were the jocks, more people followed suit. Previously nice people fell to peer pressure. It saddened me greatly, but I took it in stride. I still had some friends and I was doing ok.
Then, my life started to get worse. As the oldest son, certain things were expected of me. My mother would ask of things of my younger brother, such as simple household chores or help with a project. Unless he was interested, he would refuse. So, my mother would call upon me. I would go and do whatever she asked, and it put pressure on me to do so. I wanted to be more like my brother, but I felt the responsibility to do what she asked. I felt mounting pressure from all sides, my social, academic, and home life. In the end, me not being able to open up would cause a lot of suffering.
This day started out as any other. Iím beaming happiness around me, trying to make others feel better. My presence usually did that and others felt good around me, but today was different. As the day went on, I felt more and more drained, people all around me were either teasing me or were needing to feel better. And I continued to take the taunts and help people. It was nearing the end of the day, and I was outside our gym. I was approached by a guy at my height but more lean and confident. He had his friends with him and decided that he was going to taunt me as I waited for my parent. He followed me calling me a "gay fat ass" repeatedly and something inside me snapped.
Sometimes I regret it and sometimes I donít. Iím sure he has never forgotten. That day, he didnít go home, but instead to the ER. I ended up shattering a knee, dislocating his shoulder, breaking an elbow and breaking a ball. I did not know before that day that you could break a ball, and I thought it was cool at first. It cost me a weekís suspension, but I felt it was worth it. When I came back to school, I found that the guy who taunted me changed schools. I felt bad for snapping on him and decided that I must lock away my feelings no matter how much. I was dangerous if I got mad and I would have to control it. In the end, that desire for control would be my greatest downfall.
From that day on, I showed no emotion. I took every taunt and jab with a smile and I did my best to make everyone feel better. I helped my parents with a smile and never complained. But at the end of the day, I lay in my bed and I cried. I wanted to be loved and I wanted to confess everything to someone, but I had to be strong for everyone. It was hell for me, but I endured it because I saw the look on my motherís face when I did what she asked when my brother wouldnít, and I saw how happy people were when I helped them with their problems.
But almost every night, I laid alone and I cried. The pressure was getting to me. Constant taunting and constant helping drained me constantly and I spent hours alone in my room just sitting there. It was all I could do to remain sane. No one in my life knew. Not my parents, my friends, my teachers, no one. To everyone, I was the good son, smart student and all around helpful guy. It didnít change when I was high school.
High school started as horrible for me. The teasing that I endured in middle only increased in high. While people around me grew taller and stronger, I grew slightly taller and a lot fatter, which in turn made more people taunt me. I started to grow dejected from it. It took all my effort just to withstand the taunting that I began to show distress in my daily actions. My mother began to ask me what was wrong, but I continued to use the mask of the obedient son. I couldnít tell anyone my true feelings and it tore me up inside. I knew one day I would probably snap again and I was scared of what I would do.
Then I met him. His name was Bacon. Coach Bacon. I was walking around the school near the end of the day, feeling drained as ever. My posture was slumped and my mood projected sadness. He approached me and asked me my name. I told him and he asked what was I doing. I said nothing and he said to me why wasnít I at football practice. I told him that I never thought about playing football and I was too fat and out of shape. Years of people saying I was fat had crept deep into my psyche and I believed it. He looked at me and said that he wanted me in the weight room fifteen minutes after school ended. I looked at him and I said ok. As we talked, I examined him. He wore a the schoolís teacher shirt and a pair of gym shorts, so I knew he had to be a coach, but what impressed me was his size.
He was about my height, 5í8íí (1.72m) and I guessed around 300lbs (136kg). But what struck me most was while most of the coaches were either fat or old and slim, he was solid muscle. He bulged against the shirt well in the chest and arms and the fabric clung to his flat stomach as his shirt was tucked into his shorts. His legs were the proverbial tree trunks and I understood why he wore shorts. It would be almost impossible to fit his massive quads and calves into a pair of pants that fit his smaller waist which I guess was around 30íí (76cm). He wasnít ripped like a model, but he was very solidly built. He carried himself with confidence and my senses told me all I needed to know about his personality before he even spoke. To me, he felt like a kind, yet powerful man, stern but fair and loyal to those whoíve proven themselves. He had the aura of a good man, completely truthful and someone I could trust with anything.
After he walked off, I went to call my mother and tell her to pick me up later that night. I made my way toward the weight room that was on the edge of the school and on the first floor. En route, I encountered the football team. They were in their practice clothes, wearing no pads for practice that day. Each of them seemed to carry themselves with more confidence than me, and that made them seem to look better than me in my eyes. Each of them seemed to have be playing for years, and their bodies showed the effort they put in the sport. I slunk down, ashamed of myself and walk by, ignoring the questions of what I was doing there and worked my way toward the weight room.
I enter the weight room and am confronted by the smell. It smelt like muscle sweat and tears. It was overpowering, but for some reason felt natural to me. I step in a little bit more, entering a slight foyer of it. I look around and see that itís empty, but for some reason, Iím not comfortable. I say to myself that I just donít belong here and I turn to leave when he puts his hand on my shoulder. Itís a massive hand, befitting someone like him and firm yet comforting. He turns me around and says to me where I was going. I look at him and Iím awed and I respond, nowhere.
He stood in front of me, changed from before. Now, he wore a black tank top that seemed to be huge if it were on me, but hung from his shoulders as if it was tailored for him. His arms, which were big in his teacherís shirt, seemed massive hanging from his broad shoulders. His chest stood barreled before me, his pecs sitting upon it like two chiseled stones. He also was a lot hairy than I expected. His teacherís shirt showed his forearms before, but I didnít notice them until now. His forearms were huge, fitting his upper arms well. They were vascular and hair flowed down them. In the tank top though, you could see that his whole torso was covered with a layer of hair, not thick like an old manís, but very distinct. It gave him the appearance of a primal force. He had changed his shorts also, wearing a pair that was slightly tighter, I presume so they wouldnít get in the way of his work outs. They fit his legs snuggly and I could see the distinct outline of his massive cock, seemingly guarded by his massive quads. Everything thing about him seemed to fit and it seemed that he was a man among men to me.
He says to me that he was the strength training coach and asked me again why I wasnít playing ball. I looked into his eyes and I felt compelled to tell him the truth. My senses told me he was someone I could trust completely, so I opened myself to him. I told him everything about my years in middle school and my first year of high school. I told him about my gift and I told him exactly how I felt when I walked by the guys on the football team. He takes me by the shoulder and leads me to the door. We walk out and he points me toward the practice field about 100m away. Itís surrounded by a track and I can see the team practicing. He points at them and asks me what do I see. I tell him that I see big guys and fit guys playing ball. He says to me if I see them better than I am. I frankly state that yes, they were better than me. They were the jocks. They were stronger and faster and better than I was. He turns me to him and asks me if thatís how I really feel. I sadly peer into his eyes and whisper yes. It pained me to no end to say it, but it was true. I always felt less than the jocks. I donít know when it happened, but one day, It just was like that.
I hung my head in shame, tears forming in my eyes. Coach placed his other hand on my shoulder and made me look at him. I couldnít face him like this. I was breaking down again. I promised to myself that I had to be strong no matter what. But when confronted with him, asking me these questions, peering into my very soul with his sea blue eyes, I felt that couldnít be strong anymore. I had to let someone know. He took me back into the empty weight room and made me look at him again. By this time, the tears were welling down my face. I couldnít control myself, I just had to cry. He pulled me closer and made me look into his eyes again. He told me, you have to do something about it or else you always will feel like that. His words were inspiring to me and I began to feel better. I dried my tears and stood up a bit. He said to me, we start your new life today, go get changed.
I grabbed my bag and I headed to the bathroom in the weight room. I change into my gym clothes, a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. When I finished and exited the bathroom, Coach had already set up a bench and a squat rack for me. He said good, youíre ready. He guided me through various stretches, and I followed his every instruction. After thirty minutes of good stretching, he led me to bench. On it, there is one 45lb weight per side. He told me to get on the bench and lift it. I laid down and tried my hardest to lift it, and could only do it twice. I began to feel bad again, I was so weak. He saw my despair and told me that it wasnít bad, that someone my age with no weight training before was good to do that. He then led me over to the squat rack. As Iím walking, some of the linemen came in. They noticed me and instantly started to tease me. I was about to ignore then but Coach roared at them telling them not to fuck with me. That I had just as much right to be there as they did. And he told them not to mess with me anymore for being who I was.
I was shocked. No one ever before stood up for me, and now I had a giant of a man there for me. The other guys went about their business and Coach continued to guide me through the various exercises. I did what he ordered me to squat while he spotted. I felt no one else in the gym while he worked with me. There was nothing else but him and me there at that point. All I could see was him and the weights, all I could hear was his voice and the clanking of plates, and I could smell his scent. I think it was his scent that made me forget about everyone. He smelt uniquely, but not overpoweringly. He smelt of weights and muscle and sweat. Simply put, he smelt like a man. I decided right then that I wanted to grow to be like him.
The months passed by in a blur. I worked out everyday with him, his guidance forming me as I lifted what he told me to lift. I felt myself growing stronger and more confident, and I knew that Coach was impressed. He encouraged me daily, saying to keep up the hard work. I also became more and more impressed with him. Even though he was a massive man, he was more gentle and loyal to me than anyone Iíve ever knew. My first feelings about him were completely correct, I thought each day. He was someone I could trust completely, and I did. Plus he constantly amazed me with his strength. I saw him in the course of a few years lift weights I couldnít imagine. He was constantly challenged by the big guys in the school, trying to prove their alpha status to others. They would place more weight on the bench than I could imagine doing then lift it about three times. Then Coach would stroll over, work out eight to ten reps of it, and then return to helping me. I witnessed him squat every one hundred pound and forty-five pound weight in the gym. I watched him lift and I saw the pure unadulterated power he possessed, and I enjoyed it. Watching his muscles tense and tighten at the weight, and him lifting it as if it was nothing aroused me. I could watch him all day, his chest, his back, his legs, they all were the definition of muscle. Seeing him flex in the mirror after a good pump, his arms bulging and rippling, his pecs standing out, his quads and calves bouncing, his body becoming more and more defined as he worked brought me great pleasure and pride.
After a year of hard training, I felt confident enough to try out for the football team. With Coach backing me up, I became a defensive guard. In my mind, I felt better, but still had hang ups about everyone being better than me. At least now I had weightlifting to work out these feelings.
I played football my junior year and loved it. But it would seem that my happiness would end soon. My senior year, Coach transferred to another school. Without him, I began to feel less and less confident about myself, and slowly fell from where I was. People began to talk about me again, and I felt more and more depressed. I continued to lift, but not with the intensity that I once possessed with Coach backing me. Eventually, I felt I didnít belong and I stopped lifting. Slowly, throughout the year, my body which was getting firm and hard with muscle, began to decline. I stopped caring about how I looked and I just took the teasing that came with it. It felt bad, but what else could I do I told myself.
"God, how far have I fallen?"
I decide to walk over to the scale. Itís been years since Iíve weighed myself, not since I was in high school. Since going to work straight out of high school, I had let my body lose a lot of what I had. I step on the scale and am again shocked and depressed. While in school, I weighed around 250. I was still big but had a good layer of muscle. Right then, the scale showed me nearing 290. I stepped off the scale, picked up my towel and put the shaving cream back. I got dressed and slowly made my way to work. I spent the entire day dejected, crying at my desk at some points. "How could Iíve fallen so far? Why didnít I stick to my goal? What would Coach say if he saw me now?" Questions ran through my head all day, and when no one was looking, I wept bitter tears. I promised myself that I had to change. Iíll never be happy if I continue to be like this. I would always hang my head low around bigger guys and I would always be ashamed to be shirtless if I didnít change something.
So began my new life. I started by looking up info on the internet about diet and exercise. Alone, I trimmed down a bit and cleaned up my diet greatly. But thereís only so much you can do with diet alone. I knew I had to get into a gym. Around my town, there are about half a dozen gyms, a lot of Goldís Gyms. I decided to tour various gyms, looking for a place to belong. I started with Goldís, but the moment I walked in the door, I felt that I didnít belong. The only people there were people in great shape and huge muscles. Although I loved seeing the big guys work out, I couldnít stand how I felt they were staring at me. My childhood had come back to haunt me some more.
Then I found a home. It was a small gym, reminiscent of my school days. It felt comfortable and it had the same smell as I remember; Metal, sweat and tears. But as I go through it on the tour, I see guys bigger than I can imagine lifting. Their clothing is tight on their bodies and they massive bodies are flexing with power that comes from years of effort. As I walk through the gym, Iím awed at it all and I begin to feel like I didnít belong again. The tour ends and Iím told that Iím free to work out. I stand and look a bit, seeing the big guys working hard, and I slump again and prepare to leave. On the way to the locker room where I stored my work clothes, Iím stopped by a massive hand on my shoulder.
"So, how do you like our gym?" I hear from behind me. The voice is massive and booming, a bass or a baritone, and I feel my senses kicking into high gear. Before I see him, I feel a familiar type of person. I feel strength and power, but with kindness and gentleness. I turn around to see a giant of a man, towering over me at least 6í8íí (2m). His shoulders are massive and are almost twice as large as me. His chest is barreled and tapers to a perfect V, leading down to his 34íí (86cm) waist. His arms are as big as my legs and are ripped to shreds. His stomach seems to be rippled with abs through his sleeveless shirt and his legs seem like massive tree trunks, almost as wide as my torso. I look up to him and he reminds me so much of my old Coach.
He asks me again, "What do you think?"
I say to him after I catch my breath a little, "I donít know. I feel kinda weird here."
"Why is that?"
I look into his eyes. They are a shade of sea blue, so reminiscent of my old Coach, and I also feel the same sense of trust that I did from him. I look his massive body, starting to lower my head in shame again, and he says to me, "Wanna talk about it?"
We head to the locker room. Even as we walked, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. We get to the locker room and weíre alone. I break down and tell him everything. He ends up listening to my complete story, and he seems very intent on helping me. I manage not to cry and it felt good to let it out. He walks over to my bench and sits down. He placed his massive hand on my shoulder and turn me toward him.
"I know what itís like man. I felt the same way you do now. I felt no one loved me and I was a fat ass who was worthless too." He pulls out his wallet and pulls out a picture. In it I see a guy that looks a lot like me. He is smiling in the picture, but he slouching a lot. His stomach is protruding beneath his shirt and his body is smooth and undefined all over, like I was now. I can sense an aura of sadness coming from the person in the picture and I can feel what he feels.
"This was me about 5 years ago" I look at the picture again and I canít believe it was him. He currently stands at a giant, but in the picture, he seems to be only 6í tall. His current massive frame seems to dwarf what he used to be. His arms were lanky and thin, his legs chunky, and everything seems to say that it was another person. The only thing that remained the same was his eyes, a gentle sea blue. I could see the pain in his eyes in the picture, the same pain that I experienced now.
I look up to him and I see a gentleness in his eyes. They tell me more than his words could ever say. They told me that he truly understood what it was like to be me. They explained that what Iím going through can be overcome. His eyes spoke truisms to me greater than any I ever heard before and I understood what he went through. I begin to breakdown again. Tears start falling from my eyes and I put my head into my hands. He puts his wallet away and he takes me in his massive arms. My tears fall down his barreled chest and he pulls me in tighter. I feel completely safe in his giant hug, and my fears begin to subside. I rub my eyes in his shirt and he gently pats me on my shoulder. I gather my composure and I sit up again.
"I donít know what happened there" I lie.
"Yes you do and I know too. I was like you once. I would probably still be as hopeless and sad as you are now if it wasnít for someone who showed me they cared."
I look at him and I sense he truly does care for me. "How can you care about me that much? Youíve just met me and I am such a fat ass."
"Stop thinking like that," he chided me. "Youíll never change unless you change how you think. Itís not easy, believe me, but I see that you have a large frame and youíve worked out before, so you should be familiar with it all"
"How can you tell all that?" I questioned, "I look completely fat. You must think Iím horrible"
He hits me across the face with a firm slap and growls, "I wonít let my new gym partner talk about himself like that."
I was completely shocked and amazed. In thirty minutes, this man has gone from an unknown guy to my giant hero. I stand up with a huge smile on my face. He looks at me and smiles. He stands to his full height and pats me on the shoulder.
"Thattaboy, now letís go hit those weights" he laughs. I watch his huge chest as he laughs and it awes me. I look at it and I desire that power, and I follow him out into the main room. I watch him as he walks and I see how he strides with power and confidence and I wish that I have that one day.
I lifted with him that day. I found out that I havenít lost as much strength as I thought I did and I could still lift a good bit. He stood over me, a muscled colossus, pushing me harder than Iíve ever been pushed before. And I loved every minute of it. I knew deep inside that as long as he was there, I would be safe no matter what the weight. He made me burn muscles Iíve never felt before, and when we were finished and I was spent, he led me to the front counter.
"Two of the Usual Joe!" he barks, his deep voice carrying across the gym.
"Sure thing Armstrong!" I chuckle aloud, thinking that Armstrong is such a fitting name for this immense man. He looks down at me and says, "Yeah, I forgot to introduce myself, they call me Armstrong. Mike Armstrong." I reach to shake his hand and tell him my name. He grabs my hand and itís a firm shake, his hand engulfing mine.
The guy behind the counter finishes making our shakes, and I am slightly hesitant to drink. Iíve never had anything like this before. Sensing my anxiety, Armstrong leans down a bit and says, "Extra large peanut butter and chocolate, with a little extra something." Iím shocked, peanut butter and chocolate is my favorite combination. I take a giant sip of the concoction, and it tastes slightly funny, but is excellent. Armstrong takes two huge swallows of his and slams the cup down. "Ahh that was good" he bellows. "Hey Joe. This is my new buddy Sam. Heís gonna be under my tab for now." "Ok big guy!"
I look up at him while drinking more of my shake. "This guy is amazing. I havenít known him a day yet and heís already more than I couldíve ever hoped for." I think to myself. "And heís huge and powerful. Heís all that I aspire to be. I mean, Iím still working on this shake that he took down in two gulps. Look how his chest works as he talks and his arms move. I hope to be like that one day. No, I will be like that one day. No matter what!"
Armstrong finishes his chat with Joe the owner as I finish my shake. "Itís getting late, letís go clean up," he says to me. I look around the gym and see that thereís only a couple of people left in the gym besides Armstrong, Joe and myself. "Hey Joe, weíre hitting the showers, Iíll lock up when weíre done." Joe nods in agreement. A wave of panic rushes over me. Iíve never been comfortable showering around guys because I was uncomfortable with my size down there, now I am to shower with this behemoth of muscle? I tense up a little and Armstrong whispers, "Donít worry, itíll be alright." I gasp slightly, how can he know exactly how I feel so easily. What is it about this man?
We work our way to the locker room as the last people leave the gym. Joe locks the door behind him as we enter the locker room. I didnít get to look around it earlier, but I took the time to look at it more. It was a large room, public shower and a few scales. In the corner was a sauna and the lockers were open except the ones we were using, which ironically were right next to each other. I think to myself how perfect this day has gone so far.
Then I look towards Armstrong. Heís already stripped down to nothing and it is here that I catch his full glory. Nothing in the gym came close to comparing to how he looked now, not even him clothed. His upper torso was covered in a light layer of hair that accentuated his enormous pecs. The hair started at his bull-like neck like a collar, and worked down his arms, thinning ever so slightly as it progressed to his hands. The hair seemed to follow every indentation and ripple of his arm, sinking into place where ever he had a depression. The hair on his lower torso was completely different, centered mainly on his rippled abs. I could see eight specific muscles, each more defined by the layer of hair that set upon them and in the crevices between them, but only his abs had hair on them, the rest of his lower torso was completely smooth. The trail of hair led my eyes naturally to his cock. When my eyes got there my heart skipped a beat. It was the most perfect example of manhood I could imagine. While the majority of his body had a layer of hair, his cock and balls were completely smooth. It hung down his leg around ten inches soft, and his balls sagged back and forth, befitting a penis of that magnitude. I drew my eyes away long enough to see his massive legs. They also were covered in a light but noticeable layer of hair, and like the rest of his body, they too were extremely well defined and I could trace with my eyes every muscle striation in his massive quads and calves.
He stood before me, not as a mere man or a giant, but as the epitome of manliness, almost a god. He twisted and turned a bit, stretching his muscles from the work out, and I let out a slight gasp. He looks over to me and says, "You too can have this one day. Just stick with me." He flexes a powerful arm and it looks bigger than it did when we were lifting. I can feel my cock getting hard, but I try to control my urges. Armstrong looks at me with his piercing blue eyes and quietly says, "I know. Itís ok." I take off my gym clothes and I stand before the giant bare. He guides me over to a scale and says hop on. Iím weary of it, I donít want to be disappointed, but his giant hand comforts me again. I step on it, and it seems that Iíve lost around five pounds since we started this morning. I laugh and tell him and he responds, "Itís only gonna get better"
We walk over to the shower, me following him in. He starts lathering up and passes me the soap. I take his kind gift and I try to wash myself, but my eyes are fixated upon the Herculean specimen of man near me. He looks over to me, covered in water and soap and motions for me to come closer. I am shocked but I walk over to him. He tells me in a gentle and caring voice, "Go ahead. Feel them. I can tell you want to." I look up at him, my eyes questioning him. He nods in affirmation. I approach the massive giant, slowly caressing his massive body. I moan in delight over every ridge and depression of his muscles. "This feels amazing, like nothing Iíve ever imagined before" I groan in pleasure. "Work hard and all this can be yours too" he whispers. He hands me his wash cloth, and I wash his entire body from head to toe, him kneeling so I could reach his upper heights. I avoided his massive meat but he noticed and said it was ok. Ten inches of meat soft doesnít compare to the full glory of his cock hard. It was almost as long as my arm and so thick I needed both hands to wrap it. After washing his body, then mine, we exit the shower and towel ourselves dry. I have a raging boner but it doesnít compare to Armstrongís. I look at myself and feel shame again. I have no right to be here with this monstrous muscle man. And the instance that thought comes across my mind, I feel the firm slap of Armstrongís hand across the side of my face. "I told you I wonít have any gym partner of mine thinking like that. I said you can be here, so accept it. Youíre allowed to feel this anytime you want to. Youíll have your own body like this soon enough."
His words spoke to my very essence. I began to lose all the feelings of doubt I had over the years. This titanic guy chose me before he even knew me, I had to have some worth. It didnít matter what happened all those years ago. This was the now. Nothing else was of my concern, just me and Armstrong. If he tolerated my presence, chose it, what right did I have to complain? I look up at the big guy and smile. "Youíre right man."
"Damn right I am."
I put on my clothes as I watch him dress. Everything about him was perfect and almost too good to be true. Iím still sporting a boner and so is he and I wonder what would it be like to make a guy like that cum. Almost in response to my thought, Armstrong looks toward me and says under his breath, "Youíre not ready for that yet, still a little doubt." I didnít understand what he meant, I thought he was just mumbling and I tried to figure out what he was talking about when he speaks up, "Ok Sam, time to go. Meet me here tomorrow at 5 p.m." I nod in acknowledgement and we exit the gym.
I fall flat in my bed, dead tired from the dayís events. My head is swimming with all that had happened as I drift off to sleep, and I dream. In my dream, Iím in a empty room, surrounded by white clouds and blue skies. A giant booming voice, familiar yet strange, distance yet surrounding speaks to me.
"Youíve suffered many years with your gift. Weíve seen it all and we were pleased with you. Youíve given of yourself selflessly without concern for your own being. You took your trials in stride and now we present you with your reward. Take and learn of him and he will grant you your greatest desires and you most secret wishes"
The clouds that Iím standing on change to a vast sea. Crystal water flows as far as the eye can see against a backdrop of a perfectly clear sky. I slowly descend to the water surface, landing yet not breaking the tranquil state. I look around and feel a sense of peace and as I take in it all, a figure steps forth on the water. Itís a massive figure, and as it approaches, I can tell itís Armstrong.
"Continue to share your gifts with the world. Bring joy to everyoneís life you meet and he will be there to refresh you to continue sharing with the world. Remember, he is pleased with you as are we."
The figure on the water top takes a familiar appearance and smiles at me. He gives me a thumbs up and the scene begins to fade. I wake up suddenly, sitting straight up in my bed. I look around my room and feel a sense of peace. I slowly drift back off to sleep and I dream.
The next few months are amazing. Each day ends with a shake, a measurement and a shower with me feeling him. Iím losing fat and growing muscle steadily, even getting taller as Armstrong helps me lift. I havenít seen myself in months because Armstrong told me not to look at myself and I trust him. His presence is almost intoxicating. Whenever Iím around him, I feel as if anythingís possible. I feel stronger than ever. My body is becoming massive and Iíve grown to a respectable 6í4íí in a second growth spurt. I feel more solid and hair is beginning to grow across my body in a pattern like Armstrong.
A year goes by, and Armstrong takes me to a full length mirror. He tells me to take off my gym clothes and he does the same. I stand next to him and Iím amazed at the progress Iíve made. If you didnít know Armstrong and me before, you would have sworn that he and I were brothers. I now stood at a height of 6í5íí and I looked like a slightly smaller version of Armstrong. My body seemed to be shaped exactly like his, hair in all the same places and the same muscles bulged in the same places. He then told me to take off my boxers. I wondered what he meant by that, but as I did, I noticed that not only had my body grown, so did my penis. It had grown to a respectable 9.5 inches, just slightly smaller than Armstrong like everything else. Standing there naked, I looked exactly like Armstrong except for my face. Even looking closer at my face, I saw changes in my face. It looks slimmer, my jaw line more defined. My cheeks were less puffy and my skin was tighter. Except for a few differences, Armstrong and I were twins. I looked at him and asked "How is this possible?"
"You worked hard this past year. What were you expecting"
"But this is truly amazing"
"Remember those shakes we drink every day? Recall how I said there was something special in them?
"It was my sweat you were drinking in small doses. It doesnít do much in reality, but it does give you an extra oomph when youíre working out. My body seems to sweat a small amount of testosterone when I work out"
I look at him and I donít doubt him for a second. He said it and I believe him. Itís not gonna change anything about our relationship. In reality, tasting his sweat kind of made me aroused. We shower up for the evening and Iím even more into it, and he starts to wash me also. Iím washing him and heís washing me, both of us in a soapy embrace. My cock is getting harder as we wash up and it begins to throb. I feel Armstrongís cock is the same way, but he stops me before we get started good. "Not yet," he says to me. I calm myself down as we towel off and he says to me, "Meet me at the mall tomorrow instead of here."
The next day, I head to the nearby mall. Iím wearing my blue sweats, the ones I bought since I started growing. Armstrong waves me down and I yell a greeting at him. Iím amazed at how big my voice even sounds now. I canít believe how much Iíve changed and how I didnít see it. Armstrongís giant arm continues to wave as he approaches me and I still am amazed at him. Heís wearing a pair of black jeans that fit him especially well and a sleeveless t shirt that hugs his torso like it was a second skin. He continues to stride forward with a confidence and essence that Iíve come to love in the year weíve been together. He gets to me and we punch each other and then a half hug, something weíve been doing for months.
"Weíre going to get you some new threads"
He points toward a big and tall store, a place I tried to avoid, now seems like home. I start walking toward it and Armstrong laughs a bit. I turn and look at him quizzically. He tells me to watch how I was walking in the nearby store window. I walked naturally and I notice that Iím walking with the same confidence and demeanor that Armstrong walks with. It felt amazing, seeing myself like that. I projected the same air of confidence that he does. We enter the store together and are greeted by two of the female attendants who seem to want to serve our every need.
"Iíve never been treated like this before, it feels amazing."
Armstrong retorts, "Havenít been out much lately, have you"
"Well no, just been work, gym and grocery shopping. I donít go outside that routine much"
"Get used to it. Iíll show you how it is outside the gym."
Armstrong picks out some shirts and pants for me, similar colors and sizes as he wore. I went to the dressing room and changed. When I stepped outside, Armstrong gave me a approving thumbs up. I look at myself in the nearby mirror and Iím happy with what I see. Everything seems to fit snuggly and my muscles press against the fabric. I flex a bit in the mirror, watching how my muscles respond. I notice the female attendants staring at me intently as I check the fit. I smile at them and they begin to giggle. I lean over to Armstrong and whisper, "You get this all the time man?" "Sure do, get used to it"
We finish up our shopping, Armstrong picked out a few sets of clothes including some shorts and some dress clothes. We tried them all on before we left and I liked how they all looked on me. We decide to grab some food at the steakhouse. During dinner, Armstrong tells me heís very proud of me.
"Youíve made some great gains both physically and mentally. I have one last surprise for you today. Iíll tell you after dinner." Dinner comes and goes, the steak was excellent and we head to our cars. He tells me to follow him to his place.
His house is large for a bachelor I think to myself as we pull up. We go inside and he begins to talk to me.
"Remember when we first met and you first felt my muscles"
"Yeah, I do. It inspires me even to this day."
"And you remember when I said you werenít ready yet?"
"I knew that you werenít ready for what was to come yet. I knew your desires to see what could happen if I were to be aroused."
"Yeah. But now that youíve grown confident and big, I think youíre ready."
My heart begins to race as I think about what he could mean. He strippes to nothing and he nods to me to do the same. I rip my clothes and briefs off, sporting a massive hard on. He leads me upstairs to his bedroom walking the way that Iíve loved since I first met him. He stands at the door as his cock hardens to its full length.
"Come Sam, Iíll show you what youíve been wondering for a year."
I walk into his room, extremely anxious and the door slowly closes behind us.
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