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When I'm lifting, I think of eating. When I'm eating, I think of liftin. When I'm in class, I think of lifting *and* eating. When I'm sleeping, I dream of Chris.
Why would anyone want to do anything else?
I benched 305 lbs. today!
"Dayum, Lil Dude!" Chris exclaimed when I racked the weight. "Maybe you *are* Superman!"
"So when do I get to work outwiht you?" I asked.
"You're not there yet, Lil Dude. When you are, I'll let you know..."
Then he picked up the barbell that I'd just benched and pumped out a couple of bicepcurls.
Shit! That mo-fo is *strong*!
He's right, of course. I *hadn't* noticed.
We were in the gym. I'm proud to report that I upped my bench by another 40 lbs. this week.
"Lil Dude, do you ever pay attention to these other guys?"
I looked around the weigh area. Come to think of it, there were at least half a dozen totally studly fellas in the weight area, a couple of 'em nearly as big as Chris, as well as a handful of hot babes.
"Do you see anyone else here doing bench press with three 45 lb. plates on each end?"
I looked around the gym again.
Well, fancy that!
For that matter, I noticed that almost all those hot guys, as well as a couple of girls, seemed to be giving Chris the eye. They were certainly looking in our direction, anyway. I hadn't realized that I was part of the floorshow!
"Unh uh," Chris said, reading my mind. "They're not looking at me -- they've seen me *plenty* of times! They're looking at you!"
You know the rest.
*Now* I gotta do luandry. Man, I hate that! I keep buying more sweats -- I'm up to 10 pair at this point -- but I still run out.
I thought I'd skip it and just wear some jeans and a button up shirt -- wrong! I couldn't get those straight leg jeans over my calves, much less my quads. Ditto, I could barely get my arms into the shirt sleeves and the buttons were just plain impossible -- they didn't reach!
I guess I've gained more weight than I thought!
Uh, yeah. I've gained more weight that I thought. Chris kinda rubbed that in my face today.
"Yo, Lil Dude," he said when I got to the gym. "Time to take measurements again."
"But you said once a month, right? It's only been three weeks!"
"Yeppers. But you'd been lifting for a week when we did those numbers. You started lifting 4 weeks ago today!"
In the locker room I shucked my clothes this time without his prompting me -- and then we had to stop to help this guy who fell over one of the changing benches right next to us. And I thought *I* was bad when it came to blushing! On *him* it looked real cute!
"We can skip height, right? I haven't grown any taller since I was 16 -- I don't think I've grown any taller in the last 3 weeks!"
Chris nodded, then pointed to the scale.
Once again I looked at the ceiling while he tapped the weight into place.
He let out a whistel, then announced:
"182 lbs., Lil Dude!"
I stared down at the scale in shock.
Chris let out an exasperated sounding snort.
"Lil Dude, don't you EVER look in the mirror?"
I shook my head.
"Just when I'm shaving, and that's just neck up," I muttered.
Chris pulled me over to the shower area.
So there we were standing in front of the full length mirrors, Chris in his workout togs, me in my boxer briefs.
Who *was* that hunk standing next to Chris? Not nearly as big as Chris, of cours, but still!
"Lil Dude, that's you, babe. You told me you wanted me to teach you how to grow, right?"
We went back to the changing area and he took my measurements.
Waist: 28 inches.
Quads: 26 inches.
Calves: 18 inches.
Chest: 46 inches.
Biceps: 17.5 inches.
"Lil Dude, *nobody* grows like you do. It's a fucking *honor* to help you work out."
I blushed, I stammered -- I didn't know what to say.
"How about returning the favor -- measure me, Lil Dude?"
In a heartbeat!
"But lemme put on my sweats first..."
Chris shook his head.
"Enough of this modesty kick, Lil Dude. You can wear sweats outside the gym if you want, but not in here. You're driving these boys crazy staying covered up all the time."
I took a steadying breath.
"Alright," I said, "let's get started."
I adjusted the height stick.
"Six Feet Two Inches."
I tapped the weights into place.
"Hey," I said, "didn't you say...?"
"You're not the only one who knows how to grow, Lil Dude," Chris said, putting the scale in balance.
I looked at the number.
"255 lbs.! Shit, Chris, you're a fucking NFL lineman!"
"No way, Lil Dude. But still..."
"That's 15 lbs. more than you were a month ago, right?"
"Remember what I told you about motivation?"
I looked into eyes -- something I usually avoid doing. Suddenly I knew what a hamburger felt like -- was he gonna eat me up?
He broke contact, looking me up and down.
"Still, it ain't nothing compared to..."
My brain finally kicked in.
"42 lbs!" I exclaimed.
"In one month," he added.
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