Andy 9: Andy's German Adventure
I flew to Germany over the Christmas holidays to meet up my parents, and to become reacquainted with my German relatives. I hadn't seen any of them since I was a pudgy 8-year-old. They were in for a surprise.
I got lucky with the flight over, because my dad was able to fly me over on his corporate jet. They needed to fly some German execs over to the states, so the jet would have been heading there empty anyway. I was worried about how tight I'd fit into a commercial jet, even in first class, seeing as how I had continued to grow bigger than ever, and more solid than ever. Stronger too.
The flight ended up being amazing. I'd flown on the private company jet a couple of times as a kid, but it was always with my parents and other grown-ups from the company. This time, I was alone. And the treatment you get on a private plane rocks. You pull up right to the plane on the tarmac, and they roll the stairs to the plane, like you see in old movies. Once you're on the plane, the treatment gets even better. Tons of food and drinks. Big cushy seats and sofas. A bar area. Totally swank. And I had my own private attendant. She was hired, along with the two pilots, every time the plane was used, so even though it was just me, there she was, Janice, greeting me at the door as I squeezed my way onto the plane. She told me she would be at my service for the entire 9 hour flight. Turned out, she remembered me from one of those flights I took as a kid, and she was stunned to see how I'd grown.
"Andy, you were a well-fed little boy even back then, but my oh my, look what the years have done for you!" Janice, as I could tell by the way she was eating me up with her eyes, was deeply into muscleheads.
"Thanks," I said as I rolled my massive pecs. Her knees nearly buckled as my 72" chest nearly blew the buttons right off my shirt.
The pilot came out and introduced himself. He looked me up and down, then asked me if I could find a seat near the middle of the plane, at least during take-off, so that I wouldn't throw the plane off-balance.
"No problem," I said, shaking his hand. He was a decent-sized guy, in good shape, but I noticed that my hand nearly doubled his in size and thickness. He noticed it too. When he looked back up at me, I winked at him. He took a deep gulp, and said, "OK, then..got to get ready for take-off." I released his hand, and went back to find a seat.
I found a grouping of furniture just past the bar. Two lounge chairs and a sofa. I took the chair that was closest to the middle of the plane and buckled in. Janice came back and asked me what I wanted to drink. I figured since I was going to Germany, I'd have a beer. She brought it back to me, then took the liberty to reach out and squeeze my arm.
"My god, Andy, how big is it?"
I flexed my arm just enough to strain the shirtsleeve. "25 inches cold. I can add 2 inches if I work them hard. Go ahead, put both hands around it."
Janice put both hands on my big arm and felt it up with her fingers. "That's the biggest arm I've ever felt, Andy. And it's so hard!" She tried to wrap her two hands around the biceps, but her fingers couldn't touch. I was horny as a goat, and as she continued to grope my arm, I started getting hard. Then the pilot announced that we were ready to taxi out. Janice let go of my arm, her face all flushed. She patted me on the shoulder, then made her way to a seat up front.
After she sat down, and we began to taxi out on the runway, I put my hand on the arm that Janice had been feeling. No wonder it tripped her out. So fucking solid. Big and hard as a log. I could feel the triceps bulging through the sleeve, jutting out like a thick horseshoe, and just as hard as one, all those overhead extensions paying off. Damned if I wasn't turning myself on, feeling the size of my own python arm. I was aching to pump it up even bigger. Feel it swell and grow harder. Stronger. Yeah.
Once we took off and leveled out, Janice brought me back another beer, and a big platter of jumbo shrimp cocktail. Janice started to head back to the galley, but I told her she could sit back here with me if she wanted. She sat down and watched as I devoured the shrimp. It was supposed to be a serving for eight, which seemed hard to believe, because the whole thing barely took the edge off my appetite.
"You're still hungry, aren't you?" she asked me. I just shrugged, like what can I say. "I'll be right back," she said, and went back up front. Soon, I could smell food cooking. It smelled like steak. I got up and walked up to the galley. Janice was cooking up a fair-sized sirloin.
"Are there any more of those?" I asked, eyeing the steak hungrily.
"You want more?" she said. "Sure." She put two more steaks on the little grill, the most that would fit. "How many baked potatoes with that, sir?" she asked with a smile.
"Four would be good." I was standing very close to her. I could tell it was all she could do to keep from reaching out and touching me again.
"OK," she said, breathlessly. "Four it is. Now go sit down, you're crowding me." She gave me a little push, and I headed back to my seat, although I admit that I waddled a little more than usual because I knew she was watching my thick ass roll as I went.
After finishing off the 3 steaks, 4 potatoes, and 3 more beers, I was fairly stuff. Once Janice took away the dishes and was cleaning up in front, I decided I had to move. I got up out of my chair and stretched as much as I could. I could only stretch my arms out sideways, since my head brushed to top of the cabin when I stood. Sometimes I love to work out right after stuffing myself. It got the food moving in my gut, and also, my blood must get thicker, because the bloat I get in my muscles is so friggen incredible. I started to do some free-standing squats. Even without weights, especially right after eating, I could pump my quads up like balloons just doing a couple hundred deep squats. It didn't take long before the seams of my pants started to strain. I could feel the bloat. Such an amazing feeling. I loved working legs, and it showed. They'd become monstrous. All veiny too, especially the quads. Big rivers of veins, with tons of tributaries. Feeding the muscle. Between the squats and the bloat, I was getting all jacked up.
But then the pilot came on over the speakers. "Sorry about the turbulence, Andy. We must be hitting some air pockets that aren't showing up on the radar. We'll try to fly out of it."
I stopped squatting and looked out the window. Janice came walking back. "Maybe you should strap in until this turbulence stops," she said.
"You didn't feel that? We were bouncing up and down. I'd never felt anything quite like it. Seems to have stopped though."
Janice stopped and looked at me. Even though I was wearing khakis, my legs had swollen so huge that the fabric looked like spandex, stretching out over my quads like a second skin. I knew if I took a single step, the pant legs would rip like tissue paper. So instead, I flexed. I felt my muscle swell and ripple. The fabric tore not just at the seams but in the front and back, the ripping sound filling the cabin, even above the roar of the engines, the fabric separating like continents as the earth's crust shifts. Ripping and spreading, the muscle expanding outward. Janice stumbled over and tore away the tattered fabric, leaving me standing in what looked like Tarzan's loincloth. Only Tarzan had never looked this jacked up. Tarzan was a wimp next to these legs. Swollen and hot to the touch. Veins throbbing. My cock was outlined by what was left of my pants. Engorged by my own flexing.
I unbuttoned my shirt and peeled it off. Janice must have hit an orgasm as she took in the sight of me. I could tell by the look on her face, and how she had to brace herself on the seats. But I needed more. I leaned over and put my hands on the floor, then kicked myself into a handstand. My feet hit the cabin ceiling and I used them for balance. Then I started doing handstand push-ups. 20...30...40. Slow and steady, pumping out each rep as the blood flooded into my delts, chest, arms. At 50, I brought my feet back down, and stood up. Every muscle flushed. My delts on FIRE. Arms jutting to sides. Ponderous fucking rush. I turned and gave Janice a lat spread. Wings spreading out so wide, I thought they'd touch each side of the cabin walls. I heard her moan. I turned around and walked over to her. I flexed my arm in her face. Sweat ran down my deep pit. I took her hand and put it on my swollen pecs. She caressed them like they were holy. Then she ran her hand down across my swollen muscle gut and into my khaki loincloth. My engorged hardon was already dripping pre when she pulled it out.
Janice spent the next three hours of the trip worshipping the muscle. Every one of them. She was good at it, too. I became a member of the Mile High Club six times. Would have been seven, but as I was bucking into Janice on the floor of the cabin, missionary style, the captain came on again and warned about the unexpected turbulence. Apparently, it is unwise to thrust nearly 500lbs of muscle up and down during an intercontinental flight. Sure felt good though. I wondered if the captain could put the plane on auto-pilot for awhile and come back for the same ride. Bet he'd like it too. Everyone seems to.
There was no shower on the plane, but Janice toweled me down with hot towels, working my body like I was a prize racehorse. Swear she got off again just doing that. About an hour before we landed, she fed me again. This time breakfast. Two dozen eggs, a quart of OJ, and fresh muffins. I may never be able to fly commercial again. Fortunately, I had a pair of baggy workout pants in my duffel bag, so I didn't have to walk thru German customs in my loincloth. Although that might have been fun. I slept the rest of the flight, and only woke up when we were touching down. I swear I had grown. Maybe all the sex was making my balls pump out more test. Sure had me charged up... and ready to meet up with my German family.