The Swimming Hole 6 (musc)
by Jaypat
That night I was really having problems sleeping. Visions of Bob growing huge, and then, with muscles bulging, effortlessly picking up and throwing his opponent to the mat, played endlessly in my mind, along with images of skinny little Brian exploding into a massive muscle beast. Damn, all that muscle was so hot, so amazing, so incredible, I wanted some. And I knew I could have it anytime I wanted.
But I kept telling myself if I took it too fast, people were going to notice. Then the pro-muscle side of me answered, “So what? Fuck ‘em.”
But then the reasonable, rational, sane part of me said, “You saw all the problems Kurt had; do you want that to happen to you?”
Mr. Muscle answered, “Kurt’s going to be fine. In a few months all this will have blown over and Kurt will be living large, extremely large. And you could be living just as large, or even larger, if you want, and I know you want. I know the effect Brain’s biceps had on you when they exploded into immense, veiny boulders. And I know how you felt seeing his back grow wide, thick, and muscle ridden, and then rip its massive way out of his shirt. You want a massive, powerful body, too. I know you do. And you could have one, right now if you wanted.”
Fuck, I did. I wanted it…
“But what about mom?” asked rational me. “You saw how upset Kurt’s mother was. Do you want to put mom through that, too?”
“Oh, that’s low,” said Mr. Muscle, “using mom like that, that’s low.”
“And besides,” said the rational side, “I liked my first 10 pounds. It was pretty awesome. I don’t want to grow all at once. It’d be over too fast. I wouldn’t enjoy it as much.”
“That’s true,” said Mr. Muscle. “That’s true. So how about another 10 pounds, right now. That’d be fuckin’ hot!”
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Rational. “It may be too much, too soon.”
“Bull Shit!” said Mr. Muscle. “Bob put on way more than 10 pounds and people figured he’d always been that big and they just hadn’t noticed.”
“That’s true…,” said Rational. “Maybe I could manage another 10 pounds—but that’s it!”
“Fine, fine,” said Mr. Muscle, “another 10 pounds, I’ll settle for that—and it’s going to be soooooo fucking hot!!!!”
So, in the middle of the night, I found myself getting up and drawing a bath. I didn’t know what I was going to do if Mom woke up. How was I going to explain this? But as it happened, she didn’t wake up. And when the tub was full, I added a drop from my gallon jug. Of course at this point Mr. Muscle woke up and reminded me that if I took just a few swigs from the jug, in seconds I could be a massive, impossibly strong, ripped-up muscle behemoth. Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.
But I stuck to the plan and climbed into the tub. Damn, I’d forgotten how amazing it felt in there. All my nerves were lit up and dancing. I suddenly had so much energy I could barely stand to stay in the tub. But I made myself. On this Mr. Muscle and Mr. Rational were in complete agreement.
Fuck, I could feel it. I could feel the blood just gorging my limbs. I could feel my heart beating faster and more forcefully. I could feel my body swelling, getting harder, like a really good pump. Fuck, this was intense!
25 minutes later I exploded out of the tub. I don’t mean I climbed out, or got out, or even hopped out, I exploded out. I had so much energy and the strength in my arms was amazing. When I got out of that tub, it was more like a gymnast’s dismount, than anything else. Water went everywhere. The bathroom was soaked!
I landed on my feet. Damn, my legs felt strong and sturdy, more than ever before. I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror. HOLY FUCK! I looked awesome!
My shoulders, arms, pecs, everything had noticeably bulked up, and fuck, I was even more ripped! I no longer looked just sculpted. My body had some mass to it now. It looked powerful. I flexed. Large, full, veiny biceps bulged up. Fuck. 18 inches, had to be, at least. I felt one. Jeeze… hard as a rock.
I flexed my pecs. Damn… boulders… they looked and felt like striated boulders… And my abs… like a set of six large rocks carved out of my stomach… so fucking hot. And I think I might actually be an inch taller, too!
I felt myself getting hard, just looking at my reflection, and holy crap, my cock was larger too!
Oh, I couldn’t stand this. This was way too fucking hot! Time to hop in the shower and savor some of this hotness!
Damn, my stamina was amazing. I must have been in there two hours, just feeling and soaping and stroking. Fuck, I must have blown a bucket load.
When I got out and started checking myself out in the mirror again, all I could think was, “I gotta take another bath!”
“Whoa…. Take it easy, bro,” said Mr. Rational. “I know this is hot and all… ok, amazingly, mind blowingly hot… but any more, and it won’t be so easy to pass off.”
Ok, ok, he was right. I had to get a hold of myself. I cleaned all the water off the floor in the bathroom and forced myself to go back to my room. But I couldn’t sleep. I still couldn’t keep my hands off myself. I had gotten so big and hard and awesome!
Finally I just got up and went to my computer. I went to the school’s web site to try and lay out a plan for tomorrow. I decided to go to the intramural sports page to see what other teams might benefit from my attentions. The answer was immediate, obvious and right up front: The swim team! I mean that’s how this whole thing started wasn’t it?
Our school had an indoor Olympic-size swimming pool. One of our graduates who made it big and loved swimming donated it to us. This made our school a very popular place to hold swim meets, and naturally enough, our school had one of the best swim teams in the State. Of course there was no meet tomorrow, but they would be practicing!
I went to bed very happy with my idea and finally fell asleep. When I woke up I went straight back to the bathroom and took another fantastic, although much shorter, shower, and I started to get dressed.
Holy fuck! All my clothes were tight! I mean, I had some tight shirts I liked wearing from time to time, but those didn’t fit at all. My more conservative clothes were now straining to contain my new hard, bulging mass. Fuck, I loved the way my t shirt hugged my body, the way my pecs thrust out in front of me and the cotton cloth just molded it self around them. I loved seeing my biceps fill the sleeves, seeing the cloth bunch up under the strain. I guess I should have been worried about people noticing how big I’d gotten, but it was just the opposite. I couldn’t wait to go to school and show off my new body!
And of course I was also looking forward to… altering the swimming team! I knew exactly how I was going to do it! I decided to bring a small quantity of the pure blue sludge with me. I could dump a little of that into the pool and then just sit back and watch the magic!
I grabbed a small bell jar from the kitchen cabinet along with the rubber gloves and went out to the garage. Wearing the gloves I carefully dipped it into the barrel and put about a dollop of the straight blue shit into the jar. Fuck, I probably had enough to get half the school jacked up right in my hand. I got really hard just thinking about using it on the swim team. All that muscle…fuck. I almost wanted to try some myself. But I didn’t. I just carefully stowed it away in my back pack. And at the last minute I decided to bring my eyedropper, too. Who knew what use I might find for a drop of the blue stuff?
Usually I would just stop by and pick up Kurt on my way into school, but I wasn’t sure if he would be going in today, so I called him. Oddly enough, his mom answered his phone. She told me that yes, Kurt was going into school that day, but I needn’t bother to pick him up.
That was all she would say. That was weird.
I had my day all planned out. I would lay low all day, maybe give Greg a good look at my new huge, ripped biceps at lunch, and see what his reaction was. Then I’d head down to the swimming pool right after school and… improve the water.
But my plans kind of went out the window as soon as I got to school. The door had barely closed behind me when I was accosted by Bob. Jeeze, he was all bruised up.
“You gotta help me,” said Bob. “Brian’s out of control! It’s like every time I round a fucking corner I bump into him… and then bounce off. He’s the fucking great wall of muscle now, huge, hard as steel and impossibly strong. And all he wants to do is wrestle. “Let’s wrestle. Let’s wrestle.” That’s all I fucking hear from him. And it’s fucking killing me! There’s gotta be an antidote, something to turn him back into the scrawny little wimp he was!”
“Ah… sorry, Bob,” I said. “It’s pretty much a one way trip. No way back that I know of.”
“Fuck!” said Bob, “I’m screwed! Except… do you have any more of that shit? You know, maybe I could bulk up a little bit more, you know, so I could stand a chance against him?”
Oh shit. All I had with me was the straight blue goop, and even a drop of that would make Bob way too big. I didn’t want to do that with Mr. EPA snooping around. I was pretty sure I could help Bob, but not today. And he’d have to take the slow and easy route like I was doing.
“Ah… I don’t really have anything with me today,” I said. “But I’ll bring something tomorrow.”
“Oh… ok, that’s great…” said Bob. “But do you think I could stop by your house after school or something, you know, pick it up? Because I don’t even want to go home. He goes into my room and uses my stuff, and if I say anything all he says is, “I can do anything I want now. Get used to it.” Then he stands there towering over me and flexing those ginormous pecs and abs of his and I just can’t take it anymore.”
“Sure,” I said. “But I’ve got something to do right after school. So why don’t you stop by after dinner.”
“Yeah! Thanks! Ok, I’ll be there!” said Bob, and he hurried on his way.
I hadn’t gone two steps when I felt this soft hand on my new bigger, harder shoulder.
“Is it possible you’ve gotten even more sexy?”
I stopped and turned. “Hi Jenna,” I said.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, Matt,” said Jenna. I was beginning to think you didn’t care?”
Well, to be honest, I didn’t. But I couldn’t say that, could I? I mean that would be rude. “Well, you know, the busy life of a gay guy, you know, going around and being gay and everything. Did I mention I was gay?”
“Come off it. You’re not still hiding behind that?” said Jenna. “I thought we put that little urban myth to bed the other night, literally.”
“Ok, well,” I said, “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and I prefer to think of myself as gay with heterosexual tendencies.”
“Really?” she said, smiling. “I can do a lot with a tendency.”
And suddenly she was standing in front of me, really, really close and running her hands over my pecs. “My goodness, you’re bigger,” she said, “a lot bigger. I don’t know how …and harder!” And she reached down and grabbed my crotch. “Let’s get you even harder.”
“What are you doing,” I asked, responding to her despite my best intensions. “This is sexual assault!”
“It would be,” said Jenna, “if you were running your hands all over my chest and crotch. But I’m a woman; the rules are different. Besides, what guy complains when a woman feels them up?”
“I… I would,” I said, sounding as unconvincing as I felt. Oh yeah, I wanted to fuck her. There was no mistaking that. Man, what was the matter with me?
“Really?” she said. “Then go ahead; call for help.”
When I didn’t say anything right away she said, “Just as I thought. A guy is a guy is a guy.” Then she went in for the kiss.
I didn’t actually see the shadow; it was more like I felt it looming up behind me. Or maybe it was all the body heat that that immense frame put out, or maybe it was just that all that mass concentrated in one area changed the dynamics of the air. But whatever it was, I knew Kurt was there, just the same as if I could see him.
I didn’t even feel his hand on my shoulder before I was flying through the air. I crashed into the lockers, putting a nice dent in them before I slid to the floor. Ouch.
I looked up and there he was. Bulging, ripped, gargantuan muscles just erupted out all over him everywhere you looked from head to foot. All that was left of my dorky friend was his face, scowling down at me from the top of an immense body. He was wearing some kind of a bodybuilder’s shirt, kind of like a wife beater but with far less cloth. And what cloth there was fitted him pretty damn tightly. It was obviously designed to show off those unbelievably tightly woven configurations of incredibly massive pecs, abs and lats. And damn, did it do a good job. It made me dizzy just to look at him.
He was nearly 8 feet tall and about five feet wide at the shoulders, with huge thick mountainous traps dwarfing his fire plug neck and brushing the back of his skull. He had gigantic, satiated wrecking ball delts sitting on top of enormous, veined wrapped upper arms that looked like piles of boulders cemented together. His forearms were as thick around as my waste. His chest was two wrecking balls, hard, solid and ripped.
His abs… I could count eight concrete blocks of muscle clearly defined under his shirt leading down to his he ridiculously tight soccer shorts.
And his legs, crap, I could see each and every gigantic leg muscle bulge and ripple under his skin as he just slightly shifted his weight.
The last thing you wanted to see was an angry face looking down at you from the top of that behemoth of a body. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I was looking at.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend!” he roared.
I wanted to shout, “She came on to me!” But somehow I didn’t think that would help my case.
Then I thought about saying, “It’s not what it looks like,” but then it actually was kinda what it looked like and there’s no way he wouldn’t know that. So, I didn’t say that either.
Wow, I was running out of things to say.
“Excuse me,” said Jenna stepping between us. Oh my God, Jenna was going to save my butt! “But, I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I’m not your girlfriend. I’ve never seen you before in my life. Believe me, if I had, I’d remember.”
“But, Jenna,” said Kurt, his fierce expression dissolving into one of subtle panic, “it’s me. It’s Kurt.”
“Kurt?” said Jenna, squinting up at his face. “Kurt Beckendorf?”
Kurt nodded hopefully.
“Whoa,” said Jenna. “What happened to you?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” said Kurt.
“That, I believe,” said Jenna, looking him up and down appreciatively. “Why don’t we go somewhere and find a nice, quiet place and you can tell me all about it.”
“What about him?” Kurt practically growled, glaring in my direction. “You’re boyfriend?”
“Oh,” said Jenna, glancing down at me like she recently remembered I existed. “He’s kinda cute and all, but nothing like you.”
Kurt gave me a self satisfied smirk and flexed his monumental bicep for Jenna. It rose up on his arm like a pile of boulders.
“Oh my,” said Jenna, her eyes bugging out at the sight of Kurt’s incredible mammoth arm. “I think I might just faint. There’s an empty classroom right down the hall. You better get me there right away.”
Kurt scooped her up in his enormous muscle laden arms and quickly carried her off down the hall. Wow, Jenna didn’t just like big guys, she was a total muscle slut! Ha! Something in common at last!
And the day still had some craziness to come. It was between third and forth period when I spotted the EPA guy again. This time he was talking to Bob. Fuck, if this kept up it would only be a matter of time before he made it to me. Maybe I should call it quits now. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I mean there was the swim team to consider and I couldn’t disappoint them.
And there was another surprise waiting for me at lunch. I was just sitting there, minding my own business – well, actually I was thinking about how I was going to make things up with Kurt and, of course, I was also thinking about the improvements I was going to make to the swim team – when none other than Greg Batson sat down across from me. Whoa, my new size was already starting to affect my perspective. I thought he looked kind of skinny. I never thought of him that way before, but now I did. I mean he was still cute and all, and my heart was still beating faster now that he was sitting across from me, but he did look just liiiiiittle skinny.
“Ah, hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said back, somewhat flustered. I thought he hated me.
“I, ah, couldn’t help but notice you’ve put on some mass recently… I mean a lot of mass,” he said.
“You mean this?” I said and I flexed my bi. I loved feeling that large mound of hard flesh bulge up on my arm, pulling my sleeve ridiculously tight…RIIIIIIP! Holy crap! My sleeve spilt at the seam! It just ripped right open releasing my large, bulging iron-like bicep into the open. Fuck. It looked awesome rising out of my shredded sleeve. I was hard almost instantly.
And Greg… well, his mouth dropped open. I mean his chin practically hit the table and his tongue very nearly rolled out of his mouth. “Yeah,” he gulped. “That’s what I mean.”
“What about it?” I asked, taking full advantage of his obvious awe.
“I was wondering, you know, if maybe you’d give me a few workout pointers.”
“Sure,” I said, casually, although inwardly I was jumping for joy.
“Meet me in the weight room after school?” said Greg.
“Ok,” I said, “but not right after school. I’ve got something I need to do.” I couldn’t possibly neglect the swim team. “It’ll probably take about half an hour, but I’ll meet you after that.”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
And I have to say, as the day wore on I got more and more excited about swim practice, and of course, meeting Greg afterward. When the day finally ended I practically ran to the pool. I poked my head through the door and sure enough, there they all were.
There was a guy in one of the swim lanes swimming up and down the length of the pool. He was doing the crawl stroke and after he completed one lap, up and back, he hopped out and let the next guy in.
Obviously, they were working on the 100 m free style. How did I know? Well, you really couldn’t go to my school and not know a little something about swimming. Our pool had little touch pads at each end of each lane to help the swimmers time themselves. And they were showing some pretty respectable times.
I took a second to check them out. They guys not in the pool were standing at the end of a lane, waiting for their turn in the lane. They all had decent builds, a little on the slender side for my tastes, but most of them were pretty ripped. That made up for a lot.
I knew what I wanted to do, but again my conscious started to bother me. These guys couldn’t get too much bulkier without it affecting their speed. Their slender builds helped them glide through the water. More bulk would cause more resistance and slow them down. If I did this I would probably ruin the swim team.
I looked again at the cluster of near naked ripped up guys at the end of the pool and imagined them with another 50 pounds of muscle on them.
Damn. Looked like I was going to ruin the swim team.
I went over to the filter pump and lifted the lid exposing the small reservoir of rushing water beneath. Water was sucked in here, filtered and then shot back out into the pool. I looked around. No one was paying any attention to me whatsoever. They were all looking either at the swimmer or the display of their times on the board.
I pulled out my jar of the straight blue shit. I hadn’t brought much but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need much. A dollop, that’s all I’d need, a dollop. I know it wasn’t exactly a scientific measurement, but then I wasn’t exactly a scientist either. I opened the jar and carefully titled it until the dollop rolled out of it and plopped into the water. Then I replaced the lid on the filter and took a seat on the bleachers to see the results. I almost expected to see some change in the water, like a glow or something, but there was nothing.
The next guy in the pool was Ron Beckman. He was one of the best swimmers our school had. He had a lean and muscular build, an athlete at the top of his form. He dove into the pool and started on his lap. The coach was splitting his attention between watching the clock and watching Ron’s form. As Ron neared the end of his lap, I could see the coach shaking his head.
“Disappointing time, Beckman,” he said as Ron hopped out of the pool, and Sammy Edwards dove in.
Holy crap! Ron had put on a good ten pounds, and man, did he look good! His chest had a nice swell to it and his arms hung thicker at his side, looking pumped and vascular. Even his legs seemed bulkier while maintaining their ripped and segmented appearance.
“Something’s wrong with the pool water, coach,” said Ron. “It felt weird in there.”
“Weird pool water, hunh?” said the coach. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that excuse.” The coach, turned around, took one look at him and snapped, “Never mind the pool water. You need to steer clear of the weight room, Beckman. Too much bulk is not a good thing.”
Ron looked genuinely confused. “I have been, coach.”
“Yeah? Well, steer even clearer of it,” he said before he turned his attention back to the board. “What the hell is this, Edwards?” he bellowed looking at the swimmer’s time.
“Sorry, coach,” said Sammy, pulling himself out of the pool, and walking over to the coach, his new 10 pounds of muscle bulging nicely on his frame. “It was like I wasn’t moving right in the pool, like I was swollen or something.”
“Swollen?” echoed the coach. “Well at least you’re not giving me the weird water story.”
“Actually,” said Sammy, “it did feel kind of different in there.”
Then Jim Ortega, hopped out of the pool after his lap. Wow. His 10 pounds looked great too! But the coach obviously didn’t think so. He took one look at him and practically exploded.
“Look,” he shouted. “You boys have got to decide if you’re swimmers or bodybuilders, because you can’t be both!”
I checked my watch. Oh Crap, it was time to go meet Greg already! Damn! I could always skip it… But if I did, who knew when I’d get this opportunity again. I looked back at the latest swimmer pulling himself out of the pool, new muscle just rippling across his frame, and somewhat reluctantly pulled myself from the scene.
When I got to the weight room, Greg wasn’t there yet so I decided to pound out a couple of bench presses. I loaded the bar with my usual 225, and hopped on. It was easy, way, way too easy. I just started laughing because I couldn’t believe how easy it was. I racked the weight after a good 12 reps, feeling like it wasn’t even a good warm-up, and added another 4 plates just to see if I could do it. And you know what? I could. Fuck, I was benching 405! Damn… Damn… That’s more than I used to squat!
“Wait till Greg sees that!” I grinned to myself. Then it hit me. He was expecting some kind of gym advice. What was I going to tell him? I mean, I’d seen him in the gym. He already had pretty good form and seemed to know what he was doing. I couldn’t dose him with the blue stuff, because I’d already dumped all I had in the pool… Or had I?
I pulled open my backpack and pulled out the bell jar. Yup, there was just a little bit of residue on the bottom. No more than a couple of drops worth, but it would do. I walked over to the water bubbler and filled the jar to the rim, put the lid back on, and swished it all around, mixing it up good.
I looked closely at the jar. It looked harmless, just like water. But I knew it was way more potent than my gallon jug. No more than a drop of this for Greg. Anymore and he’d get way too big, way too fast for people not to notice. Good thing I’d brought my eyedropper.
I sat around and waited for Greg, but after a few minutes I got bored and stated working out again. I had started chest already so I just continued on with that. Damn, all my lifts were sooo much heavier. I was becoming a fucking beast!
Half an hour went by. I completed an epic set of cable crosses, and came to the realization that Greg just wasn’t coming. I have to say I was a little crushed, but then, what had I been expecting? Of course, he could also have a really good reason for not showing. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt until I saw him again.
In the meantime, there was still the swim team.
I returned to the pool and holy crap! It looked like I’d just walked into the Junior Mr. Olympia! These guys were all huge! –All of them! They were all over six feet tall with big, striated pecs, wide powerful, rippling backs, brick wall abs, segmented pylon legs and arms like gorillas! Fuck! Was it wrong to take pictures? I hoped not, cause out came my cell phone and I started clicking away.
A small group of them was standing to one side, flexing and comparing biceps, even feeling each others arms and pecs. Fuck, they all had softballs exploding out of their arms, big bulky shoulders, huge traps, and pecs like melons. Another few of them were over by the bleachers, pulling the metal benches off their supports and bending them with their bare hands. Damn…
But the biggest guys I saw were Ron Beckman and Sammy Edwards. They were at the pool side, having a wresting match. Damn, I almost didn’t recognize them. They were just gigantically massive hulked-out versions of themselves. Neither one of them was shorter than 6’ 6” and couldn’t possibly weight less than 350 pounds. Enormous arms clamped onto each other’s huge shoulders, each one was trying to use his mammoth arms to force the other one into the pool.
Sammy was just a little bit bigger, so it was no surprise when suddenly as he wrestled Ron off the edge and into the pool with an epic splash. A moment later Ron surfaced, and after treading water for a few seconds, pulled himself from the pool. Hooooly crap, he was bigger. His shoulders were bigger, his huge biceps bulged out just a little more. His whole body looked fuller and thicker with muscle. Fuck, now he was bigger than Sammy. They started in again and in a matter of seconds, the enlarged Ron had claimed his revenge and knocked Sammy into the pool.
And just like Ron before him, Sammy surfaced and treaded water for a moment, just a little longer than Ron had, and then he pulled himself out of the pool. Fuck, look at all the muscle! He had gotten even bigger than the bigger Ron. Sammy flexed his new more massive arms and clenched his cinderblock abs. He twisted back and for a little, obviously testing out how he moved with his new bulk. Then after this brief moment of checking out his new, larger body –you could tell Sammy liked what he saw—he started in on Ron again. Sure enough Ron was knocked back into the pool. But this time, I don’t think he fought too hard to prevent it.
Damn, what a game! Evan when you lost, you won!
The coach wasn’t exactly taking everything in stride. He was running back and forth trying to get everyone out of the pool and talking on his cell phone at the same time.
“Out of there Roth, come on!” he shouted.
“But coach…,” protested Alan Roth.
“I don’t want to hear it, Roth. Out of the pool now or you’ll be facing suspension!” And then the coach yelled into his phone. “I don’t care what you have to do; I want this pool drained immediately. There’s something wrong with the water! I don’t know exactly what. No, I can’t describe it to you either. Just get down here and drain the damn thing!” The he hung up the phone.
“Petersen, out the pool or I’ll see you out of this school!” yelled the coach.
And in this way, the coach bullied everybody out of the pool and sent them off to the lockers to get changed.
Ok, this I had to see.
So I followed them into the locker room.
At first it was great! The swimmers were having a great time trying to put on their old clothes and ripping right through them. It was incredibly hot. Most of them wound up tearing off their shirt sleeves and pant legs to give their new bulky, powerful limbs some room.
I was having a great time just watching it all until I saw Devin Platz and some scrawny freshman. Devin was one of the swimmers who hadn’t been very large before, but now he was enormous with huge ripped muscles bulging out all over him. The only problem was he was acting like an asshole, throwing his new weight around.
The poor short freshman had obviously been in the act of changing when he caught Devin’s attention; the kid was only in his tighty whities. The freshman was exceptionally small and under developed. His rib cage was showing. His stomach was almost concave. He had stick-thin arms and legs, no body hair whatsoever, except maybe a whisper under his arms and on his upper lip. It looked like puberty had only recently visited this guy. And now oversized Devin was shoving him around.
They were over by the equipment lockers, which were a lot like regular gym lockers only about 10 times as big. The entire bank was about 15 lockers long and was about six feet tall. They stored all the balls, bats, and other gym equipment in them. Devin took this kid and shoved him inside one, slammed the door and latched it. Then he went back to the other side of the locker room to laugh it off with his buddies. I could hear the poor freshman pounding on the locker door from the inside.
“Come on, let me out,” he called. “Come on guys.”
Well, that just sucked. That wasn’t why I grew the swim team at all. I didn’t want to create a bunch of bullies. I had to teach them a lesson and fast. And at the same time, I figured I’d be doing a huge favor for that freshman. If ever there was a purpose for that blue gunk, this was it. No kid should be that small in high school. A drop from my bell jar ought to fix him up fine.
I pulled out my bell jar and opened it up. Then I took the eye dropper and filled it from the jar. I pulled my shirt up over my head so he wouldn’t see my face. It was important I do this anonymously. The EPA guy was already getting too close. The only problem was I could only barely see where I was going. But with the jar in one and the eyedropper in the other, I made my way over to the locker. It was a little tricky opening the locker with the eyedropper in my hand but I did it.
“Thanks, dude,” said the Freshman, but before he could step out I intended to squeeze and flick the eyedropper, flinging a drop of the stuff on him. But I caught my foot on the locker door, tripped and before I knew what happened I had spilled the entire jar all over him. FUCK!
“Oh Jesus!” cried the freshman, looking at himself covered in what I’m sure he thought was water. Of course, it didn’t take him long to discover it wasn’t, because it didn’t feel at all like water. “What is this shit?” He tried to wipe some of it off, but it was already sinking in to his skinny little hide.
In a panic I slammed the door and latched it again. What did I just do? That was a least twice the amount Kurt had used. I pulled my shirt down from my face so I could see, and I saw the Freshman’s eyes peering out at me from behind the slits in the locker door.
“Thanks, a lot, dude,” I head him say. “That was…” Suddenly his eyes went wide. “What the fuck?”
Suddenly the locker door started shaking. “Oh fuck! I feel really weird! Let me outta here! Let me outta here! Something really fucked up’s happening!”
I started slowly backing away from the equipment lockers, realizing full well that if I were smart I’d be running for the next county. But somehow I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that shaking locker. I had to know what was going to happen.
Suddenly the shaking stopped and I heard, “Oh my God… my shoulders…? I’m jammed up against the… Oh my God… no way… My chest! My arms! Oh my God, I’m getting bigger! OH FUCK!”
Then the locker started shaking again only now it was more of a violent jerking. Then the shaking began to spread to the other lockers and in a matter of seconds the entire bank was rattling like crazy.
“How is this happening?” came his voice. It was a lot fucking deeper now. “Fuck, I don’t care how it’s happening! Just that it’s FUCKING HAPPENING! HAHAHAHAHA!”
And then I began to hear the guttural groan of bending, tearing, snapping sheet metal as the entire bank of lockers began to bulge and distort. Doors popped open, balls, bats, mitts all spilled out across the floor.
A great big bulge began to grow out of the top of the lockers. Fuck that had to be the kid’s head. And on either side, other bulges. CREEEEEEEK! POP! POP! They were stretching up,—man, they had to be his traps and and I could see them fucking growing, pushing up through the sheet metal, spreading wider, and winder.
“OH YEAH!” he cried.
And then the bulge ripped and the kid’s head popped up through it. Damn, it was the same head, the same little boy head, only now it was supported by a huge, thick corded neck that was wider than it was, and it was 8 fucking feet in the air... and rising!
“HAHAHAHAHA!!!! AWESOME!” said the little boy’s head in a voice that was lower than humanly possible. “OHHHH OHHHHH ARRRGGGHHH!” And on either side, huge mountainous bulging traps began breaking out of the locker tops, peeling the sheet metal back like a banana. Holy shit, they were the most massive traps anyone ever conceived of.
“Holy crap!!!!!!” said the kid, craning his neck to stare at his monumental traps. “OH FUCK YEAH!”
Then the top of the lockers bent, buckled and ripped apart completely as he continued to grow upwards and I saw his massive shoulders emerge, My breath caught in my throat at the impossible sight of his beyond massive delts. Fuck, they were two enormous masses of ripped, segmented striated flesh about three feet in diameter and made from muscle fibers thick around as my pinkie.
Fuck yeah! FUCK YEAH! I’m humungous,” he cried staring at his gargantuan shoulders, “a total fucking BEAST!”
KATHOOOM! The locker bank exploded outward as two huge monltithic arms tore out of the front of the locker bank. He roared as he caught sight of his arms. I don’t have the words to describe his biceps. To say they were startlingly huge would be a gross understatement. If I were to curl myself into a ball, I might be the same size as one of them. That’s not even mentioning his triceps. They swelled out twice as thick as his biceps, turning his upper arm into a fucking planetoid. And his forearms were unlike any other forearms that had ever existed. Incredibly thick, cable-like sinews intertwined with each other bulging and flexing, expanding to an almost unthinkable width just below the wrist, and huge thick palms the size of dinner plates with fingers as big as his arms used to be
.
And as much as I was in awe of his arms, it was nothing to the way he reacted. The look on his face as he gazed upon them was the look of rapture.
“I’m dreaming,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “I must be fucking dreaming.”
He raised his arms high above his head and then brought them down in a colossal double bi pose. Holy fuck! The mountains on his arms! They were giant, flesh covered boulders, a configuration of insanely huge bulges, with peeks the size of basket balls. They had monster veins running up and around them before disappearing into his giant delts. I literally felt myself getting week in the knees. The fucking power he must have! His biceps’ bulges had bulges.
“This is no fucking dream!” he said. “I can fucking feel this! I gotta see the rest of me!” The kid dropped his gargantuan arms and began to use them to rip apart the remainder of the wrecked locker bank. God, he was tearing the sheet metal like tissue.
“Yeah!” he cried, “FUCK YEAH!” as he tore the pieces of locker away from his massive pecs. Fuck, his pecs were globular masses of pure muscle, each one four times the size of my head.
“Oh man! I’m a FUCKING MONSTER! YEAH!”
Pieces of sheet metal flew in all directions as he continued to rip apart the pathetic ruined locker bank and free the rest of his gigantic torso. Damn, his abs were bulging, heaving steel hard bricks. Holy crap, I was looking up at them! I was looking up at his massive, cut lower abdominals, each one the size of a football. And Jesus, was he? He was. The muscle ridden behemoth was still getting bigger, bulging out, growing taller.
“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!” he yelled and took a step forward, using his beyond massive thighs to walk through the lower section of the locker bank like it was a fucking cobweb. Damn, his quads were giant, shredded muscles around which mammoth configurations of steel-like cords and tendons wove like the cables of a suspension bridge. Fuck, one of his thighs was twice as big as his entire body had been just a couple of minutes ago. And then out it tumbled. Holy Fuck, there was a freakin’ fire hose hanging from his groin, draped over two huge, melon-like balls, it hung down past his continent-sized, ripped, vascular quads almost to his knees. I caught a flash of white. Was that? Yes it was. There, hanging off the end of that massive stock was the poor shredded remains of his tighty whities, obviously blown to smithereens by the explosive expansion of its owner’s mammoth equipment.
Crap, that little shrimp of a kid had to be about 10 feet tall, an impossible mass of insanely huge, bulging muscle that was at least 7 feet wide at the shoulders and over 4 feet thick with bulging, powerful sinew.
And he was grinning like a maniac,
“Guess I finally hit my growth spurt,” he said flexing and feeling his mountainous bicep. “And I gotta say I turned out fucking great!”
For the first time I realized I wasn’t alone, staring open mouthed at the muscle giant in front of me.
The swimmers, who had been changing at the other end of the room, were now standing around gawking too. They must have been drawn by the thunderous racket the kid made as he grew and tore his way out of the lockers
“You!” he shouted at poor shaking Devin Platz. “Come here!”
Of course Devin didn’t. He turned and ran. And the rest of the swim team was just behind him. The freshman let out a huge bellow and thundered after them. The building shook and there was a tremendous crash as the freshman broke right through the wall in hot pursuit. Crap.
What had I done? I stood there in a kind of shocked silence for a moment, just staring at the hole the freshman had made in the wall. When suddenly a figure appeared on the other side and stepped through. He took one look at me and raised his eyebrows. It was the EPA guy. Holy crap!
“We’ve got to talk,” he said.