Retrospective
by Richard Jasper
Part 1
Looking back I always wonder why it took me so long to understand that something unusual was going on. Wishful thinking, perhaps? The changes were, after all, ones that I really wanted to occur. It was only later…
And, yes, I’ll tell you right upfront, that I’ve always wanted to be huge, from the very beginning. One of my earliest memories was watching Jack LaLanne in jumpsuit in black and white showing the ladies how to improve their busts. I thought I would die of embarrassment when my little brother said “Ooh, look, Mommy, Roger is exercising!” but Mom winked at me and said, “Good going, Roger, keep it up.” And I did.
Nothing much seemed to happen, though. I was just a normal kid, certainly no athlete, certainly no wunderkind. As an adolescent my growth spurt came early. At 15 I was 5’10” tall and 150 lbs. but plenty of guys were already bigger than I was and plenty more passed me in the next year or two.
That was when I started lifting. Before then I just did the Jack LaLanne stuff, the push ups, the chin ups, the sit ups, the isometric exercises. I was lean and toned and well-proportioned, with wide shoulders and a tight waist, well above average, in that respect, but still obviously a teenager. I was hoping that the weights would turn me into another Arnold, lickety-split, but that didn’t happen.
Still, by the time I was 20 I was an inch taller and 200 lbs., just as solid and as ripped as I had been at 15. I was also pretty strong, benching 300 for reps and squatting 500 for a single rep. About that time one of my gym buddies at the local university offered me ‘roids and I had just enough cash squirreled away to take him up on it.
They made me sick as a dog, like I had the world’s worst flu, coming and going at both ends.
“Jesus,” I said to him when I was better, “what the fuck was in that stuff?”
He swore up and down that it was the same stuff he was using and in the week I’d been sick he’d put on 10 lbs. of solid muscle. He offered to give me another round but I put up my hand.
“Thanks but no thanks,” I told him.
But I still stuck it out in the gym, all natural, and every year I was a bit bigger. I was 220 when I graduated from high school, 250 when I graduated from law school, which turned out to be a bit of a problem—at that size no one really wanted to hire me.
“Roger, the problem is,” my advisor said when I went for some much needed hand holding, “you look like a thug. Well, no, not really, you’re plenty good looking enough but, ya know, in a suit you look like some Mafia bodyguard.”
So what was I supposed to do, I asked.
“Trim down some…”
I started working as a personal trainer instead. Within six months I’d been promoted to director of physical training and a year later I was managing the biggest gym in the metro area.
I was 260 lbs.
Once I was spending ALL my time at the gym the meatheads started after me to compete. I entered my first contest weighing 270 lbs., turned pro a year later, and won my first Mr. Olympia contest a year after that.
I was 29 years old and hit the stage weighing 290 lbs. and just a fraction under 6 ft. tall. I outweighed my nearest competition, Lee Haney, by a good 30-40 lbs. A year later I won a second time, this time weighing 300 lbs., and then retired.
I signed a jillion endorsement contracts and I was always in the mags, even after I retired. “How big can he get?” was the usual refrain.
It was only then that I realized something very unusual was happening. In 10 years I’d gone from 5’11” to 6 ft. even, which struck me as a little bit odd since most guys have finished growing UP by the time they’re 20. Likewise, I’d added 100 lbs. of solid muscle to my frame. Again, not outside the realm of possibility but how many people did it with NO chemical assistance whatsoever.
And then there was my dick.
At 20 it had been a very healthy 8 inches long and 6 inches around.
At 30 it was 10 inches long and 7 inches around.
My boyfriend at the time thought I was making it up.
“That’s ridiculous,” he pointed out. “Nobody’s dick grows two inches between the ages of 20 and 30.”
I snorted.
“I think I would have noticed if it had been 10 inches then,” I replied. “I remember seeing guys with 10 inches and thinking, ‘oh, man, that’s huge…’”
Well…
I shrugged my (mountainous) shoulders, then fucked his lights out.
Who was I to complain?
And that pretty much defined my 30s.
Every year I was 10 lbs. heavier, every year I was a fraction of an inch taller, every year my dick seemed a little bit thicker and longer than the year before.
On my 40th birthday, that long ago boyfriend showed up for my party (it was a surprise); I’d moved around a fair bit over the years so he was one of the few people present who’d known me then—and who hadn’t seen me in a while.
“Jesus Christ, Roger!”
I gave him a gentle hug in my mammoth arms—and realized we were looking eye to eye.
“Uh, Chris,” I murmured to his neck, “tell me again how tall you are?”
He looked me up and down.
“Six-one,” he said, “Same as you obviously. But, jeeze, man, how much do you weigh now?”
“Four-oh-one,” I told him. “Double what I was when I was 20.”
He nodded, then grabbed my crotch. His eyes widened.
“It’s 12 now, wanna take a look?”
He did more than take a look.
Afterwards, he got out the measuring tape and checked everything, then wrote down the resulting numbers:
Weight: 401 lbs.
Height: 6 ft 1 inch
Chest: 80 inches
Neck: 30 inches
Biceps: 32 inches
Waist: 40 inches
Quads: 42 inches
Calves: 30 inches
“You look insanely strong,” he told me, which made me chuckle.
“I am insanely strong,” I replied.
Then I showed him how strong I really was.
“That’s insane,” he said, when I finished.
“What? That I’m able to bench 1800 lbs.?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, that’s insane. So is the 2200 lb. dead lift and the 3000 lb. squat. And most of all, that gigantic dick.”
He licked his lips, then asked the question that had been going through my mind for quite some time at that point:
“What if…?”
What if it doesn’t stop?
I let out a sigh.
“Well, what if it doesn’t?”
Chris shook his head.
“Can you handle it…?”
A good question.
Part 2
Not long after our first anniversary, David and I went underground -- literally!It had become increasingly clear that the military and the DHS types were unnerved by the prospect of two giant hulks living a luxurious life on the California coast.
They came to visit, more than once.
"What are you taking?" they asked.
"We want samples," they declared.
Fame, of course, is a double-edged sword. They couldn't actually disappear a billionaire with many high priced Los Angeles attorneys at his beck and call. They couldn't actually kidnap us and take us to a secret facility and open us up.
But they could -- and did -- makes our lives uncomfortable and unpleasant.
So I bought the valley in Idaho, the one with the leftover, empty missile silo, and we built underground. Think "Blast from the Past" meets "Hercules Unchained," or something.
That was a long time ago.
A really long time ago.
Since then, global warming has come and gone.
The first woman president has come and gone.
The first Asian American Jewish transgender lesbian president has come and gone.
The Nik Nik, those three-legged beasties from Rigel VII, have come and gone.
Fifty years, in fact, have come and gone.
David and I have stayed in our hole (well, in each others, too, but that's a different story!)
We're, like, BIG now! (I know, I know, as if we weren't before.)
And, as expected, David is even bigger than I am, although not as much bigger as we thought he might be.
I celebrated my 100th birthday yesterday.
I still look like I'm about 30, he tells me.
Frankly, I think I look like a very hairy, pale version of the Incredible Hulk, or what I recall of the comic book version. I know for sure Lou Ferrigno was never my size, namely:
7 feet tall
1,000 lbs. of solid muscle
200 inch chest
80 inch biceps
100 inch waist
100 inch quads
My shoulders are, literally, 10 feet across. It's just as well we put in the extra tall ceilings and the extra wide doors.
Oh, yeah, and:
The muscle that's not a muscle:
24 inches long, 16 inches around
It's a two-hander in both directions, even with my giant hands.
As for David...
Well, I've always told people I was really just a shy, delicate flower. Next to him, it seems true:
7 feet 6 inches tall
1,500 lbs.
Everything else is half again as big, too (except for his waist):
300 inch chest
130 inch waist
110 inch biceps
150 inch quads
And shoulders that are 15 feet from side to side, which makes him exactly twice as wide as he is tall.
He IS prone to complain about his dick, which is "only" (as he says) 30 inches long, just 25% longer than mine, not 50%. I point out that at 90 inches he's "only" 6 inches taller than I am, in other words, he should quit his bitching!
Coupling, as you might imagine...
Well, no, I guess you probably really CAN'T imagine, can you?
It's kinda like trying to dock the QM2 with the International Space Station IV (a gift, as you will recall, from the Nik Nik), i.e., something that really isn't supposed to happen, so consequently something that has to occur in a very deliberate, coordinated fashion, else something is likely to get crushed or mangled.
At this point we've done it enough that we do it FAST, as well as deliberately. And once we discovered the salt mine, we determined that we could play as rough as we wanted. Sure, we show up on the USGS monitors, but they know we're there, and the few tunnel collapses that have occurred, well, those Nik Nik arbeiters we purchased a while back put things back right, lickety split.
We keep thinking we'll see other guys like us. Even after the Great Exodus, there are still a couple of billion people on the planet, and muscle is all the fashion (which isn't too surprising considering the human population is now about 30% gay / lesbian.) There are plenty of huge men out there but they're only incrementally bigger than their fathers and grandfathers from the early part of the 21st century.
"Sometimes..." David said recently.
"I know," I answered.
"Know what?" he countered.
"You want to go outside," I replied.
He grunted.
"I don't blame you," I continued. "That new guy, Frank McKenzie, is freakin' hot."
David laughed.
"Nobody says 'freakin' any more, old man!"
I grinned.
"But he IS, isn't he?"
David scratched the foot deep cleavage between his mammoth pecs, something he really shouldn't be able to do, except that over time our anatomies have shifted in ways that allow us to remain functional, despite our vast bulk.
"Yeah," he allowed, finally. "For a little feller, he's freekin' hot."
McKenzie, the most recent King of Bodybuilding, is 6 feet 6 inches tall and 600 lbs., the biggest many to ever win the Coleman Crown. In other words, he's pretty much a dwarf compared to David.
"Little or no..."
The look on his face tells me that David has something OTHER than going outside on his mind.
I press the stud that calls the freight elevator.
It's time to rumble.
END