My New Pal 5

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I woke up on top of the bedspread on my parents' bed. I still felt a little dizzy, and was trying to remember what had happened before I passed out. I remembered Tommy pressing me over his head for reps, using me like a weight, and seeing his reflection in the mirror as he did it. Was it possible that he was that strong? I had to be imagining some of it. Then Tommy came out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair. He had on my dad's Nike basketball shorts, which were super baggy on my dad. On Tommy, his legs and ass were so huge, they fit him snug, like spandex.

"Hey, you're awake," he said. "Hope you don't mind, I took a shower while you were...napping."

"No problem," I said, as he walked over to the dresser, looked in the mirror, and ran his fingers thru his thick reddish-blond hair. The thick mounds of muscle on his back rolled as he pushed his hair back. I was struck by the fact that, despite being so bulked up, he had a very impressive V taper going from his thick wide shoulders to his waist. His glutes were so rounded out, and so wide, they stretched the webbing of the shorts till it was almost transparent, like fishnet stockings.

"I weighed myself on the scale in there," he said, nodding toward the bathroom. "I gained 8lbs since last week. Am up to 249," he said proudly.

"That scale reads about 5lbs too high," I lied. It actually read about 6lbs too low, so that meant he weighed closer to 255. It just pissed me off that he was that thick and solid and was growing so fast.

Tommy stopped fixing his hair and looked at me in the reflection. "That's weird," he said suspiciously, "cause I look and feel so much bigger, Joey." He walked over and stood at the far side of the bed. His quads were face level with me. He nudged them against the side of the bed, and the bed moved.

"Dude," I had to ask, "how'd you get your legs so big? You sure you never did squats?"

"Nah," he said. "Pops said they'd stunt my growth." He flexed his leg muscles slightly as we both looked at them. They swelled about an inch.

"Then how?"

"There's a real steep road close to our house. Pops had me start hiking up and down it with a weighted vest on. Started out with about 20lbs, added weight almost every day."

"Shafto Road? Out by the college?" I asked.

"'s right by where I live. You know it?

"Yeah," I said. As a kid, we used to ride our bikes out that way, and I could never make it all the way to the top of that road. It was a long steep incline, and my legs would be pumping and burning as my bike went slower and slower, till finally I'd have to hop off and walk the rest of the way to the top. Coming down was fun though.

"It didn't take long till the vest wasn't enough for me, so Pops made a harness and attached our riding mower to it."

"You hike all the way up Shafto Road with a riding mower behind you?"

"Yeah, but it sucks big time. I puked the first couple times I did it. And going up's not near as bad as going back down. Pops switches the harness so the mower is in front of me, and I have to go real slow, otherwise it starts pulling me faster and faster till I lose my balance. That only happened once though."

"Your pops walk along side you, make sure you don't get hurt?

"At first he did. Now, he sits on the mower."

"Tommy..." I said, thinking of him trudging up that hill, pulling the mower with his 250lb grandfather sitting on it.

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty sick," he said, and he laid down on the bed next to me. "Next, he wants to try using his jeep. At first I really hated it, and I hated him for making me do it, and it still sucks while I'm doing it. But when I'm done, and we get home, and I eat, the feel in my legs, my whole body actually, is so intense it's like nirvana or something. Plus, my ass has grown about 6 inches outward, and my quads a good 4 or 5. So I go upstairs, turn on my TV, lay on my bed, and it's like I can feel the power in my legs growing. They get so bloated and full. I can punch them and I don't even feel it. And, I clench my ass and feel myself lift up on the bed. Sometimes I trace the veins in my thighs with my finger, and I can feel the blood pumping thru them. Up and down my finger goes, there's so many veins. Now I'm kinda looking forward to the jeep."

"You don't watch TV with Pops?" I said, changing the subject quickly because I was starting to feel funny. Like I was going to have to reach out and touch his legs. Too feel if they were as hard as they looked.

"Hell, no," said Tommy. "All he ever watches is the Military Channel or the History Channel. And God forbid you talk during a show. Couple weeks ago I was in there with him, and he'd had a couple beers, and I talked, and he said 'Kid, if you say one more word...." So I said 'but Pops', just to be smart. He whirled a beer bottle at my head...didn't even look away from the screen. The old guy has wicked aim and a strong throwing arm. You ever been hit in the head by a beer bottle?"


"It hurts. And the other night, I came in to say goodnight to him, and he was watching a show on Vietnam. I stood at the doorway and said, 'Is that what it was like over there, Pops?'

"He was in Vietnam?"

"Yeah, but he hardly ever talks about it at all. But this night, and again, after a couple beers, he starts going on and on....I finally turned and walked away while he was still talking."

"Dude, that is rude," I said.

"I didn't think it was that rude. I didn't think he even knew I was still there. But he came after me down the hallway and tackled me so hard that when I landed, it knocked a couple pictures off the wall."

"He can still tackle you?" I asked.

"Well, he took me by surprise....but yeh, and hard, too. That's why I stick to my room mostly. Plus," and he paused for a little, "and you can't tell anyone this..."

"Who would I tell?"

"I started watching that show Smallville after my hikes...."

"Yeah, so?" I said.

"This will seem weird, but I watch it and wonder what it'd be like to take on that guy that plays Superman. Like, what it would it be for me to knock him around a room while I mock him. Tell him how I'm gonna fuck Lois and Lana at the same time. It kinda turns me on. Imagine how easy it'd be for me, he's even smaller than you. And the other night, after my hike, when my legs were feeling so insanely smoked, I imagine getting him into a leg scissor. Just putting him between my thighs and squeeeezing. Crushing down on the Man of Steel. Hear him start to beg, even while I'm still barely trying. And then squeezing tighter. And while I was imagining it, I was pressing my thighs together, tight as I could, and held them there in a flex till they were shaking with power, veins all over, sweat dripping off me. And then I came. Didn't even touch myself, just exploded like a cannon. Does that seem weird?"

I didn't say anything, but I pulled the bedspread up over my shorts. I had to force my eyes away from his quads.

"What you do that for?" Tommy asked.

"Cause you're a freak," I said.

"Let me see what's doing under there," he said. He reached for the cover, and I shoved his hand away.

"Get away from me, Sicko," I said. As he chuckled, the doorbell rang. "Who the fuck...." I said. "Tommy, go see who that is."

"What, are your legs broken?" he said with a smirk.

"Come on, bro," I said.

"It's your house," he mocked.

"And I'm chilling out in it, man. Besides, I'm still lightheaded."

"OK, OK," he said, laughing. As he stood up off the bed, the bedsprings seemed to squeak with relief. I heard him walk to the front door and open it, and start talking with someone. Then I heard him go to the kitchen, then back to the door. Some more talking, then the door shut. Tommy came back to the bedroom door and said, "I hope you don't mind, while you were sleeping, I ordered some...."

I smelled it before he even said it..."Pizza," I said. The smell of pizza flooded the room and made me salivate. I hadn't had pizza in months. I loved pizza. "Dude, I can't eat pizza." I said, pissed off.

"Not even one piece?"

I stood up and walked to the bedroom door. Tommy turned sideways to let me squeeze past his bulk. I went into the kitchen and there on the table were 3 pizza boxes and two 1-liter bottles of Coke. I walked past it, opened the refrigerator and grabbed a container. I brought it out, took off the top, then got a fork and started eating from it. Tommy came into the kitchen and looked at me.

"What are you eating?" he asked.

"Brown rice," I said between fork-fulls

"Ah, god," he said, making a face. "You don't even heat it up first?"

"Believe me, that doesn't help much," I said, forcing myself to eat the dry chewy rice.

Tommy opened up a box of pizza and pulled out a slice. He folded it in half and shoved half the piece in his mouth. He took a step toward me. "Shure you don't want shome?" he said as he chewed.

"Get the fuck away from me," I said, turning away from him. "Take that shit outside, asshole."

He peeked into the container of rice. "Looks like maggots," he said, as he shoved the rest of the slice into his mouth. I slammed the container down on the counter, opened the refrigerator and took out a whey drink. Fruit Punch. Oh yummy. I gulped it down as fast as I could, trying hard not to gag at his maggot comment, which wasn't far from the truth. My head was throbbing from my low sugar, and I had an intense desire to shove my fist down Tommy's thick neck.

"Get it the fuck out, man," I said.

"You're really not gonna have any," he said, wiping his mouth with his arm. "That's impressive, man. Whacked, but impressive. I'll take this out front and stop tempting you." I could tell he felt badly, as he picked up the pizza boxes and soda and headed out the front door, but it was hard not to be mad. The whey drink helped quell the overwhelming desire I had to devour the pizza, a little anyway, and I decided to take a shower to take my mind off the lingering smell.

After my shower, my sugar levels must have come back up, because I felt a lot better. I dried off, put on a pair of shorts, and went out to the front porch. Tommy was sitting in a chair, looking like he was in a stupor, surrounded by 3 empty boxes of pizza and an empty bottle of Coke. The boxes looked like they'd been attacked rather than simply opened. His face was all sweaty, and there was a glob of reddish-orange pizza grease on the top of his bulging gut mound.

"Nice ab," I said mockingly. He looked down at his gut, saw the grease, and rubbed it all over his stomach with his hand, making the skin glisten. He licked off his fingers and stood up.

"Punch it," he said.

This took me by surprise. "I'm not gonna punch it," I said.

"Come on, you won't hurt me," he said. Then he flexed his gut. I couldn't believe it as ridges of muscle appeared on his rounded, oily stomach. It looked like a tortoise shell. "You too much of a pussy to try?"

"Alright, if you want," I said, and I punched him in the stomach. It was like hitting a solid side of beef.

"Dude," he said, "my sister hits harder than that. Do it again."

This time I reared my arm back and really slammed the big cocky kid.

"That's was better. Pops hits a lot harder though. He says pretty soon he's gonna take down the heavy bag in the garage and just use my gut. And watch this," he said, and he started sucking in his big ball belly. I couldn't believe how far he was able to pull it in. And as he did so, his chest swelled up and outward, like two big medicine balls. "Aww, yeah," growled Tommy, as he sucked his gut in till it was almost concave and thickly ridge with muscle. His pecs ballooned out as if he had on one of those shirts that powerlifters use when they compete, pecs bulging up and out at the top. They practically hit his chin. He reared his shoulders back, and his chest swelled out even farther.

"Fuck," I said, taking a step back in awe.

"Yeah," he said. Then he reached down and grabbed the full 1 liter bottle of Coke and placed it on top of his right pec. He played with it for awhile, balancing it. He leaned back a little, then let go of the bottle. It stayed on top of his chest. "Oh yeah, look at that shit, Joey," he said. He let it rest there for a few seconds, then he bounced both his pecs upward, sending the bottle flying. He snatched it midair with his left hand and squeezed it with his thick fingers until the top popped right off, like a champagne cork. Fortunately, he had the top facing toward the front yard, because the Coke exploded out of it in a 4 foot arch. He mangled the bottle in his hand till it spewed out the whole liter. He tossed the crushed up plastic into the yard then turned and looked at me. We were both breathing heavy. I'd never seen someone so jacked up. Veins snaking all over his chest and arms. And that look on his face. Raging with confidence. He kept his shoulders held back so that his arms jutted out from his sides.

"Maybe I ought to enter that contest of yours. You got any of those posers handy?"

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