My New Pal 11

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Tommy and I trained for the next 4 weeks with a hardcore frenzy. Ken, the gym manager, helped out a lot, helping me spot Tommy on his heaviest lifts, and making protein drinks by the gallon for us. Ken had even decided to drop out of the competition in order to focus more on Tommy, who, in return, poured everything he had into getting bigger and stronger. And it worked. He grew and grew. Two nights before the competition, Ken weighed him in at 365lbs. Even more amazing was that his bodyfat had gone from 14% when we started, to 9%. His veins were standing out more than ever, and there were more of them. They didn't just look like road, they looked like road maps of the highway system of Los Angeles. And Tommy loved watching them in the mirror as he flexed, rippling and heaving his muscles till the veins bulged up thru the skin more and more, twisting and turning like the mighty Mississippi, feeding his engorged muscles till they were bloated beyond belief.

And bloated his muscles should be, given the insane poundage he was moving when he trained. Ken had never seen anyone with so much strength. After the first week, he started closing the gym when we came in to workout, because everyone would gather around to watch Tommy lift world record breaking weight, and Ken didn't want the word getting out too soon about the freak kid he was training for the powerlifting meet. Tommy was lifting so much, that Ken had to order extra 100lbs plates for his gym. A lot of them. Tommy loved it when we added one more plate to each side of the bar, and he would press it out for reps, then rack it, sit up, and flex out. And I loved it too. I kept paying off my bet, too, even though I knew I was even. Tommy's workouts got him so riled up, and I serviced him 4, 5 times a day. Neither of us could get enough.

And it was paying off for me, too. I'd never been so big and ripped up in my life. I'd entered a couple of amateur contests in the past, and it was easy to see the difference between that level of competition and the pro level. Guys who go pro have a different look that you can recognize real early on. And in an amateur contest, a guy like that stands out big time. Everyone notices him because he stands out from the crowd with his superior conditioning and mass. And I knew I was going to be that guy at this competition. Training with Tommy had notched up my game at least 2 levels. I was going to wipe the stage with any local bodybuilder who stepped on the stage against me. Destroy them like a joke. My progress had been so rapid since I'd met Tommy, I had to wonder if my paying off the bet wasn't part of the reason.

The night before the competitions, Tommy had a gig with his heavy metal band downtown. I knew better than to try and talk him out of playing with them, because they'd had 3 gigs during the past 4 weeks, and he refused to miss them. He said he'd made the commitment to them and he was their only drummer. I had to respect him for it. Besides, his presence with the band had given them some local buzz, and people were filling the clubs they played in order to get a look at the Beast Drummer. He would start out the night in a tee shirt, but at the end of the first set, he'd ask some chick up on stage to peel the sweat-drenched tee off of him. The place would go wild as she tugged and tugged it over his massive body, slowly exposing the enormous bulk of his arms and chest. Then Tommy stand up and flex, and let guys come up and give him forearm smashes across his massive barrel chest. Even the goth kids got into it.

I went down to see him play that last night before the meet. I made it thru the first set, and got to see the striptease. It was pretty funny seeing the size of him, especially next to a bunch of skinny, pale, white kids who pounded on his chest with no effect. One of the stage lights was a dark green, and it made him look a little like Shrek. The music was so freaking loud, though, it made my head buzz. Plus, I knew he'd be here till 2 or 3 in the morning. I wanted to get some sleep before my contest the next afternoon, so I headed out early. I was spending the night at Tommy's place, and when I pulled up outside, Mr Berg was sitting out front.

"Hey, Arn," I said, as I came up on the porch.

"Hey, Joe," he said. "I'm glad you came back early. I need your help with something." He picked up his lit cigar, got up and led me into the house. He picked up something off the kitchen counter and headed out back. "Come on," he said, cigar in his mouth. He went over to an outside outlet and plugged something in. He stood up and I could see that he was holding an electric clipper, like a barber uses. He put it down on the patio table, put his cigar in the ashtray next to it, then stripped off his shirt. The only light out here was coming from the kitchen window, so it was shadowy, but I could see that he was completely jacked up. The old dude was built better than I'd imagined. He looked like he was about 290lbs, yet his massive shoulder spread tapered down to about a 32" waist.

"I got a surprise for you, Joe," he said.


"You know that little bodybuilding show you're in tomorrow?"


"I entered it."

"You did what?"

"Yep," he said. "When I picked up the entry form for Tommy's powerlifting meet, I got a form for your show and entered. I'm in the Masters' division. I was going to surprise you with it tomorrow, but I need a hand. Think you could help shave me down?"

"Well, sure," I said, more than a little stunned.

"Here, take these clippers and start on my chest. I wanted to get rid of most of the hair out here, otherwise I'll clog up the shower."

As I stepped up to him, I could see what he meant. His chest hair was thick as a pelt. I picked up the clippers and flicked on the switch. It started buzzing loudly. "Where should I start?" I asked him.

"Here," he said, and he took my hand and guided it to his waist. "Now just move up toward my neck like you're mowing a lawn."

A very overgrown lawn, I thought to myself. I pushed the clippers up the left side of his abs and watched the thick chestnut brown hair fall off him. When I got to his chest, the electric buzz deepened and slowed. Here, the hair was much thicker and was mixed with gray. When I got to his neck, where his hairline came to a sudden stop right about his collarbone, I moved the clippers back down to his waistline, and started up again. I could see the ridges of his abs as the hair fell away. The old fucker had a deeply etched 8 pack going. His big chest heaved up and down as I mowed it. His big thick nipples emerged as I cut the thick pelt away from them. When I got up close to his neck, I could smell his foul cigar breath. I could feel the clippers overheating in my hand as they cut more and more of his heavy fur off of him. When I got done with his chest and abs, the clippers were smoking. I stepped back to look at him. He brushed away some of the loose hair. "Not bad, huh?" he said, flexing into a double biceps.

Not bad? He was in the same league as I was, at least. His arms looked like they had a triple peak popping up at the top. He was going to crush any old dude who stepped on the stage with him. Crush.

"It's kind of dark out here," he said. "See if you can feel the striations on my chest." He flexed his chest out, and I reached up and put my hand on it. It felt like a bunch of piano cords had been braided together, as I ran my hand across the stubbly pecs. "Think I'm coming in dry enough, stud?" he asked me. He picked up his cigar, put it in his mouth, and drew on it hard. I could hear the lit end sizzle and pop in my ear. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, turned his head to the side and blew the smoke up and out. I was getting dizzy.

"You ever wonder how Tommy's been able to grow so fast and get so strong, Joe?" he asked me.

"Yeh, it's crossed my mind," I said, surprised by his question.

"He and I have this thing," he said. "I figure it's genetic, or maybe something more. We can control things more than most people."

"What things?" I asked.

"Like our bodies. Or events. Or other people. And once we decide there's something we want to do, or have, we can pretty much make it happen. I wasn't sure Tommy had it, until this last year. Guess he's a late bloomer. But it sure has kicked in for him. Maybe even more than usual. Let me ask you, you ever do anything around Tommy that you might have thought you'd never do?"

"Sort of," I answered.

"Yeah, I kinda figured. But you like it though, right?"

"More than I might have ever thought," I said.

"That's good. And it shows on you too. You feeling it? You look...improved."

"I feel improved."

"Yep. Same thing is happening to that Russian stripper I get with at the club."

"What do you mean?"

"Since I've been getting with her, she's gained 60lbs of muscle. Now she's 5'9, 190lbs and ripped as you are. She loves it, but the club owner was going to fire her, until he found out she's pulling in a whole new clientele. Lot a guys into her new musclebound physique. And strength."

"How does it work?" I asked.

"Like this," he said, and he reached up and stroked the side of my neck with his index and middle finger. I got goosebumps up and down my whole body. He pulled my head back, leaned into me and kissed me. I felt his hot funky cigar-tasting tongue in my mouth. I sucked on his tongue hard. He pulled me into him, his old man muscles hard as granite, and big as the pro wrestler Batista at his peak. He picked me up off the ground, then pulled his mouth away. "You feeling it?" he asked me, as he squeezed my ass.

"Yessir," I said. It felt like every Christmas morning of my life rolled into one moment. "You feeling it, too?"

"What do you think, Joe? Feel how hard I am. Feel how huge I am. I could beat a pro bodybuilder with this 56yo muscle."

"This is fucking awesome," I said, feeling myself swell.

"Just wait. It gets better. Lots better. But first you gotta finish shaving me down. Let's get in the shower."

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