The Coven Coin 8: MVP

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Over the next few months the other boys on the football team matured and grew naturally into men. The coin around Ryan’s neck siphoned enough of their muscle, bone and knowledge to keep his biggest and best status. At the end of his rookie season, he was named the MVP. The spell was fulfilled once again.

The coach who had asked him to join the football team propositioned Ryan again. He asked if the all-star was interested in wrestling. The school’s team was ranked nationally. The coach told him no pressure, but gave him a uniform just in case.

It didn’t take long before Ryan felt different; weaker. He told himself it was because he hadn’t worked out since football season ended. But it wasn’t like he ever worked that hard in the gym. He usually stood around and talked to the other guys. He spotted them and handed out advice; but spent only a few minutes actually pumping iron. He lifted heavy with few reps mostly to show off. He took his cardio casually too. While the guys ran laps, he made time with the cheerleaders. It apparently was all he needed to keep improving his massive and ripped physique.

Once again Ryan was in the locker room undressing. He decided to try out for the wrestling team to kill time until baseball season started. He was confident he could master the ancient sport as he did the two great American past times. He thought the team would motivate him to work out. He wanted, no needed, to keep in peak condition. He was addicted to his new size and strength. Ryan removed all his street clothes and slid on the nylon briefs the coach recommended he wear under his wrestling uniform. Supposedly wrestlers didn’t wear jocks or cups. The thin, skimpy briefs didn’t have a fly and looked more like woman’s panties than men’s underwear. The big boy rubbed his package behind the smooth fabric. It felt better in his hand than the thick, cotton skivvies he usually wore. With a t-shirt in his hand, he went to the mirror to check himself out. He liked how he filled out the lightweight briefs. No woman ever looked like that in her panties. He looked bigger where it really counted. He had spent enough time in locker rooms to know he was better endowed than most. The reaction he got from the girls, and women, he had been with backed his observation. But like most men, big was never big enough for Ryan.

He turned to get a view of his back. After commanding the muscles of his upper back to dance, his eyes went lower. He moved his 215 pounds from one leg to the other. His glutes shifted seductively under the pale blue nylon. He caressed the twin globes before slapping the hard mounds. All the girls’ in school told him he had a great butt. They started a little game where they would try to feel it whenever possible. The girl who copped the most feels by the end of the semester would be considered the winner. Ryan wondered what she would receive as a prize. Maybe touching him was enough. The target of the contest was unaware when it first started. It took Ryan a few days to figure out why all the girls were suddenly so forward. But he caught on when two different girls slid their hands into his jeans’ back pockets and called out a number. The giggling from the group of onlookers gave the game away. Ryan enjoyed the attention even though he pretended to be annoyed. He purposely kept his shirts tucked and wore short jackets to allow easy access for his admirers.

Ryan faced the mirror again. He pulled on the t-shirt he carried. The coach suggested it to absorb his sweat during practice. Like the briefs, his manly bulk filled the garment. The sleeves and top portion of the large shirt clung to every thick muscle. The material billowed loosely around his slim waist. The shirt wasn’t long enough to reach his belly button. That wasn’t unusual for someone standing over 6’. His lower abs and stuffed briefs were still in full view. Ryan thought he looked incredibly sexy in the skimpy outfit. He palmed his package, lifted it slightly then let it fall back into place with a heavy bounce.

After another moment of self admiration, he went back to his locker. He held up the singlet the coach gave him. “I hope this thing stretches.” He pulled it up over his thighs. The material easily accommodated his powerful girth. He lifted the straps to his shoulders and smoothed out the t-shirt underneath. Ryan walked to the mirror again. The form fitting uniform hugged his body everywhere. The narrow back, bib and straps accentuated his V taper and drew your eye to his assets in back and up front. His ass looked even better than in the briefs alone. The material tightly wrapped his manly package from the sides and bottom making the bulge at his crotch look huge. He had to touch it. The two layers of nylon squeezed every thing tightly together. It made his parts feel smooth and solid in his hand almost like he had shoved a croquet ball down his shorts. He pulled the gathered legs of the garment downward. But as soon as he started walking the clingy material rode up and encased him again. “There’s no hiding just how big a man I am in this getup.”

The novice wrestler entered the gymnasium with the confidence of a professional. The coach smiled when he saw him approaching. “I’m so glad you decided to give wrestling a try, Ryan.” The coach introduced the star athlete to the other wrestlers. There was no real reason. They all knew who he was. Most of the boys were short and very thin. They looked down right scrawny next to Ryan. The uniforms showcased each boy’s equipment. Of course none matched what Ryan was packing. His confidence grew as he met each little boy. The last introduction was the team’s best known member. “Ryan, this is GrantBarnes; he’s our current MVP, the heavyweight champ. Like most sports, the biggest guys get all the attention in wrestling. Isn’t that right Grant?”

Grant smirked, “That’s the way it should be coach.” The champion stood up straight to try to intimidate the new guy.

Ryan knew Grant. The two were considered the school’s best athletes. Grant may be nationally ranked; but Ryan excelled in two sports to his one. Ryan had to put him in his place. The fitter athlete put his hands on his hips to draw attention to his muscular core. He strummed his fingers on his pelvis near his incomparable bulge. “I couldn’t agree more.” He saw the champ’s eyes lower for just a second. The smirk on his face was gone.

“Grant’s a senior. So I need someone to fill his shoes next year. That’s were I hope you come in Ryan.” The coach looked over the football star. You’ll probably be in the same division. What are you 6’ 3’; about 210, 220?”

“The last time I checked a couple of weeks ago. But I way I grow, who knows.” Ryan squared his shoulders to look bigger.

Grant sucked in his soft stomach, “I know I’m over 6’ 4”; 240.” He knew he couldn’t match the Ryan’s aesthetics; but he’d taken down plenty of guys like him before. Looking stronger didn’t necessarily mean he was stronger.

The coach could see the tension between the two behemoths. “As Grant knows, weight is very important in wrestling, more than the other sports you play Ryan. There’s less than ten pounds between some weight classes. We do weekly weigh-ins to make sure everyone is where they should be. For heavyweights, you want to be as heavy as possible without letting you’re body fat get out of control. The weight does help with leverage, but we’re not sumo wrestlers. You need to be strong, agile and fast to get the jump on the other guy. It also takes flexibility to break holds. It’s one on one; another player can’t compensate for your weaknesses in this game.”

“That’s for sure”, Grant chimed in. Ryan could tell he meant that as a dig.

The coach handed Ryan his head gear. The handsome stud frowned at the ugly protection. The other guys looked like such geeks wearing it. The older man put a hand on both boys’ shoulders. “Grant show Ryan the basics. See how he does. I warn you, he’s a fast learner.” He turned away and told the others to break up into pairs and practice. Ryan followed Grant to the mat in the far corner. The champion spent a few minutes going over the basic rules purposely speaking quickly and using jargon. Ryan had a hard time comprehending the information being thrown at him. Before he knew it, he was being pinned by the heavier boy. Over and over again, Grant threw Ryan hard to the mat not giving him any time to get his bearings. Ryan had the strength to combat Grant and break his holds, but not the knowledge. He tried to figure out where and when to get the advantage. But Grant’s experience defeated the rookie’s every attempt. Ryan felt like a helpless child being manipulated by a bully. Grant enjoyed every moment of it. He intentionally adjusted his holds so his armpit, ass or crotch was in Ryan’s face. He really wanted to humiliate his more attractive rival.

It was working. Ryan wasn’t accustomed to losing and he didn’t like it. He was totally frustrated, then angry. Ryan thrashed about trying anything to get the upper hand. But Grant had him under his complete control. Soon Ryan began to tire. He could barely breathe with Grant’s smelly body parts pressed against his nose and mouth. The coach came over and observed. After Ryan was pinned for the nth time the coach pulled Grant to the side, “So what do you think?”

Grant was out of breath and sweating heavily. His chubbiness and Ryan’s strength taxed his stamina. “The kid’s pretty strong, but lacks any real skills. It will take a lot of time before he’s ready to compete at my level.” He got a little thrill from defeating the freakish junior so easily.

“That may be true, but I still think he’ll be an asset to the team. He’s certainly given you a work out.” The coach walked over to Ryan who was on his knees gasping for air. His face was red from exertion. Sweat dripped off his nose and chin. The older man held out his hand, “Welcome to the team, Ryan.”

Ryan was too embarrassed by his performance to speak. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be on the time anymore. He shook the coach’s hand and quickly lowered his eyes. The coach just released his grip when Ryan felt a surge of power throughout his body. He leaned forward and steadied himself with his hands. On all fours, he contracted every muscle as they pulsed uncontrollably. His lower body and core felt like he was flexing, but he wasn’t. His uniform tightened around him. He looked over at the coach and Grant. They had their backs to him as the spoke to one another. Ryan looked down at his hands; he swore they were growing. He lifted them off the mat and held them up to get a better look. They did look larger; maybe stronger was a better description. The sinewy cords and veins popped out from under his thin skin. He had the impulse to form two fists. The muscles in his forearm bulged. His biceps looked incredibly swollen. The shoulder seams of his wet t-shirt creaked as he stretched out his traps and upper back. Ryan assumed his muscles were pumped from the strenuous matches with Grant. He put everything he had into the battle.

Grant steadied himself. He felt lightheaded and weak for a moment. He rubbed his forehead. He shook it off when the coach asked him if he was okay.

Ryan got on his feet. He pulled at the legs and shoulder straps of his singlet to make them more comfortable. The wet tee felt like a compression shirt. He swung his arms and flared his lats to stretch out the cotton garment. Ryan thought it must have shrunk as it soaked up his sweat. Ryan felt his energy return. He felt good, really good…and strong. He began to bounce on the balls of his feet like a boxer before the first round. Wrestling images flashed in his mind. He didn’t understand why, but he recognized the holds and moves instantly. “I want to go again.” The coach and Grant turned their heads in his direction. Both scanned his body and thought he looked bigger somehow. “That warm up got me really pumped. Now I want go again. I think I’ll do better this time, coach.”

“That’s what I like to see in my wrestlers; eagerness and energy.” The coach slapped Grant on the back. “Get in there, son.”

Grant took a deep breath and straightened his spine. “Okay, but I was going easy on you before. That won’t happen again.”

“Bring it on, fatso”, Ryan said defiantly.

The coach blew his whistle and the two heavyweights lunged at each other. Ryan had the champ pinned within seconds. The two returned to the starting stance. Once again Ryan got the jump on the champion. He moved quicker. His leanness meant his flexibility and reflexes were superior to Grant’s. Ryan knew what to do and when to do it. It came naturally to him without having to think. In addition to muscle and size, the spell took wrestling knowledge from every wrestler on the team. Ryan now knew things about the sport that even Grant didn’t. The more experienced wrestler couldn’t anticipate Ryan’s next move; but the rookie knew all of Grant’s tricks. Every time Grant got Ryan in a hold; a reversal followed within seconds. He couldn’t control the junior any longer. Was Ryan stronger or was the champ weaker? Grant was overwhelmed. It was his turn to feel frustrated and angry. He cursed himself every time he lost a point. The other team members began to gather around to watch the two titans. After being pinned for the tenth straight time; Grant walked off the mat. In a rage, he threw his head gear across the room.

Ryan stood in the center of the ring not sure what to do. The coach walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder. “Well done, son. I’ve never seen anyone pick up a sport as fast as you; first football and now wrestling. Absolutely amazing! Grant is ranked number one in the state and you beat him like he was no one.” The coach’s true admiration was obvious. The other members came up and congratulated Ryan on his victorious debut. “Come on boys, let’s do our weigh in.”

The team walked into the weight room and went to the corner with the medical scale. Grant pulled up the rear still fuming about his loss. One by one, the coach weighed his team. He started with the lightest boys and worked his way up the weight classes. He also notated their height too to make sure they were in a healthy range. Most had lost a pound or two. He also had to round up to get to their previously recorded heights. He thought maybe the scale needed an adjustment.

Ryan stood at the back of the crowd waiting his turn. Grant kept his distance. Ryan pulled at his confining uniform. He kept feeling his body. It seemed larger…harder. When Grant’s name was called, he knew he would be next. He lowered the tight straps of his singlet off his broad shoulders and pulled off his t-shirt. The soaked garment had to weigh at least three pounds. Most of the other boys had done the same thing to get a more accurate body weight. He caught his reflection in a large wall mirror. Shit, he looked huge. His muscles were pumped larger than he thought possible and he was still ripped. He looked like one of those muscle guys he saw on magazine covers at the newsstand. He ran his hand over his abs and obliques. They were bigger, harder and more defined. His neck was so thick its width matched that of his head. His traps were like cables of a suspension bridge holding up his kick ball sized delts. His upper arms were just as large. His arms and shoulders were so muscular it made his chest look slightly underdeveloped.

“234.5 pounds and just under six four,” the coach said as he wrote down the information.

“You mean just over six four”, Grant commented. The coach shook his head no. “But that doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I shrunk today.”

The coach stuck the end of his pen into the big boy’s soft stomach. His gut hung over his pulled down singlet like a fallen soufflé. He looked flabbier than a just an hour ago. “You should worry about losing some of this fat. You’re down five pounds and by the looks of things it was all muscle. It’s obviously affecting your wrestling.” The champ gave the coach a pitiful look. He stepped off the scale confused by the changes in his body. The coach called Ryan’s name. He made his way through the crowd. There was an eerily hush in the room. Everyone looked stunned at the 16 year old muscle God in their presence. They knew he was built, but didn’t realize how massive he was. Ryan stepped on the scale. The coach had only to make slight adjustments. “Six four exactly. You must have grown some more, son.” After writing down the numbers, the coach said what everyone was thinking. “You’re in fantastic shape Ryan. Your body fat is obviously where it should be; but watch the weight training. If you get any more muscular it may lessen your flexibility especially in your shoulders and arms.”

Ryan nodded his head to show he understood. “Got it coach. No more muscle and keep the body fat where it is.”

The bar of the scale balanced out, “Your weight is 231 and a half also. You’re the same weight as Grant.” Everybody looked at Grant and then Ryan. They couldn’t help but compare the two men. Their bodies looked so different despite having virtually the same measurements. Grant was a soft, lump of clay while Ryan was the finished work of art. Grant could read their thoughts. He became uncomfortable being the ugly one. He pulled up the top of his singlet to cover his flab. Ryan felt a strange sensation at his crotch. His briefs were tightening around his package. His balls itched. It was like his cock was growing but he knew he wasn’t getting hard. Suddenly the scale moved. The coach looked at the bar and tapped it slightly. “Correction, 232 pounds. I guess that makes you not only the newest but the biggest wrestler on the team.” Ryan stepped off the scale. The coach patted his new star’s broad back. “Okay guys, let’s hit the mats to practice our take downs. Ryan made you all look sloppy out there.”

Ryan caught Grant glaring at him. The bigger man just smirked and crunched his abs to show his superiority. Ryan excused himself to the coach and went to the locker room. He felt heavier as he walked. He thought he could actually feel the floor give slightly under is weight. He went to the mirror to check his body. It looked just as impressive as in the weight room. Proofing it wasn’t the lighting or some kind of optical illusion. The crushing pressure made him focus on his crotch. It looked like he had a hose coiled down there. It was so tightly packed and the material so stretched you could actually tell Ryan was circumcised. No wonder it hurt. He stepped out of his singlet. The removal of the outer layer relieved some of the pain. His new briefs looked about to burst. The weight of his goods pulled them down so his pubes were now visible. He tugged up on the waist. The material was damp and slippery. His first class package flopped about. When he let go he wasn’t covered any better. He didn’t understand. They fit him when he put them on a little while ago. Maybe little Ryan was excited about taking down Grant. Or maybe the briefs shrunk when they got wet. He turned sideways. The pouch bulged out in front of him like a car bumper. He thought his pumped quads must be pushing it out more. His hands skimmed over his granite-like thighs. Their outward sweep was more pronounced. The brief’s narrow back panel had crept deep into his ass crack. Ryan ran his fingers between the silky briefs and his equally smooth cheeks to release the wedgie. His ass felt different; higher and rounder. It looked as soft and fluffy as a mile-high lemon meringue pie. “No wonder girls can’t keep their hands off it.” Then he clenched, it turned to granite to match his thighs on the hardness scale. He slammed the side of his fists into his glutes. His hands bounced off. “You could rest a pop can on that back shelf.”

Ryan was getting turned on. He handled the silky surface of his damp pouch. It definitely felt bigger and heavier. He pulled down his briefs and gave a loud sigh as his balls were finally released from their torture chamber. He massaged his nuts to work away the itch with one hand. He pulled on his limp pipe to work out the kinks with the other. He looked at his reflection again. He stood relaxed and observed his body. He did look bigger…everywhere; except maybe his chest. He scratched his head. He decided not to question it. After all he liked what he saw. He flexed his arms. “Damn, look how the muscle is split on top.” He did the most muscular pose. His arms and shoulders looked incredibly thick. He flexed his legs. His inner thighs fought each other for room to expand. He kicked off his briefs from around his ankles. He took a wider stance and flexed again. His calves kept pace with his expanding biceps and neck to keep his ideal symmetry. Even his feet looked stronger with thicker veins crawling over them. “I didn’t realize what a work out wrestling was. I’ve never been so pumped before.”

Soon his cock was defying gravity. As he touched it, he swore it was longer and thicker than it was this morning. But he knew that was impossible. He remembered what the coach said his new stats were; 6’ 4”; 232. “I’m the biggest guy in the entire school.” His cock arched upward straining its covering of thin skin. Ryan realized he was playing with himself in the middle of the locker room. Not wanting to be seen, he walked to the adjacent men’s room. His body felt incredibly strong as he moved. He stroked his enhanced rod using both hands. The pleasure was much more intense this afternoon. Once inside a stall, he put one hand on the wall to support his body at a 45 degree angle. This allowed his rock hard organ to point toward the toilet. Soon he was spewing into the bowl. The water splashed onto his legs and abs from the force of his load. After catching his breath, he cleaned himself off with the wad of toilet paper. He flushed all the evidence.

Ryan left the stall and slowly walked back to his locker. He couldn’t’ stop from touching himself His arms felt so big and strong. He went to pick up his clothes but stopped when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked even better. His drooling cock hung half way to his knees. His muscles were flush with blood and slick with sweat. Suddenly his new team members entered the locker room. Everyone froze. The late arrivers hit the human blockade at the door. Ryan waited for the comments, but none came. No criticism. No jokes. Ryan smirked. Taking his sweet time, he bent down and snatched his clothes from the floor. He tossed his singlet over his shoulder not even trying to cover his intimidating body. He clutched his damp underclothes in his hand making his muscles bulge powerfully. He wiped the sweat from his embossed abs. “You boys pumped from practice too?” He spoke slowly and confidently.

It took a moment for the team to respond. Some nodded their heads and others said words of agreement. Ryan chuckled, “That’s good.” He casually walked back to his locker. The crowd dispersed. The room was unusually quiet. Ryan walked to the showers down the narrow aisles. The other boys moved out of his way. As he showered he caught his team mates checking him out. He had gotten used to the stares from his other team mates. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed anymore. He actually got off on it now. He purposely flexed as he soaped up and rinsed off. His goal was to get every guy in the room hard. He didn’t leave until he accomplished his goal.

Back at the locker, Ryan’s pumped up body and wet skin made getting dressed very difficult. He jumped up and down to work his jeans over his thighs. He had to spend more time working his larger package into a comfortable position. His arms were momentarily locked over his head as he forced his too small t-shirt down over his torso. The shoulder seam ripped open when he finally got it in place. He had to snap the collar band to stop it from choking him. As he sat down to put on his sneakers he could hear the leg seams of his jeans creak. His thighs looked like blue balloons ready to pop. He never got this pumped from playing baseball or football. He was going to really enjoy wrestling. As he walked home he got plenty of stares. He looked like he was wearing someone else’s outfit, someone a size smaller. He wondered what his grandmother would say when he’d ask for new clothes again.

At the end of the wrestling season, Ryan added another MVP trophy to his collection. He also held a national ranking to add to his long list of accolades. Grant held the spot below him. Ryan enjoyed his new role as the school’s undisputed alpha jock. With the spell still working, he continued to siphon off any physical or mental improvements his team mates made. His stellar reputation in wrestling, baseball and football made him well known in athletic circles. Sports Illustrated did a fluff piece on him. Scouts from colleges and professional teams made trips to see the amazing athlete in person. He was generally recognized as someone worth watching.

His physical attributes and growing confidence garnered admiration from the fairer sex. Ryan worked his way through the friendlier members of his school’s student body rather quickly. He started to spend his free time where college students hung out. He found college girls more willing and less timid in the sack. He also enjoyed intimidating the college men. The sixteen year old introduced himself as a graduate student working on his masters. No one every doubted him. Only a man in his early twenties could have a body like that. One coed who was an art major asked him to accompany her to a gallery opening. That’s where Ryan was introduced to an even older group of admirers. The well-to-do middle aged women were drawn to his youth, size and incredible masculinity. He was the perfect arm candy when attending society’s most elite parties and charitable events. Ryan got to enjoy Boston’s best restaurants and cultural offerings. The stud was probably the only high school student in the city who owned a custom tailored tuxedo.

At the end of the evenings, the old women usually only sought a kiss goodnight and a few minutes in his strong arms. It reminded them what it was to be a woman. Those that wanted more; Ryan had no problem doing it. He was constantly horny and could get it up for anyone. He enjoyed their reaction as much as they did his pleasure pole.

While the society women wanted to parade him in public, the men were more private. He often got invited to small gentlemen’s parties in Boston’s best neighborhoods. Ryan never went all the way with men; but had no qualms with them feeling him up or sucking him off. Guys were much better at giving head than women. They could produce greater suction and had larger throats to take more of him. One of the most pleasurable encounters Ryan ever had was at a very intimate party. An older couple of art dealers invited him to dinner. After a delicious meal the three men retired to the drawing room for dessert. Ryan sat in the middle of a large overstuffed sofa. His hosts sat on each side of him. They began to feel up his arms and chest. They undid his shirt and sucked his nipples. Ryan let them do as they wanted. His eyes went from side to side as each man worked one of his sensitive nips. They undid his pants. One guy moved to the floor and crept up between Ryan’s legs. He began to tea bag his giant balls. The other knelt beside Ryan on the couch and deep throated his elongated beer can of a cock. Both men reached up and tweaked his still swollen nipples. Ryan didn’t want it to end. He held back as long as he could. All his erogenous zones were on fire. His muscles flexed. His balls pulled up. He released several ounces of tangy cream. His one host swallowed ever drop, licking his lips as if it was produced in the kitchen of a 5 star restaurant. The dunker was upset he didn’t get any. Ryan fingered his rubber rod, “Give me ten minutes and a Dr.Pepper. Then you two can switch positions.” The men were thrilled the young stud would provide them with another serving.

Ryan got more from these dates than good food, culture, and sex. Of course there were drugs around, but Ryan was more interested in the gifts. He kept a few but hocked most. He had a shoe box stashed in his closet full of cash, gold jewelry, expensive watches, and diamond cufflinks. He had quite the sweet life unbeknownst to anyone else.

Ryan spent less time at school. He was too good of a player to be suspended or expelled. The charmed necklace kept his body ahead of his current team mates. The more the other boys improved the better Ryan became. Everyday his body became bigger and stronger without him having to work at it. Ryan’s social activities made him scarce around the house as well. His grandmother was very concerned; but Ryan always had a reasonable answer to explain his late nights. He could be very charming. The little time he spent in class often included him falling asleep. His grades suffered. After his mid term report card, his grandmother didn’t want any more excuses. She insisted he visit his guidance counselor to see what he could do to improve his academics. The counselor thought the debate team would be a good fit for the athlete. Ryan balked at the idea of spending time with a bunch of nerds. Both the counselor and his grandmother told him that getting a sports’ scholarship takes a respectable GPA in addition to talent on the field. Ryan reluctantly agreed.

The first time Ryan met his new team mates there was little interaction. The debaters were intimidated and Ryan was uninterested. The faculty advisor officially welcomed Ryan to the team with a handshake. She asked Ryan to observe their practice debate to get a better understanding of how a scholastic debate worked. Ryan’s squeezed into one of the classroom’s empty desks. His bulk over filled the average sized seat making him look comical to the other students. They convinced themselves he was the iconic dumb jock; all brawn and no brains. But their smug attitudes soon faded. They struggled during their arguments. They fumbled their words and forgot facts despite a near flawless practice session a day earlier. The teacher assumed it was a case of nerves because of the BMOC’s presence.

Ryan was less than impressed. At one point during a rebuttal, the star of the debate team lost his train of thought. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Ryan called him a dumb ass then blurted out the facts to conclude the speaker’s point. Every one was surprised by the astute and concise statement from the muscle bound student. Ryan was surprised himself. He had no idea he knew the difference between socialism and capitalism. The teacher asked him to the podium. He continued to list more facts on the subject. Somehow he just knew the information. His opponent was flabbergasted and confused. It was if the facts had been sucked right out of her brain and transplanted into the jock’s. In fact they were thanks to his mother’s spell. The coed had no choice but to concede.

As the weeks went by, Ryan became the star of the debate team. Most boys who debated were slender and short in stature. Just standing next to Ryan was enough to make their self confidence crumble. Ryan’s combination of imposing physical size and quick intellect made him a formidable opponent. His grades vastly improved. His study skills were honed to perfection. He was able to retain information with a newly formed photographic memory. He could quickly sort the data and recall the key facts instantaneously. He could contribute to the conversations on his “dates” now instead of just standing there looking pretty. Knowledge came so easily to him, he hardly noticed the difference; but his teachers did. They praised him as much as his coaches. He would be the next year’s class valedictorian if he continued on his current path.

As the school year progressed, Ryan’s attention returned to his first love, baseball. With his larger size and more powerful physique, Ryan set a new homerun record within the first few games of the season. The other teams began to intentionally walk him so he couldn’t score a run. In his tight baseball uniform he looked like he could play in the majors. His boulder like shoulders brought his jersey to the breaking point. His muscular legs, ass and large endowment filled his stressed pants. The other players were in awe of him. They treated him like he was already a pro. Even the coaches felt unworthy to criticize his game.

One day during practice, Ryan was in the batting cage effortlessly sending flies to the outfielders using just one arm. He noticed the others’ attention wasn’t on him as it should be. He looked around and saw the scene stealer. It was someone Ryan didn’t recognize. He was handsome, very muscular and young. Like Ryan, he looked a bit too old to be in high school. He smiled confidently as he approached the coach standing near first base. He was accompanied by the school principal. Both men wore slacks, dress shirts and ties; but looked very different. The stranger’s clothes strained to cover his muscular frame. His immense pectoral muscles stood at a 45 degree angle from his perfectly straight back. He couldn’t be wearing an undershirt for you could easily see his large nipples through the sheer, white cloth. His tight pants proofed he had good symmetry. Ryan had never seen a man that muscular before in person. He might even be bigger than Ryan. The principal did the introductions. The men shook hands. Ryan inhaled sharply as he felt the muscles in his body tighten, then spasm and tighten again. The most pressure was in his chest. For a moment he thought he was having a heart attack.

The principal left. The coach and the muscular stranger walked to the dug out. The older man called for the entire team to gather around. “Boys, I want to introduce you to someone. This is DwayneSmith. He’s a senior at B.U. majoring in education. He’s going to be a student teacher, helping me out for the next two months. Let’s all welcome him to the team.”

Everyone nodded and said “hello” or “welcome”. One of the boys yelled out, “Mr.Smith are you a weightlifter or something?”

The big man smiled. “I work as a personal trainer at a local gym to pay for school. I was into weightlifting for many years; but recently I’ve started bodybuilding. That’s were you lift weights to specifically make your muscles larger not necessarily stronger. Today, people expect a trainer to look a certain way. But I’m still interested in strength training. That’s what I hope to specialize in as a career.”

The baseball coach smiled, “Dwayne you’ll find most boys are more interested in looking good to get girls than improving their strength.”

All the boys hooted. Dwayne added, “I don’t care why you lift as long as you do it safely.” The new teacher’s eyes lingered on Ryan.

“How much can you bench?” someone else asked.

The college student hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to brag or discourage the boys; but he decided to answer the questions honestly. “520 for six reps…or repetitions.” There was a rumbling among the team. “But I’ve been lifting for years and the bench press is my thing.”

“Shit, he’s stronger than you.” The boy next to Ryan said looking up at the team captain.

Ryan didn’t respond. He was preoccupied by the strange feeling in his body. He hadn’t felt like this since the day he joined the wrestling team. His muscles were flexing uncontrollably under his uniform. His chest kept cramping up on him. He put his hand on a tit and squeezed it. It felt as if it was swollen and slightly numb, like your lip when the dentist injects you with Novocain.

The coach broke up the group and resumed practice. Ryan sat down in the dug out and did some deep breathing. His chest felt tighter with each breath. His shirt was so tight you could make out the color of his skin through it. He slid his hand under his shirt to probe the area. It seemed like his breast bone had receded behind two water balloons. He instinctively flexed. His fingers were squeezed by the converging rocky mounds. His shirt was about to split open. His bloated pecs fell into place as he relaxed them. He pulled out his hand from under his shirt and placed it below the new muscle shelf. It disappeared from his view. He pushed up and watched the muscle ripple in his hand.

The coach called Ryan to the plate. He stood up, his body felt tighter and stronger. Ryan left the dug out. The muscles in his legs and ass flexed more as he climbed the short staircase. He bent down to pick up his favorite bat. His practice pants resisted his movement. He stood up quickly, worried the seat would split. He swung the bat. The piece of aluminum felt lighter to him. He checked it again to make sure it was his favorite. He held the bat over his head and lowered it behind his back. The side seams on his baseball shirt tore open. He lowered his arms to cover the holes. He didn’t understand what was happening to his body. He put the bat between his thighs. His pants were so tight around his thighs you could see his leg hair through them. His chest was still tight. He swung his arms back and forth to loosen his chest. More of the seam opened up. He had a strong desire to bounce his pecs. He rarely did that for his chest was the weak spot in his musculature. He wanted to work on building it up, but never got around to it. He looked down. He couldn’t see his feet anymore. His chest contracted involuntarily. It looked like a powerful wave crashing then receding.

The coach called Ryan’s name again, “Come on Leary. That’s enough of a warm up.” Ryan went to home plate and got in position. The bat still felt so light he worried his swing would be off. He swung at the first pitch. His perfect timing was intact. He made direct contact with the ball and sent it sailing well beyond the center field wall. The coach scratched his head, “Were running out of balls, Ryan. You don’t have to hit it over the wall every time you know.”

Ryan smiled, “That was too easy.”

Ryan performed better than ever for the rest of the day. He was infused with new energy. He felt fitter and stronger than ever. He could hit harder, run faster and throw farther than the day before. He wasn’t even bothered by his torn uniform. It made it less confining and easier to breathe. He groped his pecs whenever he could. They felt so plump and hard. Ryan was eager to get to the locker room. He wanted to get a good look at his chest without his shirt. As the coach called the team in, he had his shirt off before leaving the field. Several team mates gave him strange looks. The new coach couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

Ryan stopped in front of the mirror to check himself out. His pecs did look fuller and heavier. His muscle cleavage was noticeably deeper. The rolled muscle shelf protruded more than an inch over his eight pack. His chest was no longer a weak spot. His body had somehow balanced itself out perfectly. In fact he looked bigger everywhere. Every muscle was clearly visible and thick. He truly looked like one of those bodybuilder dudes the new teach talked about. Ryan did a double bicep pose. His peaks rose higher than his shoulders. Some of the other players came over to watch him pose. The told him how great he looked. The more bold ones groped his guns and estimated their size at somewhere between 20 and 24 inches. All wished they had a body like that. Ryan wanted to see if his legs looked as pumped. He removed all his clothes, except his tightly packed jock. The flawless balancing act continued below his waist. His legs looked huge and cut. He did several poses to the crowd’s delight. Ryan could see some guys were into it more than others. Their body language showed the pain they felt as their expanding cocks fought for room in their own confining jocks.

Between poses, Ryan kept bouncing and feeling up his pecs. They felt so sensual in his hands. The more he worked them the more voluminous they became. His beef filled balloons moved the locket around his neck. The harsh fluorescent lighting glinted off the golden surface. He remembered when the locket hung down to his stomach. Now the chain was like a choker.

The new student teacher watched from a distance. When Ryan stopped his impromptu muscle display to catch his breathe. He made his move. “You must be RyanLeary.” He held out his hand.

“Guilty.” Ryan applied more pressure than needed. He wanted to show the shorter man his dominance right from the start.

“You have some freaky build on you Ryan”, Dwayne tried to hide his envy.

“Thanks.” Ryan walked back to his locker with Dwayne towing behind.

“Everyone says you are an incredibly gifted athlete and very strong. You hold all the school’s lifting records. Baseball, football, wrestling; you can do it all. And you’re only a junior.” Ryan paid little attention to Dwayne. He pulled the protective cup out of his jock and threw it in his locker. He then rolled the jock strap down his thighs. After stepping out of the straps, he turned to face Dwayne. Without making eye contact he casually tossed his odorous jock into the hamper across the room. Of course he made the shot. Ryan massaged his balls. He could feel the other man’s eyes looking over his body. “Hhhhhow old are you exactly?”

Ryan smiled. Dwayne couldn’t take his eyes off the perfect specimen. Ryan put his hands on his hips and clenched his abs. “You’re not going to believe me. Nobody ever does. No other 16 and half year old has a body like this.”

“No 23 year old I’ve ever seen either. Your definition is incredible. Your muscle mass is very advanced for someone your age. You’re absolutely amazing.” Dwayne swallowed hard before looking up at Ryan’s face. “Man, I would have done anything to look like that when I was 16. You have to compete in bodybuilding. There are special classifications for teenagers. You’ll blow the competition out of the water.” He circled around Ryan to take in his completely nude form. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and tightened every muscle. “You don’t have any weaknesses.”

“I used to think my chest wasn’t big enough; but not anymore.” Ryan rubbed his swollen pecs with his huge hand.

Dwayne shook his head, “No, they’re flawless. Everything is flawless. I’ve been told my symmetry is ideal; but you…” Dwayne wiped his mouth. “…and with your height. You’ve got to be at least six five, six six.”

Ryan stretched his spine, “People always assume I’m taller than I really I’m. I guess because I’m so imposing to those of average size. I’m only six four.”

“Only?” The 5’ 8” Dwayne felt his cock twinge. “I’ve never seen such perfect genetics for body building.”

“Thanks”, Ryan said with a smirk. He always enjoyed when people told him how incredible his body was. He noticed his team mates were all ease dropping on their conversation.

“I don’t think you realize just how extraordinary you are. I mean your potential blows my mind. You know how many men would kill to have a body like yours.” Dwayne eyes scanned Ryan again. He counted himself among them. “Not that you need it, but I’ll like to help you train.”

“Sure, why not? Nothing wrong with getting bigger?” Ryan flexed his biceps in Dwayne’s face. He looked at his arms then down at Dwayne. He could see the growing desire in the older man’s eyes. He felt up Dwayne’s arm and frowned. “I think working out together would help you more than me, Dwayne.”

The teacher looked up and nodded in agreement, “Yes sir.” The student chuckled. He had accomplished his goal. He intimidated the newest member of the team. He shut his locker and left for the showers. Dwayne watched him leave in silence.

The next day Ryan and Dwayne worked out. Ryan was shocked by how much weight he could press. His bigger pecs gave him new strength. He bested his former weight by more than 120 pounds. He outdid the former weightlifter in every category. The teacher couldn’t match his own best lifts. As the session went on, Dwayne became more subservient to the hulking teen. Dwayne tentatively gave Ryan a few stage tips; specifically how to transition between poses smoothly. At Ryan’s insistence, Dwayne removed his shirt. They stood in front of the mirror side by side. It was the first time in years Dwayne felt inadequate to another man. Going through the posing routine, Ryan’s size advantage became more apparent. By the end of the session, the 23 year old was totally humbled by the 16 year old. Ryan played it up by patting him on the shoulder and telling him if he worked harder he could improve his body. Ryan saw the attractive black man’s confidence completely dissolve away. Ryan couldn’t wait to get to a stall to jerk off.

Ryan’s more muscular body drew more attention. He became cockier with each passing day. He no longer listened to his coaches or teachers. He was better than all of them. He had looks, brains, and talent. The last day of the school year, Ryan was called to his guidance counselor’s office. The counselor was asked to intervene on behalf of the school’s administration. They feared Ryan’s attitude would only get worse in his senior year. During the summer break, Ryan would be free of any school sport obligations. Since he flourished as a team player the counselor had an idea on how to capitalize on that. She suggested Ryan volunteer at the community center during the break. She had contacted the center’s director and told him about Ryan. The star athlete could use his influence on other boys his age. The counselor told the exceptionally fit young man he should join the center’s B.F.I team.

“B.F.I? Is that like Body Fat Index? Cause I’m already ripped.” Ryan lifted his shirt and rubbed his washboard abs with a big smirk on his face.

“In a way, it stands for Boys with Food Issues. It’s like Overeaters Anonymous for boys aged 13-17. The center works with the boys to resolve their food issues and lose weight. It’s designed to resemble a sports team to make it easy for them to relate. They score points for losing weight.” The counselor handed Ryan a brochure. “Hopefully by working with them at a young age they won’t grow into overweight adults with more serious health issues; like diabetes, heart disease, and high blood pressure.”

“It’s a bunch of fat kids? You’ve got to be kidding me.” The muscular student tossed the brochure back onto the counselor’s desk. “Tell them to get their lazy asses off the couch and play sports. That’s what I did to get this body.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, Ryan.” The counselor’s tone showed her annoyance. “They are not lazy. These boys suffer from real eating disorders. It’s like a drug addiction and food is their drug.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “This is a serious issue Ryan. The advisors call the most overweight boys, those in the poorest physical condition, the team’s MVPs. That’s something you should be able to relate to. You have plenty of MVPs trophies.”

“You got that right; but it’s not from stuffing my face with Twinkies.” Ryan joked.

The counselor continued, “They work with the MVPs more intently to turn them around before it’s too late. The current MVP is BrianCosley. He’s morbidly obese, weighing over 600 pounds and in extremely poor physical condition.”

“600 pounds! Christ, that’s more than twice what I weigh.” Ryan had a look of disgust on his face.

“Of course, Brian’s shorter than you and doesn’t have your muscles. He can’t walk or even stand for more than a few minutes before getting exhausted. His bones and ligaments are weak. The poor boy is bedridden and hooked up to an oxygen tank. Imagine what kind of life he has. He can’t do the simplest things that most boys your age do. He can’t go to school or hang out with his friends at the mall. We hope Brian and the other boys will relate to you as a peer. Like the students here. They look up to you. Want to be like you. They’ll see how you keep yourself fit by eating correctly and exercising regularly. You’ll lead by positive example.”

“These slobs are never going to have a body like mine.” Ryan rubbed the inside of his thick thighs before cupping his package. “The kids in this school look up to be me because they have to. I’ve always been the biggest guy on any team I’ve belonged. That’s why I have all those MVP trophies. All the push-ups in the world sprinkled with rainbows and sunshine won’t make these tubbos athletes.”

The middle aged woman shook her finger at the student, “There’s that attitude your coaches and grandmother are worried about. It’s that kind of thinking that will make the best colleges pass on you.”

“Shit, I’ve got tours of the best colleges lined up all summer. They want me bad. You should hear the things they’re promising. Have the shit is illegal. It would blow your mind.”

“Watch your language young man. Do you think they want an arrogant disruption on their team? The coaches would prefer not to deal with a prima Donna or a bully. You’ll be lucky to get a scholarship at some second rate college instead of the major university. Is that what you want?”

Ryan lowered his head. Despite his advanced size, he was still a 16 year old boy. His mother and grandmother instilled in him a respect for women. “No, ma’m.”

“Are you really that blind? I sincerely hope working with these boys will open your eyes to how truly fortunate you are. That body you’re so proud of is more a result of great genetics than hard work. You didn’t deserve those genes any more then these boys deserved what they were given. It’s just a chromosome or two that differentiates Ryan from Brian. There’s an old saying, but for the grace of God go I. Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Mr.Leary.”

“Yes, ma’m.”

“Good. I’ll call the center and tell them you’ll be there Monday for your first meeting. Then you’ll visit Brian in his home.” The counselor held up the brochure for Ryan to take. “Congratulations on being the newest member of the B.F.I. team.”

Ryan went to take the brochure. Suddenly his stomach growled loudly. “Sorry, all this talk about food has made me hungry.” Ryan rubbed his stomach. It felt softer than it did seconds ago. His stomach growled again. “Boy, it’s like I’m starving or something.”

“Did you skip lunch?” The counselor asked.

The athlete shook his head, “I had four slices of pizza, fries and two sodas.”

“Maybe you should learn something about nutrition before talking to the boys”. The school employee gestured toward the door. “Don’t’ disappoint me, Mr.Leary.”

Ryan left the office. He decided to cut his last period and go home to get something to eat. His stomach kept growling. All he could think about was eating. He couldn’t remember wanting food so desperately before. He was obsessed with it. How it tasted. How it made him feel. He thought about his mother. Sadness overtook him. Food was the one thing that could fill the emptiness. His jeans were feeling tight, but not like they usually did. The waistband was digging into him. He lifted his shirt. His washboard was gone, replaced by a featureless pillow. He sucked in his gut and undid the button. His stomach spread out to fill the extra room he created. Ryan didn’t understand why he gotten so soft; but all he cared about at the moment was food. He needed to eat.

By the time he got home, his waist resembled a spare tire. The hem of his shirt had rolled upward because it couldn’t cover his expanding gut. He was breathing heavy from climbing the five steps to the front porch. He used to jump over the entire span with ease. He had to rest for a moment and rubbed is aching knees. He noticed the hem of his jeans had slipped under the heels of his sneakers. It was like he was getting shorter. He went to open the door and it was locked. He forgotten his grandmother wasn’t due back until tomorrow. She was visiting her sister in Connecticut. He reached for the key under the mat. Pain in his lower back made him groan like an old man. He unlocked the door and headed for the kitchen. He started pulling things out of the refrigerator and stuffing them into his mouth. It didn’t matter what it was. After a couple of minutes he had to remove his pants because they were too tight. He kicked off his suddenly oversized sneakers without having to loosen the laces. The elastic from his underwear was cutting into his soft flesh. Once nude, he saw his reflection in the kitchen window. His body had lost its dramatic muscularity and V taper. He was now a featureless blob. He knew he should stop eating, but couldn’t. He needed more food. The higher the fat content the more he craved it. He began to cry as he forced down more calories. He didn’t even bother to chew. He swallowed things whole like a gorging animal. He had lost total control. He emptied the refrigerator of everything even the condiments. He ate an entire jar of mayonnaise with his fingers. He moved his attention to the pantry. The more he ate the hungrier he became. Nothing satisfied his unending appetite.

His legs were giving out. He knees bowed inward making him knock kneed. His once powerful limbs were too weak and sore to support his sagging bulk. He slid down onto the floor with a box of moon pies. Once he swallowed the last treat, he was thirsty. The idea of having to get up to get a glass of milk seemed like too much of a chore, he hesitated. He looked down and saw multiple rolls of stomach fat filling his lap. He looked like a block of lard melting in the sun. He rubbed his once granite like pecs and felt his fingers sink into the doughy mass. He struggled to raise his arms to flex. But instead of a ball of hard muscle rising from the top a bag of soft fat swayed underneath. Gone were the mighty guns that every man envied and women worshiped.

Ryan knew he needed help. He had to get dressed and go to the hospital. Unable to get his feet under him, he rolled over onto all fours. He crawled over to a chair. His distended stomach dragged over the linoleum tile. He grabbed the chair to help him stand. His joints ached mercilessly. When he finally got to his feet, he had to rest for several minutes to catch his breath. He grabbed a bag of Oreos before shuffling out of the kitchen. He leaned against the walls for support. It took him 5 minutes to make it the 20 feet to the staircase in the living room. He could feel the friction of his flabby thighs rubbing together. He looked up the flight of stairs munching away at the cookies. There seemed to be so many more steps than before. Another hour passed when he reached the second floor. He was gasping for air and sweating profusely. His body felt heavier and more bloated with every passing moment. His knees were so sore, it hurt to bend them even the slightest. He got to his room. He was so rotund he had squeeze passed the door frame. He fell onto his bed. The headboard slammed into the wall. The wooden support beams holding his box spring cracked sending it to the floor. Ryan couldn’t move. He found it difficult to get enough air into his lungs.

The next morning, Ryan’s grandmother came home. She was upset the door was left unlock. She called out Ryan’s name. She didn’t hear a reply. She went into the kitchen and gasped at the mess she found. The refrigerator door was open. Empty jars and food wrappers were scattered everywhere. She began to clean the mess. “He better not have thrown a party when I was gone.” She found Ryan’s clothing and tossed the pieces over her arm. “I swear that boy is going to be the death of me”, she mumbled under her breath. She went to get the broom from behind the cellar door when she heard a loud creaking sound coming from the second floor. She called out her grandson’s name again. The noise got louder. She went to the staircase and yelled for Ryan. This time she heard a strange moaning. She went up the stairs and stopped when she reached Ryan’s room. She heard the moaning mixed with heavy breathing. Not sure what was happening inside, she slowly pushed the door open. “Oh my dear God”, she uttered through her shock.

Someone was lying on Ryan’s bed. At least she assumed it was a person. She had never seen anything like it. He had to weigh almost 700 pounds. His multi layered bulk completed filled the top of the full size bed. He appeared naked, but the rolls of stomach fat and bloated thighs hid his private parts. Countless mounds of dimpled fat covered every inch of his body. His saggy breasts hung off the side of his chest like an old woman who had nursed too many children. His nipples were large and swollen looking like unripe plums. It wasn’t until she saw his eyes that she realized who the boy with the chubby cheeks and numerous chins was. “Ryan?’ she cried out.

He gurgled and shook his head. He gulped for air like a goldfish out of its bowl. He pointed to his neck to indicate something was wrong. His grandmother slid her hand between his soft chest and blubbery chin flab. Inside it was hot and wet. Her fingers touched something metal tearing into his pink flesh. His necklace she thought; it must be choking him. She tried to broke it but couldn’t. She searched for the clasp. It took some time for her stiff fingers to undo the taught latch. She pulled the chain out from around his voluminous neck. Ryan took a deep breath. His grandmother dropped the necklace into her pocket. She took several steps back trying to take in all of her once athletic, now grotesque grandson. How could he turn into this hideous creature in less than two days? He had to be sick with some kind of horrible disease. She picked up the telephone and dialed 911. She hung up after answering all the operator’s questions. Ryan breathed loudly through his mouth. Hey tried to speak. She went to his side. “I’m here, Ryan. You’re going to be okay.”

“Grandma, I’m not hungry anymore”, was all he uttered. He appeared to be crying. His grandmother hung her head and covered her face with her hands. She too began to cry.


“What the fuck!” Dean stared at the storyteller. Willie couldn’t read his emotion. Dean slammed his hand into the table top to give him the answer. “That’s the most messed up thing I’ve ever heard.” He stood up quickly. His legs forced the chair back causing it to hit the wall behind him.

Steve found Dean’s reaction amusing, “Calm down. It wasn’t all bad. The fat kids on the BFI team all reported incredible weight loses and increased muscle tone that day. Brian, the MVP, lost half his body fat and was able to get out of bed for the first time in years. He had incredible muscle mass for someone who was bedridden. His bigger muscles allowed him to burn through the remaining excess fat very quickly. Within a couple of weeks he was well under 200 pounds. His joints were remarkably strong like he had been working out for years. Even his cardio vascular system was that of an athlete’s. I heard he ran the Boston Marathon a couple months later. The doctors were never able to explain his dramatic transformation.”

“You mean…” Dean stopped his pacing.

“The coin and mommy’s spell giveth and taketh away.” Steve joked

“Oh, that’s just great. Ryan got all their fat and physical problems and they got his muscles and conditioning.” Dean began to pace again. “Shit, it’s just not fair.”

Again Willie didn’t think Dean got the point of the story. “Well, it wasn’t like Dean deserved the body he had. He only looked that way because he stole the muscle and height from his team mates in the first place. Genetically he wasn’t supposed to be some kind of ultimate jock.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be a 700 pound fat ass either.” Dean sat down again. “Please tell me Ryan got his muscles back when he joined the football team when school started.”

Steve shook his head. “Sorry, dude. Do you know any coach that would put a fat ass kid who couldn’t even walk on his team?” Dean groaned and rubbed his scalp. Steve continued. “It didn’t matter anyway. The spell was broken when his grandmother put the necklace in her pocket. Ryan no longer possessed it. It belonged to her. His genetics had been changed to that of an obese kid. He no longer had the metabolism or easy muscle gain of an athlete. Nor the thin body type he was born with. It took him years to lose the weight. He was never the same. His joints and internal organs were permanently damaged. I think they had to amputate a couple toes due to diabetes. He used a wheelchair until he died at the age of 28 when his heart gave out.”

“It just keeps getting better”, Dean sighed and sat back in the chair.

Willie tried to make him feel better. “I thought you didn’t believe in any of this stuff.”

Dean shifted his weight. “You’re right, Willster.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “What happened to the necklace?”

Steve scratched his head. He looked at the clipping on the table. Someone had written an address in the margin; 114 Fitzrandolph Avenue. “I think I read it was stolen a few days after this article was published. Someone broke into his grandmother’s house and took a few items, including the necklace. I’m sure they didn’t know what they had; probably pawned it for a few bucks.” Steve got out of his chair and went to the refrigerator. “I’m starving and if I know Marty he won’t have anything that’s on my diet.” He searched the interior of the ice box. There was a pizza box, Chinese food cartons, half of an apple pie and an open box of Devil Dogs. “I don’t know how he does it. At home I have nothing but broiled chicken breasts and steamed vegetables. He’s got all this junk food and still has a near perfect body.”

Dean groaned, “How could you even think about eating after that story? I won’t touch food for days.”

Steve moved on the cabinets. “Oh, get over it.” He removed a pouch of tuna from the cabinet. “Jackpot.”

Marty walked in, “The last customer is finally gone and I’ve put everything away for the night. You guys ready to hit the road?”

Steve held up the packaged fish, “Can I have this?”

“Sure, I bought it when I wasn’t wearing my glasses. That packed in water stuff has no taste. I prefer mine soaking in oil as God intended.” Marty pointed to the fridge. “There’s mayo in there to mix it.”

Steve sneered, “I hate you.”

“What?” Marty looked at the others in the room.

“How can you eat all that shit and still be ripped?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Oh, fast metabolism or something I guess.” The old man folded his arms over his chest, “It doesn’t matter any more. I’ve decided to retire from competition.”

Steve said with no emotion, “Again?”

Marty widened his stance, “This time it’s gong to stick.”

Willie was dumbfounded, “That doesn’t make sense, Marty. Less than 36 hours ago you were posing in a thong telling everyone you were in the best shape of your life. And you were right, you’ve never looked better.”

Dean looked at Marty suspiciously. “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, even so. I’m getting tired of the playing the game.” Marty moved to the table and sat down. “It’s not worth it any longer.”

Dean scoffed, “Not worth it. Looking that good wearing only butt floss; I think any sane man would disagree.”

“It’s worth doing or sacrificing anything to have a body like yours. It’s all I ever wanted.” Steve said scrapping the last bit of tuna from the bag.

“That goes double for me.” Willie interjected.

Marty smirked, “You say that; but would you really. God I hope not for your sake.” The old man could see the other’s confusion. “I wish I could make you understand.” He sat down and looked morose.

“What’s wrong, Marty? You can tell us.” Willie said compassionately.

“You’ve spent the last few hours telling stories about that damn coin. Can’t you see it’s drawn to people who want muscle and power at any cost?” Marty looked at Steve. “Men who aren’t satisfied with the advantages nature gave them.” He turned to Dean. “Men who are impatient and ambitious.” Then finally Willie, “Men who want to be someone else.” Marty looked down at the table, “Or men who fear losing everything to the passage of time.” He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. “Men like Balthazar; my great, great, whatever grandfather. The coin gave him what he wanted, or thought he wanted, before it destroyed him. The Dark men look so strong, but are weak. I hate what that coin has done to my family. It shouldn’t be glorified in stories or made into a tourist attraction. The coin is evil. You should never forget that.”

Willie placed his hand on the old man’s forearm. “Marty, I know your family is linked to the coin. But that’s in the past. We know you aren’t like that.” Marty patted Willie’s hand and gave him a smile before lowering his head.

Dean scoffed, “And like I was told a minute ago; get over it.” Steve gave him a dirty look.

Marty raised his eyes. ”It’s not so easy. Sometimes the past haunts you. I know a story that’s never been told before. It’s about a man I knew very well…his father and I were very close. He was…a distant cousin.”

Steve and Willie looked at each other. Steve dropped the empty tuna package into the trash and sat down at the table. “You have another coin story?”

Marty nodded yes. “It’s about a local boy; Paul, PaulDark.” Dean inhaled sharply as if stabbed in the heart. Marty paid no attention as he continued. “He was a big boy like his father. At 18 he was bigger than any man I’ve known and good looking; too big and good looking for his own good. He could have any woman he wanted. And that’s not just some line in a story. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Steve laughed, “We all know how fast women become whores for a man with a handsome face and a little muscle.”

Dean stood up quickly, “Take that back or I’ll rip those bitch tits right off your chest.”

Steve stood up. The look on his face showed he was ready to fight. The two men stood nose to nose tensing their muscular bodies. Willie looked at Marty, “Do something.”

“That’s enough. The both of you sit down…now”, Marty said sternly. The two bodybuilders looked at Marty before returning to their seats. Marty kept his eyes on Dean making the youngster uneasy, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t like women being called whores. That’s all.” Dean snapped.

‘I never fingered you a feminist.” Marty countered.

Dean looked away. “I was born out of wedlock and so was my mother. Our fathers didn’t give a shit about us. It’s the woman who is left to pick up the pieces when the man moves on to his next conquest.”

Steve said softly, “So you really are a bastard.”

“I said stop it. His stupidity is due to his youth. What’s your excuse for saying things like that when we all know how you really feel about him? I’m sick of all this bravado between you…hell between all men. We’re all insecure little boys who want to be Superman when we grow up. Paul was a real super man and what did it get him? Nothing but an early grave because of another man’s envy…and that coin.”

Dean asked coldly, “So what happened to him?”

“Yes, please go on Marty. Tell us what happened to Paul.” Willie spoke with real sincerity.

Marty clutched his hands to ease the stress he felt. “Paul experienced great loss in his young life. He moved to Boston after he graduated high school. There was nothing for him in Darton. It was years until I spoke with him again; but it was too late. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He never intentionally hurt anyone. He was a good boy. Sure he was a bit conceited, but any man would be if they looked like he did.” Marty glanced at wall full of old photos. He focused on a picture of a young boy and an older man at the beach. “This story starts in 1974…..

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