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Think and Grow, Rich
|Rich wasn’t aware of his own power. Until recently, he hadn’t given himself the time to think about building his body or even exercising regularly. Getting in shape meant dieting or taking walks after dinner, or buying a bicycle. Then his life changed. All the sudden he was living in a blender. Each day new circumstances demanded his attention. One good decision instantly brought the need to attend to a hundred new details. Rich’s talent for thinking on his feet and a penchant for scheming came into play full time for a while. The results ended well and he finally had some leisure time to enjoy his well earned wealth.
Rich was rich. He didn’t flaunt it. The sudden notoriety had caused him to create ways to escape his own identity. A little misdirection and the world thought he had secluded himself in a European villa. His stand-in allowed himself to be seen on the terrace or by the poolside, once in a while entertaining some guest who had no idea he wasn’t Rich at all. It kept the paparazzi off Rich’s tail. Rich himself left the excess of opulence behind and assumed a quiet life back in the city where he had lived most of his life.
Now securely below the radar, Rich began living the way he had only dreamed of when he was living paycheck to paycheck. A service came in a couple of times a week and kept things spotless. His garage was practically as big as his house and he could drive an inconspicuous Dodge or a fully restored Cobra. He felt more comfortable in the Dodge most of the time. He didn’t feel like he looked right for the Cobra, let alone the Lamborghini. He needed to trim down. It was about time he spent some of his time and money on his body. He had a gym set up in the house but had rarely used it.
Rich paid for a fitness evaluation and was thoroughly depressed by the results. He was about the same build as his father, as he remembered the man. He was a little stockier, perhaps, but no taller. His slender wrists never presented the image of strength that his ham fisted old man presented. Even into his seventies, the old man wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Someone had insulted his mother in a public place once and the old man laid him out with one punch. Too bad the old man never took the time to teach his son to fight.
Of course with a little attention and encouragement from the man that meant the world to the boy, the boy might have discovered the incredible potential at an early age. He might never have learned humility, kindness, or how to love. Although he wasn’t a happy person, he wasn’t an unhappy person. It was better after all that this amazing ability emerged when the man was middle aged.
He was average. Or so he told himself. In his private thoughts he had considered himself a muscle-bear. His friend Andie had called him that once. It wasn’t until much later that he found out that the term referred to stocky gay men with hairy chests. He wasn’t gay, Andie always claimed he was “just undecided.” He felt he had a good foundation of muscle under an unhealthy amount of fat. He wanted to lose the gut but more than that he wanted more muscle.
In an old photo, his dad had been trim and handsome. His unkempt dark hair and a devilish grin smiled out from the only picture that remained. Memories recalled another impression. The big belly and white chest hair were the clearest thing about him. His snow white hair and round double chin framed and honest face with crystal blue eyes and a broad nose that had been punched a few times over the years. He never wanted to be as out of shape as his old man had been.
Hell, he didn’t want to be as out of shape as he was now. Can you call it out of shape if you’ve never been in shape? He supposed you can. Still, he was in a good mood now and his image in the mirror looked pretty good to himself. He had dusted off the weight set and worked out. He might be sore tomorrow, but now he was pumped and wishful. This time he’d stay with it long enough to make it a habit. He had better chest definition than his father had. He held his hands in front of his navel and flexed his chest hard.
He liked the fact that his chest development kept him from looking like he had boobs. If he didn’t get busy, he would. He felt the pull across his chest and relaxed his muscles. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his pecs. He began to fancy that beneath the salt and pepper chest hair they actually were bigger. He raised his arms in a double biceps pose. His arms weren’t any bigger, but his chest did seem different. He pumped his lungs full of air and flexed again.
He moved in the light and sure enough, there was more shape to his pecs. As he held his breath and posed he could see his veins a little clearer. He let out his breath and felt a little dizzy. The veins pulsed for a moment then faded from sight again. He practically ran back to his weight bench. He laid down and cranked out as many reps as he could. Then he stripped off most of the weight and pumped out one hundred reps. It was light weight but by the time he had lifted it one hundred times he could feel the tightness in his pecs and his triceps.
He went back to his mirror and saw his chest glistening with sweat and noticeably larger. This was impossible. He flexed his triceps and saw its shape standing out like he had been working out for more than a few months. He pressed his arms straight and flexed his chest and arms together. He wasn’t holding his breath this time but the dizziness returned and the veins could be seen on his chest and arms. He actually saw more definition.
He was sure of it. He rolled his pecs and the change was undeniable. He pulled a double biceps again and watched as the veins pumped size into his biceps as well. It was not as fast as he wanted so he went back to the weights. He curled again and again. He lost count and he could tell his arms were bigger. He shifted to kickbacks and squats and calf raises. If he thought he had done a complete workout before he was kidding himself. He worked light weights because he had gotten results that way before.
He went back to the mirror. He still had a gut but blocks of muscle waited just beneath the surface. He stripped to his briefs and sure enough, it looked as if every muscle was beginning to show its shape. Still he felt that this was just the beginning. He moved, slowly flexing every muscle and watching himself in the mirror. Then he felt the dizziness begin to grow.
Like a rush of drunkenness, his head swam. He watched as his veins began to show faintly at first, then more and more became visible. He could hear his heart pound and his muscles became tighter. The blood vessels surged with power visibly pulsing. They fed his muscles and his muscles grew. His stomach shrank as his heart pounded. He found that when he concentrated on different parts of his expanding physique, those parts responded.
He had said that he didn’t care if he lost any weight, he just wanted more muscle. Now he had done it. He instinctively knew that he weighed as much as he did before but he had the muscle mass of a professional body builder. He felt the tightness of his shorts and realized that he had neglected something. He stripped off his briefs and stared at the mirror. With every movement his new muscles rippled. He had never felt so sexy.
Yet his manhood had lagged behind. With so much less body fat, it looked bigger but he knew it wasn’t. His hand gripped it in exactly the same way it always had. Even though he looked down over a torso that belonged on a Greek statue, the view was still only his same old dick. He forced more blood into its shining purple head.
He saw veins along the shaft and the rush of his pulse became a roar in his ears. His dick had actually been small to tell the truth, just below average. It grew now, and soon average was passed by. It filled his hand and stretched even more. Only in pornography had he seen a cock this big. He knew his hand spanned about nine inches and his dick was every bit as long. He couldn’t close his fingers around it.
The moment that he thought it might be too big, it stopped. He actually felt the growth stop. However he knew exactly where that energy had gone. His balls felt like they were about to explode and he involuntarily began pumping. He came like a volcano. He blew his load into the wastebasket again and again until he leaned back against the wall, spent.
He looked at himself in the mirror once more. His body looked like it had been shrink wrapped. It looked as though he had no body fat whatsoever. His veins stood out all over his body and the sweat matted his hair and made him shine like he had been oiled up for a contest. His cock hung down his thigh. He was thirsty and very hungry.
Like a zombie, he walked to the kitchen. He remembered going to the refrigerator. When he woke up in his bed, he jumped up and began to prepare for work. Then he calmed down and sat on the edge of the bed, laughing quietly to himself. How long would it take? He wondered. A lifetime of grunt labor wiped away by a stroke of luck. A dollar lotto ticket, bought when the Jackpot was astronomical, and seven numbers had made him a man of leisure. Working for his own goals had made him even wealthier. Now, in hours, he had become a muscle god as well.
Then he looked down at his stomach. It was back. What a vivid dream. His heavy footfalls thudded as he stumbled into the bathroom. Dream? As he pissed his dick flopped across his hand twice as long as it had been . His thighs looked like some wrestler’s. He shifted his leg and saw the incredible roundness of his calves. His arms looked enormous and he felt the baseball sized biceps under his hand.
He walked back and looked into the mirror. He raised his arms and gazed at his remarkable bulk. “Muscle bear, Hell, I’m a fucking grizzly!” He shifted his stance and flexed his chest. His already massive, hairy pecs expanded faster than before. He forced more mass into his arms and shoulders as well. His gut began to shrink and he could see his abs revealing themselves again. His lats flared out thick and full. This was outstanding.
He stopped before his paunch had completely disappeared and went to the kitchen. He was not too surprised at the mess and started to straighten up. What he was most surprised at was the smell of his frozen prime rib as it cooked slowly in the oven. He had heard of sleep walking, even sleep eating, but sleep cooking was one for the record books. He looked into the oven and saw that the roast had teeth marks in it. He had tried to eat a frozen roast.
Rich changed the empty water cooler bottle. When he grew up he would never have believed that he would ever be buying bottled water. He could swear that thing was half full yesterday. The fresh five gallon jug weighed next to nothing. He opened the freezer to get some ice for his drink. The neatly stacked white packages had been disturbed but only the roast had been removed. He opened the refrigerator. It was practically empty. He patted his stomach. That explains that. He ran his hands over his muscles, marveling at his own size. How big was he? He refilled his glass and walked back to the bathroom and stepped on the scale.
He usually avoided the scale. He scooted it away from the wall and stepped onto its pebbled white surface. It spun shockingly fast and stopped at its three hundred pound limit. He held his hand on his pec and flexed. He couldn’t believe that this was his. He walked to the shower, turned it on and stepped in. He stood there for a while just enjoying the water as it cascaded over his body and into his open mouth. He drank not caring about the taste. It quenched his thirst finally. He lathered his huge muscles for the first time. He wasn’t sure which was better, having the size he’d always wanted or touching the massive bulges feeling the raw power beneath. Either way it aroused him.
He felt naughty, like he was playing with someone else’s toys. He stroked his rigid shaft and found even the gentlest touch of the head sent a shudder of pleasure to his spine. Before he knew it he was pumping and stroking with both hands. Of course, now it took both hands! With a splat he could hear over the rush of the shower, his load smacked the tile. He finished his shower and toweled off. The scent of the roast had filled the entire place.
He went back to the kitchen and prodded the meat with a fork. It was still mostly frozen. He went to his weight bench and loaded everything onto the bar. He laid down and pressed, testing his strength. It was no test at all. The smell of the roast was driving him wild. He had to get out. He found dressing to be a new experience too.
He tried on his favorite jeans. They fit just the opposite of how they had before. The waist was loose and the legs were tight. It felt good. His favorite baggy T-shirt strained across his chest. In clothes, he looked even bigger than he did nude. He had always liked to lounge in the nude or in baggy sweats. Now he stuffed the sweats in his duffle bag and packed things for the gym.
He would test his strength. First, he would buy some clothes that fit and something more. A plan was forming in his mind. The very thought was all it took and he saw his dick force its way down his inseam. He looked fucking incredible but such a display was not his style. He stripped out of his pants and stepped into some briefs. The leg holes strained as he pulled them over his thighs but the real stretch was how his package filled them now. WOW!
The bulge behind his zipper was only slightly less noticeable than the one down his leg had been. He checked the roast one last time and made sure of the setting. He moved several of the packages of frozen beef to the refrigerator. Then he finished getting ready and picked up his bag and left. His car fit him differently. His thicker torso made the wheel seem closer and the seatbelt was almost to its limits. He added a seat belt extension to his shopping list. He drove to a department store on the other side of town. He didn’t want to be recognized. He knew he couldn’t be missed. He made his purchases and drove on down to The Gym. It was named that way so it wouldn’t be mistaken for some common spa.
He walked in and he could tell that this was a place for serious weight lifting. He paid for a day pass and went in and changed. His baggy sweats barely concealed his bulges. He loaded up at station after station. In between sets he drank deep from the water fountain. He had never pressed such weight. The more he lifted, the stronger he felt, the harder he pushed himself. He benched over four hundred. He squatted over six hundred. He pumped for hours.
He showered, dressed, and left, not noticing all the eyes that followed his every move. He was hungry and knew the roast wouldn’t be done yet. He drove to a nearby steakhouse, The Angus. He did notice the oogle that the hostess at the restaurant gave him. He had never received such looks in his life. He had been aware of seeing others get the looks but never himself.
He knew the thoughts of men seeing a muscular beast enter a public place. He knew that there were men wondering if he were as strong as he looked. Some feared that he might be the mean kind. He finally knew what it was like to be envied. These people had no idea of the size of his bank account but the size of his freshly pumped muscles was undeniable. He was famished and didn’t bother looking at the menu.
Once long ago he had celebrated his birthday here. He ordered the King Cut. He never forgot the sheer size of the “King Cut” prime rib. Even though he could eat a lot, he couldn’t finish the huge slab of rare beef, not then. When he ordered it this time, The waitress said “I think we may have a winner here.” He asked her what she was talking about and she explained that anyone who ordered the King Cut and finished it in one sitting could have it for free.
He said he’d try. He had really not forgotten about the King Cut Challenge, but he didn’t know whether they still did it. He was pretty sure that he could eat half a cow and still have room for desert. With the way the waitress was looking at him, he could tell she wanted him for desert. If he played his cards right, she’d get her wish. He was no virgin, but for as seldom as he had been laid, he might as well have been. Suddenly food wasn’t the only thing he was hungry for.
When she brought his drink, he smiled in a way he didn’t know he had in him. She returned the smile with a wink. She returned with a pitcher of water, and then with a sharper knife, before his order was ready, the lovely blond hade been back four times. The fourth time she returned to fill a napkin dispenser that wasn’t empty. She had undone her second top buttons to show even more of her ample cleavage and she reached across the table in such a way that to keep her balance she placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt his dick firm up and strain against his trousers. She smelt of perfume and a hard days work. He thought he had never smelled anything so erotic.
“Careful, there.” He said. “If you fall into my arms, they’ll need the jaws of life to make me let go.”
“My balance gets worse around ten. Will you still feel like catching me then?”
“Oh, yes. But do you think they’ll get upset if you’re late for work tomorrow?”
“I’m off tomorrow, so there’s no problem there.” “Oh, really?”
Just then the bell rang and she left to pick up his order. She returned with a huge platter weighed down with a six inch thick steaming slab of beef and set it down in front of him.
“By the time you eat this, you’ll probably want to go home and sleep it off.”
“Wanna bet? If you’re still ready to fall into my arms at ten, I’ll be ready to catch you.”
“I suppose we will.”
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