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Coach's Formula, The
|Later that night…
Internet searches had repeatedly failed to turn up anything about a company called Niodex, Inc. David was feeling new levels of frustration. But he also felt intensely awake. He had to hand it to that stuff; whatever was in the can was giving him one hell of a rush.
He turned the paper over again in his hand and read it for the hundredth time that evening. He had found it inside the box when he’d opened it. It had a nutrition label printed on it that read:
Nutrition Facts Serving Size 1 can Servings Per Container 1
Amount Per Serving Calories 18,000 Calories from Fat 0
There was a lot of other information listed as well. Like the amount of vitamins in a serving, all of which were in the percentage of thousands over their daily recommended values. But what really grabbed David’s attention were the amounts of calories contained in one can. That explained what fueled the growth that the team was experiencing. And by feeding it to them in small doses, one can a week for the most part, the growth occurred gradually over time. 18,000 calories was like five pounds of muscle. There was also a note that the formula had not been approved yet for human consumption. Well if the football team had been taking it for three years, and no doubt so was the Coach considering his physique, there obviously weren’t any short term side effects that were noticeable.
And there was also clearly a strength booster in the formula as David had discovered earlier. Necessary, no doubt, as increased strength allows for maximum muscle conditioning. Which it suddenly occurred to David was the key. Ryan was bigger this week than last week. David had studied him at the game and after they got home. He was looking huge and very well developed for his age. If he’d drank five cans, and worked out, he’d put on around twenty-five pounds total. He’d be around 185 or 190 by the time he was finished adding growth from this round. The more he thought about it the more he knew it was true. Ryan was probably still adding pounds every day as the aftereffects of the can worked through his system. Ryan now looked like a junior or senior, ripped with new muscle.
David was so excited. The only problem was where would he work out? That was the key. Otherwise all he was consuming would effectively be empty calories. He’d have high energy for a short burst and no gain to show for it. Or in a worse case scenario, he would store the excess calories in his body as fat. He had no intention of going from a skinny geek to a fat slob.
His dad had a lot of workout equipment in the basement that he’d used to train first Ryan and now Ted. Once upon a time he’d even tried to teach David a couple times, but to no avail. Ryan was now big enough and strong enough to have moved on to the high school gym, where more weight was available, and it was as well equipped as most commercial gyms, if not more so. David knew he could go down to the basement tonight. Their big house was literally so huge that no one would hear the clanging of the equipment and David still remembered enough of his lessons with his dad to know how to use the stuff properly.
Well it was do or die trying, David thought to himself. It was two o’clock in the morning. There were twenty-four unopened cans. He wasn’t sure how many he should start with though.
Ryan had had five cans for the week. So you could obviously super-concentrate the stuff in your system. But would it max out if you took too many at one time? Only one way to find out. David decided to start with nine cans. That would be ten total, including the one from earlier in the evening. Approximately 50 pounds of muscular potential if his figures were correct. That would bring with it both good and bad, and probably some explaining, but it would make his father happy and put him on a level with his brother and his peers. David didn’t see past that to any other consequences.
He popped the first lid and started chugging. Oddly, although the taste was vile at first, he sort of grew to like it by the fifth can. By the tenth he felt like he couldn’t stop, and so he kept on drinking. It was five minutes later that he realized he’d exhausted the whole case. Twenty-four cans total. Oops. That would probably have a noticeable effect, he thought. Maybe even a dangerous one.
Nothing to be done for it now.
He went down to the basement. He found the weights down there just as Ted had left them from his workout earlier that Friday morning. Damn the kid was going to be strong. There was 90 pounds still racked on the bench and little doubt that Ted had left it there.
David lay down on the bench and did some experimental tests with the bar. First lifting it, and then finding that he could control the weight, bringing it down to his chest and raising it back up in the air. He realized that it was the first time he’d ever done a complete bench press before. Amazing. Just like his dad and brothers. He did some more and even though it made his chest burn like hell, at the same time he could feel himself crying out for more.
Before David knew it, he was pumping out rep after rep, the weight becoming less and less a burden. He knew he was getting stronger. Soon he reached a point when the weight didn’t matter anymore, his chest was burning and his t-shirt was stretched across newly growing muscles.
David then forced himself through the most grueling workout of his young life, more than he had ever imagined possible for himself. But he was so wired; he couldn’t have gone to sleep. His dad had some good equipment down there. He was able to hit a lot of the angles of his chest with inclines and declines, flies and dips. His shirt, meant for a preadolescent, became tighter and tighter. Continuing to stretch outward. David was using more and more of the available plates as he seemed to be growing stronger with each new rep. Lifting heavier and heavier. His chest was on fire, and every time he went to feel it he noticed his hands seemed harder, thicker and fuller than before. Like he was experiencing a growth spurt. After an hour, David couldn’t even put his hand under his shirt to feel the muscle.
Part of him wanted to take off his shirt, so that he could look in one of the mirrors on the wall at his new body. His chest was now so pumped the bottom of his shirt had ridden halfway up his stomach. Staring at his reflection, it was almost laughable how overdeveloped his upper body was becoming compared with the rest of him. No, he thought, he wanted to burst through his shirt.
He wanted the fantasy.
David was feeling invincible, like he could lift anything, no matter how heavy. Yet his shirt still hadn’t ripped. He could feel the formula working in his body even then, supercharging him. Within a few seconds, he could hear tiny, little popping sounds. They started slowly, one after another. But then they began to speed up and David heard multiple rips. That’s when he saw real growth. His chest expanded before his eyes as the muscles recovered from the grueling workout he’d just given himself. Now, at last, they were rebuilding themselves: stronger, thicker and denser than before. It hurt and the pain was excruciating, but it was the pain of a really good burn. David watched in wonder and admiration.
“Fuck yeah!” he said loudly, unaware that he’d never used profanity before.
The threads of the t-shirt tore and snapped, stretched thin, no longer able to contain his developing chest. Within a minute, the shirt was now just a half-shirt covering the chest muscles. Then all of a sudden the shirt burst all at once down the center, forming a tear that exposed young, raw, engorged muscle underneath. David couldn’t believe it. His chest was thick and full, with a valley running between his pecs.
David reached a hand through the newly formed rip and began to massage the muscle with his calloused hand. It felt so fucking good. David responded by flexing his left pec, then his right, then both at once – like he’d seen the football players do so many times. The flexing was surprisingly easy and felt so fucking good.
But there was so much left to be done. David started his back workout then. So many different movements he remembered his father explaining to him, he could barely remember what he was doing. He just knew that this new muscle kept demanding more weight and more reps. He was sweating at the exertion, soaking the remained of his damaged t-shirt. At the end of his back workout, he was breathing heavily.
Soon after he finished, he began to hear something, an odd groaning sound. His sweat-soaked shirt was being pulled apart by his growing back. It wasn’t as easy to see the growth on his back through the mirror, but he could definitely feel it. He felt his arms being pushed out and upwards, his shoulder blades moving farther apart to accommodate his newfound size. Soon his back had grown so wide and thick it destroyed the back of his shirt, ripping it in two places.
He turned to see his back in the mirror, but he could only see half of it. His lats flared out, covered in muscle. His lower back was a column of thick muscle. But stubbornly his shirt still hung on to his new upper body. His arms were still relatively undeveloped as was his neck. The collar and sleeves were intact, but the rest of the shirt now hung loosely over his large chest and immense back.
David could actually feel his body’s new size, soaking up the air, fighting for space in the basement.
He knew what he needed to do next. Blasting neck, shoulders, abs and arms, set after heavy set, egging himself on to be huge.
He drank in the sight of his entire body, his over-the-top muscles. His face, once sallow, was filling in. He looked more like Ryan. Actually, he looked better than Ryan as his extra cans of formula were put to good use coursing through his blood vessels and cells.
David lacked the sheer size of a monstrous physique. But his muscles were incredibly ripped. He looked like a well developed amateur teenage bodybuilder, full of young muscle. He was turned on by the sight of his own chest. He flexed it playfully, watching the muscles ripple obediently at his command.
Then he could feel it. The growth in his shoulders and arms began simultaneously. He watched as his arms swelled then stopped, then swelled again, in time to his heartbeat. As they thickened with muscle and the veins underneath pulsed, bulging above the surface of his skin. Then came the ripping sounds again and David momentarily felt a choking sensation. The collar of his t-shirt was now being stretched out by his growing neck, traps and shoulders. The combination was too much for the shirt, which gave way in several places. Its seams ripping to reveal bulging, rippling muscle underneath. He felt a great deal of new found self confidence as his shoulders widened proudly, his neck forming a solid column of corded muscle, and his traps tugged at his back, rising and merging into his neck.
The sleeves of the shirt exploded. No longer holding onto his body, falling uselessly to the floor. As if eager to grow now that the restriction was gone, his arms grew in double-time, the triceps forming a vicious horseshoe mass that hung from his upper arms, the biceps elongating and rearranging into double peaks of muscle, the forearms writhing and cording into separate muscles.
His stomach cramped and, looking down, he saw his smooth abdomen begin to form cobblestones of muscle. The smoothness melted away and six beautiful, thick mounds rose up, forming ridges between them.
David pulled his arms up into a double biceps pose and looked at each in turn. He could barely contain himself. Mixed feelings of satisfaction, absolute disbelief, and total arrogance filled him. He had real muscles now.
Just one thing left to do. His arms were so thick, he flexed them, relishing the feeling of how much muscle bunched up when he flexed. He could feel the power as the muscles fought for space on his arms. But his legs needed some work. He pulled up his shorts. He had no leg development at all.
So he ran through lifts and squats, all with the heaviest weights he could find. Sweating profusely, he had been exerting himself so much he wondered why he wasn’t tired yet. After the leg workout, he had to sit down on the bench to rest. He waited impatiently for the growth, massaging his legs as he felt the warmth flow through his leg muscles. He felt as if he were pressing a ton, his thighs contracted violently and his legs began to twitch uncontrollably. His thighs grew and separated into groups of muscle, each proudly bulging out from his hips and knee joints. His calves tightened, and then exploded with growth, the muscle easily seen from the front of his leg. He playfully flexed each muscle in turn, marveling at their display of power.
His entire life has changed and there was no going back. He had the body of a stud. The body equal to and, he knew, surpassing his younger brother’s.
“Hold on a second, what’s going on here?” asked Ted, “Who are you?”
The sound of his brother’s voice pulled David back to reality. He glanced at the basement window and saw the light of morning pouring in. He must have been working out for hours.
“David is that you?”
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