|The day after I'd found Joe Alvarez accosting my friend Cheryl on her front porch, I went to his house. I was jonesing to teach the guy some manners. but his mom answered the door, and said Joe had gone back to college. "He'll be back for Thanksgiving," she said, "Be sure you stop by," obviously confusing me for one of Joe's jock buddies. Oh, I'd be back alright. I became obsessed with it. I had four weeks before Joe came back for the holiday, and I focused my rage into my workouts. I was lifting harder and heavier, become stronger and bigger. I'd never had such a single-minded purpose for my gains before, and now they were coming fast and furious. And after my three hours workout sessions, I'd check myself out in the mirror, imagining what my new thickness and size would do when it finally got a hold of El Aviv. And I was doing something else about it too. I went next door, and asked my neighbor, Mr Nelson, an ex-marine ultimate fighter, to teach me to fight. Huge and strong as I had become, I'd never been in a fight before. When I explained to him that I was planning to avenge my friend Cheryl, and all the others before her, he got totally into it. He had a sister, he told me, that had run into the same problem once. Nothing had given him greater pleasure than trouncing the guy who had done it. So for the next month, I trained with Mr Nelson. He taught me to throw punches with speed and accuracy, how to workout on the speed bag, and how to body kick, using the heavy bag. He made me stop using the speed bag after I kept breaking them. The heavy bag training stopped after I broke three in a row with my kicks. Then he had me practice my hitting on cinder blocks. Smashing them into chunks was a rush, and soon the calluses on my knuckles matched the ones I had on my palms from heavy lifting. Day after day we trained, and I learned how to bust out of any hold his lean, hard, 220lbs of marine muscle could put me in. Actually, with my size and strength advantage, busting out of his holds was easy. It was doing it without letting him know how weak he was next to me that was a challenge. I didn't want to bruise his ego, have him stop working with me. It wasn't until I showed up one day, and Mr Nelson had a friend of his there, that I realized that he knew all along just how strong I was. "Andy, this is my friend Ted. He's in line to become a heavyweight champ. I thought the two of us might be able to offer you more of a challenge." So it was on that day that I took on two full-grown fighters at once. Ted was a brutish powerhouse. He stripped off his shirt. He looked hard and heavy, and he was covered with tattoos and battle scars, like an ex-con. He was about 6'2, 275lbs. He stank of body odor and cigars. Mr Nelson stripped off his shirt. His lean muscle rippled with his slightest movements. I stripped off my shirt. And I saw the flicker. The flicker of doubt in Ted's eyes as he sized up my body. It faded quickly and his eyes hardened right back up, but I'd seen it. Hell, I outweighed the two of them combined. He outta have flicker. We stood on the padded pavement of Mr Nelson's garage. The two seasoned fighters facing me, clenching their fists. Then they came at me. They hit me with rapid fire blows, their fists like jackhammers, and pounded on me from all angles. I blocked as many punches as I could, and my thick beef absorbed the rest. No sooner would I knock one of them back with a powerful, bone-crushing blow, than the other one would be on me again. I would grab one of them and send them flying into the garage wall, hitting about halfway up. They'd thump to the floor and come at me again, barely missing a beat. Two tough fuckers. What a rush it was beating on them while they tried to take me down. I could tell they were trying to get me off my feet, but is wasn't working. My legs held me up like two giant sequoias planted in the earth. Twenty minutes into it, and the garage walls were wet with sweat, and it reeked of testosterone. The two men were circling me, their muscle glistening, their skin welted, and I crouched toward each of them like a cornered bull. Suddenly, Mr Nelson got behind me, hopped on my back, and got me in a half-nelson. He locked the hold firm with his free arm. As I reached up to overpower his hold, Ted roundhouse kicked me in the thigh, right above my knee. It made a huge smack sound. I felt my leg muscle absorbing the blow. It didn't feel good, but it didn't have the effect Ted was hoping for. I was still standing. And now, he was limping. I dove on him and took him down. I covered him under my tremendous mass, smothering him under my bulk. He struggled hard, but I was too strong, and feeling him struggle made me feel even stronger. Mr Nelson pulled on his half-nelson, trying to pry me off. I reached back and wrapped my fingers around his neck and squeezed. The sheer strength of my grip was too much for him. The tension went out of his hold as pain seared thru his body. I flipped him off of me and slammed him onto the ground. I held them both down and straddled them. I bore down on them with all my weight and strength. I felt the fight draining out of them. I'd never felt more powerful. Adrenaline surged through my body. I looked down at Ted. If this was Joe, I could be pounding his face in, beating him senseless, messing up that pretty face of his. I clenched my fist and started to draw back, but then Mr Nelson tapped out on my arm. I looked at him, and he shook his head no. I looked back at Ted, and sweat dripped off my chin and onto his huffing, defeated body. The dark thoughts crept in, the ones telling me to fuck Ted's face, to grab his ears and use him as my bitch. Fuck, I was horny. It was freaking unbelievable. My whole body felt like one huge hard on. I shook my head, and sweat sprayed around us. The dark urges receded, and I stood up, towering over the two fighters. I helped them both up. "Andy, you are one quick study," Mr Nelson said, as he brushed himself off. His skin was all mottled and welted from fighting. So was Ted's. So was mine. It felt amazing. "That Joe kid is in for a world of hurt. Now go hit the showers, and enjoy your Thanksgiving." I shook hands with them, and lumbered on home. The shower felt awesome, and as I soaped myself up, I felt the hardness of my battle-jacked muscle. I felt like I was getting bigger and harder by the minute. Joey was definitely in for a lesson. On Thanksgiving Day, I went to my Aunt Tess's house. She lived alone and usually came to our house, but with my parents gone, I told her I'd come over, and I'd bring the turkey. I had ordered two pre-cooked 18-pounders from the local turkey farm. When I picked them up, the lady behind the counter gave me three free pies to go with it. She said I looked like I had a big appetite. She got that right. Aunt Tess had cooked enough food for about 15 people. That worked out about right. It was just the two of us. I ate and ate and ate, and she just kept bringing me more. Mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, sweet potatoes, turkey, home-made rolls, more turkey. Plate after plate. After awhile we didn't even speak. She just kept piling food on my plate, watching me eat. When I finished off the first turkey, I started on the second. Even for me, it was a lot. I started sweating, but just kept eating. I was breathing heavy thru my nose because my mouth was always full, so I sounded like an animal, a bull or something, stuffing itself. Whenever I thought about slowing down, I'd think about Joe, and how badly I wanted to annihilate him, and I'd pack in more. The bigger I got, the harder I'd trounce the cocky little fuck. It was turning me on, feeling so stuffed and tight, so huge and strong. When Aunt Tess brought out the pies, it was all I could do not to pick them up whole and start eating them. But I didn't. I ate them, slice by slice. Smothered in whipped cream. Finally I stopped, and pushed myself back from the table. I stood up. I felt like a beast. A juggernaut. Unfuckingstoppable. "You want to lay down for awhile?" my aunt asked. "No, that's alright. I think I'll walk home. I'll come back for my car tomorrow." The walk was a good idea. The fresh air felt good, and the ponderous amount of food I'd eaten began to settle. It was about a 5 mile walk, and one mile into it, my quads and calves were pumped so tight I thought my pant legs were going to split. I squeezed the muscles tight with every step, and by the time I got home, they were on fire, bloated so full from my extreme caloric intake. I peeled out of my pants and looked at myself in the mirror. My legs looked like over-inflated balloons snaked with hose-sized veins. Beefed up tree trunks. Punch-proof bonecrushers, the quads overhanging the knees by a couple of inches. So thick. Strong. Leg scissors in these suckers could crush a man. He'd have to beg me not to bust his rib cage. I flexed my heavy thick power legs.Oh yeah. So huge. So fucking ready. Time to give ole Joey a call.
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