Captain My Captain

By F.R.Eaky

So there it was, our glorious night. We'd won the Basketball championship. Of course I guess it was easy with my stature and all, but hey, the rest of the team definitely deserves credit for their part.

They've worked hard. Learned how to handle the ball better, how execute moves, and how to work with a giant. Literally, work with a giant. Which also means that they've had to swallow their egos a bit because no matter how much I sit back, I'm the center of attention. It doesn't matter where in the room I sit, or how many people you pile into the room, I WILL be noticed. Then again, I have the team to thank for that.

Well now, I guess I should let you in on how I came to be Captain of the basketball team, and the football, and soccer, track & field, weightlifting, and honorary captain of wrestling and gymnastics; well, I'm a little hard to fit into those sports. Of course, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have succeeded this year if it weren't for Derek. He's been my right hand man, in more ways than one. He's changed a bit to this year, but then I'm telling you things from the middle of my story. Let me start from the beginning.

I'm Ian Zubrek, a frosh, yeah- freshman although ya wouldn't think so by the look of me now. No, I came here to State U. on an academic scholarship, specifically in the math and history department. I wasn't much of anything, 5'6", 100 pounds if I had an excellent meal for breakfast, mouse brown hair, hazel eyes and porceline skin. God how I wished I had black hair and dark eyes. I could have at least looked like I belonged to the Goth crowd then.

As it was, I was the nerd class, so marked as that was the closest thing I fit into. Just there. A bland, boring shell, walking around.

At least I had money, so earned because with my good grades I was slammed into tutoring and let me tell you, there are many people who need my help, not just the jocks, people from all types of interests and degrees, although many jocks came in for support, even if they didn't need the help. They know they can conquer on the field, but even if they're pulling A's or B's in a class many of them are self conciouss about their mental prowess.

That's how I became friends with Derek. Ah....Derek Chambers. He's a good egg, ya know. Born with natural good looks and a cut bod, 6' 2", dark cherry wood colored hair and emerald eyes, a dash of freckles still, decent talent for sports, just enough to get in with the "in" crowd, and a calm quiet personality to boot. The silent jock that sits in the back and watches the plays. Derek came to me for help in a science class, and luckily enough it was one with a lab requirement. He knew what to do on paper, but couldn't quite get the hang of it in the physical, mixing all the chemicals and their reactions. Frequently it becomes quite warm in a lab, and when Derek gets nervous he sweats a bit, so normally he'd strip down to his tank top when worked on his lab, and I would get lost watching him reach for a flask, or bunch up his muscles when he leaned in to look closely at something. The mass, the tendons, the ligaments, pulling, streching, bunching, buldging. I wanted to teach anatomy and let him be my model.

Start with the head run my fingers through that dark red tussle of hair, down the nose past his green eyes, stop at the clef in his chin, and then down his six three body and see what his package was. But I'm lost in fantasy, which is what usually happened whenever I tutored Derek.

Things were really great as far as our "relationship" went. I'd tutor Derek and he would tutor me a little in the world of sports and all. He's show me how most of the games were played, invite me to the football games where he'd hand me copies of the playbook so I could learn about one of the great American pasttimes, and even tried to get me hooked onto a little weight training. Come to find out, I might be short and scrawny, but my coordination wasn't that bad.

So it's the middle of the school year and we recieve a great shock.

Marcus Majors, one of our principles for the basketball team, is involved in a car wreck and passes away. He was a nice guy, pulled average grades, good friend to many. He wasn't the captain of the basketball team, but the team played so well as a unit, it was going to be hard to play with one part of "the machine" missing. That's the other thing. We have a good sized college, just large enough to cover many sports, but not large enough for extras on the teams. So our basketball team was now a man short, and this made the team anxious and the Captain, Len Burnham furious. as a matter of fact it made his temper even more short than usual and that's not something you want to have happen.

Len Burnham: six foot ten about 295 of muscle, sandy brown/blond hair, blue eyes, perfect teeth in form and whitness, and all around jerk. I first met him when he came to me for tutoring. Well, what he wanted wasn't tutoring, he wanted me to do the homework for him. He beat me up because I wouldn't, but I never gave in to his demands. I knew if I went and told on him nothig would happen. As per usual, the school protects its athletic program here. He eventually left me alone. I wouldn't give in even though he beat me, and this was a game of time. If I didn't give in and he kept trying to teach me a lesson, he'd fall behind, fail his class, and then get removed from the teams. Not an option in his book.

Anyway, he had been a bear to me, and was a bear to everyone else for that first week of practice without Marcus. I remember meeting Derek out on the quad to set up study times when Len came up shoved me out of the way, hard, and went sprawling to the floor.

"Outta the way geek!"

"Len! What the hell was that for leave him alo....."

WHAM! Len sent his fist straight into Dereks jaw and sent him down.

"You were the last one with Marcus weren't you, you fucking idiot!"


"Just tell me, Derek. You were the last one with him."

"Yeah, Friday night before the car crash."

"Why did you let him go off and drive drunk! The reports come back man, he was drunk. You should have taken his keys from him!"

"The accident was at 11:30 Saturday morning, Len! He left my dorm room, after we studied the play book at 10:30. We had knocked of only two beers a piece, and he walked to his dorm room from mine."

"Yeah, well he was tipsy then, when he recived the news that his girlfriend left him later. So he went out and got plowed."

"So that's my fault?"

"Yes it is! You fuckin jerk. We're gonna lose the championship now."

And Len storms off.

During this whole time, Mr. Peters the gymnasium janitor walked by.

"He's gonna wind up a janitor, that boy." He gives me and Derek and soft smile, helps us get up and hands us to extra meal tickets to the cafeteria.

Shakes his head, walks in the direction towards Len and says, "I better have a talk with that boy."

Mr. Peters is a great guy. He's come down and talked with me on in the bleachers during games and helped explained why they do the plays they do and the difference between offense and defense. He's talked to Len before or tried at anyrate, but Len won't listen. Len's threatened Mr. P. a couple of times, but Mr. P. is staff, so Len won't actually belt him cause he knows a suspension is at hand if he does. But Mr. P. is a great little guy, old gentleman with gray hair, broken body, specktacles, all of 5'3", he makes ME feel tall. He gives his all for the teams giving them side pep talks, and making sure the ice is the and the jacuzzi's warm for the sprains and pulls.

And he's always talking off in a distance somewhere, about how the team needs to be cooperative and remember their manners. Odd, but cute.

So one day, I'm sitting in the library studying for upcoming fall exams and Derek comes rushing up to me, with an expression that switches from worry to smirk to smile.

"Dude, you've got to come with me."

"Why, what is it, Derek?"

"Something is about to happen that can change your life."


"Just come on."

"Derek, I've got finals to study for, I can't blow them off like you jocks ca..aaaa. Hey!"

Derek picks me up out of the chair and proceeds to carry me out of the library. I am so glad it's lete because otherwise LOTS of studetns would see this and I'd be mortified. With a scary sense of calmness and serenity, Derek looks at me and says, "You'll soon be able to blow them off my friend."

Arriving at the gymnasium, Derek sets me down and opens a side door and pushes me in. It's dark as the whole place is closed down since in three days the Christmas break will start. After walking through what seemed like a maze of corridors and hallways we arrive to a locker room and there before me, is every jock of the school. In the center of this crowd is Len screaming his head off, pushing on some people, punching others in the chest.

"Derek what the fu..."

"Shut up Ian, and you might live through this and come out a better man."


"You guys are a bunch of pussies! You can't work as a team, you don't know how to support the inncer club. Not one of you has been able to find a replacement for our numbers and therefore our basketball team. All you can find me a little pussywillow dweebs who don't know the difference between a basketball and a football. The member of the football team catches the ball in the end zone, and the people you bring me stand up and holler 'Grand Slam!' It's pathetic. And then you can't even keep the old cogger outta my face for a few minutes. I finally had to beat him down!"

Glancing in the shadows of a hallway across from me, I spied Mr. Peters sitting on a bench, holding the side of his face and crying.

"I'm telling ya, If it weren't for the fact that our numbers were down, I'd be removing some of you from the inner circle."

There were some grumbles and gasps of breath and bodies shifting to and fro, nervously, when Derek pushes me up through the crowd and boldly walks up to Len.

"I think I have a hopeful, Len."

Len looks at me up one side and down.

"You think you have a hopeful, and you bring me this milksop?!?!?"

"I know we haven't been able to find anybody, and he's small, and week, not a great matter to build on, but he does have some co-ordination, and he doesn at least know a little about how to play the game and the strategies."

"Oh, really? Well let's see what the BOY can do?"

For the next couple of hours I was run through some calestenics, basic floor moves in several different sports, and then quizzed on form, rules, and strategies from various games. At the end of it all, Len comes up to me picks me up and hoists me over his head and turned to the gather assembly.

"Gentlmen! brothers! The dweeb has suprisingly done well. He's still not up to the usual standards for membership, but as time is short, and pickings are slim, and we need a replacement, I vote we give him membership. Are there any objections?"

The room was silent except for the ringing of the echos of Len's voice.

"All approved say aye."


"All opposed say nay."


"Then is begins, Chaplain!"

Chris Warner, head of the gymnastics team approaches me, grabs me by my elbow and says "Welcome to the journeyman of jocks, brother. Tonight you join the elite."

There are several whispers from behind him, he smiles and whispers softly in my ear, "If Len plays God as usual, you will become a god killer and a deity yourself. Just remember when we call you it, accept it, captain my captain. We welcome you most heartily."

I was then pushed into a far corner shower stall, placed in the center, and the Chaplain began to recite something that I only caught the last part of.

"...promise to up hold the bortherhood of athleticism and the honor it brings in life, but not only supporting those in the specific sport team you belong to but all members of every team everywhere?"


"Say yes"


"Then if so agreed upon by our officers...Captain?"

Len spun around, "Aye!"

"Co captain?"


"Keeper of the Playbook?"


"Equipment Master?"




"And do you Chaplain?"

"Aye, I do. Then let the union begin. We welcome you, Ian Zubrek, to the Journeyman of Jocks that your life may reflect in all ways what a healthy lifestyle brings to you, we grant you physical improvements that the life of a jock can bring and welcome you to the order."

Backing out of the shower stall, the jocks smiled at me, as one by one the shower heads around me began to turn on, with streams of hot water filling the stall with steam. Shortly, I began to feel as if the steam was clinging to me. As if hands we caressing me, making me feel that ticklish feeling all over. I felt as if I was being set on fire. This strange urge, desire, emotion seemed to be welling up in me from loins!?! And then pain kicked in. I felt as if my fingers and my toes, then my arms and legs, finally my torso was being pulled at in small jerks every few moments. My feet swelled I think, and the room began to spin for just a second, and I thought my toes were being crushed by some force. My feet felt so uncomfortable. This subsided, and Len came to me through the steam. It was strange, weird. He was still much taller than me, but I could swear I was looking straight on higher on his chest that I usually do, and then I began to wonder about my clothes they seemed to fit a little more snug.

"Brothers! He has joined and become one of us. However, he now stands around 5'10", and we need him to join our basketball team and fill in the void left by our brother Marcus. It is my wish that we give him another boost, to ensure that he is more fully accomidated to the role for which he is about to fill. Are there any objections?"

Again there was a silence.

"Then so be it. Ian rise to your potential!"

The pain began again, and my feet screamed in agony, until I began to hear a small ripping sound and then my feet felt odd. They found relase and a coolness on the sides, but my toes still flet cramped a bit. And then looking up at Len, I began to see his face come closer and closer, and when the pain stopped I slowly begain to realize I was looking at him more eye to neck now.

"Behold, our new six-two addition to our basketball team. But brothers, he barely has a swimmers build, and he will need more than that for the game of basketball. Several of you will need to come up and give the temporary donation of muslce to buff him up for the hard knocks of basketball. Derek, he's your 'pledge brother', I give it to you to chose the members who shall buff him up. Other than the welcoming and improving of our new brother, I call this meeting closed. Once Ian has been fully initiated, retire for the evening, then meet here in the morning and we shall give him a proper welcoming."

With that Len left the lockerroom, and after several minutes another jock came running into the room and announced that Len had left the building and returned to his dorm. Upon hearing that, there were chuckles and some cheers from everyone. One guy yelled out, "So Derek, whom do you choose to bestow gifts for full initiation upon Ian?"

"Brothers, I think a new time is at hand for our chapter of the Journeyman. But we must make a wise choice in preperation before that time begins."

Turning and smiling at me, Derek whispered, "Go back to the center of the showerstall and lie down on the floor. .... Brothers! I select ALL of you, ALL of you who so wish to come a bestow a gift upon Ian!"

The Chaplain came up first, "I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

This was followed by the Co-Captain, "I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

The Keeper of the Playbook: "I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

And another, "I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

And still another, "Len is a jerk, and I think he needs to be topped in more ways than one. I give Ian five pounds of muscle, and five precent of my dick!"

There were some hoops and hollers at that and some choruses of yeah and one shout of "Make his the bigges, badest, most horsehung member of the journeymen, and Len will never know what happened."

"I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

"Five pounds, five percent!"

"Five pounds"

Five pounds. Five pounds. Five pounds. I don't know what was happening really, I just looked up at Derek who looked at me with a caring and somewhat lustful smile. In total there are about two hundred and eighty five jocks at our school across all the teams, every single one of them was there and they formed a line around the locker room to the my shower stall.

I stopped counting after thirty five and feel asleep.

In the morning, I awoke to a ruckess. I could hear some shouting. there was one last guy standing in the stall doorway who looked at me with a smirk and said. "I give Ian five pounds of my muscle."

This was follwed by the voice of Len come from up the hall shouting, "What the fuck is going on here. You guys look like you haven't been to bed yet!"

With that the Chaplain turned to the stall and lead everyone in saying, "Ian Zubrek we welcome you to the group, recieve now the gifts that we have bestowed."

That's when the pain began. The steam arose again from the shower, and I suddently felt this tightening in all my muscles. Lying there on the floor looking up at the ceiling I felt as if I was becoming hard all over my body.

I was firming up and then beginning to swell. Soon I could feel the swelling happening with each throb of my hearbeat. The ends of my pants began to seal tightly around my calves and the legs began to balloon out.

My hands downs at my sides could feel the jeans become form fitting to body, and my butt become harder and fuller. The same was happening to my shirt.

I could feel it pulling tight across my chest and my back as my shoulders grew further and further apart; as my lats pushed my arms further and further away; as my chest barreled out fuller, thicker, rounder, mounding more more more till I thought my heart would stop due to the weight.

All at once I heard the ripping start. Small tiny little tears, small pops of rips started, gradually getting longer and longer, until my muscles split the sides, the seams of my clothes in one sensually long, slow rip.

First to feel the warm steamy breeze were my calves, then my thighs. My lats and back would have been next but lying down the were covered by the floor, but I feel them stretching, growing larger and leaving the fabric behind. I was lost in thoughts till something flew in my eye. It turned out to be a shirt button, and I heard the buttons begin to pop and fly off as my chest mounded up more and more till I realized looking straight down my body in a lying position all I could see was my pecs. So huge they we becoming, I couldn't even see my nips! I watched more and more in awe as my muscles got larger and larger, my skin becoming almost transparent, my arms inflating like large round balloons, becoming so full, so strong, they began to look almost square. My body was fighting for space with itself. My arms and legs beginning to stick out straight from my torso instead of hanging down. I had started out looking like a swimmer, maybe, and now I was looking more akin to Dillet, Hernon, Kovacs, Yates, Matarazzo. No, I was far larger than that, and I was just begining.

I felt this burning sensation in my chest. I thought it was a heart attack. Spreading across my chest, the tingling wrapped around me and I could see, and feel, my veins puffing up, plumping full and gorged with blood rising like anacondas across my arms, chest, thighs and calves. I swelled so hard so thick I began to shake. And then in time with my pulse, I received this tickling sensation, the kind from in the pit of my stomach but you feel it corse through you all at the same time from the groin to your lower lip. Each time, my stomach was turned inside out, my member was aroused to full capacity, I felt myself stretch across the floor.

Stretch across the floor. Two hundred and eighty five jocks. All who donated 5 lbs of muscle to me. At the end of my initiation I stood 6'2"

tall, how much muscle could a frame like that hold? Not all of what they gave me. Each pulse I felt myself get heavier, thicker, stronger, stretch further out, getting taller? I noticed the room begining to look smaller and it went on and on and on and on and to top it off, I could swear my personal was rising so high so think so long, it slapped my chest and it hurt.

Except for the fact that out of the corner of my I eye I saw Derek in a corner of the stall with a dazed smile on his face and a growing wet spot on his shorts, I saw nothing but the steam.

"I'll ask again, what the fuck is going on here. None of you guys have gone home to your comfy beds, and now we're supposed to give him the welcome he desrves like this."

"Oh were are Len, we are."

"What is HE still here too? Where's Derek? He was supposed to be in charge."

Hearing his name, Derek snapped too, just barely, and called out,"I'm in here Len."

Len made his way to the door, all the other jocks gathered around him and pushed him into the stall.

"What the hell are you doing on the floor, Derek and good god! it lloks like you've pee-ed yourself. Where's our new brother?"

"You mean captain."

"....what. ...."

"Captain, Len. You mean Captain."

"Aye, captain!" screamed all the jocks behind Len.

"We called an emergency meeting just after you left, and decided we needed a new captain, and Ian is it."

"No. I don't think so you pathetic jerks!" Len picked up Derek and slugged him hard in the face and started beating him to a pulp.

"Where's your captain now, Derek. Where's you little boy toy. That's what he is isn't he. He's your fuck rag."

The chaplain stepped forward and called out, "All in favor of making Ian our Captain, say Aye."


"No, no... NO!" Screamed Len as he began to shrink. Just as there was added benefits to becoming a member, there were benefits to being the captain. I found out later that no one ever noticed this because, usually a captain for a class was chosen for life. Not this time. Four inches were deducted from Len's hieght, from six ten to six six. And where did those four inches go? Striaght to me and I felt myself creep across the floor.

"This is not happening and this is not staying! He wants to be captain, then I challenge him."

"Na, na, na, now Len, you don't want to do that." Appearing almost out of now where was Mr. Peters.

"Shut up old man. Come on! Come out and face me o captain Ian!"

"La, la, la, Len."

"Be quiet!"

Slowly I began to stand up. It was hard to move at first. So thick. So heavy. I must lumber. I can't move anything straight out I've got to swing my arms... my legs. What was that? What was that thumping my knees? Oh my god, I don't think I wanna know. I stand swaying a little trying to focus on the light from the doorway so I know which direction to go. Where's the damn door. I finally notice the light, downward from my straight on glance.

I move forward towards the ranting Len. BOOM! "What was that?" Chris Warner asked.

BOOM! "What the hell!" shouted Len.

BOOM! and it was then I realized, it me. My footsteps, I padded heavy even upon these concrete floors. My heel to toe movement created earthquakes. I finally came out of the steam to stand right in front of Len whose head now reach up to the top of my chest, and who broad shoulders were now narrower than my chest. Across the locker room there was a mirror which showed my reflection. Still my face, slightly fuller thicker longer hair that now matched Derek's deep red and I suspect my eyes were now bright green as well. Cascading down, my hair framed a thick massive column that pulsed with popping rivers of red strands of blood vessels. This column started with a taper at the bottom of my skull and came down to join my shoulders & traps, thicker than my head I think. If it wasn't for the fact that I was tall, you;d never know I had neck. Joining my necks was this udpside down V that completmented, tried to match and out do my back and lats; I've never seen shoulders this huge and thick. My shoulders, traps, and all were so broad it seemed as if I was litterally as wide as I wall tall. Plumping, flexing bouncing between in front were mounds the were thick round hard and cut with slices of miniature grooves from top to bottom. The width of my shouders and chest to waist was 5:1. Battling for space on my torso were my arms. Were they arms. The looked as ful as my pecs, almost as big around as my thighs, huge hams, pumped, gorged, full of throbbing veins of blood, threatening to get bigger and shred any and all fabric that dared to contain them. They were beyond bodybuilder, the were so full, so strong, they no longer hung meaty and round they nearly formed a square. Supporting my gargantuan torso was a pack of abs that looked like an old stone wall. 8 hard, pulsing, rolling, stones, that were hard enough to break iron. The next thing to notice was my legs. Cut, popped with muscle, looking more like pollups strapped down with thick heavy cable used on suspension bridges. So defined I could point out every muscle in singularity, so thick they seemed to shake seperately. Legs so full so pumped it looked like they were each twice as big as my waist. I had to be the first male with an almost hour glass form, which ended with calves that I swear were as big as my upper arm. New building codes needed to be enforce or I'll bust through floors as I walk. I looked down at Len, smiled and backhanded him across the room.

"Challanged, game, and won, Len."

Len shook in anger on the floor, his face turning beat read. "You. Die."

Mr. Peters walked into the stall. "Len, think about this don't do this.

The reprocussions of such are more than...."

"Arrrrrgh!" From a small sheath hidden in his sock, Len pulled out a knife and ran towards me. He never made in close enough. I grabbed his arm, snapped his wrist, and then used my other hand to backhand him again.

He got up and ran up again trying to get me in any type of hold.

"You.... will..... die....." Attempting to hack and slash at me again, Len raged in anger, then the showers turned on full blast. Glancing down at Len, I saw him quiver and shake and shrink, his muscle atrophing, his frame getting shorter and shorter, his hair greying falling out, his eyes fogging over, his boyish chiseled face becoming puffy and wrinkled and his back stooped.

From another corner of the stall we heard a gasp of astonishment or extacy. There was Mr. Peters and was never going to be the same. Watching in amazment the whole room saw him stretch and reach up higher and higher, fill his clothes out more and more, till they too succumb to the slow agonizing rip and with that we all wathced as Mr. Peters' fur exploded out of the clothes and darkened from white to black and became soft and curly across his chest instead of the prickly patch age had given it. Our janitor was now a young 6' 9" college boy. When it was all said and done, there was a giant me, a young tall and fit Mr. Peters, and an old and broken Len. The journeman knew what they had done, but what was it that just took place. An explaination was needed.

Chirs stepped forward, "What the hell was that. Not that we don't appreciate it, or think it uncalled for, but we didn't plan that."

"No," said Mr. Peters, "the power did."

This left a great deal of puzzled looks on everyone's faces.

"Guys, there is a power behind our 'fraternity', our journeymen. There is a place, a reason, a message, an agenda behind organized sports, health, and athletics, and it is driven by an inner power, and you do not want to missuse the gifts it gives you. I know that. I know that first hand. I learned the hard way, just like Len here did. I've tried to teach on the side lines and help, I've tried to guide, and I even tried to stop Len there. In my youth I acted the same way as Len, ful of myself, although at no time did I ever think of killing someone to get or save what I wanted.

The power stripped me of my height of 6'1", quite tall at the time, and all of my strength, leaving me without the abilities for the career I trained for and thus resigned to a janitorial job. It has done the same here to Len, but even far worse for his desire for harm and death. It gave me his height and strength, it gave me his youth."

Derek piped up, "So what now?"

"Now," Mr. Peters answered, "We go on like YOU all were planning to."

"But with your age and knowledge, shouldn't we make you an officer?"

"No... no no no." Mr. Peters chuckled. "I've had my time before as an officer and I blew it. This is a second chance for me, but it still primarily your time. I'll take part. Mr. Burnham there, his parent's died when he was young, and most of the staff hasn't seen him since he started college a year and a half ago.... so I will become Mr. Burnham so the team still has all of its players, Len will become me and I'll show him how to keep this place spotless."

"And Ian shall be our Captain."

"Well, I'd like that, but I don't know all the playbooks, moves, terms and forms like most of you, so I don't think that is such a great idea."

"But, we've already proclaimed it, and so has the power."

Derek pipped up all smiles. I felt him pawing me or something from behind, he even pushed me into the scales during the last bit of conversation. "And what a captain too! Eight feet tall. Sweet mother macre.

38 1/2" neck, 145 1/4" shoulderspan, 131 3/4" neck, 47 1/4" upper arm, 39 1/2" lower, 47 1/4" abs, 42" waist, 71" thighs, 47 1/4" calves, and 20" long feet and you weigh.... uhm... move this here, and that, and....... good god alimight, 1450 lbs!"

"Well, as big as this captain is, I need help so I would like to suggest the following. I want a second captain, equal to me to teach me and guide me, and make sure that I know what I'm doing, and of course there'll be a few benifits as he's gonna have to match me, or at least come close to help keep me in line. So I think there should be two captains and then the co-captain so to speak. Is this alright?"

"Aye" came the reply "Then since he already has done the work before, I would nominate Derek Chambers to take the position. Any objections?.... all in favor?"


And so Derek became capatain along with me. I would later find out that I became every bit of his fantasy and fetish. As a matter of fact he had a massive foot fetish for massive feet, and with my new dogs, he found great pleasure in not only touching them, but helping me take care of them by finding a store that carries my size - 32.

So now we're off to the local pizza joint to celebrate our victory.

You're more than welcome to join us if you like. Let's see Chris is tagging along, of course everyone knows he does his gymnastic practice off of Len Peters-Burnham there. And just now coming out of the showers squeeky clean is Derek. No, that's him over there, the seven footer. Don't look so confused, I told you I said my captain squared had to match or nearly match me. That's all the size the power would allow him to have. And it was quite an interesting night how I gave him his power, but that's another story. Anyhoo, welcome to the journeyman, and good luck in your athletic career. Chris tells me track and feild's your thing. You'll need to talk with Corey about that, he was the star of our cross country until he took up bodybuilding, now he's doing the shot put, javelin, and that. He's the 6'6" buff hispanic looking guy over there. Don't laugh his mom's Irish that's why he's Corey. Anyway let's get to the pizza hall and we'll introduce you and you can tell me all about him later. •

This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.

Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.

Archive Version 070326