You’ll Get It In The End

By Beefy XJock

 

 

Intro

Brad’s chest heaved up and down as he dried the sweat from his bare pecs and torso. He felt quite gratified with his lifts today and was ready to reward himself with a muscle-relaxing half hour in the gym’s steam room followed by a hot shower before heading out with his pal Steve to celebrate Steve’s 39th birthday.

 

“Hey Brick! Lookin’ awesome Man! How long today?” barked John, the gym’s resident towel boy and general gopher.

Brad whirled around almost losing the towel around his waist.

 

“Four and half hours today Dude! I feel great today!”

 

Brad liked the nickname “Brick”, born four years ago when he had first joined the club not long after moving to LA. At first he had thought it a cruel name, believing it to be a joke about his mental faculties. Afterall, even Brad would concede he was not a brainiac. He reflected on how anyone could have contrived that name from Brad Rick Wall? His gym membership application form, which he had signed “B. Rick Wall”, recorded the birth of his new identity which he now fondly embraced. Admittedly, he preferred “Brick” to Brad as everyone seemed to be named Brad these days. Besides, his legal name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Hence, he had quickly become known throughout the membership as “the Brick Wall” and no one ever had to ask why.

 

Coming from an athletic family with his father being former college quarterback stock and his mother having snagged a few track medals, Brick was swimming in a luxurious gene pool. He stood an imposing 6’3” and had developed from a lanky 165lbs in high school to a brawny 225lbs at his prime age of 26. He had dark black hair, olive skin and perfect proportions. His features always warranted second and third glances from admirers. Thick black eyebrows on a slightly raised brow gave him a hint of cro-magnon masculinity paired with a square jawline you would swear was drawn from a comic book while his hair possessed that slick jet black look with an almost blue hue in the sheen. His eyes lit up his dark features as they were a crystal sky-blue like you were looking at the shores of the Carribbean. His back had a “V-taper” that made you sweat just slightly to look at it as well as a sublime curve that, at his pelvis, accentuated his long round glutes that evolved into large quads housed on long legs.

 

He had truly earned his name through hard work during his college years. Finishing High School at 6’2”, 165lbs, Brad worked hard to live up to his father’s expectations of succeeding his football career. Placed on the team through a few favors cashed in by good ole Pop, Brad underwent an aggressive regimen to build his physique. Endless hours in the gym, merciless diet cycles and supplements all enforced by team trainers had Brad eating and lifting incessantly. His body exalted as if Zeus favored him over Hercules. He easily added weight and effortlessly converted it hard, striated muscle. Life was good. Brad was entranced by his physical transformation. His lifting became like a drug to him. It was soon evident Brad had more motivation to improve himself than to improve his average football skills and assist the team.

 

At the end of his first year in college, Brad quit the football team much to his father’s dismay and dedicated all his time outside of class to musclebuilding. At a young age Brad had known he was attracted to men and possessed an amazing charismatic quality of quietly making his preference known without damaging any relationships with his family, “macho” pals and adoring female throngs. His efforts in the gym were certainly not unrewarded! Brad quickly fell under the wing of several bodybuilders whom he was surprised to learn lifted on the “same side of the gym” as himself. He became the prodigy of several builders (whom he fondly called “the Big Boys”) a good ten years older than himself, benefiting from their experience in training technique. In return they seemed to benefit from enviously gazing at his Adonis-like form!

 

After another year, he had truly transformed into “The Brick Wall” having grown another inch to tower over most builders at 6’3” at the young age of 20. He had attained 200lbs of pure muscle, which diminished the physiques of most other builders his age. The attention he commanded was intoxicating to him and he grew accustomed to having his way with any man he chose. He enjoyed hanging out with “the Big Boys” often growing tired of the fawnings of those his age. They would always follow the same routine; they would lift for several hours, shower up and then head out some chow and a few brews.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Some Chow & A Few Brews

Most of Brick’s Pal’s were in the 35-45yr category and although they had big muscle, their competitive bodybuilding days had passed. They now concentrated more on lifting than bodybuilding. It often seemed “some chow and a few brews” translated into a decadent night entailing pizzas, platters of hotwings, burgers, hotdogs and more bottled beer than a couple of kegs could hold. Brick always had a great time as did the “Big Boys” although Brick didn’t partake of the spoils quite as the others did. Watching the “Boys” attack a table of eats amazed Brick at how much they gulped down and he always jibed that this was the reason they had graduated from bodybuilding to powerlifting.(Indeed, most of the “Big Boys” had graduated from size 33-34 posing briefs to size 40-42 lifting trunks!)

 

“Just wait Brick!” grunted Jack, “It happens to everybody once you hit 35; your body just isn’t designed to stay fine tuned that way. You start to broaden, thicken and mature. Its just natural!”

 

Jack proceeded to take a monster bite out the rack of ribs on the platter in front of him.

Jack was 42yrs of prime aged beef. He had huge arms, gargantuan shoulders and a massive back. He had one of the most impressive upper bodies in his competitive days at 5’11” and 225lbs. Such that Brick kept a few framed pictures of Jack at home as inspiration. Jack now aspired to huge bench presses and other powerlifts. He didn’t really worry about getting cut anymore and had progressively grown since Brick had met him. Brick guessed he was probably about 270lbs of packed beef now. Jack was sitting next to his best friend, Bill who was a bit shorter at 5’9” and possessed some truly amazing glutes, quads and calves. Bill was compact in size and now worked mainly on squats and deadlifts. Once Bill had quit working intensely on his total physique and began concentrating on his lower body he had grown quite a bit wider and had developed a more stocky build. Looking at Bill from behind Brick figured Bill had probably tipped the scales at 250lbs by now.

 

“Well, doesn’t seem too damn natural for those jeans of yours!” spewed Bill, spraying Jack with the remains of a mouthful of beer.

 

“What the fuck do you mean?” barked Jack.

 

“Looks your jeans haven’t quite ‘matured’ as much as your gut, Bud!” chuckled Bill, taking another deep swig of his beer.

 

“They’ve just shrunk up some” Jack defended as he leaned back stretching a bit.

 

“Oh? I guess the button shrunk so much you can’t see it anymore, huh?” Bill quipped, pointing at the gap between the bottom of Jack’s muscle shirt and the jeans waistband, which was now spread apart a good 2 or 3 inches due to the absent button. The entire crew started to cackle.

 

Jack grimaced, “ Damn, that’s the second time this month! Shit! I can’t find any jeans that are worth a Damn anymore.” Jack was scouring the surrounding area in search of the liberated button.

 

Bill grinned, “Don’t worry Jackie Boy! Remember, its all ‘natural’.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re ribbing Wide Boy?!” Jack rebutted, yanking the back of Bill’s cutoffs. “Looks like you’ve made a few adjustments here yourself, Pal!” indicating a deep “V” cut out of the back of Bill’s cutoffs’ waistband. “Guess you’re suffering from the ‘shrinkage’ epidemic too! Although doesn’t seem this vent is adequate enough! I can’t even see your waistband!” Jack howled as he pulled up Bill’s untucked shirt showing a belly covering his waistband.

 

“At least I’m not alone!” laughed Bill as he caught Jack in an armlock, hugged him close and took another gulp of beer placing the empty glass next to a family of six other drained mugs.

All the guys laughed and continued to drink and eat. Brick really enjoyed the celebrity the pack of them commanded in Luther’s, the local sports bar/BBQ joint. They always sat at the large center table and enjoyed the feast Tracey would ensure the table held for them. Tracey didn’t mind all the work to keep up with the appetites of this crew. They were eye candy enough for her and the tips more than made up for it. Most nights saw several guys-and gals- from the bar and restaurant sending over beer and the occasional platter of eats all in hope just one of them would take off their shirt and give the crowd a good show. It was never a problem for one of them to oblige. Despite the fact that the “Big Boys” were no longer in bodybuilding caliper shape, they were still awesome specimens to average folk. The size of their arms, legs, pecs and backs were truly ominous. Size was their weapon and their outings to Luther’s were guaranteed insurance they never had to worry about that.

 By the end of the night they all felt pretty blurry as Tracey cleared the long picnic style table of all the empty plates, platters and beer mugs.

 

“What’s wrong Harley? Move your ass already! Time to go.” Ordered Jack.

 

“Mmfff. Wait. One sec. Almost…Mmff” Harley continued chomping more than a mouthful of a roasted chicken leg quarter he had grabbed off his plate before Tracey snatched it from the table.

“Damn this stuff is good! I can’t get enough! Hey Trace’ tell the cook the new chicken dish gets the ‘A-OK’ from me!” Harley bellowed, shaking the chicken in his fist.

 

Tracey yelled back heading into the kitchen, “Anything slathered with hickory sauce that had more than two legs and walked on the earth would get the ‘A-OK’ from you Harley!”

 

“What the hell is she trying to say, huh?” With a scrunched up face and still occupying a larger than normal berth on the bench, Harley looked to his cronies with the leg quarter tightly clinched in his paw and some stray strings of chicken meat protruding from his lips.

 

“She means you’re right, Harley, you never do get enough! Come on, time to go!” laughed Bill as he gave Harley a gentle punch in the side.

 

“Oooof! Don’t do that Man!” Harley had a panicked look on his face. He released the doomed chicken leg and held his stomach with both hands. “ Granted, you had to call it a belly these days as his leather vest attested. Harley lived his name in that he was the total biker package: leather boots, pants, vest and occasionally the hat to finish it off. Of course his collection of machinery was impressive as well. And with the build he possessed, Harley always had to have his leatherwear custom made to fit. He only bought the softest, thickest leather available. He had even modeled for a few calendar pictures with his bikes in his full leather armor years ago and was proud that the local Harley dealer frequently used them in marketing ads and kept a life size poster on display in the dealer showroom. For sure, at 6’2”, flaxen blonde hair and 230lbs of well- sculpted beef, Harley did quite well for many years in the modeling arena for gymwear and other products. Although never very dedicated to the competitive bodybuilding scene, Harley put in the hours at the gym and probably more from his good looks than his measurements, he had quite a following of fans.

Harley’s custom skins had weathered well over the years but were suffering from his more frequent outings to Luther’s. As Harley held the sides of his belly, his pals smiled in seeing his vest’s side lacings stretched to capacity testing the strength of the steel grommets they tried to draw together. Indeed it seemed Harley’s vest probably had not been zipped up for several months now and that prospect didn’t seem possible as the sides of the vest front seemed like drawn stage curtains showcasing Harley’s signature muscle T-shirt which proudly read “Harley Hog Heaven” in large raised letters which now had stretched a bit and took on a rather rounded ‘marquis style’ appearance.

Harley slowly stood up, still cradling his belly with one hand and rubbing his blonde buzz cut with the other, inhaled deeply and let out a sonic boom of an apparently long overdue belch.

“Shiiiiit! I think I overdid it.” He groaned. And as if by reflex, he mindlessly reached down and popped open the waist button on his leather pants releasing an alarming creaking sound from the leather.

 

“No doubt about that Hog Man!” Brick chuckled, finishing the last of his beer and kicking Harley’s boot under the table. “Let’s hit the head before we go.”

 

“O yeah, gotta drain this fucker before I wheel outta here” grunted Harley, still caressing his belly trying to relieve some of the discomfort. Harley filed off behind Brick toward the restroom, his legs spread wide as he shuffled, his leather emitting loud creaking, stretching, rubbing sounds as he lumbered along.  The two stood next to one another in the restroom relaxing impatiently waiting for the night’s beer intake to completely unload. Once finished, Harley gave his trousers a good yank and Brick could hear him take in a good suck of air followed by the expected zip.

 

“Fuck Man, I think these pants are history.” Harley bemoaned as he fumbled with the button trying to fasten it, eventually giving up.

 

“Yeah, Dude, I think they may have seen their last night at Luther’s. They are beginning to look more like vinyl than leather these days!” Brick laughed, noting there was not one wrinkle to be found in Harley’s pants. Brick did admire how the leather now gripped Harley’s quads and especially his ass, which seemed to have grown wider and quite a bit rounder and fuller since he had known Harley.

 

“Shit Man, took me 10 minutes just to get these fuckers on tonight. Don’t want to know how long its gonna take to peel ‘em off when I get home. Oooof. I am so stuffed Man.” Harley placed both his hands on his lower back and stretched a bit.

 

“Harley, Man! You ate like a Moose tonight. You’ll feel better in the morning. Don’t worry. Just make sure you don’t blow a tire ridin’ home!” Brick smiled and smacked Harley’s leather-constricted ass on his way out of the restroom.

 

The rest of the crew had congregated near the door and were getting a bit unruly while waiting for the last two to reconvene before departing the scene. Brick really enjoyed these outings and liked the reality and down to earth nature of his friends as well as their easygoing attitude. He liked all the “Big Boys” but knew he would never allow himself to undergo the same changes as he got older. He was looking forward to his first competition and knew he would do well with the “Big Boys” helping him train in all their different areas of expertise. So amidst a few belches, several groans and united belly-rubbing the “Big Boys” headed home to sleep it off, ready for another day at the gym tomorrow.  Brick smiled as he watched them thinking of how he could beat his best lifts the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

The Good Life

 

So the next day proceeded like many others for Brick, spending most of the day after classes at the gym training with the “Big Boys” followed by some dinner out with the crew. His body continued to transform into a mold for which any professional builder would have sold his soul to possess. Brick continued to rally support for his training by making friends with everyone he met in hopes of gaining all the experience necessary for his first competition he planned to enter just after graduating college. Brick met and developed a close friendship with a competitive builder name Steve Marshall who was in the prime of his competitive career. At 32, Steve had won several competitions and was struggling to add more muscle mass to move to the next level. Steve enjoyed training with Brick as he was amazed how Brick’s body seemed to manufacture pure muscle out of whatever fuels and supplements he fed himself. Steve was enjoying hanging out with Brick since he was on a bulk up cycle to try to add mass and Brick and the “Big Boys” sure contributed heartily to Steve’s efforts. Steve often accompanied Brick to Luther’s and began enjoying the indulgent environment and acquired a taste for all the place had to offer. The routine began to show results as Steve beefed up from a dense, cut 225lbs to just over 260lbs in a little over 2 ½ months. 

 

“Hey Stevie, Man, looks like you’re joinin’ our club huh Pal?” Harley commented as he gave Steve a big bear hug from behind. “You’re getting’ pretty damn thick there Man! Can hardly get my arms around ya anymore!”

 

“That’s because you’re fuckin’ beergut is in the way ‘HogMan’!” Steve growled as he broke the hold by effortlessly flexing his monster arms outward a little. Steve leaned forward anxiously to devour a fresh plate of hotwings Tracey had quickly replenished for him.

“Besides, I still got 30 more lbs. to go before I’m done and ready to cut up.” Steve explained defensively, as he methodically popped the wings in his mouth like an assembly line, sucking the meat off each one followed by a familiar ‘clink’ of the discarded bone hitting the graveyard tray in the center of the table.

“Tracey, bring back one of those chocolate cakes with you on your next pass, OK?” Steve managed to muffle out.

 

Tracey nodded, wiping a few beads of sweat from her forehead. “Alright now boys! No more new members at your table or I won’t be able to keep up with you meatheads!” she warned and smiled.

 

Jack gruffed back “ We can’t add anyone else as long as Harley’s big wide ass is takin’ up almost half the bench over here!”

 

“Watch it ‘Goodyear’, if I stand up you’re liable to launch Brick here into orbit with the likes of you sitting on the other end of this bench!” Harley growled showing some teeth as if they were fangs. Of course, half chewed chicken hanging out of his mouth as usual.

 

Steve had planned to add mass up to 290lbs- at least 25lbs heavier than he had ever bulked up before in hopes of adding more muscle mass for next season. Although he knew he shouldn’t, Steve had been giving in to strong cravings for sweet, sugar laden foods after demolishing the spicy smorgasbord on the table. He had packed on 10lbs in the last week alone and new he should stick to proteins and carbs but he just couldn’t seem to help himself. Steve knew he needed to get to 290 but was worried at how big his stomach was growing.

Brick was enjoying life as well. Life was one continuous off-season for Brick as he ate all he wanted, worked out hard, and added weight constantly. His frame however, perpetually displayed 100% muscle which baffled everyone. Meanwhile everyone continued to enjoy meals at Luther’s and have a good time week after week while Steve worriedly rubbed his growing round midsection.

 

One afternoon Brick wondered what was up with Steve. He hadn’t seen much of him outside the gym since he had stopped hanging out with the crowd at Luther’s after having started his cut cycle a few weeks early.

 

Spotting Steve exiting the steam room in a heavy robe Brick bounded over to catch him.

 

“Hey Man, why don’t you tag over to Luther’s tonight with us. I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Brick said in a whiney voice.

 

“I can’t Brick, I’ve got to spend extra time on my workouts to get cut.” Steve replied shortly.

 

“Yeah, but you started a few weeks ahead of time. You’ll have plenty of time to cut.” Brock questioned.

 

“ I started 2 weeks ago because I had already fucking hit 300lbs and was still gaining!” Steve answered in a frustrated voice.

 

“OK, so you overshot the mark a bit, no big deal. You’re allowing extra time to work it off. So come to Luther’s with us and just  bring some of your fuel mix. You don’t have to eat all that junk the others scarf down. How much have you dropped already?” Brock asked as Steve made his way onto the scale.

 

“Not nearly fucking enough Man.” Steve indicated pointing to the scale as it read 282lbs. “And I’m so hungry like a mother fucker all the time”

 

“Ok, I give in. You’re right. You should work. You still have some ground to make up there big guy.” Brock chuckled, trying to ease Steve’s agitated mood as he tugged on Steve’s briefs underneath the open robe, surprised to see Steve’s stomach still well rounded over the waistband of his tightly stretched briefs.

 

“Exactly, I’ve got to make faster progress. You guys have a good time and I’ll see you here tomorrow.” Steve eased the tension as he unconsciously tried to suck in his gut a little and closed his robe a bit nervously.

 

So Steve seemed to spend endless hours at the gym over the next months but it paid off big time. He added about 15 pounds of very dense, striated muscle to produce a 240lb competition ready package. He went on to win a few competitions and place in several others that year. He was so pleased with his progress he continued to push his bulk up cycles further and each time add more mass which worked great for him although he found it increasingly difficult to cut up afterwards and was beginning to have trouble staying on his diet throughout the entire the season.

 

Brick graduated from college and became very serious about his building career. He had compiled a 6’3” frame (massive height for bodybuilding) carrying 225lbs of perfectly proportioned, super-cut muscle and had managed to land several endorsement deals (thanks to many of Harley’s connections), which allowed him to live very well and train fulltime. The “Big Boys” were proud of Brick as he took several titles in his first competitive year and placed in every competition he had entered- a very impressive record. Flex mag placed him on their cover as the most promising newcomer touting his measurements. Indeed, with a 52”chest, 21”biceps, 33” waist, 36”glutes, 31”quads and 20” calves, the “Brick Wall” was a national phenom.

 

Since they were now both competing, Steve and Brick had become best friends even though they were 10 years apart and enjoyed training together while the “Big Boys” were always available to assist and provide tips and guidance.

A few more years passed with great success for Brick and Steve had done well too although now at age 38, Steve seemed to have less success on the platform and was struggling to maintain his build. Brick watched during the last few off seasons as Steve had desperately tried to improve his aging physique by adding more muscle and bulking out now to a huge 360lbs to end up only being able to cut down to about 265lbs of “not-so cut” beef. In addition, Steve now would indulge more than a few times during the season attending blow out sessions at Luther’s with the “Big Boys” often resulting in a smooth if not an occasional slightly bloated appearance at showtime. Brick knew it would be hard for Steve to face the fact that his competitive career was about over.

 

Steve chucked the empty Ben & Jerry’s container into the trash can where it joined several others and he dropped his guilty spoon in the sink as he made his way to the bedroom to get into his training gear. He knew he would need to spend the whole day on cardio to try to make a dent in his indiscretions at Luther’s last night. He opened his closet door and stopped to view himself in the mirror that hung on the inside of the door. He hit a double bi pose and thought he looked pretty damn imposing. The mirror only held in its framed reflection the span of his collar bone and a dash of his massive shoulders. He then turned sideways to view his pecs only to see that the frame didn’t quite include all of his stomach or his ass. In truth he was not surprised, although he had a mountainous chest at 51” it did not entirely diminish the fact that his 37” waist (well, 38” by tape measure) was always looking a bit round these days.  He decided to put his gear on at the gym and grabbed a pair of black jeans from his closet deciding they might minimize the temporary large size of his lower half. As he pulled them on, he felt them quite snug around his massive quads and repositioned his legs closer together to assist in pulling them on. They slipped up a few more inches and again stopped just below his hips and butt.

 

“Damn! That custom shop never cuts these big enough in the leg!”

Steve continued to tug them on a little on each side as he felt them inch over his glutes and tighten up more.

“Holy shit these mother fuckers are tight!” Steve griped, realizing he must have grabbed and old pair of 35s from last year.

Then he spied the tag on the back in the mirror showing them to be 37s.

“Fuck, definitely an entire day on cardio and a full hour in the steam room today!” Steve mumbled to himself accepting the fact he would need to buy some new clothes to go out with Brick and the crew tonight to celebrate his 39th birthday. He proceeded to wrench himself into the jeans and once on huffed several times to get them zipped only to see the waistband button separated at least 3 inches from its mated hole. One vain attempt to try to get them buttoned and Steve knew it was hopeless. He shook his head looking at himself in the mirror rubbing his still very full round belly bulging over his unbuttoned jeans, thinking to himself,  “It really fuckin’ sucks making 39 twice on the same day!”

And, at that, he walked into the bathroom to determine exactly how much cardio and steamroom time he would have to endure this day. Mounting the scale he prepared for the worst estimating he might have surpassed 265lbs. After a few gyrations trying to bend in his skintight jeans so he could see over his overstretched gut to see the readout, he let out a bellowing howl sending birds flying from the nearby neighborhood trees.

 

“F  U  C  K!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  277lbs?! I’m screwed!”

Steve snatched an oversized sweatshirt to cover the top of his jeans, ready to head to the clothing store first instead of the gym. On the way out of the house he grabbed another container of Ben & Jerry’s from the freezer (the last) and figured “ Fuck it! Why not at 277?”  He quickly shoved a heaping spoonful in his mouth, pushed his seat back a notch in the car, unzipped his jeans so he could sit down and sped off to the Big & Tall store to find some clothes for his birthday celebration that night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

The BIG Night

 

Brick grabbed a hold of his towel before it fell from around his waist.

“Four and a half hours today Dude! I feel great today!” Brick responded to John’s yelp as he was entering the steamroom to relax after his marathon workout. Brick was excited about the evening ahead and at the same time a bit apprehensive. He really wanted Steve’s 39th birthday party to be something to remember as well as to get Steve into better spirits. He figured Steve had been grumpy lately because he was uptight about turning 39. More prevalent on his mind was this feeling of duty to have a heart to heart with Steve about not competing this next year. It had become more and more difficult for Brick, as he continued his upward success, to painfully watch Steve fail to place in any competitions this last year. In addition, Brick never could find a comfortable way to pull Steve aside at Luther’s and tell him to ease off as he had watched Steve blow a few competitions during the season by losing willpower and indulging at Luther’s with the crew. Brick had, up to now, silently been witness to Steve slowly notching up from a decent, respectable 240lb muscle package to a smooth rounded 260+lb slouch on the platform.

But tonight he was determined to make sure Steve had fun and then get his point across as painlessly as possible. Brick new exactly what to do.

 

Steve stood on the raised step nervously surrounded by 3 mirrors he worked hard to ignore as he waited for the tailor to bring a few pairs of trousers for him to wear for fitting. Steve was comfortable with Giovanni, his tailor for over ten years. Giovanni could always get an order for him the same day and produced great results considering his frame was very difficult to fit. Giovanni enjoyed Steve’s visits to the store as they were indeed a challenge, but also a great way to spread the word about his business. Giovanni had indeed gotten quite a few referrals from Steve and had built a thriving business.

 

“What you want? Blue, gray, taupe? What color?” Giovanni had emerged from the back room with a whole rack of suits he was pawing through.

 

“Maybe navy or black. Something dark, Giovanni” Steve figured a darker color would be wise.

 

“You have funeral or something?” Giovanni looked concerned.

 

“Nah Man, its my birthday tonight. I want to look sharp is all.”  Steve explained as he apprehensively spooned another mouthful from the ice cream carton.

 

“Birthday! Why you not say?! Giovanni get something really nice for you! You wait!” Giovanni bounced off into the back room once more and reappeared proudly holding a suit as if it was his own newborn son. “You like this! Best material, charcoal sharkskin! Very fancy, make you look like movie star!!” Giovanni was so excited. “How old today?”

 

“Uh, 39 today” Steve hesitated slightly. Then gulped another mouthful of ice cream.

 

Picking up on Steve’s nervousness Giovanni chuckled “ 39?! No, you look only 30 to me.” Trying to ease the moment.

 

Eyeing the suit, Steve figured the sharkskin was nice but was worried about the sheen. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself as there would already be too many eyes focused on him tonight. “Giovanni, the sharkskin is great but I really want the navy pinstripe there” Steve pointed to the rack.

 

“Yeah, that’s nice one too but…” Giovanni stopped himself thinking it not wise to argue with one of his best customers. “Yes, that one look good for you. Ok, Ok. Here, we get you dressed and I fix good for you.”

Giovanni put the sharkskin down and placed the navy suit next to the alteration stand. 

He then retrieved his tape measure and little black book where he recorded all his frequent customer’s measurements for reference. He stood next to Steve waiting to measure his chest as Steve slurped the last of the ice cream and dropped the container in the trashcan next to the stand. Taking the cue, Steve raised his arms slightly and Giovanni slipped the tape around his amazing chest. Giovanni then stopped short.

 

“Your sweatshirt too thick, you take off so I get good measure.” Giovanni stepped back waiting for his customer to comply.

 

Steve felt a little panicked but knew Giovanni well enough that he would not be too self-conscious. Steve did suck-in his gut as best he could without making it obvious, whipped the sweatshirt off and Giovanni was ready behind him with the tape.

 

“You get such big muscles now!” Giovanni commented as the slipped the tape under Steve’s arms and took the chest measurement. “You even bigger this time! 51” now. You were 49 ½ “ last time!” Giovanni was consulting his black book peering through his grandfatherly reading glasses on the end of his nose.

 

Steve felt more relaxed. “Yeah Man, I’ve been working hard on those.” Steve proudly bounced his pecs up and down.

 

Giovanni continued on with the neck, shoulder width, and arms, praising Steve all along on slightly increased measurements, which was doing wonders for Steve’s mood and self-esteem. Steve’s mouth grew very dry after the sugary ice cream and knowing the fitting would take a while, he asked Giovanni if he had anything to drink in the store.

 

“Yeah, I keep milk in the back for my coffee. You want? I get for you” Giovanni finished writing the measurements and hurried off in the back quickly returning with a big glass of milk and a big box of Italian biscuits (cookies).

“Here, you try, very good. I eat them for breakfast with coffee.” Giovanni pulled a little work table next to Steve and placed the cookies so he could reach them.

 

“Thanks Giovanni. The milk is fine, I just finished some ice cream but I appreciate the offer.” Steve took a swallow of the milk relieving his dry mouth.

 

Giovanni snagged a couple of the cookies for himself and left them on the table. “Ok, just take some if you like.” He proceeded to position himself in front of Steve to continue the measuring.

Kneeling on his alteration stool, as he closed his black book after reviewing the measurements on record, Giovanni was surprised to look up to see Steve’s rounded belly and bellybutton looming over his jeans. Then he noticed the jeans were unbuttoned and extremely tight. Giovanni was caught a bit by surprise never having seen Steve with anything but a tight grill of a midsection. Steve normally just wore sweats and casual big men’s clothes in the off-season so Giovanni had only had visits from Steve while he was in peak condition.

 

“You stop washing these in hot water and hang dry, you not have this problem!” Giovanni admonished, looking at the poorly fitting jeans. Thinking of the measurements on record, he thought it ridiculous for his customer to be wearing size 35 pants which had drawn up so much.

Giovanni grabbed another cookie and crunched it down.

 

“Uh, yeah. I know. I should pay more attention.” Steve responded, fumbling for an answer as he continued to suck-in his gut as much as he could. Now feeling a bit uneasy, Steve instinctively grabbed a handful of cookies as he took another gulp of milk.

 

Giovanni slid the tape around Steve’s waist trying to find the best spot on the bowed expanse to secure a good measurement. With a “Hmmpf”, Giovanni dropped the tape, consulted his black book and scratched his head bearing a perplexed expression. He repositioned himself behind Steve and again attempted the measurement. Peering through his reading glasses to see the tape he caught sight of the tag on the back of the jeans advertising their 37” size. Giovanni nodded his head and smirked a little as things now made more sense to him. He returned to kneel in front of Steve and took one more measure to be sure before he recorded the 40” result erasing the previous record of 35”. Meanwhile, Steve was busy munching a fourth handful of cookies.

 

“Ok, 40” for the waist, right? I just make sure since you’re so much bigger than your last measure. You really have been workin’ hard there haven’t you!” Giovanni innocently joked as he reached up and gently patted the round side of Steve’s sucked-in belly.

 

“40?!” Spouted Steve, spilling crumbs from his cookie stuffed mouth onto his pecs and belly as he exhaled in shock. 

 

“Yes, 40.” Giovanni confirmed, looking at the mark while still holding the tape around Steve’s waist. “You just a bit, uh, heavier for right now, eh?” Giovanni shook some crumbs from his glasses and gingerly dusted the crumbs from Steve’s ledge of bloated belly just above him.

 

“No! I’m about the same…. Maybe just a little heavier since…**Brrwarrrrrrrp**”  An expected belch escaped from Steve’s gullet relaxing his belly from its tensed, sucked-in state. As his gut lowered slightly and inflated out a bit, Steve’s heavily strained zipper notched down a couple more inches and Giovanni’s tape measure pulled through his fingers stopping at a mark of 41 ¾”.

Steve released a rather thick sounding **Gulp** at the conclusion of the awkward episode as he swallowed two swollen cheeks full of chomped cookies leaving a poorly disguised guilty expression on his face.

 

Grinning, Giovanni stood up. “Let’s see, that’ll be 42 inches then, yah” writing the figure in his book and closing it with finality. Giovanni grabbed the box of cookies and held it out to Steve with a little smirk on his mustache covered mouth, “More cookies?”

 

“NO! Thanks.” Steve unsuccessfully tried to return his zipper to its previous position and settled for a hearty yank on his two front belt loops. “I’m just a little swollen from last night’s salty dinner! Besides, I’ll be in the steamroom most of the today anyway. Look, just make the trousers…38… and a ½ inches and have them delivered for me as usual.” Steve hurriedly spoke as he threw on his sweatshirt guising his exposed form.

 

“38 ½? You sure Mr. Steve?” Giovanni looked very concerned.  “But you won’t be able to…”

 

Steve cut him off, “ Yes, I’m sure Giovanni!” Steve yelled back in an irritated voice while heading for the door.

 

“Maybe I add suspender buttons for you then?” Giovanni chuckled as the door slammed behind Steve. Giovanni popped another cookie in his mouth and shook his head.

“This not gonna be good” he mumbled and got busy with his alterations.

 

 

“Hey, move it already Old Man!” Brick grumbled from Steve’s living room. “What’s takin’ you so long?”

 

“I’m just running late. I overslept this afternoon.” Steve yelled back loud enough for Brick to hear from behind his bedroom door he had left slightly ajar so the two could talk.

 

“I thought you were coming to the gym today? I waited for a half hour before I started my workout. But its OK. Its your birthday so you deserve a day off. “ Brick sat on the sofa flexing his freshly pumped bicep.

 

“Uh, yeah, I intended to go but I had some other things to take care of. “ Steve quickly fabricated his vague answer while he cleared away the McDonald’s wrappers he had forgotten to dispose of before falling asleep after his rebellious lunch when he left Giovanni’s. If it weren’t for Giovanni’s delivery man arriving right before Brick, he would probably still be asleep. He had just finished toweling off from the shower when Brick had let himself in. Steve tore the suit out of its plastic wrapping and hurriedly began dressing.

 

“You ready for a BIG night Old Man?” Brick asked. “Everyone’s going to be there!”

 

“Yeah, should be fun!” Steve answered as he buttoned up his rather restrictive shirt. “Damn, I forgot to get new shirts too” he mumbled to himself as he pulled the shirt front tight to get it buttoned while working his way from the chest buttons down. It was always hard to button the chest since Steve liked his shirts tight to show off his impressive pecs. Lately though, the buttons seemed tightest as he approached the bottom of the shirt. Shirt buttoned, he felt relieved to have bought the new suit as he still saw the curve of his belly beneath the shirt and was feeling the impact of the McDonalds lunch. Steve pulled on the trousers and immediately felt the crotch was quite tight. “Well, it’ll just show off the package pretty well tonight” he thought as he cupped his ample manhood and felt the inseam run from his crotch all the way along his seat through the back.

“Jeez, Giovanni sure loves to cut his suits Italian style.” Steve remarked realizing the seam more than clearly outlined both his hind flanks. “Guess the front and back package will both be on display tonight!” Steve commented admiring the fabric. He liked the pinstripe style and the fabric was thin and lightweight for summer. Steve pulled the trousers on to discover they were rather narrow in the hips- Italian style again. When he had his shirttail tucked in, he was about to fasten

the trousers when Brick burst into the bedroom.

 

“What? Do I have to dress you now? Get the lead out!” Brick joked, having grown too impatient to sit in the living room any longer. “Hey Man, looking sharp there!”

 

“Thanks, I’ll just be a second.” Steve turned his back to Brick realizing Brick did not take the cue to return to the living room. Steve pulled the trousers to fasten them and instantly knew 38 ½ had been a hasty decision. He sucked-in a little, then a lot, and slowly worked the zipper in position. He still could not button the trousers however. In one last effort he pushed the waist down a good 3 inches lower in front and was able to get them buttoned below his gut. He let out a deep breath having accomplished the task.

 

Brick stood up from his lounging position on the bed, walked over to Steve and put his hand on Steve’s necktie.

 

“You want somebody to think you’ve got a potbelly or something?” Brick jibed noting the obvious wrinkle in Steve’s tie where it curved outwards just below his chest. “Take this off, you’ll look more relaxed.” Steve quickly complied, his face turning pink.

With one last look at the outfit Brick joked “You should’ve bought a new suit for your birthday Stevie! Looks like you probably outgrew this old one at least 10 dinners ago at Luther’s!” and gave a Steve’s big belly a hearty slap as he headed out of the bedroom.

Steve’s pink face now turned red and a few veins began popping out on his temples.

 

“This IS a new suit!” Steve gruffed, in reply.

 

“Yeah, right! Come on Pops!” Brick laughed and headed for the car.

 

Steve thought it in his best interest to drop the conversation and continued to examine the suit with a perplexed look as they headed to Luther’s listening to Steve’s growling stomach.

 

On entering the restaurant, Steve & Brick heard the “Big Boys” let out a bellowing din from the banquet size table they always controlled in the center of the restaurant, “Birthday Boy’s here!” followed by the boom of their mighty fists pounding a drum roll on the table as they approached.

 

“Hey, Hey! The geriatric has finally arrived!” big Jack yelled as Steve searched for a place on one of the benches to sit. “No, No! You sit at the head of the table Stevie! You’re gonna get the special treatment tonight! Jack delighted in his announcement as he pulled a large chair to the end of the table and manhandled Steve into his assigned spot.

 

“Who are you calling geriatric you big Bull!” Steve retorted. “You’ve got at least 8 or 9 years on me. What was your last competition? The AARP Open?” Steve laughed at his clever response.

“Bull? If I’m a Bull then you must be the Moose!” Jack laughed as he reached over and shook Steve’s belly up and down with his big hand. “Oh, on second look, a pregnant Moose!” Everyone laughed as Steve smiled as a good sport and adjusted his jacket somewhat over his stomach.

 

“Very funny FatBoy! What are you haulin’ around these days? Its about 325lbs of belly if I remember your last weigh-in at the gym. That puts you way ahead of me!” Steve bantered back. And in fact, Jack had really gotten big over the last few years. He had really cut back at the gym after tearing a pectoral muscle so he didn’t lift as much now, but he certainly ate as much if not more than ever. The weekly binges at Luther’s had steadily contributed to the size of his gut which had ballooned into a total spheroid shape now.

 

“Ah, that’s true. We’ll see what you look like at 49 then OK? “ Jack then tore into his plate of BBQ pork.

 

“Hey Stevie, let’s get your jacket there. Don’t want to get that all messy now do ya? “ Bill removed Steve’s jacket and Steve sat down. From above, instead of seeing Steve’s bulging pecs as usual, Bill more clearly saw Steve’s bulging gut smoothing every wrinkle in his shirt and creating small gaps between the lower buttons.

 

“Hey Birthday Boy, looks like you need to borrow one of the “Big Boys’” shirts! Looks like you’ve got too much beer in your tap for this one” Bill smiled and poked his finger through one of the gaps in Steve’s shirt directly hitting his bellybutton. “Hmmn! Feels like this naughty boy already had his birthday feast today!” Bill jiggled Steve’s belly a little and discovered it was actually resting in between his legs. “That a boy Stevie! Spread those legs wide and give that growin’ keg of your’s more room to grow! O yeah, you’re gonna be a natural BellyBoy for sure!

 

“Alright! Enough of the jokes guys!” Brick interrupted before Steve would get upset. “Tracey, bring on the chow!” Tracey swiftly appeared and loaded the table with beer for all and a special pitcher-size goblet for Steve. She followed with about twice the number of platters and trays as usual.

Steve’s stomach was absolutely howling as he succumbed to the hickory aroma all around him. He began to devour the mountain of food in front of him, washing it down with brew from his birthday goblet. Everyone else followed his lead and Tracey kicked into fifth gear to keep the table well supplied in addition to ensuring Steve’s goblet always stayed full as privately prearranged by Brick. An hour had passed, and after packing in 3 platters of food and draining four goblets of beer, Steve was quite blurry eyed, and completely bloated. He wearily stood up and headed for the restroom to relieve some pressure.

 

Brick stopped Tracey as she passed, “Remember my plan, keep the beer coming for Stevie. I think its time for the cake when he gets back to the table.”

 

“Ok, you got it Brick” Tracey disappeared into the kitchen to light the cake.

 

Steve let out a low moan as he unzipped his trousers and took a long piss. He was not accustomed to so much beer. But the food was good. He couldn’t figure why he was so damn hungry but in his semi-drunken state he didn’t care, he was at the mercy of his stomach since he just could not resist Luther’s food. All he could see looking down was the white front of his shirt and the sight of his line of piss hitting the urinal was the only indication his dick was under there somewhere. He finished and labored to get his shirt tucked in and trousers on. As bloated as he was, he didn’t bother trying to button the slacks. He zipped them as best he could and felt his waistband creaking as if it were a cable on a crane lifting a ton of bricks. His keys had dropped out of his pocket when he had dropped his pants. He began to squat down to pick them up and halfway down he felt the pants were too tight and decided to bend instead. He could not bend over enough to reach the floor so he spread his legs a bit and then was able to reach the keys. As he picked them up he heard a couple of tiny ripping sounds and quickly stood up. Feeling around, he relaxed when he confirmed he had not torn a seam, just a few stretched threads under his crotch. He was safe since no one could see that. He lumbered back to the table and was ready to sit when Tracey appeared with a huge cake showcasing a picture of a bodybuilder with Steve’s face on the head and candles lining the edges. After the inevitable singing, Brick Insisted Steve blow out the candles. Steve obliged anxious for the attention to shift to someone else.

 

“Go ahead everybody! Dig in! Have some cake.” Steve commanded to the silent crowd standing by as he took a big swig from his goblet to complete the toast to everyone’s raised mug. After draining about half the goblet Steve was the first to thankfully sit down while the silent crowd began to follow. As he leaned over and flopped into the seat with a thud, a loud **Rrrrrriiiippp**

echoed through the room.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Harley yelled.

 

Leaning over toward Steve, Jack clamored “Uh, Birthday Boy here, Mr. Ex-Bodybuilder turned LardAss, has apparently split the fuckin’ ass right outta his pants!

 

Harley threw his arms in the air indicating a touchdown. “Way to go Stevie! Tracey, bring this Porker another pork platter! Damn, Stevie, even I ain’t never done that before!” Harley contemplated, looking down from side to side, eyeing the vastness of his rear spread across the bench.

 

 “Ha! I guess you better take a picture of this cake cause it don’t look like you’re ever gonna cut down to bod like that again looking at the size of this HogBelly! Bill exclaimed, again shaking Steve’s overstuffed gut. As Bill sat back down Steve’s gut settled from the rustling and from an audible rumble deep in his gut Steve erupted an ominous belch generated from his last glug of beer culminating in the bottom 3 buttons of his shirt finally launching themselves from his belly’s surface onto the cake on the table.

 

“Score! You should’ve been in Football, Stevie! Damn! Three fieldgoals in a row there pal!” Brick shouted, throwing his arms up in the air as if signaling a goal.

 

Steve looked down to see his bare belly spill out beneath the remaining buttons of his shirt.

 

“O Fuck Man! What the hell happened?” Steve slurred. “I’m so fuckin’ stuffed. Shit! Look my gut! I can’t possibly eat any of that cake.” Steve stared at the bloated beach ball rising below the remains of his shirt as it seemed to keep inflating as he watched.

 

“What?!” Jack yelped. “No cake for our new HogBoy? We can’t have that now can we? We promised you the special treatment and now you’re gonna get it! Alright fellas, I think its time to initiate Stevie here as one of the official Big Boys, what do you say?”

 

“Here, here!” the crew sung in chorus, and downed the rest of their beers.

 

“Tracey, if you please” Jack announced in his most officious voice. “Harley, you get the honors!” Jack continued as he moved behind Steve who was looking rather dumb and dazed with beer.

 

“Gladly!” chimed Harley lifting his wide ass from the bench for the first time that night while he watched Jack seize Steve’s gargantuan arms and handcuff them behind the chair. Harley scooped a huge mound of cake in his hand as Jack rotated Steve’s chair to the side and held Steve head back.

 

“No Man! I really can’t eat anymo…**Mmmmpf**” Steve tried to close his lips but Harley made sure he got the cake fully stuffed into Steve’s puffed out mouth.

 

“You wanted to hang with the ‘Big Boys’ so now you’re gonna feel what its like to be one!” Harley laughed.

 

No sooner had he gulped a few times and managed to get it down, then Bill was ready next with the goblet.

 

“Open wide BeerBoy! Don’t want this to get messy!” Bill warned as he started the flow down Steve’s throat. “Gotta be able to down the beer if you’re a ‘Big Boy’ Stevie.” Bill drained the goblet and stepped aside as Steve glugged the beer and caught his breath belching loudly again. Next up, Jack approached with a plateful of shredded pulled pork and started shoveling it down Steve’s captive gullet.

 

“That a boy, Porky! Gotta be able pack away the Pork as a ‘Big Boy’! I knew you were a natural!” Jack finished with a grin on his face and a glint in his eye.

 

And so the ‘Big Boys” repeated the cycle in turns and shoveled most of the table’s contents into Steve’s burgeoning belly until Steve passed out either from too much beer or overstuffed stupor.

 

Brick stood next to Steve and whispered in his ear as he helped Steve hoist himself and his now mammoth, bloated belly out of the chair.

 “I knew its what you wanted, but you just wouldn’t let yourself go Steve. You were so miserable so I decided to help you go for it and realize its Ok to eat what you want. Happy Birthday BigBoy!” Brick helped Steve out to the car, massaging his packed gut as Steve waddled along. Once he rolled into the seat with a groan, Steve turned to Brick with a silly smile on his face.

 

“There’s one thing you forgot Brick. Can we stop somewhere on the way home for some ice cream??” Steve laughed while cradling the ocean of belly that now filled his lap.

 

“Damn Stevie! You are a HOG!” Brick shouted and slapped Steve’s belly laughing hysterically. “Sure thing, what flavor?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

Livin’ Large

 

Brick awoke the next morning with a feeling of satisfaction and relief. He was glad Steve had enjoyed his birthday and relieved that it seemed he wouldn’t have to persuade Steve to step down from competing. He believed last night’s binge a good indication Steve was resigned to not worrying about being in competitive shape in the future. His thoughts did shift to thinking about himself now that he obviously wouldn’t be working out with Steve in the same capacity anymore. He had watched the ‘Big Boys’ continue to grow much heavier, and Brick had to admit, fatter. They all still had great muscle in their arms, chests, and legs but they each surely were now carrying at least 300+ lbs of beef. Now he expected Steve would be joining their ranks graduating to the bulky side. All this made Brick wonder what he would do to maintain his premium condition as he would turn 30 in just less than a year. He stood before the mirror admiring his 230lbs of burnished clay and mortar that composed the “Brick Wall”. He was ready to strive for an unprecedented 250lbs of completely lean, dense, cut muscle. But how was he going to achieve it?

 

Steve awoke and rolled over watching the ice cream carton fall off his gut, still tasting the rich chocolate lingering on his lips as he remembered drifting into a sleepy stupor to end his birthday blowout. He made a futile attempt to sit up and decided to roll over out of bed instead. He shuffled over to the mirror to view the damage. He laughed as he saw the plummeting curve to which his briefs had mercilessly retreated underneath his big belly. He turned slightly to view the flip side to see his ample rear more than escaping the confines of the stretched width of the seat of his briefs and spied a new crease at each side of his lower back where his gut seemed to have pushed outwards laterally.

“Damn! I really did bow it out last night” Steve remarked cupping his lower hanging rounded front.

“Definitely some time needed at the gym today.” Steve’s thoughts were interrupted by a long low growl from his gut. Looking down at the monster, Steve grunted “Yeah, I know, I know! Fuck You!” Steve picked up the phone.

 

“Hey Jack, how about headin’ over to the gym with me today?” Steve sounded chipper.

 

“Ha! I knew you’d have a freakout Stevie! What’s the matter, step on the scale this morning’ HogBoy?!” Jack cackled.

 

“No, I haven’t you lughead! Just thought you’d like to hit the irons with me for a while today. We can grab some breakfast at “FlapJack’s” on the way, whatdya’ say?”

 

After a short pause, Jack bellowed back “You’re on Stevie! **HaHaHaHa!** Its barking at ya already this early in the morning, huh??!!”

 

“Fuck You! Just get over here” Steve ordered.

 

“Sure thing, I’ll even bring you some of my sweats. That belly’s gonna need some tlc today Man!” Jack replied and hung up.

 

Brick had made some decisions to change some habits to make sure he would reach his goal. He had never followed a particular change in training cycle or diet as his body always retained prime condition regardless of how he trained or ate. He would now however, eliminate outings at Luther’s during competitive season and train more intensely during that time and see if that would help develop him further.

At the gym, Brick whirled away on the cardio bike to complete his 45min cardio requirement for the day when he looked up to see Steve and Jack walk out of the locker room. Brick began to worry, thinking Steve was regretting last night’s indulgence and prepared to endure the bitching and complaining as the two approached.

 

“What’s up Brick? Sweatin’ your ass off as usual, huh?” Steve remarked throwing a towel over Brick’s drenched head.

“Guess you’re in need of the same, huh, PartyBoy?” Brick reached over in mid-pedal and squeezed Steve’s bouncing, billowing buttocks as Steve maneuvered between the bikes. “I see you’re in disguise today” Brick pointed to the oversize sweats Steve was managing to fill out too well.

 

“Those are mine.” Jack piped in. “LardAss here couldn’t come close to squeezing into anything he had in his locker without looking like an overfilled water balloon! At least not after scarfin’ two orders of “The Stupendous Stack” AND packin’ away the special of the day, “Beggin’ for Bacon” at FlapJack’s. He was unreal. I don’t know where you put it Stevie!

 

“I do!” Brick giggled as he watched Steve laboring on the bike next to him. Steve’s full belly was peeping out, already dripping gobs of sweat, and hanging down from beneath the loose drape of the oversize sweatshirt while swaying in rhythm with Steve’s slow pedaling.

 

“Very funny. Hey, you said I should eat what I want. Anyway. Brick, Man, I have not had a breakfast like that since I was a kid! Come to think of it I haven’t had pancakes in at least 8 years. Brick, they baste their pancakes in buttermilk after they’re cooked and have 6 different flavors of maple syrup. And the bacon! God, I forgot what it tasted like. Brick, you should come with us next time, it was the best Man!” Steve was animated as he described the meal.

 

“Glad you liked it Stevie! I go there a lot myself. You just about packed away an 8 year supply of those flapjacks so I guess you haven’t really missed anything Buddy!” Jack had butted in while he was sitting on a bench nearby doing some heavyweight bicep curls.

 

“Yeah, you should eat what you want. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m just going to make sure I keep my plate far away from you, Greedy Gut!” Brick teased, reaching under Steve’s exposed bare belly with a towel to dry Steve’s already drenched pendulous porkgut. “But count me out. FlapJack’s and Luther’s will be forbidden for me for a while. I’m going to step up my training over the next months and land 250lbs cut for my next competition.”

 

“Suit yourself. I can’t wait to go back. It was so damn good! You in with me Jack?” Steve asked, looking over at his friendly Fireplug who was planted on the bench nearby.

 

“Absolutely. I never pass a good meal in the morning! Can’t you tell?! Ha!” Jack replied as he lifted his towel off his inflated, round shelf, which nestled between his tree trunk legs, and dried his sweaty ‘ball o’ flapjacks’.

 

Steve lifted himself off the cardio bike after only 15minutes of slow pedaling and lumbered over toward the scale.

 

Watching Steve, Brick held his tongue for a moment as he noticed for the first time that Jack’s belly had actually grown so much that when sitting, it spilled out just about as far as his knees and appeared as if it hung lower than the bench seat Jack was planted on. Then, the  **clink** of the scale distracted Brick.

 

“Hey HogMan! You think 15minutes on the cardio bike is going to get you any results after what you’ve pile-driven down your gullet?” Brick couldn’t resist the tease as he watched Steve’s slightly wider, much fuller buttocks bounce as he stepped onto the scale.

 

“Aw Man, I’m too full to stay on the bike today. I’ll do more tomorrow. I just want to see the damage I’m workin’ with here.” Steve groaned while he watched the needle bob back and forth hovering over 286lbs.

 

“Guess you don’t have to worry about having enough to work with there. Those Buttermilk Buns of yours have risen quite well!” Brick patted Steve’s tush and made his way to the steamroom.

 

“Jack, whatdya say we call it a day until tomorrow and head to the sports store so I can pick up some decent new workout gear?” Steve announced stepping off the scale. “If I’m gonna be a ‘Big Boy’, I might as well get Big Boy gear.”

 

“Why don’t you just take some of my old gear I can’t get into anymore and save a few bucks?” Jack offered.

 

“Jeez Jack, I ain’t that fuckin’ big, are you nuts?” Steve queried.

 

“Hmmpf! If you ain’t now, it sure won’t be long, LardAss!” Jack mumbled, observing Steve’s sweats grab and cling to every round curve of Steve’s ass as his butt shifted and bounced up and down. Steve huffed down the hallway rubbing his full belly and licking his lips trying to catch his breath after the brief bike workout.

 

Steve trailed on like a zombie daydreaming. “Did you say something Jack? Damn those pancakes were awesome! I just can’t get that taste off my mind”

 

“Nah, nevermind. It was nothing.” Jack smiled. “…And you’ll never get those ‘cakes off your ass either!” Jack covered his mouth as he mumbled out of Steve’s range.

 

 

Brick stood in the locker room in front of the mirror practicing a few poses proud of the way his cherry red microfiber nylon square cut posing briefs bunched up at the top of his explosive quads creating a pronounced V pocket that positioned his generous package of manhood front and center for a picture perfect magazine cover shot. His tawny skin was dark tanned and always had the perfect glint when glazed with sugar infused coconut oil. A bit of gel dripping from his spiky jet black hair would be the final touch to accent his bright crystal blue eyes and gleaming ivory smile for the cover shot for Musclemag next week. He had found the right posing trunks and pose for the shoot.

 

**********

 

“Hey Brick, would you sign my magazine?” John squealed, rushing over as Brick walked out of the locker room clad only in his posing trunks heading for the weightroom. Today was the release date for the Musclemag issue with Brick on the cover, now his 5th cover in five years. Somehow the excitement had already come and gone for Brick on the day of the shoot. He had attained the pinnacle. Brick signed the copy not surprised that John was probably the first to purchase one. Brick proceeded with his workout as normal after dispensing with all the hoopla everyone was making over him and was feeling down for some reason. He had no reason to feel that way, however. Everything had fallen right into place for him so he couldn’t figure what was wrong with him. Perhaps he missed spending time with his pals since he had restricted himself from Luther’s and the like avoiding the ‘Big Boys’ feasts while he stuck to his super-intense workout regimen. Or maybe he was just impatient since he had hit a plateau at 255lbs for more than a few months now still missing his 265lb goal. Brick did not know what to do. He had grown bored with the competition circuit finding it little challenge to secure titles. He now only entered a few top shows in order to retain his reign over other builders and only occasionally agreed to do a few posing shows just to keep his name prevalent in the media. All his endorsements had ensured a secure financial position a few ago so money was not a concern.

All he had left were his own personal goals and so far he had failed to attain them. Brick seemed aimless. Was there nothing to look forward to at the young age of 34?

 

Then Brick heard a voice at the registration counter that mesmerized him. It sounded as if a tiger were loudly purring the way the gravely voice traveled through the room. The voice absorbed Brick’s attention and drew him nearer. As he turned around he saw a tanned, statuesque back of a toned and decently muscled guy standing at the counter filling out a membership form while talking to another member and obviously looking for John who was missing from his reception post.

 

“Maybe I can help?” Brick ventured. The guy turned around and awkwardly looked up from his 5’9” frame to meet Brick’s gaze from the altitude above. Fiery pale green eyes flashed as a friendly smile revealed icy-white teeth framed by waxy, succulent pink lips against bronzed skin topped off with close cut locks of a golden mane. “Name’s Brick, uh sorry, Brad Wall.” Brick felt dumb calling himself “Brick” and didn’t want to scare this guy off with his celebrity. Brick extended his large hand.

 

“Hi. Its nice to meet you. Jason Brogan. I was looking for someone to take my membership form, but there appears to be no one around.” The guy replied. “I just came from the pool with my sister and decided to join as well. I didn’t expect to wait this long or I’d have changed into my clothes first.” He removed the towel from around his neck, began drying the water dripping from his nicely formed pecs covered in a light blonde fur and continued to blot a stream flowing down the small valley between his pecs through his grilled midsection directly into his nicely packed black speedo suit.

 

Brick’s glazed, fixed stare seemed to follow that water somewhere past where it disappeared into that speedo suit.

 

“Did I drop something?” the guy asked as he looked down his front confused as to what Brick was so intently focused upon.

 

“Uh, no. No, not at all. Sorry.  I can get that application to John. He’s probably in the laundry room getting more towels. Here, I’ll take care of that.” Brick took the towel from the guy’s hand and knelt down on one knee next to the guy’s taut, sinewy, lightly furry legs to mop up the small puddle that had formed around his feet.

 

“Oh, you don’t need to bother with that Mr. Wall, I can clean that up.” The guy urged.

 

As he knelt, Brick’s gaze was now VERY close to the destination of that disappearing stream of water. He felt so close he could almost see this guy’s veins pumping blood up those nicely curved and just slightly cut, tanned thighs. Brick crooked his neck, looking up with a goofy, moronic smile involuntarily plastered across his face.

Eyes fixated, Brick stammered,

“M, M, My    p le a s u r e!”

 

“...I..I..I mean glad to do you…I…I mean.. to do IT.

 

Brick felt the one foot supporting his weight slide on the wet marble he had obviously done a poor job trying to dry during his distraction, and before he could steady himself, he slipped backwards landing square on his over-muscled, posing briefs clad, round ass.

 

“Are you alright Mr. Wall?” the guy asked, his eyes narrowing as he extended his hand to help Brick up.

 

Brick recovered himself to his former kneeling position and again couldn’t help the location of his magnetized stare.

 

“Uh, yeah, I’m greaaat… Fine that is. Just fine thanks. I’m sorry what’s your name again?”

 

 Brick felt he could hear those veins pumping again as the breath from his nose slightly rustled the sun bleached hair on the guy’s luscious legs. Just then, the clip board with the completed membership application attached accompanied by a finger pointing to the “name” line slowly descended inserting itself between Brick’s near cross-eyed gaze and his focused target.

Brick shook himself out of his stupor, gingerly received the clipboard and    ...erected…      himself into a standing position.

 

“I’m glad you’re alright Mr. Wall. It appears obvious to me that everything is still… fully functional.” The guy replied with a glare and pursed up lips glancing down.

 

Speechless, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape and with all of the blood from his brain having been apparently redirected elsewhere, Brick slowly lowered the clipboard clenched in front of his chest downward until he held it as if a fig leaf just below waist level. With a small shrug of his mounded, beefed-out shoulders and with a half-hearted, cat-that-ate-the-canary, guilty as sin grin, Brick slowly and supplicantly extended his other held possession to the guy and squeaked,

 

“Towel?”

 

The guy snatched the towel whipping it away from Brick.

 

“I trust you’ll take care of that for me?!” The guy soured back, motioning at the clipboard that, at that moment, poorly shielded the one raging pumped ‘muscle’ Brick had not exercised for a long time. As the guy turned and huffed off down the hallway, Brick again was intoxicated by every stride as his eyes telescoped in on the fine, tight hind-side contained in that black speedo. 

 

Before the opportunity was gone, Brick shouted from behind to the guy:

 

“You betcha! I’ll put it in ya!…*shit* ...in FOR ya! …I mean…I’ll take good care of it!!…”

 

Brick absentmindedly removed his shield and held out the clipboard emphasizing the application. The guy halted and without turning around, briefly placed his hands on his hips, shook his head and then disappeared through the doorway.

 

Still holding the Clipboard in the air and with his sight still fixed on the now vacant doorway Brick was brought out of his anesthetic stupor by John’s voice.

 

“Anything I can…help you with… Brick?” John stuttered, his eyes bigger than golf balls as he gaped at Brick’s now exposed, overburdened posing briefs like a child seeing his parent naked for the first time.

 

Brick bent over as if in excruciating pain, spun around in a circle while beating his head and agonizing, “BRAD!!! You big meathead! You are suuuuch an IDIOT! Shiiiit! What the fuck is wrong with me?!” 

 

“Everything looks good to me…” John added still awestruck.

 

Returning to consciousness, Brick snatched a towel from the counter to cover his lasting impression of his new acquaintance and with a spring-like action smacked the clipboard into John’s feeble chest nearly knocking him down.

 

While still focused hopefully on the vacant doorway Brick growled to John, “Do me a favor, sign me up for him.”  Again beating his skull, Brick stammered, “I mean sign him up for me… I mean… Just sign him up, OK?!” Brick barked now frustrated with himself.

 

“Uh, Ok. Anything you say Brick. I’ll do it right now!” John speedily replied in a subservient manner as Brick wrapped the small towel as best he could around this waist and hunched off into the locker room.

 

Brick’s pulse was still churning as he sat in the locker room agonizing over the encounter. Why did the guy call him Mr. Wall?  Brick wondered. Surely I didn’t look that old Brick thought. He figured the guy had to be at least in his early to mid twenties. He sat there trying to mastermind a way he could possibly recover from his history-making blunder when John flitted through the locker room with both arms full of folded towels.

 

“Oh! Brick. I processed Jason’s membership application and I got his card printed up here. He’s still outside at the pool so I’ll bring it to him when I head out there in a second.” John hurried over to the shower area to drop his load of towels.

 

A light bulb seemed to appear over Brick’s head. “Hey John, give me his card. I was gonna head out to the pool deck to catch some rays. I’ll save you a trip and give it to him when I go out there.”

 

“That’s Ok, I’m going out there anyway.” John answered in his most hospitable voice. He turned around to make his way back to the pool and nearly fell backwards as he crashed into Brick’s impassable frame.

 

Standing with his legs spread apart, arms folded and looking like a very angry Zeus, Brick looked down and motioned with his thick fingers to John’s diminutive, 5’8”, 150lb frame. “Hand over the card, John.”

 

Instincts took over and John submitted the card to Brick’s impatient, intimidating open hand. “Sure, Brick, I appreciate… the help.” John’s voice wavered.  “ Jason’s waiting for some drinks he ordered. Can you pick those up from the bar and bring them to him too? I don’t want to get in trouble. “

 

“Sure. Anything for you Johnny boy.” Brick’s ivory smile appeared as he answered sinisterly.

 

John awkwardly maneuvered past Brick’s hulking frame and hopped away like a terrified little pond frog. Brick quickly changed into his best red squarecut trunks conscious of wanting a little more coverage/control for his now calmer, yet still attentive package. He then made his way to the bar ready to pour on the charm and suave, savy charismatic personality for which he was infamous.

 

“Hey Rico, you have some drinks ready to go out to the pool on Jason Brogan’s account?” Brick asked the bartender.

 

“Yeah, they’re ready, here.” Rico pointed to two large pina coladas loaded with whipped cream and cherries on top.

 

Considering they were pina coladas, Brick now felt he wouldn’t be trying to climb up a tree on the wrong side of the fence.

 

“Put them on my tab, Rico.” Brick impatiently grabbed the big glasses and headed for the pool having fixed in his sights his glistening, tan target lounged in a chaise next to his sister in the bright sun. 

 

Brick carefully balanced the full glasses while holding the new membership card in his hand as he approached the two sunbathers.

 

“Hey Jason, I wanted to bring you your membership card and give you a more formal welcome to the club. I hope you can forgive me for acting like such a dope earlier. I can only imagine what you must have thought. My mind was completely somewhere else when I introduced myself.“ Brock looked over to Jason’s sister and launched into his media persona. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met either. I’m glad to make your acquaintance, I’m Brad Wall.” Brick produced his best sexy, cover shot smile since he couldn’t shake hands while holding the drinks. Brick looked back to Jason and widened his smile more. “I took the liberty of bringing your drinks over for you and in hopes of making up for our first meeting, I hope you will enjoy these drinks with my compliments!” Brick flexed his pecs and tightened his sexy, grilled midsection to advertise his goods to their full potential while feeling very proud of his smooth recovery. Remembering to be a gentleman, Brick leaned over Jason to first hand his sister her drink. In doing so, he carefully made sure to thrust his striated, pumped up coconut oil basted pecs close enough to Jason’s face that the sweet aroma might tempt his lounging prey as he kept Jason’s drink clenched close to his chest.

 

“That’s very nice of you.” Jason’s sister thanked him.

 

“Think nothing of it. They’re on me.” Brick beamed having perfectly played out his plan.

 

As Brick released the glass to Jason’s sister he wasn’t paying close attention that the other full glass he was holding had tipped a bit too much and with a slurpy **plop**, the whipped cream and cherry slid off the top of Jason’s drink landing on Jason’s navel along with some of the frozen pina colada spilling onto Jason’s crotch. 

“Yow, that’s cold!” Jason hissed and squirmed, recoiling from the cold spill.

 

Brick jerked himself upright in shock over his accident.

 

“O gosh! I’m REALLLY sorry!” Brick blurted as his mouth dropped open and he unconsciously took a few steps back watching his suave efforts disintegrate before his eyes.

 

“Looks like the drink is on ME!” Jason sneered, as he lay stunned, lowering his sunglasses to glare over them up at Brick.

 

“I’m really sorry, I… I’ll get some water to wash you off.” Brick fumbled for words to say taking a few more steps backing away from his embarrassment until on the last step, his big feet unexpectedly met the nearby pool’s edge.

 

Brick’s mouth and eyes opened up to canyon size as his towering form hopelessly wavered back and forth for a split second followed by a thunderous  “OOOOO  SHIIIIIIIT!” which resonated across the pool deck just before his feet launched into the air and the behemoth plunged backwards into the pool generating a tsunami splash that more than washed the pina colada from Jason’s otherwise dry body completely drenching him. Brick’s head slowly emerged from beneath the water and peeped up over the pool’s edge to survey the damage. Directly in front of his face at the pool’s edge were two handsome feet and a pair of familiar sexy, slightly furry legs. Brick slowly looked up at the shadowy form standing before him.  Dripping from head to toe Jason addressed the Merman at his feet.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be needing that water.” Jason deadpanned, releasing a few drips from his head onto Brick’s face. Jason spun a 360 and marched towards the clubhouse locker room.

 

“You big oaf!” Brick garbled to himself. “I am SUUUCCCHH   AN   IDIIIOOOTTT  !!!” Brick began beating himself in the head again.

 

Then from a distance away Brick heard that unmistakable tiger’s voice. Brick quickly looked up.

 

“But I will be needing someone to join me for dinner if you promise not to throw it on me. Know anyplace to grab some good chow? Your choice!” Jason grinned back from behind his jet black sunglasses as he disappeared inside the clubhouse.

 

“Hey, Hey!!!  Wait a second!” Brick fumbled, trying to hoist his bulk out of the pool. “You’re on! I’m coming.”  Once out of the pool, Brick clumsily broke into a sprint, not having run so fast since his football days in his first year of college.

 

“Hey Man, hold on there, wait for me!”

 

Brick’s 240lbs thundered across the pool deck as he grabbed his soaked trunks to keep them from falling off.