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arpeejay last won the day on August 13

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About arpeejay

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    Fishers, IN
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
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  • What are your interests?
    Some favorite sayings: (1) There's no such thing as too big! (2) There's nothing sexier than fur on muscle! I love looking at pix and vids of muscular men, especially hairy muscular men (Thom Austin, woo hoo!) I love reading stories about muscle growth, especially ones that are big on description (and stats!)
  • What are your stats?
    5'10 1/2" tall, 225 lbs. Chest 50, waist 38, arms 17 1/2.
  • What are you seeking?
    Stories, community
  • What are your dream stats?
    6 ft., 400 lbs., 10% bf!
  • Favorite Stories
    Too many to list so I'll stick with "favorite authors," namely: Anything by Londonboy, Jaypat, BBMikeNJ, of course, plus many others!
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Now: Martin Kjellstrom, Brandon Beckrich, Big Ramy, Adam Kozyra. Then: Ronnie Coleman, Kevin Levrone, J.-P. Fux. RIP: Sergio Oliva, Nasser el-Sonbaty, Mat Duvall, Ed van Amsterdam, Art Atwood, Mike Matarazzo.
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    There's nothing sexier than fur on muscle. Which isn't really a fetish so much as it is my eye candy preference!

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  1. arpeejay

    Growth by Association (Now with Part 3)

    Part 3 By Richard Jasper Part 2 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15614-growth-by-association-now-with-part-3/?do=findComment&comment=190056 A limo pulled up in front of Fitness World at 7:45 a.m. sharp. “Really?” Shawn asked. “Believe it,” Drew replied. The guys jabbered the whole 10 minutes it took to get from the gym to 11001 Safe Harbor Drive. “Whoah,” David said. “Look at that gate!” The driveway was half a mile long. They later learned that Clark’s estate covered 20 acres, rather large by their suburban Midwestern standards. “I’d hate to plow this one,” Sam observed. And then they saw the house. “Holy Guacamole,” Bryce exclaimed. You know that house where the Parrs hid out in Incredibles 2? It was like that, only more so! Sleekly modern, verging on UFOesque, all glass and steel and native stone and imported hardwoods. An honest to God butler, Jenkins, met them at the limo. “Follow me, gentlemen,” he intoned. The five of them followed Jenkins across a vast receiving room and around a screen to a bank of elevators. They descended at least six floors, or so the lighted buttons would have had them believe, and when the doors opened… “Wow!” Shawn exclaimed. The space they encountered was roughly the size of a football field with a ceiling that was a good 30 feet tall. Everywhere they looked there were racks of weights and squat racks and bench stations. Except these weights were started at the size of truck tires and worked their way up to tractor tires. And the racks and stations looked like they could support tanks and jet aircraft. “Welcome gentlemen,” Clark’s deep voice filled the room. He was standing in the middle wearing a pair of oversized Timberland boots (later on they found out they were Size 20EEEEE) and thick wooly socks. And nothing else. “As you see,” Clark continued. “I prefer to work out in the nude. If encourage you to join me if you feel inclined to do so. But that’s entirely up to you. I know very few men your age who feel comfortable with nudity in the presence of other people, especially other men.” The men just stared. Not only was Clark the biggest and best built man any of them had ever seen, he was also hung like a porn star (not that anyone of them would have admitted ever having watched porn, much less porn with extra-hung guys.) Clark’s equipment was just as phenomenal as the rest of him. It was clearly soft and also clearly more than a foot in length and as thick around as a jar of pasta sauce. Shawn, the smallest of all of them, started to pull off his shirt – then stopped when he saw his comrades staring at him in shock! How bizarre, he thought. It’s not like all of us don’t routinely pose shirtless in the locker-room! He stayed his hands. Clark emitted something that sounded like a cross between a snort, a grumble, and a guffaw, but then began his instructions anew. “Today we will just be going through the basics,” he said. “Bench press, squat, and deadlift. I will do a warm up set for each, then pyramid up to my current one rep max. I will divide you into two teams for adding and removing plates, with the fifth man – the swing man – to supervise and/or pitch in as needed.” Clark led the guys to workout station that was clearly set up for bench press except that the stanchions looked more appropriate for an interstate highway bridge and the 10-foot steel bar perched thereon was six inches thick. “As I said earlier,” Clark continued. “The bar weighs 200 lbs. I’ll start with a warm-up set of 1,000 lbs. so, Shawn, David, I will need the two of you to add four of the one-hundred pound plates to each side.” It took the two men about five minutes to do it. By the time they’d finished, they both felt like they’d put in a full day of working out! “As time goes on, you will find that easier to do,” Clark said. Then he approached the bar from behind the bench, lifted it off the bench, and curled it 10 times! SPURT! “Clean up on Aisle Insanity,” Shawn muttered. Clark chuckled. “Changing rooms are over there,” he said, nodding to a set of cubicles in the middle of the vast room. “I took the liberty of providing shorts, shirts, socks, and undergarments for each of you.” When the guys returned, he pointed to Bryce, who had been designated swing man. “Bryce, I want you to give Shawn and David a hand removing these plates. Then I’ll do my warm-up bench set.” He nodded to Drew and Sam, the two beefiest of his attendants. “Once the hundreds are off, I want the two of you to put four of the 200-lb. plates on each end,” he said. “If need be, you may want to assist each other.” It took the two of them 10 minutes to do the job. “Shawn, David, be so kind as to add a hundred to each end, OK?” Once that task was completed, Clark reclined on the extra-wide bench. Given that the man’s shoulders were 5 ½ feet across, the four foot span of the bench was somewhat narrow but he seemed comfortable. He put his giant hands on the bar and lifted off. Twenty perfect reps. I just saw a human being bench a literal ton of steel for 20 reps, Shawn said to himself. Fucking A! The other guys just started. “For my next set, I will have to load the bar myself,” Clark said. “To speed things up, I think we’ll have two guys unload the plates on each end. Shawn can assist Drew, David can assist Sam.” After unloading the bar, the four were near exhaustion but they stood at attention as Clark picked up the tractor-tire-sized 300 lb. plates, one in each hand, and slapped eight of them on the giant bar. Then he added a 200 lb. plate on each end for good measure. “3000 lbs.,” Shawn announced. Clark winked at him. “I see you’re a lightning calculator, Mr. Tomashevski,” Clark said. “Good job!” He then proceeded to crank out 10 perfect reps without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard. “You can leave these on for now,” Clark said. “For the final set we will use the benching platform.” Clark nodded towards the center of the room where a shiny red Ford F-150 was ascending into the room. It continued above floor level, stopping at about shoulder height. Four steel cables descended from the ceiling. “I will need each of you to attach one of the cables to a corner of the benching platform,” Clark said. “Bryce, if you would be so kind to move the portable bench into position.” Looking up at the underside of the platform upon which the truck rested, the guys noticed yet another 10 foot bar, twin of the 200 lb. monster they had just been loading and unloading, welded to the bottom. “The chains are to keep everything balanced,” Clark said. “While I do the lifting!” He positioned himself on the bench, nodded toward some unseen monitor or sensor, and lifted his hands in the air. The platform slowly lowered until Clark was able to grasp the bar. Another unseen, unspoken signal and the tension was released from the chains. Clark was holding an F-150 and the platform on which it rested in the air. He slowly lowered the entire assembly to his chest, paused, and BOOM! Exploded upwards. Then he did it again. And again! “The curb weight of an empty F-150 pick-up is just over 4,000 lbs.,” Shawn told his fellows. “Add in the platform and it’s closer to 4,500 lbs.” After the third rep, the chains snapped back into place and the truck ascended again above head level. Clark slid off the bench, stood, shrugged his mountainous shoulders, extended his gargantuan arms in front of him, and squeezed his ridiculous, striated pecs. Hard as rock, Clark’s fully-engorged 16-inch monster dick reached to just under the eight-inch deep cleft that separated one concrete pillow of a pec from the other. “Seems my max on this one has gone up,” Clark told the awestruck group of men. “But I don’t have another vehicle handy to try for a 1RM. Well, not the right size, anyway. So that’s enough for today, OK? Time to eat!” The men followed Clark to a modern, spotless, utilitarian but elegant dining space where a long white table was set with six places. An elderly, extremely elegant African man stood at one end of the table. “This is Honore, my chef,” Clark told them. “If you have any dietary restrictions, please let him know. Otherwise I think you will find his cooking superb. And very, very nutritious.” Clark and his “trainers” gorged themselves for an hour. “Gentlemen,” he said. “That was a good first session. I trust you will be able to pick up the pace tomorrow. Honore’s cooking has been known to do wonders for strength and stamina. It certainly has done so for mine!” Clark nodded and left the room, passing as he did so a svelte blonde in a charcoal gray suit with a pencil skirt, white blouse, an Hermes scarf, pump’s that would set a guy back a month’s salary, and a pair of large horn-rimmed glasses. “I’m Zoe,” the beauty said. “Mr. Clark’s personal household assistant. He asked me to escort you back to the entrance.” Entrance, Shawn thought. I’m entranced alright! Not a word was uttered as they followed Zoe to the porte-cochere, where a different limo awaited. “Did that really just happen?” Sam asked when they were seated. He was rubbing the big bulge in his shorts. “Yep, it did,” Drew said, rubbing his bulge. “I don’t know what was in that food,” David added, fondling himself. “But it’s making me fucking horny as hell.” “Holy frijoles,” Bryce said, sticking his hand in his shorts. Shawn said nothing. He pulled out his engorged cock. He might have been the smallest guy in terms of weight but with a 9 x 7 cock he held his own in that department. “Dudes,” he said. “I’ve never done this before in front of a group of guys. But I’ve gotta beat off.” Four other cocks came out of four other pairs of shorts. “Eww, dude,” Sam said. “Eww, dude,” David said. “Eww, dude,” Bryce said. “Oh, goddamn,” Drew said. “I’m gonna jizz,” Shawn said. And they did. More to cum…
  2. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    If I am not mistaken, most British (bathroom?) scales still measure weight in stones and pounds. So I would be about 16 Stone 1 lb.
  3. arpeejay

    Growth by Association (Now with Part 3)

    Part 2 By Richard Jasper Part 1 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15614-growth-by-association-now-with-part-2/ The next morning, Drew assembled the candidates in the conference room (no, most suburban gyms don’t have conference rooms; Fitness World wasn’t “most suburban gyms…”) In addition to himself and Sam, the other guys were: Bryce Dunbar, Sam’s older brother. 22 y.o., just out of the Marines, at 6’2 and 225 lbs. of muscle, not quite as big as his baby brother. He had blond hair instead of brown, blue eyes instead of green, but otherwise it was quite clear to anyone that they were brothers. David Patterson, 29. Like Bryce, he was 6’2 but at 205 lbs. his look was rangier, probably thanks to slightly broader shoulders, longer arms, and narrower hips. With his dark chocolate skin, modified Afro, and hands that could palm a basketball, he would have looked at home in the NBA, or as he was always put it (since this comparison was pointed out to him all the time), the Shorter NBA! Shawn Tomashevski, 25. The smallest of the five of them. At 5’10 he was as tall as Drew but he was only 180 lbs. All of it in the right places, of course, with nice wide shoulders, a good thick chest, and veiny arms. Plus he had a 29-inch waist and an eight-pack to die for. Floppy dark brown hair, a well-trimmed reddish brown beard, and bright blue eyes completed the look. And Rogelio “Roy” Jimenez, 27. An inch taller than Drew and Shawn, he split the difference in their weight. At 210 lbs. he was more of a powerlifter than a bodybuilder, with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a 36-inch waist. He had straight black hair, lively dark eyes, a pencil mustache, a killer tan, and the whitest teeth anyone had ever seen. “What’s this all about?” Shawn asked. Sam gave Drew a look. “We have a special, very lucrative contract from a very wealthy client,” Drew said. “He wants us – and I mean all of us, if we’re up for it – to train him four hours a day, six days a week for the next three months.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “He wants US to train him?” Drew nodded. “Jeez, wotta concept!” The other guys looked quizzically at Sam. “You guys aren’t going to believe this guy until you actually see him,” Sam said. “He’s literally twice my size.” They scoffed, of course. “I think you need to revisit the meaning of the word ‘literally,’” his big brother said. Drew shook his head. “No, actually, in this case he doesn’t. He IS literally twice Sam’s size. In fact, twice his size and a bit.” Shawn, who was always quick on the uptake. “So we’re getting paid a butt load of money to train someone who is morbidly obese? How fun!” “I said he was twice Sam’s size,” Drew countered. “I didn’t say he was morbidly obese. He weighs 550 lbs., or so he claims, and I believe him. And as far as I can tell there’s not an ounce of fat on him.” !!! Drew’s statements drew hoots, guffaws, and snorts of derision from his team. Except for Sam, of course, who had seen him. “Knock it off,” Sam barked. That shocked the shit out of the rest of guys. Despite his intimidating size and musculature, Sam was about the nicest guy you could hope to meet. He was never sharp with people, mostly because he was so happy being handsome, huge, hung, and horny. “You gotta see this guy to believe him,” Drew continued. Clark arrived just then. Later on Shawn recalled that it was like watching the Queen Mary II coming into dock. Clark was neither slow nor awkward but his pace and movements were deliberate, as if long experience had taught him that sudden moves or abrupt changes in direction might destroy his surroundings. Or crush people. “Welcome, Sir,” Drew said, standing up as Clark entered the room. The rest of the guys, who like most guys their age had a tendency to slouch unless they were at a job interview, likewise jumped to their feet. Their expressions ranged from awe to envy to lust to, in one case, outright fear. “Gentlemen,” Clark said, acknowledging them with a nod. “Be seated.” They sat. “No doubt Drew here has told you that I want to acquire your services for the next three months,” Clark continued. “But aside from the time commitment, he hasn’t told you the particulars because I haven’t shared them with him. I will do so now.” Clark surprised Drew and the rest by pointing out that the first condition was that they be able to train with him off-site. “This gym, suitable as it may be for its typical clientele, won’t suffice for my needs,” he said. “Fortunately, I have a fully equipped – dare I say, ‘specially’ equipped – gym at my home, which is a just a mile from here.” Six pairs of eyebrows went up. “Considering the nature of the contract, Sir, that should not be a problem as far as Fitness World is concerned,” Drew offered. Clark nodded his head, as if he had known what the answer would be. “The next point is that you won’t be training me so much as you will be training WITH me,” the Giant man continued. “You may find it improbable but I have been training longer than any of you have been alive. There is really nothing you can teach me. But I need people to change plates and to assist me in setting up various devices.” The men squirmed. Helping someone, even someone as large as this man, change plates wasn’t exactly why they had become trainers. “Keep in mind,” Clark added. “That these are specially designed plates. The smallest weighs 100 lbs. and they go up in 50 lb. increments from there. The largest weighs 300 lbs. Also, in order to handle the weights involved, the bar I use weighs 200 lbs.” !!! That’s insane, Shawn thought. Unfuckingbelievable, Sam told himself. I gotta see this, David muttered under his breath. Holy Canoli! Bryce spluttered internally. Mami! Roy quailed at the concept. “The point of our efforts is for me to grow,” Clark said. “I am entering a competition in three months and at that point I will weigh 300 lbs. more than I do now.” This time the guys couldn’t keep their mouths shut. “No fucking way!” “You’ve gotta be joking!” “That’s impossible!” “I’ll be a goddamned motherfucking son of a bitch!” “I think I just shit myself!” That last was from Roy, who fled the room, and was never seen again. Literally. Not at Fitness World, not in the entire state. A few months later, Abby, the receptionist, received a post card saying that he settled at a religious retreat in New Mexico where he was taking up holy orders. “I see that we are down to five,” Clark continued. “Fortunately, my plans are such that five of you will work as well as six.” The men composed themselves (i.e., they levered their jaws back into the closed position.) They were sitting at the conference table like a bunch of school boys. “As for your concerns, let me assure you that I will achieve my goals,” Clark added. “As you can see, the physique I have already achieved is already beyond what most men can comprehend. And yet I have done so. What I propose to accomplish in the next three months is completely doable.” And with that he rolled back the right sleeve of his tent-like yet skin-tight polo shirt and flexed. No, let’s be clear. He… FLEXED It’s a wonder the ceiling didn’t cave in, the walls along with them. Clark’s arm was gigantic (they later learned it was nearly 48 inches in circumference.) A stupendous mass of granite-hard muscle with a peak that went up and up and up, such that his ham-sized hands would have been able to finger the peak if they hadn’t been blocked by the girth of his vein-covered 40-inch forearms. Sam, Drew, Shawn, David, and Bryce stared for a full minute. And then they spurted. “I will take that as a YES,” Clark said. “Report to my house tomorrow at 8 a.m.” Part 3 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15614-growth-by-association-now-with-part-2/?do=findComment&comment=190159
  4. Part 1 By Richard Jasper Sam Dunbar’s head came up. He was manning the front desk at Fitness World, his summer job between his senior year of high school and his freshman year at ESU. Sam was 6’4 and 250 lbs. of solid muscle, with wavy shoulder length brown hair and a killer smile. He had always had a smile on his face and why not? He could have anyone he wanted, male or female, and he was so big and built that only an idiot or someone with a serious death wish thought about messing with him. But now his jaw was on the floor and he was in serious danger of catching flies. The man in front of him was an absolute mountain. For one thing, he was as tall as Sam but he must have weighed 400 lbs., maybe more (maybe a lot more!), and all of it massive, bulging, ripped to shreds muscle. Add wavy hair so dark it was almost black, piercing blue eyes, black curls reaching up to the base of a neck the size of a beer keg, and stubble thick enough to give you rug burn and Sam’s sizeable member started dancing his pants. I’m straight, I’m straight, I’m straight. Actually, Sam was bisexual with a slight preference for women but any big, built guy automatically got his motor running and he’d never seen anyone bigger or better built than this guy. “I’m here to see Drew Prescott,” the giant said, with a voice like thunder. “Point me in the right direction?” Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. The Big Man smiled. Man, what a smile. You wanted to dive right into it. Full red lips, gleaming white teeth, dimples. “Drew Prescott?” With an effort, Sam shook himself. “Let me call him,” he said. “Your name, Sir?” A hand the size of a punch bowl reached across the desk. “Roger Clark,” he said. Sam picked up the phone and dialed Drew’s number. “Mr. Clark is here to see you,” he said into the phone, then looked Clark up and down. “Yep, that’s him all right!” He hung up the phone and cleared his throat. “Drew will be right out.” +++ The director of personal training, Drew Prescott, was a handsome 30-year-old, 5’11 and 240 lbs., sandy brown blond hair and baby blue eyes, and an aspiring Classic Physique competitor. It was all he could do not to gape when he saw the behemoth standing next to Sam. Shaking hands with the man was like shaking hands with an M1 battle tank. “Come on back, Sir,” he said. The Giant man turned and gave Sam a wink, then followed Drew. It was fortunate that Drew’s office (only the PT Director rated an office) had a bariatric chair. You know, the one designed for really large people. Because Roger Clark was REALLY large. Holy shit, Drew thought. This man must weigh 500 lbs. “Good to see you have one of these,” Clark said, sitting down. “Most people don’t have chairs to accommodate a 550-lb. man.” Drew gulped. I’m looking at 550 lbs. of solid muscle, Drew said to himself. This guy is the biggest, most muscular man I’ve ever heard of, much less seen! He makes Eddie Hall look puny! “And what can I do for you, Sir?” It’s worth recalling that at Fitness World, like most suburban gyms, the emphasis was on informal friendliness. Young or old, male or female, staff introduced themselves by their first names and referred to their clients the same way. But Drew couldn’t bring himself to refer to Roger Clark by his first name, or even “Mr. Clark.” He was Sir, no ifs, ands, or buts, although Drew was scarcely aware that he had made this calculation or changed his mode of address. It was automatic. “I need to hire your personal trainers for a short period, approximately three months,” Clark said. Drew goggled. “I am all for people hiring trainers, obviously, but, Sir, what on Earth would you need a trainer FOR?” Clark chuckled, a sound less like distant thunder and more like a distant volcano getting ready to erupt. “Oh, I have my needs, just like anyone,” Clark said, flexing a forearm that was bigger than Drew’s waist. “Different needs, but needs nonetheless.” Must.not.stare, Drew told himself, to no avail. “I’m sure we can hook you up with the right person…” Clark held up a finger the size of a brick. “I see I haven’t made myself clear,” he interrupted. “I need to hire, depending on who you have available, approximately five of your trainers.” Drew’s eyebrows made a beeline for his scalp. “But…” A look at Clark silenced him. “In addition, all of the trainers must be male and I need them, all of them, for four hours every morning, Monday through Saturday.” Drew gasped. “Before you tell me that’s not possible,” Clark continued. “Let me say that I’m willing to pay Fitness World a thousand dollars per trainer per hour for their time and assistance.” Clark stared at Drew, whose brain was close to shorting out. “I’m sure you can do the math,” Clark continued, but proceeded to do it for Drew. “Depending on how many trainers are involved, that’s approximately $20,000 per four-hour session. Six times a week. For 12 weeks that adds up to a bit over $1.4 million but we might as well round it up to $1.5, I think.” Fitness World never had more than five trainers on the floor at any given time so what Clark was proposing meant that except for early mornings Drew would be unable to schedule clients for the first four hours each day. On the other hand, Clark was offering to pay 10 times the going rate. “When would you like to get started, Sir?” Clark smiled. “After I meet the trainers, of course! Have the candidates here tomorrow at 8 a.m. and I will decide then which ones to use.” The Mountain of Muscle rose to leave, then turned. “And Drew,” he added. “Just so we’re clear: I’ll want you to be one of the five.” Like a puppy with a new master, Drew followed Clark as he walked across the gym floor, parting the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, and out the door. “Did that just happen?” It was Sam. “Eh?” He looked up at the big teen. Sam outweighed him by 10 lbs. but Drew was five inches shorter so he looked considerably thicker. He was stronger, too, given he had an extra 10 years of lifting under his belt. But Sam was tall enough and broad enough that Drew always felt somewhat petite. The look of awe -- and lust and intimidation -- on Sam’s face told Drew everything he needed to know. “Now you know what it feels like!” Part 2 can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15614-growth-by-association/?do=findComment&comment=190056
  5. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    1 inch = 2.54 centimeters 1 kilogram = 2.2 lbs. 1 stone = 14 lbs. Eddie Hall is 6'3" tall and ( until recently) approximately 30 stone, or about 190 kg. Now get out your calculator and tell me how tall he is in meters.
  6. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    Modernizing, darling, MODERNIZING!
  7. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    And if we RILLY want to get into minutiae, we can talk about Spring Break (which has been around forever and achieved icon status decades ago in movies like "Where the Boys Are") and later innovations like Fall Break and Winter Break (as distinct from the Christmas / New Year's holiday!) For the record: My ex-wife is a retired elementary school teacher. Her mother is a retired middle school art teacher. Her late father was a biology professor. My son married an elementary school teacher whose mother and sister are both elementary school teachers. My husband's father is a retired mathematics professor. And I spent most of my 25 years as a librarian working in higher education settings. Except for a brief period between college and library school, my life was largely governed by the (many exquisite variations of) the American academic calendar up until the time (at age 51) I packed it all in.
  8. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    And last but not least: SENIOR YEAR refers to Henry's and Charles' last year (12th grade) of high school. I'm not sure I mentioned their birthdays but inasmuch as almost all of my characters are modeled on me in some fashion, that means they would have started "Fall" Semester (it was August, in this case) as 17 y.o.'s and by the end of Spring semester, when they graduated (i.e., received their high school diplomas at the school's commencement ceremony) they were 18.
  9. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    Also: Just to be pedantic... NO American would ever use the term "Americanised." Over here it would be "Americanized." 😛
  10. arpeejay

    Americanised Stories

    What JasperGhost said. No one expects you to know Americanisms, especially with respect to the education system (*), and MANY of us thoroughly enjoy reading stories / novels set in other countries, especially the UK. Also, I can guarantee that if you try to sound American you will inevitably trip not over "colour" or "centre" or "mum" but some expression like "whilst," which is glaringly NOT American (we always use "while...") (*) In general, U.S. public education starts with kindergarten and goes through grade 12, per the following: Kindergarten: Age 5-6 1st grade: Age 6-7 2nd grade: Age 7-8 3rd grade: Age 8-9 4th grade: Age 9-10 5th grade: Age 10-11 6th grade: Age 11-12 7th grade: Age 12-13 8th grade: Age 13-14 9th grade: Age 14-15 (9th graders are often referred to as Freshmen, as are 1st year University students) 10th grade: Age 15-16 (Sophomores / 2nd year University students) 11th grade: Age 16-17 (Juniors / 3rd year University students) 12th grade: Age 17-18 (Seniors / 4th year University students) Keep in mind a couple of things: (1) In most U.S. public schools (NOT the same thing as "public schools" in the UK) the school year typically starts in August or early September and runs through May or into June. Generally, there are two semesters, Fall (September up to the Christmas / New Year's break) and Spring (January to May or June.) Consequently, unless you have a summer birthday chances are you will have a birthday during the course of the school year, hence the Age range noted above for each school year. (2) Different states and sometimes school districts within states have different ages for starting school. When I was a kid in Florida you could start 1st grade so long as you turned 6 by the end of the calendar year. Any more, most states require that the kid has turned 6 by the start of the school year. Keep in mind that sometimes really smart kids are promoted ahead, other times children who are right on the cusp are held back to give them a chance to mature. All of the above boils down to just because you know how old a kid is you don't know for sure what grade he is in or vice versa. "Johnny, who is in 5th grade..." might be as young as 9 or as old as 11, depending on where you are in the school year, how old he was when he started, and whether he was promoted out of his age cohort or held back. Hope this helps.
  11. arpeejay

    Something Else

    I will have to re-read it but my guess is I wrote myself into a corner. Happens a LOT, especially since I am incapable of writing wholly evil characters, or if so, letting them win.
  12. arpeejay

    Something Different

    I think it is a matter of typing, reading, and speaking being three different processes. I had a professor in library school twit me over my inability to spell because I once interchanged there for their (or vice versa.) Inasmuch as I have quite a large vocabulary and hyperdeveloped spelling skills, I was livid. And when I found the circled error I was more livid. Inasmuch as said professor was the bane of her proofreaders I deduced a monumental case of projection on her part. So, yes, happens to the best of us.
  13. arpeejay

    Something Different

    And re-reading it for the first time in years, I see I need to go back and make some word choice corrections. When my fingers get flying, any homonym will do: there / their / they're / your / you're etc.
  14. arpeejay

    Something Different

    Mais oui, ma cherie! 💓💓💓
  15. arpeejay

    Spank Bank (Commentary, NOT a story)

    I've written more than one sequel to stories others have posted and have thought of many more. It's tricky because (at least in my case) I have very limited ability to mimic other people's writing styles. An addition by ME is always clearly BY ME.