Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'height'.
Found 4 results
EDIT: Index of Chapters: Chapters 1-3: See below Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=129914 Chapter 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=130640 Chapter 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=131076 Chapter 7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=131485 Chapter 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=132071 Chapter 9: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=133087 Chapter 10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=133988 Chapter 11: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=135527 Chapter 12: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=135528 Chapter 13: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=136405 Chapter 14: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=137921 Chapter 15: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=139040 Chapter 16: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=139903 Chapter 17: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=140806 Chapter 18: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=142531 Chapter 19A: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=143838 Chapter 19B: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=144296 Chapter 20: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/11447-dads-lost-glory-years-updated-may-26-ch-20/?do=findComment&comment=144513 So I've noticed lately there's been a real slow-down in new material so I thought i would help out. I have lurked here for years so I thought I should pay my dues and post a story. I haven't written anything since way back in high school English so I have no idea if this is any good at all. Hopefully it doesn't suck. Also, the first few chapters of the is going to be very similar to a well-known story by Musclegod300 (and one my absolute favorites) until I get far enough to take a unique direction. I promise I am not trying to rip you off MG300, please take it as the ultimate compliment, as you are in the top 3 of my favorite muscle story authors ;-). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Dad's Lost Glory Years Prologue: I had just graduated high school and the summer of my last year at home was winding down. My name is Jed Graves and I had spent the last few days packing up what I could and preparing myself mentally to leave my father behind. Not so much for my sake, I didn't think. More for his. My father, Chad Graves, was an amazing man who had lived a hard life. Growing up he was, plain and simple, a stud. Ever since he was very young he was always one of the most athletic kids in his class. He excelled at every athletic sport he played, even earning starting positions at linebacker on our high school football and baseball teams by his sophomore year. He was a shoo-in for all-state honors in football before a freak back injury ended his season right before the playoffs began. During play he was awkwardly bent over backwards and was nearly paralyzed. The doctors let him know he was very lucky he came out of it with only minor injuries. Consequently, with his athletic prowess, charming yet humble personality and stunningly rugged good looks he was very popular, especially with the ladies. He dated around in his early high school years, even snagging the interest of some the upper class girls. Many of the upper class boys wanted to hate him for stealing some of their women but he such a charming and fun personality that he endeared himself to all. He fell in love with a woman that would become his wife and then my mother when he was just 16 years old. She was the same age and of course, athletic and gorgeous, a track star in her own right. Shortly after came the biggest test of my parents' young life. The virile young man got my mom pregnant and I as born right before his 17th birthday. My father and my mother never once considered terminating the pregnancy or offering me up for adoption. They decided to raise me as best as they could, with my father giving up his athletic pursuits to take part time jobs at nights after school to help raise me. This was certainly a difficult time for both of my parents. With some assistance from my Dad's Grandparents they were able to raise me to toddler-hood while maintaining their slightly above average GPA's and graduating high school. Throughout my infant years my father continued to find jobs here and there. Once he had graduated he settled nicely into a construction job that was ran by a family friend. With his strong, 6'1 frame, the interviewer knew he would be able to haul around the heavy equipment and materials with ease and he was a hired on the spot. He proved to be a hard and courteous worker. He took pride in his work and he knew this would be his only form of exercise that his robust body craved while I was growing up. While my presence was undoubtedly tough on my young parents, they both loved me and each other unequivocally and never once regretted their decision to have me. Our small family was able to scrape by via modest, yet comfortable means through the hard work of both of my young parents. I adored both of my parents and saw my father as my own personal superhero. I especially loved when we would go to neighborhood pool and he would use his thick arms to toss me up in the air so I could try to make the biggest splash I could. Unfortunately, life has a way of throwing you curveballs and when I was 8 years old my mother was killed in a car accident during a winter storm while driving home from her job. It of course hit both my dad and I very hard. However, like every challenge that ever faced him, my father soldiered on and worked even harder to love me and give the best life he could. Growing up my genetic background was easily evident as I also excelled at nearly every sport I did. I too was able to secure a spot of the varsity football team from an early point in my high school career. While I likely could've been just as good at or exceeded my father's accomplishments I never really had that killer athletic instinct that truly elite athletes have. I was happy with just being “good” as opposed to “the star” was enough for me. I saw sports mainly as a good way to maintain my healthy physique throughout high school and rather than as a means to advance my athletic career. I grew to match my father in height at 6'1 on a solid, but not ripped 190 lb frame. In fact, I actually excelled more at academics, earning myself a engineering scholarship to the large state university. Even though I more heavily pursued academics in lieu of athletics my father never once wavered in his support of me. I honestly think he was more proud of me for my intellectual side as he had first-hand knowledge of how difficult life can be without a college degree. While I was growing up my father maintained his healthy strong physique with his hard work at the construction job. Some aged-ness did catch up to him in he form of a layer of softness around his large muscles, but we has still a stud. At only 35 years old he still had no receding hairline. His dark hair was kept short and he had an angular jawline with an almost permanent 5 o'clock shadow that would be the envy of any man. To tease me, my female friends constantly reminded me of his rugged DILF status much to my chagrin. Honestly, I couldn't blame them or deny that I hoped I could become half the man he was when I reached his age. I often told my Dad he should get out and date more often than he did but he never pursued it much further, preferring to spend his free time with me. So here we were, my father and I making the 5-hour drive to the university to drop my off for my freshman year. We moved my stuff into my dorm then went our for a nice meal before saying our goodbyes. The parting was very difficult for both of us, it was the first time I saw my father tear up since my mother passed away. We hugged each other and then he took off for home and I began my college career Chapter 1: Thanksgiving Break College began with a flurry as I settled into my new routine. I called my father at least once a week as we kept in touch. Engineering classes, as well as a regular workout routine, kept me more than busy. It was during the first month that my father told me he had been promoted to a site manager position at his construction job. I was super excited for him as it meant a big pay raise. The only downside was that it meant he would be spending more time in the construction office rather than outside doing physical labor. Due to the lack of physical labor, when my father came down to visit for Thanksgiving he had put on about 20 lbs of mostly fat, bringing him to still healthy, if just a bit soft 225 lbs. My workout routine had been going steadily and I was up to about 200 lbs, adding about 10 lbs. Of course, with the nearly ulimited amount of food at the school cafeterio it was probably only ½ muscle. When I first saw my dad I of course playfully had to give him some ribbing. “Hey Pops, it's great to see you again,” I said as we wrapped our arms around each other in a typical man-hug. I could feel his belly push against me. “Woah, old man what's going on here? Too many hot pockets?” I joked as I playfully jabbed his midsection. He heartily chuckled. “Yeah son, all that time sitting in the construction office this past fall has taken it's toll. Last week I really noticed so I up and joined that new gym that opened up a few blocks from our house this past summer.” The gym he was talking about, 'UrbanFlex', was a national chain known for being a mecca for serous workout addicts. “Oh yeah, that place? You think you can keep up with the dudes that go there?” “Of course, son! I know my way around a weight room even though I haven't been in one a long while. I spent a lot of time in one before you came along and ruined my workout life,” he shot at me with a joking wink. “I can see you are still putting some time in the gym. You are looking more and more grownup, I'm not sure I like. I miss my little guy.” “Aww, Pops, you're embarrassing me. And thanks! I'm up about 10 lbs. Just trying to get half a studly as you, old man!” “You'll never match all this beef, boy!” he said as he threw his arms in front of him for a mock most-muscular pose. I absolutely loved my father and his playful attitude. We had great Thanksgiving weekend here in the university town hanging out and of course, eating way too much once we settled on a restaurant. After our meal we parted ways and looked forward to visiting each other for over Christmas break. Chapter 2: Christmas Break. Four days before Christmas I ended up sharing a ride with one of my female classmates from high school for the trip back home. It was lightly snowing when she dropped me off at my house. With my duffel bag full of clothes slung around my shoulder I entered in the house. My father instantly bound in from the kitchen and wrapped me in one of his patented crushing dad-hugs. Unlike at Thanksgiving, I instantly noticed there was no fluff pushing at me from his belly. After he released and held me at arms length I was able to get a good look at him. He definitely looked much trimmer in his slightly baggy blue t-shirt. He always maintained his fairly muscular arms but now I able to see some more definite veins on his forearms and his face seemed tighter. “Wow, dad you great! What happened to that old-man flab?” “Well I knew this studly young buck was coming home so I decided to get rid of it keep up with him!” He quickly raised his shirt and patted his slim, semi-hairy belly. While he far from ripped, he had a taught waist that was far cry from the pooch he sported at Thanksgiving. “Been hitting that new gym hard. I've lost about all of my office fat. I'm down to 200 lbs, I feel small now just like you, haha,” he added in jest. “You mean you're now studly like me!” I retorted. “Haha, yeah, exactly, we are two peas in a pod! Maybe over break I take you to the gym with me.” “Awesome, pops. That'd be great. I certainly don't want to fall out of routine over break.” We enjoyed a great Christmas. We went to visit my Grandparents and caught up with the extended family. Of course we ate way too much food. I was surprised at how much my father was shoveling into his mouth. “Woah, careful dad, you're gonna gain all that fat back you keep eating like that.” He chuckled, “Maybe son, but I thought I'd indulge myself since its a holiday. Plus actually I've been eating much more heartily since thanksgiving so I'm not too worried.” The day after Christmas we decided to get back into our gym routine. Thirty minutes before we left Dad opened a kitchen cabinet full of supplement bottles, big and small. He started mixing various powders into a cup. “Geez, Dad, are you going a bit overboard with all that?” “No way son. With my new raise and you out of the house I decided I need a hobby. So I'm going see if I can really take this workout thing seriously. Besides, so far I can't argue with the results!” He again patted his trim waist. “You want a preworkout shake, son?” “No thanks, Dad. You go ahead. You need it more than me, old man,” I replied as I faux-punched his shoulder. “Haha, we'll see. The car's warmed up, let's head to the gym.” We grabbed our duffels and headed to the gym. On the way the pre-workout must've been kicking in as I could tell my dad was getting antsy. “Can't wait to throw around some iron, son. This five day break has got me itchin' to get back to work.” We got the gym and headed into the locker room to change. I had heard of these UrbanFlex gyms but it was the first time I had been to one. It truly was a hardcore gym. Unpainted brick walls, loud pounding rock music, a smell of sweat that lingered in the air. The clientele was definitely a step above your average fitness club. Clearly, coming here for the past month was giving my father good motivation. While changing I got good look at his progress. He still had those thick, full, yet soft muscles, but the fat had clearly been melting off. While he still wasn't what I would call ripped, the definition and veins were just beginning to show all over. Standing next to him with my shirt off, his youthful visage and our identical heights and weight, we almost looked like twins. As he changed into his shorts I couldn't help but take a glance at what he was packing. With our superior genes I never got any complaints from my dates. I hung soft at 5” inches and only plumped up to just under 7 inches. Still nicely above average but I was always just slightly disappointed that I was more of a shower than a grower. When my father dropped his shorts he hung about equally to me in length, but was MUCH thicker. It looked like a flesh colored Red Bull can hanging between his legs. I tried to suppress my surprise but I think he noticed and I thought I saw a wry smirk appear on his face as turned and pulled up his underwear. I could only hope that I wasn't quite done growing and could someday match that thick monster. We headed out to the weight room and my Dad gave me the most intense chest and shoulder workout I have ever had. My father attacked the weights with a savagery I could only imagine. As we entered the weight room Pops looked like a caged tiger. As all lifting bros seem to do, we started with barbell bench press. We ended up having very similar strength levels but my father was clearly superior in form and intensity. We worked our way up to 265 lbs. I was able to get it for eight ugly reps but he got it ten, in perfect strict form. We then worked our way through incline and decline dumbbell benches and finally cable flies to finish off the chest. Each set was nearly identical as my father was just able to outdo me on every lift. I couldn't tell if he was getting his normal reps or if he was purposely trying to make sure he outdid me on everything. We then did a full shoulder routine of military presses, lateral and front raises and Arnold presses. During each exercise my father had also been giving me “helpful tips” as he called them, correcting my form and showing me the the best way to perform each exercise. I was getting a little annoyed and I thought he sounded like an overzealous personal trainer. By the end of the workout his light grey t-shirt had turned dark as it was soaked with sweat and was taught against his pumped muscles. I had the usual sweat spots under my armpits and under my chest but looked nothing like the drenched man next to me. “Damn, Pops, look at your forearms, your veins are unreal!” “Yeah, I always get a great pump. I love that feeling you know! You can almost feel your muscles growing, I love it!” Dad was starting to sound like one of those jocky frat guys I hear at the campus gym. When we finished this big handsome guy came over and started talking to us. My dad introduced him as Ted. He was huge, he looked like one of those real bodybuilder guys. He was just shorter than us, about 6' but probably 225 lbs of bulging muscle. He had short brown hair styled up and forward to a point. You could tell he was one of those serious lifter guys as his legs and arms were shaved and he had a light tan even though is was the middle of winter. Plus, he was wearing one those small stringer tank tops you tend to see the big muscle guys wearing. I guessed him to be about 30 years old. “Teddy, my man, how's it going!” Dad said as he slapped Ted's meaty shoulder. “This is my son I've told you about.” The larger cheerful man replied, “Doin' well Chad! Nice to meet, you Jed. Wow, you are a spitting image of your old man, you two look like brothers! You're father is a beast, I've never seen anyone who lifts as hard as him. I learned a couple of weeks ago not to come distract him in the middle of his workout. He was practically screaming at me in front of the whole gym to leave him alone. Won't make that mistake again!” “I already told I was sorry about that, but yes, don't bother me when I'm in my zone.” Dad playfully punched Ted in his chest. Ted and my Dad were having a complete bro-down. Dad added, “I started lifting with Ted just after Thanksgiving. He was the one who taught me how to do all the exercises correctly. About a week ago his work schedule shifted so we don't get to lift together much anymore.” Ted replied, “Well it looks like you're still makin' good progress! Let's hope those newbie gains don't slow down.” “Oh I'll make sure they won't,” my father said with a seriousness that almost seemed ominous. “Well, nice to meet you Jed, see ya' around Chad-man.” And with that Ted turned his wide, defined back to us and headed back to his work out. “Damn, Dad no wonder you have been making such good gains, that guy was huge. His lats were enormous!” “Yeah, he is huge, huh. He told me he's even placed highly in a couple of the local physique shows. Ted showed me how to do things right with the lifting, diet and supplementation. I owe a lot of this to him,” he mentioned as he gestured to his sweat soaked body. On the way home Dad pulled out a couple of pre-made shakes and handed one to me. I almost couldn't drink it because it was so thick. When we got home Dad immediately headed to the kitchen and started pulling out Tupperware containers full of chicken breasts and vegetables. “Son, would you grab the peanut butter out of the pantry?” In the pantry I did a double take. Clearly, a lot of his newly expendable income had been spent on improving his body. Along with our normal foodstuffs it was full of giant supplement bottles of every kind. Proteins, BCAAs, glutamines, vitamins, pills, and other chemical names that I had no idea what they where. “Holy crap, Dad. Do you think you are maybe taking this lifting thing a little to seriously?”. “Haha. Maybe Son! But as the results have kept coming I keep trying adding new things. I've always loved working my body but now that I mostly sit in a office the lifting really helps me de-stress. Plus, if it continues to give me the added benefit of being healthy and looking good then I'm can't complain!” “True, I guess I can't argue with that, Pops.” We sat down to consume a post-workout meal. My father practically inhaled his food. He had to have consumed three whole chicken breasts along with a heaping pile of broccoli and peanut butter toast. All I could do was stare as he just kept shoveling it in. My mind flashed back to this summer watching the hot dog eating contest on TV during the Fourth of July. As he was finishing his meal he finally looked up at me and gave an embarrassed, wry smile. “Sorry, I always get really hungry after a good workout. You not hungry, son?” Breaking my stupor, “Oh, yeah, sorry I guess I was just got lost in my own world.” I started eating. I guessed I ate about 1/3 of the total that he did. “Sorry, like you I guess I tend to get lost in MY own little world when I'm eating. Like Ted has told me, you have to eat big to get big!” “So you are trying to get bigger, Dad? I thought you were just trying to lose some weight to get back into shape?” “Well, sure I want to get bigger, son. What man wouldn't like to be bigger and stronger? I love you to death son and I don't blame you for anything, but when you came around I sorta had to sidetrack my athletic pursuits. I guess now that I have the time and means I'm just making up for lost time,” he said as he patted me on the back. “I guess you could say I'm finally getting to experience my glory years, even if just a tad late.” “I get it Dad. I think you should go for it. You're looking great. You're gonna have to start beating the chicks off with a stick if you keep it up!” I said as he guffawed and walked out of the room. This routine kept up for the next two weeks, the rest of my winter break before I had to return to school. We would go to the gym two days on and one day off. Dad continued to be a madman in the gym and eat like a horse afterwards. Two days after New Years we were at the grocery store when I ran into two of my good female classmates from high school. Amy and Mandy were also back in town visiting their families. They both went to a community college that was only about an hour away. They were two of the more attractive girls from my class and I was proud to say that Mandy and I even dated for a while during our sophomore year. She was actually my first. Inheriting my father's good looks certainly never afforded me any trouble with opposite sex. “Jed! Great to see you!” they both squealed and ran up to hug me. We proceeded to talk about how our early college careers were going. While we were talking they kept glancing at my father. “Jed, is this your roommate?” Amy asked. “HAHA!” my Dad let out huge belly laugh and slapped my back forcefully. “No, girls. This is my father.” “SERIOUSLY JED! Wow, Mr. Graves you look so young!” said Mandy. “It so nice to meet you.” As they shook hands and acquainted with each other I noticed the girls seemed to be acting strange, giggling at his cheesy Dad jokes, whipping their hair. That's when I figured it out. They were totally flirting with my Dad!! “Well I see where Jed got his great looks from,” Mandy stated as they finished up their conversation. “And his body!” Amy added as my face blushed a deep red. She also reached over and gently put her hand on my dad's flannel shirt covered arm. She was totally feeling my Dad up! All the while they were chatting you couldn't pry the giant glowing grin off my father's face with a crowbar. This was obviously a huge boost to his self esteem. “Well it was nice meeting you ladies, we'll be seeing you around” and with that we parted ways. As we checked out and walked back to the car my father seemed to standing up little straighter, had his chest puffed out a bit more. And, ahem, it tought it looked another part of him was bulging more than usual. That night I received a whole slew of text messages from Amy and Mandy telling me how hot my dad was. They were even joking about me giving him their phone number. At, least I think they were joking... It was a little over a week later when we had our last workout together before I had to head back to school. That day we did sort of a full body circuit routine. “To really shock the body,” as my dad put it. I was getting more used to it, but his intensity was still nothing short of intimidating. If I weren't his son I would've been completely scared to go near him. Over the last two weeks the weights he was using were slowing ticking up. Grunting with aplomb, he put every ounce of effort he could in to each rep of each exercise. While it was intimidating, it was also very motivating and I too seemed to be making great short terms progress over the last two and half weeks. After the workout, my father once again soaked, we headed to the locker room. “Hey, bud. I've been texting with Ted and he says I should keep a log of my progress. I brought a notebook and measuring tape. Could you help check my stats?” I thought this would be a little awkward but I agreed. He disrobed to his tight black spandex underwear and, holy crap! We had been coming straight home from the gym since that first workout before Christmas. Since that workout two weeks ago he had noticeably improved. A little less fat, a little better definition, a little better vascularity and of course, a little more size, all over his entire body. To try to control my shock I undressed and and jumped on the scale. I was at 195. I had lost a few pounds but I could tell it was all fat thanks to the intense workouts. “Looking good champ, let me try.” He stepped on and the small weight slammed against the top the balance. He adjusted the weight. “209 pounds” He stated enthusiastically. I was almost aghast. “Wow Dad, 9 lbs is a lot to gain in two weeks. It looks like you gained even more than that in muscle. You've definitely lost some fat, too.” “Yeah I think so too, Son.” He pinched a small fold of skin on his waist. There wasn't much there to grab. You could definitely make out his abs under the ever shrinking layer of fat around his waist. We measured his arms. A nice solid 17.5 inches. Chest, 48 inches. Thighs, 25 inches. He always had huge thighs, that was his genetic gift, if you don't count everything else about him. Waist, 33 inches. “Hey son, what sort of guns are you sporting?” I really didn't want to measure. I knew I had good arms but also knew his were bigger. No man likes to have it pointed out that they are smaller than another man. We had about the same shape, but he had just a bit more size. “I don't know Dad. Hey we better shower and get going.” I tried to distract him. “Nah, let's see those pythons first,” my Dad said again sounding like a frat jock. He wrapped the tape around my arm, “16.5 inches, very respectable son. Certainly not quite on this level though!” At that he through up a double bicep pose and I'll be damned if he didn't look like one of those physique models. Ya, know, the guys who are just not quite big enough to be bodybuilders so they cut all the fat away to get ripped, but not huge. A little less fat and he could certainly hop up on a stage with them. It was a little emasculating. Again my Dad seemed to puff up with confidence as we strode to the shower. “You're going to have to step up your workouts at school if you want to keep up with me!” “Aw, Dad, I'm fine with the way I look. Still better than most guys out there” He shook his head, “Well, suit yourself son. I'm going to go ahead put on a bit more size.” “Well Dad, don't be surprised if you slow down, those beginner gains are always the best.” “Yeah, Ted has mentioned that to me too. Hopefully I can prove you both wrong, haha,” he winked and headed to the showers. After the shower we headed home and he had, of course, another gut busting meal. Sadly, my winter break ended and I headed back to campus the next day. I was immensely proud of my Dad, he was handling his empty nest syndrome wonderfully. On the drive home all I could think about was how much better he was looking. I could only hope to someday look half as good as him. Chapter 3: Spring Break I quickly fell back into the routine of school, which as an engineer meant a lot of study time. The first year and half of engineering school mainly consists of “weed-out” classes. These are classes that are very difficult and are designed to make sure only the worthy students make it through to the upper level courses. During these classes about half my engineering peers won't cut it and will choose different majors. Unfortunately, all this studying meant I was spending less and less time at the campus rec center. My father, on the other hand, was apparently still “crushing it” as he repeatedly noted in his text messages. He had been texting me more and more since I came back to college. I don’t know if he was just excited about his progress or was purposely trying to show off. I suspect a little of both. He had also started emailing me new workouts that he was finding on the web as well as links to sites about nutrition and new supplements. All I could do was roll my eyes at everything he sent me. He was totally obsessed with this workout thing! Apparently, Ted’s work schedule switched again and so he and my Dad were now lifting together again. According to my Dad’s texts they were even hanging out as friends more often. Dad even mentioned them going to the bars a couple of times on the weekend together. Was my Dad, the guy who never dated, going out on the prowl? I was glad to read to that. Growing up my Dad never spent a lot of time hanging out with friends. I knew it was because of the long hours he worked to support our family. So I was happy that he was making some friends, as cheesy as it sounds. One day in February he asked me how my progress was coming along. I told him I was only going to the gym a couple times a week due to all my studying. He replied that he was proud of me not taking my college career for granted. Then he added “Be careful that you don’t become one of those little guys ;-). I don’t want to be TOO much bigger than you the next time I see you”. My heart thumped in my chest. How much more had he grown? Surely his newbie gains had to have slowed down, right? Finally in March, after an exhaustive week of midterms it was time to head back home again for spring break. Some of my friends were headed west to go skiing and invited me along, but I was still a relatively poor college boy so I decided to forego that and save my money and go home. So I hopped in the car and started back for along, needed week off from school at home. I drank a bit too much water on the way home so when I finally got there I was in a rush to use the bathroom. I had to park on the street as Ted's red pickup was in the side slot of the driveway. I barged in the front door and saw Ted's wide, tanned, muscular back in a stringer tank top. The back I remembered from January. He was sitting at the kitchen table facing away from me reading a magazine. “Hey Ted!”, I shouted as I hoofed it to the bathroom. Right as I turned to enter the bathroom the door swung open and I crashed into a meaty pair of pecs in tight t-shirt. I was majorly confused for a second as I realized, I crashed into Ted! “Jed, my man, good to see you!” he said. “Yeah, you too. 'Scuse me, nature calls,” as I squeezed by him and entered the bathroom. While relieving myself I finally had time to process. I had ran into Ted. That means that wide, muscular back at the kitchen table must've been...Dad! Holy cow! From behind he looked huge, just like Ted! I finished my business and headed back out the living room room where I again bounced into some, semi-hairy huge pecs. “Champ, you made it! I missed you, buddy!” I heard as my newly enlarged father wrapped his thick arms around me in a crushing father-son manhug. Once again I was having trouble processing as I was squeezed in a cocoon of rock hard flesh. He smelled like a total jock. That combination of recently showered soap smell combined with just a hint of lingering sweat and muskiness. As he released me I backed up a took a look at him in full. He was standing next to Ted and they now looked more like brothers and than my Dad and I. With a bright grin plastered on his face he let me soak him in. Finally he opened his arms wide, looked down at himself, then back to me and asked, “What do you think?” “Damn, Dad. You are pumped as hell! Have you just been living in the gym since Christmas!?” My father threw back that handsome head and guffawed. His thick, fireplug neck bulging with veins I had never seen before. “Just about, son! I love it. Everyday I feel like I'm getting better and better and getting bigger and bigger. I've got more energy than I've had since high school.” He was standing up straight and had his balled hands resting on his hips in a total superman pose. Only, he was more ruggedly handsome than any actor who had ever played superman. “Wow, that's awesome Pops, I'm still in shock.” “Everyone seems to be saying that to me lately, but I love it! You should see the stares I've been getting when I go to the grocery store or out to the bars. I can't lie it's been a huge ego boost! Plus it's been fun to make 'lil Teddy here jealous, haha!” Ted playfully punched my father's meaty shoulder. The connection made a meaty 'thwack' but my father didn't flinch at all. “Hey! Watch it old man! You been killing it in the gym but you still haven't quite caught up to me!” “YET!” my father retorted. “Hey, Jed, take a look at 19 inches of pure muscle!” And with that he threw up a single arm bicep pose in front of Ted. HOLY SHIT. A big solid ball of muscle mounded up toward the ceiling right in front of Ted's face. I had seen my Dad jokingly flex his arms a few times while wrestling with me while I growing up. He always had large, sturdy arms. But in the past when he would flex his arms would just sort of tighten up. Now, instead of just tightening up his arm actually grew into a softball of muscle. There was a definite line between his biceps and where his meaty triceps reached toward the ground. Running along his biceps was a large cephalic vein you usually only see on the truly muscular guys. All I could do was stare as another wave of emasculation and jealousy flowed through me. Next, that feeling got worse. Ted maneuvered himself around Dad's arm and flexed his opposite arm right in front of my father's arm. His own tanned, massive arm flexed upward and eclipsed my father's huge gun, but only just so. Gawd, it was like watching two bodybuilder's jockying for position during a final posedown of a competition. All the while both egging each other and laughing. It was a muscle lover's dream. “Jed, who's bigger?” Ted asked, still nudging his shoulder into my Dad as they continued their frolicky upright wrestling match. My mouth hung agape and I tried to form the words to reply. “Ted, ya big showoff we know you are bigger,” my dad jumped in. “Ted's bigger but you are really close, Dad.” My father lit up like a Christmas tree at this. My father slapped Ted's big back. “I'll take it! Being compared to this big oaf is a big compliment. We measured the other day, this gun is only one inch shy of big Ted, here.” Ted added “Yeah your pops is right there with me. I weighed in at 232 lb yesterday and what were you, Chad? 220?” “224! Right on your tail big guy!” DAMN! My dad had put on another 15 lbs of solid mass since I last visited! “I keep thinking your old man's gains will slow down but he just keeps growing. He's been matching all my lifts in the last couple of days. You're father is a beast.” Ted then grabbed his coat and headed out. “Well I gotta head back home so I'll give you some catching up time. Good to see ya again Jed, enjoy your break!” Ted left and I and my father and I just stood there staring at each other as I took him in. He looked like he could step on a stage for a novice show with just a couple weeks of dieting to really slice down what little remaining fat he had. “I'm really glad you're back champ. Hey son, no offense but you look a little smaller. Have you stopped lifting?” “Well with studying I haven't been able to stay as consistent. Down to about 190 lbs. Engineering classes are hard.” “Well, I'm glad you are staying on top of you classes and not wasting your education. Even though you could've been a great athlete I'm so proud that you are using that brain of yours. Good thing your mother was smart so you could inherit some intelligence, haha.” “Dad, stop you are one of the smartest, most down-to-earth people I know, even if you didn't go to college.” Dad gave me one of those one-arm side hugs, “Thanks Son. I do hope you can get back into your gym routine, I need someone strong enough to spot me when we lift this summer.” And so began my Spring Break week with Dad. On Sunday I went with him to the gym. I was almost afraid of what I was going to see. Since I was out of practice I was going to do a full body workout, while Dad was hitting up chest. I told him I would spot him in between my sets. We went into the locker room to change. Dad slid off his pants and took off his shirt and proceeded to open his locker. He was wearing a black par of spandex underwear that clung to his meaty thighs and ass. He had a prominent bulge. Was he horned up? It looked like it was bulging more than I remember. He looked like a physique model in his shorts. Like one of those guys you see on Men's Health covers. Not overly huge, but just big and bulgy enough to put those ripped, yet skinny models to shame. A light tan with just a dusting of hair over his front and a bit more hair on his legs. I've mentioned before that Dad always had slightly over-proportioned legs. It's a good thing his spandex trunks were stretchy or else his thighs would've torn the underwear after one set of heavy squats. My dad caught me looking at him again. “You're going to have to stop staring or else it's going to go to my head,” he said with a smug grin. He put on a stringer tank that left no secrets of his buffed physique. We proceeded on with our workouts. Dad began with bench press. I was going through my sets when I noticed he was up to 265 lbs on the bench, the same amount we ended with during Christmas break. I went over to spot him. “You can do a couple more of your sets I'm still warming up.” Wait, what?!? He was still warming up? “Dad, are you sure? This is the most I've ever seen you lift.” “Really, son? This is all I was doing at Christmas? Damn, I was weak.” He immediately saw my embarrassment and apologized. “Oh sorry Son, I was just joking to myself. I know this is what you lifted at Christmas and trust me it is impressive for a young guy like you.” “Gee, thanks Dad” I gave him a wry smile. So I proceeded to do a set of lat pull downs and dumbbell shoulder presses. When I was done I felt a big heavy hand fall on my shoulder. “I'll take a spot now, champ!” “Ok, Dad.” We walked over to the bench. Holy Shit. He had 335 lbs loaded onto he bench. “Geezus, Dad, this is a lot of weight! Ok so are you going for a low rep set of 3-4 reps?” He chuckled that deep,masculine rumbling chuckle his. “Not quite, son. I should be able to get 10 reps easy, just keep an eye on me.” “TEN REPS! This is like 70 more lbs then you were doing three months ago!” “Yeah, it sure is.” He proceeded to bench 10 reps in quick, strict form. Letting the bar come down to touch above his nipples, and then with a light, sexy grunt, lifted the bar straight up, 10 times. After the first set he did the same with 345 and 355 lbs. On the last set I had to help him on the 10th rep. But I was still stunned out of my mind regarding his impressive lifts. My dad got up off the bench after his last set and turned to face me. He now had worked up a light sheen of sweat that covered his body. In just his stringer tank you could see his pecs were red and swollen with effort. His nipples nearly pointing down due to the impressive shelf he had going on. He let out a big exhale “Woo, that was a great pump.” He swung his arms back and forth to keep loose. Every time his arms swung forward his upper pecs bunched upward toward his chin, deepening the already impressive cleft in between. “Shit, Dad...” was all I could say. He warned me against it, but he had clearly left me behind on his lifts. It was amazing and emasculating all at the same time. “He he, thanks Son.” The rest of week was more of the same. Dad continued to blow me away with all his lifts, which all seemed to be 50-100 lbs more than I could ever do. He also continued to blow me away at the dinner table. His meal portions were even larger than the last time I saw him. He had to be eating over 6000 calories per day. Dad was also spending a lot more time on his phone lately. Apparently, Ted had got him set up on Tinder and his phone was constantly buzzing. I certainly couldn't blame all the ladies messaging him. I always heard my Dad was a stud. With his improved body he was now on another level of manhood. I felt bad for all the other local men in the area for having to compete with him. On late Friday afternoon of that week a buddy of mine and I were heading to a city that was about 3 hours away for a concert we had both been wanting to see. Dad wasn't disappointed, he said he had been chatting with a girl from Tinder and that they would to meet on Friday night since I was going to be gone. We headed to the concert but when we got there we found out the the lead singer had come down with the flu and the show had been canceled. We were obviously bummed but were assured we would get a full refund. So we went to a nice restaurant, ate and then decided to head home early. I was wondering how my Dad's date was going. On the drive home I sent him a message letting him know we would be home early. I didn't get any response so I figured it was going well. Finally we got home about 11:00pm. My buddy dropped me off and headed to the front door. As I was about there the door flung open and pretty young woman frantically ran out looking unkempt and disheveled. . It was obviously she didn't want me to see her. And I then I realized why. Is was my friend and fellow classmate, Amy! “Oh, um, hi Jed” she said embarrassed. He hair was a mess “I was just...um...gotta go I'll see ya around.” HOLY CRAP. Amy was my Dad's date. And I know sex hair when I see it. She had totally hooked up with my DAD! My dad showed up at the door shirtless in a pair of gym shorts looking like sexy sated warrior. “Have a good night Amy.” “Om...um...thanks Mr. Graves...I mean, Chad...” she stumbled out. I stared at her in shock as she walked down the drive to her car on the street. “Dad, you know she was in my class right? Don't you think she's a little...young?” “Yes, I know. Son. And don't worry I'm wasn't looking for a relationship. We just had a little fun, that's all.” He stood there leaning against the doorway, proud as a peacock. The moon light shining on his bulging pecs and abs. My dad was a total jock stud. The next morning continued to be a little awkward around Dad. He noticed “Son, please don't make this weird. She's 19 years old and an adult and I'm a red-blooded grown man. Sometimes I have...needs.” I just hid my face in my hands as he spoke. Finally I relented. “I get it Dad, but maybe try to avoid my classmates, if you could.” “Heh, well I'll try son. But I tell ya though, it's getting harder and harder to avoid. It's like this bod of mine has become a supercharged chick-magnet. And I plan on supercharging it further.” “Seriously, how much further do you think you can go? You are already HUGE.” “Well, I think I'm decently big but far from HUGE.” He put an emphasis on the word “HUGE” with a faux most-muscular pose. His body still instantly tightened and seemed to pump up even larger. “But, Ted is going to help me see if I can really get in the realm of huge.” “What?! You're not talking steroids are you? Pops, please don't do anything stupid to your health.” “Buddy, you have nothing to worry about. Ted is going to hook me up with his doctor who prescribes him some HGH and testosterone. And the fact that is is a real doctor means he can monitor me to make sure nothing goes wrong.” “I don't know, Dad. I'm don't like it.” Dad came over and put his hefty right arm on my shoulder and looked me in the eye with a serious face. “Son, please trust me on this. I've been doing my research to make sure I'm not doing anything to jeopardize my future. Have you heard all those new radio adds in the last few years about male medical clinics and low testosterone doctors? What I'll be getting is the exact same thing those people offer. If it were dangerous why would there be so many doctors and clinics out the prescribing this stuff?” “I guess that's true Dad. But you clearly don't need any testosterone, you look like a walking testosterone factory!” He smirked, “Well that may be true son, but why should all the weak beta males out there get this stuff and not the alpha men who will actually put this stuff to good use?” I was surprised that my Dad even knew the term “beta male.” He sounded like a body imaged obsessed bro! “Well, please be careful. After losing Mom I couldn't handle it if anything happened to you to.” Dad wrapped up in his bulging heavy arms and pulled me to his chest, leaned back and lifted me off the ground. It was weird, my now bigger dad made me feel like I was 10 years old again, him giving me one of those dad-hugs that makes you feel safe and secure when you are a young kid. “I love you to death son and I promise I will be careful. This is something I really, really want so I want you to fine with it.” I sighed. “Dad, after all you've been through, you deserve it!” At this, with my feet still hanging a couple inches above the ground still wrapped up in his huge arms. Dad smiled widely and squeezed even harder. “OOOHF! Easy there big guy. You're going to squash me!” Dad set me down and let out a big guffaw. “HAHA, well son you better start lifting again 'cuz those hugs are going to get a lot tighter!” I had no reason to believe that would not be true. The next day I headed to college to finish my freshman year, wondering what Dad would look like when I came back for summer. NEXT CHAPTER: BACK FOR SUMMER
https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12573-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-1-2/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12587-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-3/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12662-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-4/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12823-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-5/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13046-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-6/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13442-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-7/ Chapter 8: The Big Game The next morning my teammates and I awoke and made our way to the team's cafeteria for our typical pre-game breakfast. We noticed that strangely, most of the assistant coaches were not there enjoying breakfast with us. In fact, I saw a couple of assistants hustling quickly down the hallway as I walked into the cafeteria. I didn't think much of it, since, of course, this would be my first ever collegiate football game and being the first game of the season, I expected there to be some hectic surprises. The rest of the day the team hung out at the athletic center. As the game neared, I was becoming more and more nervous. Some of the upper-classmen noticed and did their best to give me pep talks and calm me down. Being just a freshmen, I appreciated the support, but it didn't calm my nerves much. Early in the afternoon we gathered in the players auditorium to run through our game plan with the assistant heat coach. Obviously, Coach Wood's massive leg wouldn't have fit in there, much less his entire impressive physique. Thus, Assistant Coach Harvey came in and led us through the game plan. At the end of the run through, Jamal asked. “Is Coach going to be on the sidelines with us?” Jamal and some others had also sensed some unease among the athletic staff throughout the day. Coach Harvey looked over the crowd of players, we could tell he was a little bit nervous, and spoke, “I'm positive he will be. I'll be frank with you all, The College Sports Association was offering some concerns about how to allow a man of Coach's size to be on the sidelines and it seems they attempted to force the school to disallow him to be on the sidelines.” A murmur wafted through the large crowd of amped-up young jocks. Coach Harvey quieted us and continued, “But, as our athletic staff has been researching, there's no rule against a giant man being on the sidelines so we don't see any reason why Coach won't be at the game. We are actively discussing with the Association and will confirm our stance with them. In the meantime, don't you worry about this matter. You young men have a huge opening game against our bitter rivals, the Monroe Mauraders. You focus on that, that's what Coach would want, got it!?” We all shook our heads and broke the meeting. After hanging out in the recreation room and eating another pregame meal fuel up, it was finally time to head to the locker rooms and get ready. The dozens of men around me began slipping into their pregame rituals. We had about 45 minutes before we had to be out on the field to warm up. Many of my now scantily clad teammates put in noise canceling headphones to zone out to their favorite warmup music. The jokesters of the group wandered around making fun to break the tension for those of us who were nervous. The Senior captains, clad only in football pants, their ripped upper torso's exposed, came around to quickly speak to each player and offer words of encouragement. The environment was brimming with amped-up testosterone waiting for competitive release on the gridiron. Soon we were suited up and ready to head out on the field. Assistant Coach Harvey came in to give us a little speech to pump us up some more. With and excited grin, he assured that our Giant Head Coach would be out there with us. This caused a raucous roar of approval from the team of young Brutes. Clad in our cleats, pants and undershirts, we each grabbed our shoulder pads and helmets and started for the exit of the locker room. The locker room wasn't directly connected to the stadium, we would have to cross a small, off-limits parking lot to enter the small stadium. The lot was specifically for the vising team busses, refs, and other College Sports Association (CSA) officials. As we headed for the door we felt a rumble on the ground. Jamal spoke up, “Awesome! The crowd must already be here, even for warmups! We don't usually feel the ground start to shake until the pregame show when the crowd is going nuts. Damn, I love our fans!” This further excited the rest of the team. We exited the door and began trotting down the soft carpet to the stadium entrance. We noticed it was a bright, beautiful, sunny, late summer day. I noticed we were bathed in shade, which was odd since there were no tall buildings or trees nearby. Then we heard some deep, deep rumblings that shook us to our core. I turned my head to my left, as did the rest of my team, and froze. My mouth hung open as I stared at the most magnificent, most awe-inspiring, yet terrifying sight I had ever seen. There, standing in the parking lot was Coach, clad in his normal outfit, sans shirt of course. Only he was bigger. Not just a little bigger. MUCH. MUCH. BIGGER. Whereas before the tallest members of our team reached the bottom of his tremendous diamond shaped calf muscles, now we didn't even clear the tops of his sneakers. The deep rumbling continued as we realized Coach was chuckling at us. The giant man leaned forward to address us. His upper torso was so muscular that he would have had to stand well back in order to see us over his monumental pecs without leaning forward. The monster muscle man opened his mouth and spoke. “HELLO DOWN THERE, BOYS. BOY, MY BIG STRONG BRUTE MEN SURE ARE LOOKING AWFULLY TINY LATELY! BUT DON'T WORRY, EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING LOOKS TINY TO ME LATELY, HEH HEH. WOW, YOU LITTLE GUYS DON'T BARELY REACH TO THE TOPS OF MY SNEAKERS, AND YOU ARE SOME OF THE BIGGEST MEN ON CAMPUS. YOU GUYS REALLY MAKE ME FEEL BIG!!!” Coach quickly stood straight up and reached HIGH into the sky. From our comparatively minuscule vantage point it looked like he could reach up and grab the sun. He then brought his arms down into a mind-blowing double-biceps pose. I'm sure the approaching fans got an amazing view. But, for us, he was so damn HUGE we could really only see the hulking triceps of his under arms, which were so pumped they hid his peaks from our eyes. He dropped the pose and again leaned forward, quickly adjusting his unavoidable bulge. “WHAT DO YOU THINK, BOYS? DO YOU THINK THERE WILL EVER BE A BRUTE AS HUGE AS ME!!” Myself and team began to overcome our natural fear and awe and happily shouted up our praise. A chorus of “No way, Coach!”, “You are the biggest Brute EVER!”, “A fuckin' MUSCLE GIANT!” and other similar platitudes emanated from my awestruck teammates. Coach grinned at us from far above. “SORRY I MISSED THE TEAM MEETINGS TODAY. I JUST COULDN'T FIT ALL THIS MASS IN THOSE TINY, ANT SIZED BUILDINGS.” He smirked down at us and continued, “YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED THE POWER WENT OUT LAST NIGHT. I WAS HEADED TO THE DEAN'S OFFICE WHEN I WALKED INTO SOME POWER LINES. DAMN THINGS ARE SO TINY TO ME DIDN'T EVEN SEE THEM AS MY LEGS CRASHED RIGHT INTO THEM. THE PHYSICS DOC SAID THE ENERGY WAS GREAT ENOUGH TO CAUSE ANOTHER GROWTH EPISODE. HE SAID I AGAIN DOUBLED IN HEIGHT! ISN'T THAT AWESOME, LITTLE MEN. YOUR COACH IS NOW A 100 FT COLOSSUS OF HUGE BODYBUILDER BEEF! GRRRRRRRR!!!” Coach growled and crunched into a most muscular pose above us, shielding us from the sun above and filling the entire team's vision with rippling, vascular, shredded, prodigious musculature. His growl was so ferociously loud we all shirked. Coach immediately noticed and quieted himself. “OOPS. SORRY LITTLE MEN. I'M SO HUGE THAT EVEN MY VOICE IS OVERPOWERING!” The players and myself began walking around Coach, examining his towering frame. Coach, pleased as peacock, simply stood still with his hands on his hips and with a bright handsome smile on his face as he looked down to us. We stood next to his sneakers, hardly able to comprehend the size of his footwear that were each the size of vans. We marveled that even at our highest reach our hands were far under the heavy sagging meat of his Fankhouser-esque calves. Jamal looked up and shouted up to our leader, “So glad you could be here, Coach. Coach Harvey said the CSA tried to keep you away.” Coach leered down to us with an ominous grin. “OH, THEY TRIED TO KEEP ME AWAY. A COUPLE OF GOVERNMENT GUYS CAME BY TOO AND TRIED TO GET ME TO GO WITH THEM. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? SOME TINY LITTLE "OFFICIAL" RUNTS TRYING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO?” Coach leaned over, brought up his left arm and FLEXED his awe-inspiring biceps to full peak. Simultaneously, he reached over with his right arm and pointed at the boulder sized muscle. This time he angled himself forward so we could see the enormous mass bulge up from his arm. I remember how Coach had earlier said that he thought he was still growing slightly more muscular along with his sudden spurts of height and I could clearly see this in his arm. His astounding arm looked like it could've now been 26 or 27 inches around if he were at his previous mere moral height of six and a half feet. His biceps was so large that when he flexed, there was virtually no space between the mounded biceps muscle and thick elongated muscles of his forearm. “ALL I HAD TO DO WAS POINT AT THIS MUSCLE TO THEM KNOW WHO MAKES THE RULES. I TOLD THE LITTLE SHRIMPS THAT NO ONE IS GOING TO KEEP ME FROM COACHING MY BRUTES TO A VICTORY TODAY. AND THERE WAS NOTHING THEY COULD DO TO STOP ME. HELL, AT MY SIZE NO ONE COULD STOP ME FROM DOING ANYTHING IF I DON'T WANT THEM TO!” Coach sneered cockily as he relayed his story to us. It was impossible not to sense a bit of fear from his attitude. I imagined the CSA and government men pissing their pants as they tried in futility to tell the biggest, strongest, most powerful being on the planet what to do. Coach was an intimidating man at just 6 ft 6 inches tall. At 100 ft, that intimidation factor was magnified exponentially. Coach, sensing our unease, softened his expression. “SORRY IF I SCARED 'YA, LITTLE MEN. IT'S JUST THE THOUGHT OF NOT BEING ABLE TO COACH YOU MAKES ME VERY ANGRY.” Coach snickered and repeated that famous line from the Hulk franchise, “AND YOU WOULDN'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY!” Coach then looked over his shoulder down at the parking lot. I wondered what he was searching for when I saw it. A small white sedan with the “CSA” logo painted on the side. Obviously the car used by the CSA officials to oversee the game. “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY MAKE ME ANGRY!!” Coach raised his huge left foot, the fibers of his exposed quads firing as he moved. He was so large that he just had to lean over a bit to his left where he let his colossal sneaker SMASH down on top of he doomed car. In a millisecond the car was flattened beyond recognition. Unlike when Coach slowly caved in the news van from a couple of days ago, with his newly doubled size his massive shoe completely covered and obliterated the small car. We all jumped back from the sudden show of power. After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, my teammates began to shout more cheers and praise up at him. “Damn, Coach Brute! That was awesome!” “Yeah, Coach, show them CSA pussies who is in charge!” “Man I'm sure glad you are our Coach! You are like a god to the little people!” “Haha you made smashing that car look easy! You are so fuckin' powerful!” “Nobody tells you what to you, BIG COACH BRUTE! Especially not those tiny government boys!” Coach beamed with pride as he heard us, feeding his ever growing, yet deserved ego. Even with the frightening display of masculine power we just witnessed, we knew it had only been brought out because some foolish officials were trying to keep him from coaching us today. With a 100 ft tall overdeveloped herculean man watching over us, nothing could take us out! “WELL BOYS, IT'S TIME YOU HEAD INSIDE THE STADIUM TO WARM UP. BECAUSE I'M SO DAMN HUGE AND MUSCULAR, I'M GOING TO STAND OUT HERE TO COACH. OTHERWISE, WITH MY HUGE LATS, HALF THE STADIUM BEHIND ME WOULDN'T GET TO SEE YOU GUYS KICK SOME ASS.” Coach punctuated this statement with a titanic lat spread. The wing-like lats under his arms spread out to what looked like 25 yards across...then 30...then 35!! Coach's lats were so magnificently built, that when it looked like he couldn't get any wider, his enormous back muscles unfurled even further. The v-shape he demonstrated as he expertly flexed was nearly incomprehensible, seemingly extending his upper torso to three times the width of his chiseled abdominals. Coach chuckled some more as we stared up at him, again in awestruck silence. He broke the pose, allowing our brains to regain function. “YOU BOYS KEEP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT AND IT'S GOING TO GIVE ME A BIG HEAD, HAHA. NOW GET OUT THERE AND GET WARMED UP! GO!” His sudden demand caused us all to hustle onto the field. As we entered the field it became clear that Jamal was right about one thing. Many of our fans had showed up early and even with 45 minutes to kickoff the stadium was about 75% full. The crowd cheered us on as we entered the field, but as soon as the cheering died down I noticed that all the spectators had turned their heads toward the South end of the stadium. The South end was adjacent to the maintenance parking lot and at only about 30 ft tall, was the lowest part of the stadium. Thus, everyone could see the magnificent bare-chested giant bodybuilder standing behind there behind. He clapped as we entered, each time his hands connected it sounded like a large firecracker exploding. After Coach's news conference it became clear that so many people arrived early so they see the largest man in history with their own eyes. A few minutes later the visiting team entered from the opposite end of the stadium. I chuckled as the entire visiting froze as soon as they caught sight of our coach. Once they had got their wits back, they filed onto the field and stretch as well. The visiting Marauder's head coach, Thomas Morton, a well-known portly man who was known for his bombastic attitude and arrogant demeanor, trotted out onto the field and too became paralyzed with awe. Coach, with his hands on his hips in a powerful stance, quickly spotted the overweight opposing coach at the other end of the field. “COACH MORTON! WELCOME TO OUR STADIUM. I'M EXCITED FOR A GOOD GAME BETWEEN OUR SQUADS. BUT I MUST SAY, COACH MORTON, YOU'VE REALLY LET YOURSELF GO! HOW CAN YOU BE AN INSPIRATION TO YOUR PLAYERS TO GET BIGGER AND STRONGER WHILE LOOKING LIKE THAT? ONE THE OTHER HAND...” Coach spread his arms out wide and looked cockily down at his own torso. He alternately turned each arm, admiring the size of the unflexed muscles covering each appendage. He bent down and felt up the massive individual muscles of his quadriceps and then looked back at Coach Morton, “...ON THE OTHER HAND, MY BOYS SEEING ALL THESE HUGE MUSCLES OF MINE EVERYDAY ONLY INSPIRES THEM TO LIFT HARDER AND GET BIGGER AND STRONGER THEMSELVES!” Coach Morton had never felt so emasculated in his life. He just stood there, frozen, looking like a man whose entire dignity had been stripped away. He lowered his head and headed over to his sideline, looking defeated before the game even began. Something Coach obviously saw as he continued to address Coach Morton. “AND DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE THAT PRESS CONFERENCE YOU GAVE LAST WEEK. HOW YOU SAID YOUR TEAM WAS GOING TO CRUSH OUR TEAM. HOW YOU WOULD SHOW NO MERCY AND HAVE NO HARD FEELINGS ABOUT RUNNING UP THE SCORE! HOW ABOUT I SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL 'CRUSHING' WILL LOOK LIKE!” Coach looked down and to his right and reached down with both hands and picked something up. As he rose it became clear that he was holding each end of Morton's bus. In his hands it was no bigger than a loaf of bread. And with no more strength than a normal man would required to squeeze that loaf of bread, our giant coach bared his teeth and CRUSHED the ends of the bus together like an accordion. The windows shattered and fell to the parking lot. Loud distinct pops could be heard as the tires blew. The high pitched squeal of twisting metal pierced the air. “THIS IS WHAT REAL CRUSHING IS. AND YOU WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE THIS POWERFUL. IF YOU ARE GOING TO USE BIG THREATENING WORDS, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE THE MUSCLE TO BACK IT UP! HAHAHA!” Coached laughed and let the crumpled-up mass of metals crash to the parking bellow. Coach Morton gulped in fear at what he had just seen. “OH, AND COACH MORTON, I CAN TELL YOU AND YOUR BOYS ARE SCARED OF ME AND TO PLAY AGAINST MY MEN. MAYBE EVEN SO SCARED THAT YOU ARE AFRAID TO WANT TO BEAT MY TEAM. WELL, THAT IS EVEN IF YOU COULD BEAT MY TEAM. IT'S UNDERSTANDABLE, I'M A REALLY, REALLY BIG STRONG MAN. BUT TRUST ME, IF YOU GUYS SLOW PLAY THIS GAME AND DON'T TRY YOUR HARDEST, THEN I ASSURE YOU I WILL BE VERY, VERY ANGRY. I WANT TO SEE A GOOD COMPETITIVE GAME, FULL OF EFFORT FROM BOTH SIDES, GOT IT?” Coach finished his statement by ominously cracking his knuckles. Ever the sportsman, he did not want us to win simply due to the other team's fear of his imposing body. He wanted us to EARN the win against a worthy opponent. I shuddered to think what would happen if the other team just flat out gave up and didn't give us any fight. Coach Morton dramatically shook his head up and down, notifying our Coach of his understanding that he wouldn't hold his team back. Forty minutes later the game began. Obviously, our head Coach couldn't perform all the duties typical of a mortal-sized coach so Assistant Coach Harvey took over for that. Still, as we had many hand signals, he was able to communicate sufficiently with us what he wanted on defense. For the first half the game was relatively tight. We never led by more than 10 points and after a successful long touchdown pass, we went into halftime with a three point lead. I could easily tell why the other team was one of the top in the nation. They were very good, very big and very strong. Not to mention the fear of invoking OUR Coach's wrath likely had them playing harder than they ever had. The giant man behind the South stadium provided us with excellent calls, motivation and inspiration. There was nothing like seeing his huge jacked body and handsome smile beaming proudly down at us after we made a good play. While the visiting Morton team was good, they were still no match or our own superior skill, size and strength and we began to slowly overpower them. Early in the 4th quarter we were nursing a seven point lead. The Marauders had the ball and were driving the field against us with some trick plays that caught us off guard. They were only 15 yards away from the North end zone. Before the next play, I looked up to see Coach signaling an outside blitz from me and I relayed the play to the rest of our team. The Marauders snapped the ball and I broke and made a beeline to their QB. As I closed in on him, I could see the surprise in his eyes. I saw him cock back his arm and start to lob the ball over my head for a screen pass. In a flash I read the play and leaped straight up as high as I could. I saw the ball just above my head, reached up and snagged it out of the air. INTERCEPTION! I landed and took off sprinting towards the opposite South end zone. As I ran as fast as I could, I saw Coach waving his beefy arms to me in a “come here” motion. I had never seen him look so excited before. I made it to the 50 yard line, then the 40, then the 30, I could feel the defenders on my heels. As I kept running Coach started JUMPING UP and down! I could feel the tremors rumbling the ground as his muscular tonnage pounded the ground. His massive pectorals bounced hypnotically as he himself bounced on the ground. The tremors were strong enough I almost tripped up! But I kept my balance and finally made it the the end zone! It was an 85-yard, pick-six interception! In my first collegiate game! I was so excited as my teammates caught up and mobbed me from behind that I barely noticed how winded I was from sprinting 85 yards. As the team cleared away I looked skyward to see Coach beaming proudly at me. Remembering that day in the weight room, I smiled up to him and gave him my most imposing most muscular pose, clenching my fists together in front of my waist. His grin widened more and he laughed. He then smirked, hunched over and returned his own far more impressive most muscular pose with a cocky smile. The crowd went wild, not only from my touchdown, but from seeing Coach FLEX his titanic muscles. In one play, I had turned the game from a tight contest into a dominating win for us. I had never felt so proud of myself in my life. With the momentum on our side, we dominated the rest of the game and ended up winning by three touchdowns. As the teams left the field, Coach addressed Coach Morton. “GOOD GAME COACH. WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR. OH YEAH, REMEMBER WHAT I SAID, YOU WOULD REALLY SHOULD GET YOURSELF INTO THE WEIGHT ROOM IF YOU WANT TO COMPETE WITH THE LIKES OF THIS! HAHAH!” Coach laughed as he flashed the opposing coach a quick double biceps pose. As we exited the stadium we gathered around Coach's shoes. I noticed the car sized lump of twisted metal that was formerly the Morton passenger bus nearby and could hardly comprehend the power it would take to do that. Coach grinned down at us. “YOU LITTLE BRUTES SURE MADE THIS BIG BRUTE VERY PROUD TODAY. THAT WAS A CHAMPIONSHIP EFFORT. NOW, THERE ARE STILL 11 MORE GAMES IN THE SEASON SO DON'T THINK YOUR WORK IS DONE. YOU ALL NEED TO KEEP PRACTICING HARD AND LIFTING HARD AND IF YOU DO YOU HAVE A GREAT SHOT TO MAKE IT TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP COME DECEMBER. NOW HIT THE SHOWERS. AND CAPTAINS, OLDEST TO YOUNGEST, MEET ME EVERY 15 MINUTES IN THE FIELD HOUSE FOR A POST-GAME DEBRIEFING STARTING ONE HOUR FROM NOW.” After showering up and enjoying a nice post game meal, I soon headed over to the field house. The sophomore captain was just exiting as I entered the building. I walked in and there was Coach, standing up, the top of his cap dangerously close to the rafters of the field house, filling my view with fuzzy, rippling, golden MUSCLE. “THERE'S MY STAR OF THE GAME!” He said excitedly as I entered, filling my heart with pride. “GREAT GAME, JACKSON. THAT LONG PICK-SIX BASICALLY SEALED THE GAME FOR US. I BELIEVE YOU ARE A STAR IN THE MAKING, YOUR READ THAT SCREEN PASS BEAUTIFULLY, JUMPED UP AND SNAGGED THE BALL AND RACED BACK TOWARD ME...MAN THAT AWESOME.” “I owe it all to you, Coach! You called that blitz for me, it was the perfect call! That QB never saw me coming!” “I GUESS WE MAKE QUITE THE TEAM, YOU AND I, MY LITTLE BRUTE!” “Yes we do, my BIG COACH BRUTE!” I lowered my voice and shouted, trying to sound big, Coach chuckled at my playfulness. Coach then slowly crouched and sat down on his big bulbous ass. He put his arms beside him, palms flat on the turf, triceps flaring, and stuck his LONG legs straight out, straddling me. On each side of me were the world's biggest and most muscular thighs and in front of me was the worlds most packed crotch, trapping me in a virtual cocoon of manhood. Even with him sitting slowly, a big tremor rumbled through the ground as his hulking tonnage rested on the field turf. “THERE, MUCH BETTER. YOU LITTLE GUYS ARE BASICALLY SHRINKING TO ME. I DON'T MIND STANDING UP AND TOWERING OVER THE OTHER PEOPLE, IT REMINDS HOW HUGE AND POWERFUL I AM. BUT I DON'T LIKE INTIMIDATING MY OWN LITTLE BRUTES, HEHE.” “It's ok Coach, you really can't help it! Haha, even with you sitting there your head is FIVE stories above mine. I could practically HIDE under your pecs even with you leaning back. Your massive quads are so huge I would need a rope to scale them, it's like I'm flanked by two massive, golden tanned beefy walls of POWER. And your crotch...Coach, your shorts are looking tighter and tighter!” Coach smirked with satisfaction as I praised him. “HEH HEH. JACKSON, YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO MAKE THIS BIG BRUTE FEEL GOOD. REALLLLLL GOOD...” Coach leaned forward and brought one hand forward and began to palm his crotch in front of me. “AND YOU ARE RIGHT. LIKE I SAID, ALONG WITH MY HEIGHT SPURTS, I SEEM TO BE SLOWLY GETTING BIGGER AND MORE MUSCULAR...” He smirked down into my eyes and added, “...AND MORE HUNG!” By now I was rock hard as well, watching the monster in Coach's packed shorts grow. “Wow, Coach I can see that. OH MY GOD COACH!” I shouted in surprise and his monster dick began to extend out PAST the leg of his khaki shorts, pressed up tight against his left inner-thigh. “YEAH, LITTLE GUY. LOOK AT THAT. THAT IS A REAL COCK RIGHT THERE.” In complete shock and awe, I could only nod in agreement. “JACKSON, I HAVEN'T TOLD ANYBODY ELSE YET, BUT I HAVE AGREED TO LET THOSE GOVERNMENT BOYS RUN SOME TESTS ON ME. THAT MEANS I WON'T BE HERE FOR PRACTICE FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS.” My face fell as I looked up him disappointingly. “I KNOW, I KNOW. AND I KNOW I TELL YOU BOYS TO NEVER TAKE ANY GAME LIGHTLY, BUT YOUR NEXT GAME IS AGAINST A TEAM THAT WAS WINLESS LAST YEAR, SO I HAVE COMPLETE CONFIDENCE IN COACH HARVEY TO LEAD THE TEAM.” Coach's face turned stern, “AND TRUST ME, THERE IS NO WAY I'M GOING TO LET THEM KEEP ME AWAY FROM YOU GUYS FOR TOO LONG. IF THEY DO...THEY WILL REGRET IT.” Coach was so huge that it was easy to see all his muscles and tendons tighten and flex defensively, all his massive firehose-sized veins erupt as he considered what he would do if anyone tried to keep him away from us. “NOW, BEFORE I TAKE OFF TOMORROW...” Coach reached down his huge hand and began rubbing the now exposed cock head, “HOW ABOUT YOU JOIN ME IN ONE LAST BRUTE JACKING SESSION?” He grinned at me seductively, there was no way I could resist. I striped off my clothes and stood there naked and rock hard in between the giant man's legs. “OH YEAH, LOOK AT THE HOT JOCK STUD BODY. YOU LOOK SO GOOD, LITTLE BRUTE.” Coach's dick began to thicken and lengthen even more! Quickly I heard the unmistakable sounds of ripping. His cock was so huge and powerful, not to mention his now proportionally larger glutes and legs, that his khaki shorts could take to no more and began to tear at the inseam! Coach reached down, lifted his ass slightly off the turn and proceeded to finish TEARING his shorts off with a ear-piercing RRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP. He wasn't wearing underwear, and his rock hard cock sprang up like a trebuchet, thwacking his abdomen well above his navel. “AHHHH THAT FEELS SOOOOO MUCH BETTER. I OUTGREW MY UNDERWEAR A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO, IT'S NICE TO BE FREE OF THE LAST RESTRICTIVE PIECE OF CLOTHING! LET ME FINISH UNDRESSING LITTLE BUDDY!” Coach leaned way forward over me reaching his long arms behind me. He lightly bent his legs, reached forward and slipped off his shoes and socks. A warm smell of musky, jock feet crossed my nose. But it wasn't rank, just another pungent smell of ultimate masculinity. I looked straight up and saw each car-sized abdominal muscle hovering 30 feet above me. The valleys in between each ab was so deep they could've served as small canals. Coach leaned back and began to take off his hat and whistle. “Coach, wait!” I shouted. “Um...would...would yo mind leaving the hat and whistle on?” You look like such a huge jock muscle stud with them on!” Coach chuckled deeply. “YOU GOT IT, LITTLE MAN. TELL YOU WHAT, SINCE YOU WERE THE STAR OF THE GAME, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO?” He asked with a smirk. I thought about it for a few exciting seconds. The possibilities I could dream up with him seemed endless. “Um, would you mind setting me on your belly, and then laying down with your hands clasped behind your head? I just want to explore your giant body, Coach!” “MMMMM JACKSON, I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK.” He slowly reached forward and gently lifted me up with his incredible hands. Each finger was a long as I was. For a second I was worried he would accidentally crush me, no doubt he possessed the power to do so. But, he proved to be perfectly gentle, lifting me up with and depositing me on his titanic stomach, right now to the mushroom head of his monster cock. The massive beast had to be 15 feet long now and over four feet in diameter. He smiled as he leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head with a happy smile. His chest pulled up and his massive lats flared out, exposing his DEEP hairy armpits, again sending my sense of smell into overdrive as his sweaty musk permeated the air. Wow. Standing on his abs, I looked left, then right. There was SOOOO much super-developed man flesh spread out in front of me. I noted how his elbows were out so wide they were nearly brushing each side wall of the field house. I began to walk forward, noting the taught hard skin and enormou lumps of abs. I layed down on top of the upper most right side ab and just felt the hard, warm mass underneath me. I couldn't help it as I ground my hard cock into the taught, tough skin. “MMM EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE SO TINY I CAN FEEL THAT, JACKSON. FEELS GOOD.” I got back up and walk up to the shelf of his pecs. I traipsed over to his right nipple, the size of a beach ball and began to knead and punch it. Suddenly the ground below began to tremble. “OH DAMN, JACKSON, FUCK! MY NIPPLES ARE SO SENSITIVE. YOU'RE MAKING ME LEAK!” I glanced being me and sure enough, the huge cock head was dripping pre into a kiddle-pool sized puddle on his abs. After playing with his nipple I climbed up onto his pecs, now allowing me to see Coach's handsome face with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of a tiny man exploring him. “Wow, Coach, your pectorals are so massive I could build a house on each one! I can see each sinewy fiber under your tanned skin. Your chest hair is so soft, it's like walking through a wheat field. No one on earth has BIGGER or MORE MAGNIFICENT pecs than, you do, Coach!” I feel the ground rumble underneath me as he moaned deeply from his sternum. I made my way over to his right armpit. I had to step down of his huge pecs. Luckily, his lats were so huge they gave me more than enough shelf to safely walk on. I spread my arms out and let my entire body fall into the warm musky pit. His pit hairs were so soft and comfortable. I ground my face into this pit and again felt Coach moan from pleasure. I saw a shadow cross over me and noticed he had release his left harm from behind his head to reach down and rub his pipeline sized cock. After servicing his pit I climbed back out and up onto his arm. For a muscle lover there was just no way I couldn't explore that arm. The massive ball of biceps and huge meaty triceps. I simply layed down in the relativity small divot between the biceps and triceps on the side of his arm and marvelled at the muscles flanking each side of me. “Coach, no man on earth has biceps like you. There have been proportionally bigger arms in history, but those arms were bolstered by layers and layers of fat. There may have been more ripped biceps in history, but they belonged to skinny little weak men who had zero fat. But no man has the ultimate combination of ripped AND huge, freaky, massive peaked biceps, and feathered triceps like you do. These are the best arms in HISTORY!” Coach growled and the FLEXED his right arm with loud GROWL. The arm underneath me expanded, the skin underneath my body pulled tighter in each direction as it struggled to contain the growing muscle. I watch as his already mounded biceps began to push higher...and higher! At my tiny size the split in his peaks was big enough to rest my leg inside! “FUCKKKK YEAH JACKSON. LOOK AT THOSE COLLOSAL ARMS. ARMS SO HUGE THAT YOU TINY MEN COULD LIVE IN THEM. ARMS THAT COULD CURL AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER! BICEPS SO MASSIVE AND HARD THAT A WRECKING BALL WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO DENT THEM!” Coached moaned some more and jacked his cock with more fervor. I followed his lead and did the same. “UHHHH JACKSON, LET'S DO THIS. NOW YOU DO ME A FAVOR. STAND UP ON MY CHEST, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, AND GIVE THAT MOST MUSCULAR POSE LIKE YOU DID AT THE GAME!” I walk over and stood on his right pec facing him. His left pec was bunching and and bouncing like crazy as he used his left arm to masturbate. He tilted his handsome face up and opened his deep blue eyes to see me standing on his pec, rising and falling as he took deep breaths. I kept my stance wide to maintain balance. As soon as his eyed made contact with mine, I smirked cockily, back at him. “A most muscular pose, Coach. Like you taught me?” I teased. Coach moaned and jacked harder. I then crouched forward and FLEXED my abs, arms, traps, pecs and legs as hard as I could and GROWLED as loud as tiny man could. “GGGGRRAHHHH COACH! LOOK AT MY MUSCLES THAT YOU HELPED BUILD!” Coach's face scrunched as the loudest moan I had ever heard erupted from his gaping maw. Suddenly I felt a huge stream of wetness fall across my shoulders and back. Coach's massive dick was EXPLODING WITH ORGASM, coating me in his seed. I quickly brought my own hands down and jacked my own rock-hard tumescence, seeing and feeling jet after jet of white Coach jizz shower me and the massive chest surrounding me. I screamed and let out my own powerful orgasm, coating the square footage of his hairy muscle chest in front of me. As I finished, I fell to my knees, and then laid down on the wet, hairy expanse of pectoral in front of me, exhausted. Coach let his arms fall to the side and I fell myself rise as his pecs consequently plumped underneath me from the motion. “DAMN, JACKSON. THAT WAS THE BEST ONE YET. THERE IS NO WAY I'M LETTING THOSE GOVERNMENT BOYS KEEP ME AWAY FROM YOU!” He rumbled, chuckling. “DAMN, NOW I HAVE EVEN MORE OF A MESS TO CLEAN UP!” He joked and as I stood up and laughed with him. Epilogue: Coach did indeed return next week right before the game. Our team dominated the rest of the season and coach was at every game. In December, we brought home the school's very first national championship. There were challenges with a 100 ft Coach, especially for away games, but like any challenge facing him, he met it head on along with the rest of us and came away with full success. Coach, of course, became a national celebrity, using his size to help out wherever he could. Whether it be assisting the fireman or police in rescue missions, cleaning up verhicle accidents or his favorite, helping the city demolish condemned or unwanted buildings. An activity where we really got to show off his size and power to his adoring fans. The university supplied him with sustenance and clothes, although he rarely wore a shirt. His huge body was like a human radiator and even in winter he only required a light tank top to keep warm. The university constructed some living quarters for him off campus in the form of a handful of aircraft hanger size buildings, furnished of course. Along with a massive heated swimming pool to allow him to wash off. Of course, I continued to see Coach during “captain's meetings” throughout the year. Coach had promised that he would stick around to coach the team for at least the next three years, through the end of my playing career before he would decide what the future held for him. Even without being able to properly workout with weight, Coach continued to slowly grow in musculature, aided by his nearly naked body constantly absorbing energy from the sun and his daily workouts consisting of various body weight movements. The only question that remained, was Coach truly done growing, or was there a power source out there strong enough to cause another doubling of his size? Only the future could tell.
So I started writing this on another site and was convinced to post it here too. It will not be everyone's cup of tea, but hey, I think it's hot! This story will not nearly be as long as my last either, which is fine by me. We'll get to the action much quicker. ************************************************ Chapter 1: Recruited I’ll never forget the first time I met Coach in person. It was February of my senior year of high school and I had just arrived home from my after school workout. As I walked in the door there he was, sitting at my kitchen table, chatting with my parents. I had exchanged a few emails and phone calls with him in the past couple of weeks, but to meet him in person was an especially exciting event. Not just because he was a local celebrity and one of the most sought after young college football coaches in the country, but because of the opportunities he brought with him. But first, let me back up. The previous Fall, I enjoyed a surprisingly successful football season, racking up several accolades and honors. All of a sudden I was soon receiving some recruiting interest from the smaller universities in our region. This was all very surreal to me as never in my life did I think I, Mason Jackson, was good enough to extend my football playing career past high school. Not only did I question my own skill, but I played of the smaller high school in our state, which don’t tend to get the type of exposure needed to get recruited to the bigger schools. Even then, I thought I was too small to play college ball, being only 5 ft 10 but a solid 175 lbs. Granted, I played defensive back, which are always the smallest guys on any football field. The position I play is out in the backfield, which is mostly open space. Primarily, my job is to keep the faster players from the offense from catching passes. So being smaller, faster, quicker and more agile was an advantage for my position compared to the big, lumbering beasts who played at the line of scrimmage. Regardless, thanks to my own high school coaches, my name had gotten out there for the college coaches to review. It was exciting to receive the attention I was getting even though it was mostly from smaller universities. Of course, my parents were thrilled that I now had a chance to attend a school on scholarship. Being a straight A-student, I was already in line for some financial assistance, but a full-ride athletic scholarship was not something I was going to squander. But no offer was more exciting than the one I received for Biltoft University. Bilthoft University was the major college in our area of the state. It was located in a college town about 50 miles from my home. It was a smaller major, private university that was heavily invested in academics. Over the decades it had built up a reputation as being one of the top academic universities outside of the Ivy League. Of course, being our local university, I had grown up following all the Biltoft sports teams, along with the majority of my family and friends. The men's sports teams were known as the Brutes. The Bilthoft Brutes. While most of Brute teams experienced average levels of success, for most of my life the Brute football program had a sad existence. Apparently, the football team was quite good for about a 15-year era in the 60’s and 70’s but then went into a dark period for about three decades. During this time it was common for the team to only win two or three games per year and there were even a couple of winless seasons in that mix. During this period, the university powers-that-be invested very little into the success of the football program. Most of the school's resources were directed o expanding the academic profile of the school. At its heart, being an institute of learning, this certainly wasn't a bad thing and it contributed geatly to the school's academic profile. With this philosphy, Biltoft had even become one of the top universities in the world for its research in particle and quantum physics. So, while no one could really argue that a school shouldn’t spend most of its money on academics, it wasn't being realized that a lot of extra potential revenue was being missed that even a mediocre football program can generate. Revenue that could then be used for both athletic and academic improvements. So, as a result the football program languished for nearly three decades. Since Bilthoft was so heavily focused on academics, many of the football players recruited during this time were, well, nerds as well. Basically the university took in any smart high school football players they could get, regardless of skill level. For three decades the school's mascot was never more ironic. The Brutes, the hulking, muscular mascot betrayed the frail and weak (by college football standards) players on the Brute football team. During this time the university's squad picked up a derisive nickname, the “Bilthoft Boobs.” Although no one knew it at the time, the future of the school would forever change in the late 90’s when it recruited a tall, wiry, hardworking local linebacker named Mitchell Wood. Like most of the school's recruits at that time, young Mitch was virtually unknown. Mitch Wood's main intention was to attend Bilthoft for a biochemistry degree. He was of course, very intelligent, 4.0 GPA, valedictorian of his class you name it. He was a good player in high school, but did nothing that would indicate the star player he would develop into. After his college career, in various interviews Mr. Wood would talk about how most of his success could be traced back to when he really discovered the weight room his freshmen year. As he progressed through his four years at Bilthoft he lifted intensely and developed into one of he best defensive players not only in the school's history, but in the entire country. His startling physical development, combined with his impeccable intelligence, helped him become a beast on and off the football field. He set many of the Brute defensive and weightlifting records and still holds many of those records even to this day. There was even talk that, if he had been on a better football team, he could have been a contender for the Heisman trophy. By his junior year, he had NFL scouts chomping a the bits to draft him. The star Brute player had even led the team to its first bowl game appearance in 21 years. But, alas, halfway through his senior, Mitch Wood was felled by the all to common ACL injury. He still could potentially have rehabbed himself in time for that year's NFL draft and that was his original plan. However, he fell in love with the idea of coaching while sidelined with injury. He elected to forego the draft to the disappointment of many agents and finish out his college career to get his biochemistry degree, which he did that spring. The following year Mitchell Wood took a position at a local high school teaching chemistry and, of course, coaching the school's football team. His impact was immediate. His teams continuously improved and in just a few short years developed a new high school dynasty, even winning multiple state championships. Back at the University, soon after his time at Bilthoft had ended, Mr. Wood's impact was still being felt. Having had one of the the best players on the country leading the team to even moderate success had begun to weigh on the university's board. The younger members of the board began to realize how a successful athletics program can actually compliment the school's academic profile and not hinder it. The new revenue that Mr. Wood helped generate was a catalyst that began to weigh on the minds of the board. It was just a couple of years after Mr. Wood had left that program began to regress again and so the board decided to take action. They fired the football coach in search of a new direction. Of course, still being a relatively low-tier football program, the school knew they would not be able to bring in any high profile coaches. Thus, they decided to take a risk and hired Mitchell Wood, the formal Brute star and high school coaching phenom, to be the new coach at the tender age of 27. Coach Wood was absolutely thrilled to take over the position at his alma-mater and graciously accepted. Much like his high school teams, he quickly turned the Brute football program around. As a man hugely into weightlifting, he immediately revamped the team's strength and conditioning program. He was unusual in college football in that he assumed the shared role of head coach and also strength and conditioning coach. Very soon the brainy jocks on the field began to look bigger, faster, stronger and harder. After a 1-11 season the year before, Coach Wood led his first collegiate team to a 7-5 season and its first bowl game since he played. It was a stunning turnaround for modern college football. In just one year the average weight of a Brute football player increased by a full 25 lbs of solid muscle! It wasn't long before the school lost it's derisive moniker and soon the players were being known as the “Built Brutes”, a fun play on words that perfectly reflected the physiques underneath the Brute jerseys. His second season the team went 9-4, earning the school's first top 25 ranking in four decades. The third season they played for a conference championship and in his fourth season the Brute football program brought back its first conference championship trophy in FIVE decades! His stratospheric rise then led his teams to back-to-back 11-2 season and top 10 rankings. Unsurprisingly, with his meteoric rise to success many of the historic powerhouse football schools clamored to hire him away from Bilthoft. But, every year coach rebuffed their offers, saying he owed everything to the Brutes and that the now 33-year old coach was happy to build a new powerhouse football program, further endearing himself to the Bilthoft institutional family. What was even more surprising regarding the team's success was that Coach Wood kept with the schools proclivity to recruit the most intelligent players to maintain the school's high academic status. With the recent success on the field, the athletic profile of the average Brute recruit rose as well, but Coach had a knack for finding diamonds in the rough. The highly intelligent, but ultimately undeveloped players for which he considered himself to be when we first recruited out of high school. And so, this philosophy led Mitchell Wood to my kitchen table one winter day. He saw me walk into the kitchen and I immediately froze in star-struck awe. Even though I had been exchanging messages with him I had no idea he was coming to my house. He stood up and up and turned to face me and offered his hand in greeting. “It's nice to meet you, Mason.” Other than his celebrity, the man was simply overwhelming. From seeing him on TV I knew he was a big, burly man. But seeing him in person really illustrated that point. He had to be 6 ft 5 in, maybe 6 ft 6 in tall. He must've had a late growth spurt because I thought he was listed as a couple of inches shorter during his playing days. The other thing that astounded me was his muscularity. He was not just big like many ex players, he was still very buff! I knew he was a seriously lifter from researching his history once he started contacting me. I had found out that he had even competed in some amateur bodybuilding contests back when he was just out of college. With some internet digging you can even find a few photos of him flexing up on stage from about a decade ago, looking huge, jacked, tanned and shredded. But now, the man in front of me was even bigger and more powerful than the young man in those photos. He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt (the team's colors) with the Brute logo, a “B” with two cartoon biceps flexing on each side, plastered over his overdeveloped chest muscles. The tight blue polo was tucked into tan khaki slacks which were also tight due to his muscled glutes, quads and hamstrings. Not to mention that he seemed to be very well developed in the crotch as well. The man seemed to have it all. He had hugely muscular arms with a pencil thick cephalic vein running over his biceps and vascular forearms. It looked like with one accidental flex he would burst the seams of his polo. He was in fantastic shape. He had the type of build that suggested he could still compete in bodybuilding with just a few weeks of dieting and conditioning. His head was topped off with matching white baseball cap, his signature accessory, also with the Brute logo on the front. Being straight, I still couldn't deny that he was an amazingly handsome man with a rugged visage and chiseled jawline. He had a dark fu-manchu mustache which complimented the deep dark brown sideburns that stretched down from under his hat, framing his face. The fu-manchu added to his intimidating presence, but once he smiled warmly and shook my hand, I saw there was no reason to fear. “Nice to meet you, Mason. I'm Mitchell Wood, but I hope you'll call me 'Coach'”. I shook his huge hand which seemed to swallow up my own. I could feel the scratchy callouses on his palm, no doubt built up from years of gripping the knurling on weightlifting bars. His voice suited him perfectly, it was deep, rumbling and masculine. “It's nice to meet you Mr. Wood,” I began. “I'm a bit surprised you have expressed so much interest in me.” He chuckled down at me and gave me another friendly smile. “I see you are modest too. I have been watching your high school tapes and I am very impressed. You were a special player to your team, a great on-field leader. I fully believe I can help you develop that and that you would be a great asset to our program.” He was very charming too. This guy was the complete package, the perfect man. “Son, I am here to formally offer you a invitation to play for the Bilthoft Brutes.” I committed to play for the Brutes right there on the spot. *********************************************************** Chapter 2: A New Season I was seated in a large room with about 75 of my football playing peers early the following August. It was still three weeks before school officially began but the athletic teams were allowed to move onto campus early for practices. The room was abuzz with excitement as we waited. Finally, the coaches began walking in and stood at the front of the room. Coach Wood, stood front and center wearing what I would soon discover was his trademark outfit. On his feet he was wearing large white sneakers. Even from afar I could tell he had very big feet, I'm guessing at least size 15. The bottoms of his legs were covered with white athletic tube socks. The socks came up to encircle to the largest diameter of his massive, protruding calf muscles. Traveling up from his calves his muscularity and pulchritude became more and more evident. The lower half of his exposed, striated legs were covered by thin dark hair. Above his knees coach's quadriceps exploded outward in relief, the heavy muscle of his thighs so large that they threatened to cover up his kneecaps. This was clearly a man that had focused on squats and deadlifts to build up those tree trunk legs. A few inches higher coach was wearing mid-thigh length khaki shorts. I suspected the reason coach opted for short khakis was as utilitarian as it was aesthetic. The short shorts allowed his massive legs the freedom to move with causing much chafing, but it also gave his adoring fans a chance to ogle some of the beefiest legs you can imagine. Upward still, the legs of the shorts joined at the crotch where a sizable bulge was unmistakable. Coach was certainly a man whose large stature was in proportion everywhere. Above the shorts Coach was in his typical shirt. A tight, light grey, light fabric t-shirt that had “COACH” printed on the front chest in large block letters. His heaving pectorals were so large that the middle of the shirt was sucked into his muscled cleavage, thus slightly distorting the word “COACH”. Hanging just in front of those beefy muscle pillows was Coach's whistle, the noise of which we would soon become well acquainted to. Due to his tremendous bulk, the t-shirt was tight everywhere else too. Well, except at his waist. Our new coach obviously made an effort to keep his bodyfat relatively low. Further up, on the sides of his chest and under his arms his lat muscles pulled the fabric outward whenever he extended his arms or stood with his fists on his hips. Even further up, you couldn't help to be amazed at his arms. We all knew coach was a bodybuilder in his former years and his arms certainly led credence to that fact. They were enormous and sinewy, each with that large cephalic vein prominently sticking out over his unflexed arms. And you certainly couldn't ignore the huge meaty mass of his triceps hanging from the bottom of his arm, adding to his arms' intense size. I longed to see what his arms looked like when flexing. On top of his chest stood his fire-hydrant neck, framed by two huge triangular trapezoid muscles. On top of his neck sat his amazingly handsome, rugged face with his classic fu-manchu mustache and matching side burns. Completing the outfit he wore a white ball cap with a large blue “B” with two flexing arms, the logo for our Brute football program. As we settled down Coach began to speak. “Men, welcome to another year at Bilthoft! I look around this room and I see champions. Some of you may still be champions are in the making, but you all have what it takes to succeed. ARE YOU READY FOR A NEW SEASON!” The room erupted in hoots and hollers from all the players, the room was buzzing with competitive testosterone. The coach raised his hands to silence his players and then went down the line and introduced us all to the various position coaches. In general, each player would only be working with one or two of these position coaches plus the head coach during practices. “Ok boys, head to the locker and suit up for our first practice!” One of the seniors sitting in the front row piped up before anybody moved. “YO, COACH! YOU GOTTA SHOW THE NEW GUYS!” Coach grinned at the senior lineman who had addressed them. “Show them what, Jamal?” “C'mon Coach. Every year you end the first meeting showing us those huge GUNS of yours! It looks like you've been lifting even harder since spring practice ended. IT'S TRADITION, COACH!” Laughs and snickers could be heard throughout the room. Coach and his assistants were chuckling too. It was easy to tell why everybody loved Coach. Off the field he was a very easy going, playful, charming, and endeared himself to almost anybody he met. “Well, Jamal, I upped my caloric intake in the past couple of months and switched my lifting routine around a bit to see if I could put on some more mass. You guys have all been getting bigger so I decided I needed to put on some size too. Need to you keep you fella's in your place, haha.” Coach began bending and unbending his arms at his sides, smirking at Jamal as he spoke. “I've put a solid inch on these pythons, can yo believe that?” “Shit yeah Coach! You are looking monstrous. C'mon show 'em to us. You've got the ball cap with the flexing arms, all us upper-classmen consider your first meeting flex to be the real start to the football season!” Sheepishly, Coach replied, “Well, I don't know, Jamal, maybe we need a new tradition...” The room noise began to grow as the players protested playfully. Coach was toying with us all and we knew it. Catcalls, whistles and claps poured out from the crowd of jacked up young men: “Show us, Coach!” “Let's see it.” “I don't think your arms are any bigger!” “Flex 'em big guy!” Coach chuckled at looked at the ground with his hands on his hips. He loved that his huge powerful body was such a motivator for his players. "Well, boys, let's go suit up and have a great practice. I think this is going to be a special year. Work hard out there on the field, lift hard in the gym, study hard in the classroom and big things will come, and do you know why, boys?... … BECAUSE WE ARE THE BILTHOFT BRUTES!” Coach suddenly raised both arms into a herculean double-biceps pose. The enormous mass of his biceps exploded upward seriously testing the fabric of his tight, grey t-shirt sleeves. The huge hamlike muscles of his triceps simultaneously pulled the shirt downward, filling the tortured sleeves with pounds and pounds of muscle. His biceps were freaky! They looked like they belonged on a champion pro-bodybuilder, the peaks were amazing! The room exploded in a masculine frenzy of cheers as we all admired our colossally buff coach and also hyped ourselves up for our first practice. Coach finally lowered his arms, “OK boys, time for practice!” As we dressed for practice the upper classmen couldn't stop talking about coach. “Holy cow, bro! His arms were HUGE! He's always been jacked but I can't believe he put on even more muscle since we last saw him.” “Shit, bros, I hope he trains us like he trained himself, I would love to put on some more beef too!” I knew Coach was big and buff, but the last time I saw him in person he was in slacks and a polo shirt. Of course, I didn't see him flex when he recruited me so I didn't have much to judge by. I took my teammates at their word that coach was even bigger now. That first week of practice was one of the hardest weeks of my life. Coach worked our asses off. Even though he was so huge and intimidating and could've easily used fear to whip us into shape, he was such a great motivator that the thought of disappointing him was enough to make us give him 110%. Of course, that didn't stop him from yelling like a terrifying beast when he was displeased. But, there was never any threat of physical violence, he truly was like our huge, intense football father out there on the field. In the afternoons we would lift weights with our team unit. That is, for me, I lifted with all the other defensive backs. As coach was the strength coach as well, we was right there with us to teach us proper technique and push us to lift heavier and heavier weights. Since the outdoor practice in the hot summer sun usually left his grey t-shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his lumpy muscles, he usually changed into a sleeveless shirt for the lifting session. This of course fully exposed those ENORMOUS arms. Once we were done lifting, the seniors again couldn't help egging him on about his huge pythons. Matt, the starting senior safety and captain of the defensive backs, always seemed to be the instigator of our group. “Damn, coach! How big did you get over the summer?” he asked. Coach just laughed at his players. Since the defensive backs were the smallest guys on the team, Coach towered over all of us and was also far more muscular. “Oh, Matt, about the same size, I guess, haha. 6 ft 6, just like always!” Coach teased. “Ah, C'mon coach you know what I mean. How much do you weigh now big man?” Now that our lifting session was over we gathered around to hear Coach out. “Well, Matt, let's go see.” We followed him over to the electronic scale that was in the corner of the weight room. Coach stepped up on it and we all watched the small screen as the numbers were calculated. “Well, little men, it looks like I'm up to 305 pounds!” “DAMN COACH! YOU ARE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Coached just stepped off the scale and looked down at us proudly. “That's what, another 25 lbs since last winter, right?” Matt asked. “Yep, Matt. I told you this new routine has really been helping me grow. It's the same routine I got all you on right now, so I expect the same result from all of you! I want to see all of you put on 25 lbs by the end of the season, GOT IT BOYS?” “YES SIR!” We all shouted in unison. However, Matt still wasn't satisfied. “Hey, Coach one more thing, you said you put a solid inch on those canons, how big are they now?” Coach just chuckled down as his senior captain. “Bigger than yours, Matty. Bigger than yours.” Matt, however, knew just how to play to Coach's competitive side. “Yeah I figured they gotta be like 20 inches or so. I mean, they didn't look very big last winter.” Coach smirked and stepped right up to Matt, who, at 5 ft 11, only came up to Coach's chin. “You think these monsters are only 20's?” “Yeah Coach, can't be that big, haha. Maybe 21s, but surely no more,” Matt grinned back. Coach chuckled and walked over to a bench press station that still had 225 lbs loaded on the bar. He grabbed the bar and quickly performed ten perfect barbell curls and set the bar down. He made it look like he may as well have been curling a broomstick. The peaks up his arms exploded in size as he curled a weight that many of us struggled to bench press, pumping them and filling them with nutrient rich blood. “Hey, Jackson,” Coach turned to look right at me. “Why don't you grab that tape measure hanging by the scale and we'll see how good a judge of size Matt here is.” Since I was closest to the scale, I turned and saw the tape measure that he was referring to hanging on the wall. I grabbed it walked over to Coach. “Why don't we measure Matt's guns here first.” Matt laughed. He was one of those cool, relaxed guys who had virtually no shame so he cheerfully stepped up to the plate. “Sure, Coach, but don't feel sorry when my huge guns make yours look like pipe-cleaners!” I walked up to Matt and he raised his right arm, gritted his teeth and flexed his bicep as hard as he could. I wrapped the tape around his arm, which for his size was quite impressive. I announced the number as 16.5 inches. Certainly not huge, but he had very little fat so it was a solid measurement. Coach patted him on the back. “Not to shabby Matt. Nice job. Ok, Jackson, why don't you do the honors and measure this little pipe-cleaner right here.” Coach stepped up to me and FLEXED his enormous arm right in front of the me. Gasps and whispers emanated from the other defensive backs as we watched the huge lump of muscle surge upward. I froze for a second, partially in fear and partially from awe, before stepping up to Coach with the tape. I placed one end of the tape on the very peak on his biceps and held it with my finger. It felt like pressing on warm granite. His arm was so huge that my hands looked like a toddlers as I wrapped a tape around his arms. I pulled the tape tight and read the result. “Just a hair under 24 inches.” “HOLY SHIT COACH!” Another stunned teammate shouted. “Those are like, pro-bodybuilder size arms! And your arms aren't fat, they're fucking jacked!” Coach dropped his arm and stood up proudly in front his players. “Well, Matt, it looks like you need to do a few more curls before you can match these babies! But, seriously, gentlemen, great lifting session today. Now after you shower make sure you head to cafeteria to refuel your spent muscles, otherwise you won't grow. Then rest up and we'll see you all tomorrow. Great job my little Brutes!” During that first week on campus it also became apparent just how popular Coach was outside of the athletic department. We all knew he was a smart guy and he could often be seen eating lunch with the scientists in the physics laboratory. It was quite a site to see, this huge, herculean man eating lunch with short, skinny, nerdy looking scientists. And they genuinely all got along. One time when I was in physics lab I overheard him speaking with this scientist friends and he was able to converse with them even at their own level of quantum physics technobabble, language that went right over my head. At that moment it really sank in just how intelligent Coach really was. About a week before our first game something happened on campus that would forever change the dynamic of Bilthoft University. School had just started and so campus was now full of students. While I was sleeping in my dorm on Monday morning my room suddenly rattled. At first I thought it was an earthquake but then I remembered those are quite rare here in the midwest. About 15 minutes later my phone buzzed with an automatic text message from the university: [Students. There has been a minor explosion at the physics lab. The University is still investigating but thankfully we do not believe there have been any major injuries. Please stay away from the physics lab as we continue to investigate and clean up.] Of course, as soon as I read this I ran outside, as did most of my dorm mates, and walked over the physics building. The campus police had already ran some yellow tape around the building and were keeping us all at a safe distance. We could see there seemed to be a small blowout of one of the outer brick walls and fireman were milling about. We soon realized that, as the message had stated, it seemed like true disaster had been diverted. That afternoon I received another automatic text message from the football coach's account, telling us to meet in the team meeting room before practice today. The team filled in the small auditorium, wondering what the occasion might be. The offensive coordinator, Assistant coach Harvey, an older 45 year old man, walked into the middle of the room. We were all wondering where the head coach was. “Gentlemen, I have some unfortunate news. Now, before I set you in panic, know that Coach Wood is doing well. Unfortunately, he was in the physic lab this morning when the explosion occurred. I don't have all the details, but the scientists and the doctors have been monitoring his condition as a precaution. I have been told that there is no reason to worry at this point. As such he will not be at practice today. I will be leading practice. I want you all to work harder than ever had to make Coach proud when he hopefully returns tomorrow.” All the players took that to heart and we really did try our best at practice. But, there certainly was a bit of somberness among the entire team. We couldn't help but feel at least a little bit worried about our beloved Coach's condition. Of course, for the rest of the day, the local news media was all over the story and had gotten wind that coach was involved. As the speculation ran rampant, it certainly didn't help with our anxieties. The following day my roommate, also on the football team as a wide receiver, and I went to class still wondering about the fate of our coach. Later in the morning we received another team message: [Practice will begin at it's normal time. Coach Wood is doing well and will be in attendance] Instantly we all felt better and looked forward to having Coach back on the field with us. No doubt we were all curious as to just what happened in the physics lab, as the details from the local news was still spotty. Later that afternoon the team had gathered in the locker room to change into our practice gear. I was chatting happily with my defensive back buddies, talking about how we couldn't wait to see Coach. We were speculating if we was even going to be able to participate or if he was just going to watch while he recovered from his injuries. Facing my locker, I had just pulled up my jockstrap and football pants when the locker room grew quiet. Suddenly I felt a large presence near me. This was not uncommon, as many of the guys on the team were in excess of 6 ft 5 and 300 lbs, but this felt different. I turned to look at my locker neighbor, Derrick, “Yo, Derrick, why is everyone so quite all of a sudden?” I glanced at his face a saw his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, staring upward at something behind me. I slowly turned around and saw one of the most incredible sights of my life. There was Coach, standing a couple of feet behind me, in the middle of the locker room. He had his hands on his hips, with his elbows flared out in that quintessential superman pose. Coach was...big. I mean, even bigger than he was before. WAY BIGGER. I now understood why the room was silent. Coach allowed us all to take him in...and there was A LOT to take in. He had a cocky smirk on his face as he looked out around the locker room and saw all his players staring way up at him. Since he was standing right near me I took note of the true size of this man. I was standing straight up and noticed that my eyes were just about even with the waistband of his khaki shorts! Coach has GROWN! That meant that his legs alone were now almost as tall as I was! And Coach had of course retained his immense musculature. At his new size he probably now had more muscle in one of these meaty thighs than my entire body! My eyes followed his torso upward. He was wearing his typical tight coach shirt, tucked into the relatively small waistband on his coach shorts. From my vantage point down below I could actually see the underside of his heaving, fabric covered pectorals. His flared elbows and monstrous arms we now well above my head as well. I actually had to step back just slightly to see his face, which at close range was obscured by his muscled chest. Finally my eyes gazed upon his ruggedly handsome face and ballcap covered head. I noticed his head was right near the light fixture hanging from the high ceiling. He was a towering colossus of dense muscle. Being this close to him I had never felt so small in my life. A shocked murmer began to roll through the locker room as the players began to regain their speech functions. I heard several shocked phrases from my teammates: “Holy Shit!” “He's fucking HUGE!” “Look at the size of his arms! His chest is massive!” Finally Coach spoke, “Gentlemen, once you are dressed, please meet me in the auditorium for a quick team meeting!” With his new size his already deep rumbling voice was even lower. You could practically feel his voice vibrating in your chest. After he spoke he slowly turned and sauntered out of the locker room, having to hunch over to exit out the 8 ft tall doors, leaving his stunned team behind to finish dressing. Once he was gone Derrick and I shared a look. He spoke first, “Holy shit, Bro! Coach was already a big guy, now he's a GIANT!” The entire team quickly dressed and we made our way into the team meeting room. Coach was standing up front, dwarfing the assistant coaches. One we had all filed in coach spoke up. “Gentlemen, as you know, yesterday there was incident at the physics lab. Dr. Martin, the quantum physics researcher was showing me around the lab when we both heard a lout explosion. The next thing I know this weird green energy beam is blasting me right in the chest and rubble is all around me. Dr. Martin thankfully was able to quickly shut off the energy beam generator. Dr. Martin and the fireman rushed me to the hospital just to make sure I was ok while the fire department cleaned up the destruction. While at the hospital it became apparently that my clothes and I were, well, growing. Once my growth had stabilized the docs checked me out and allowed me to head home. Dr. Martin is going to continue to monitor me to make sure there are no adverse reactions to the that quantum laser beam that blasted me so there is no reason for further worry. Men, I am still your Coach, I'm just a bit bigger now.” One of the senior lineman couldn't resist replying. “A bit bigger, Coach? You are a GIANT!” The room erupted in laughter, and the coach just smiled handsomely. “How tall are you now?” “Haha, you lineman are always so obsessed with stats. Well, little men, as of last night your big coach was measured at 9 ft 10 in tall!” Coach proudly puffed up with massive chest as he announced his new stat. He obviously was enjoying his new stature as much as we were. The lineman couldn't contain his awe. “DAMN COACH! You gotta show us, Coach.” “Show you what?” Coach cockily grinned. The lineman replied, “C'mon Coach! You know what we want to see. Especially at your new size. Let's see 'em!” My teammates were now hooting and hollering up to our leader, showering him with encouragement. The giant man at the front of the room gave us a sheepishly look. “Alright men, let's go out there and have a great practice today. Work your little asses off, give me everything you've got. WE ARE THE BILTHOFF BRUTES!” Coach quickly brought up with arms into the most gargantuam double-biceps pose in the world. The sleeves of his strained shirt retreated upwards into the gap between the peaks of the muscle and his boulder like deltoids. At his new size his there was no doubt he had the biggest, buffest arms on the planet. We knew it was going to be a great practice. ************************************************ Hope you like!
Previously: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12573-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-1-2/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12587-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-3/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12662-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-4/ https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12823-the-giant-football-coach-chapter-5/ Sorry for the slow continuation, summer is a busy time! Chapter 6: The Press The next morning my buddies and I gathered with interest around our computers to watch Coach's first press conference since he grew to gigantic proportions. Normally these pre-game press conferences were fairly bland. Lot's of boring discussion full of coach-speak on how we will stop our opponent's offense and break through their defense, along with updates on the health of the players. However, obviously today would be very different. The live stream cut in and loud buzz could be heard. Obviously there were far more reporters there than usual as word had leaked out that something extraordinary had happened to our captain. Instead of taking place in the media room in the athletic offices, in which Coach would obviously not fit, the feed kicked on showing the field house. In the background I could make out Coach's living corner, complete with crude, gigantic wooden benches and a bunch of mattresses spread out on the ground. After a couple of minutes the Dean walked up to the podium and began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us. As many of you know, there was an accident on campus earlier this week in the physic lab. Thankfully there were no major injuries but one of our staff was affected by the incident. As I'm sure many of you heard that person was our beloved Coach Wood. I can assure everyone that Mr. Wood is in fine condition...” the Dean paused before continuing “...in fact, he may be in better condition than anyone. Before we bring him in to speak with you I have invited the head of the physics department, Dr. Phillip Martin, to explain the situation in more detail. Dr. Martin if you would.” Dr. Martin made his way up to the podium and explained what happened to the best of his knowledge. He started off explaining how a crossed electrical wire sparked a small fire and an explosion. He continued explaining, “...during the small explosion which severely damaged much of our equipment, our prototype ionic photon accelerator beam escaped containment. The beam itself is invisible to the naked eye and so Mr. Wood unknowingly stumbled into the path of the beam as he was rushing to our aid after the explosion. I witnessed Mr. Wood fall to the floor unconsciously as soon as he cross into the beam. Thankfully we were able to shutdown the beam immediately and administer to Mr. Wood. He regained consciousness very quickly and seemed to be fine. As you all know he was taken to the hospital as a precaution. Several reporters' hands flew up and they began to shout questions. “What were the effects of the energy beam?” “Is Mr. Wood going to be able to coach the team on Saturday?” “Is there any danger to any of the players?” Dr. Martin raised his arms to indicate he was requesting silence. Once the room had settled enough Dr. Martin spoke again, “The Dean has only brought me here to discuss the accident. I will answer your questions as best as I can. As far as I can tell there is no imminent danger to Mr. Wood or his players. The effects of the energy beam were...extraordinary. We would have surmised that the the energy beam contacting most humans would have been fatal, yet it seems Mr. Woods' body was able to absorb the energy and convert it into normal human tissues. I surmise it was because of Coach Woods' exemplary physical development and strength that he was able to not only withstand the bombardment of energy particles but be able to make use that energy.” Once again the crowd of reporters erupted raising their hands and shouting out questions. “How was Mr. Wood able to use the energy?” “Is the physical threat to Mr. Wood over?” “Please, Mr. Martin, we have reports that Mr. Wood has grown to double his size. Is that true?” Dr. Martin looked over at the Dean who then nodded back to him. “Well, ladies and gentlemen perhaps its best if we allow you to speak with Coach Wood directly. Dr. Martin turned around and looked back toward the garage door at the end of the field house. A roaring silence emanated from the anxious crowd as the camera panned the side to frame the 40 ft. garage door. And then it happened. A titanic figured appeared behind the door, almost as wide as the opening itself and obviously taller. Coach ducked slightly down, his handsome grinning face blessing the crowd of reporter ahead and far, far below him. Gasps and whispers erupted from those in attendance. Coached ducked, stepped through the down and rose up to his full, proud 50 ft. height. He was wearing a huge blue tank top, obviously the theatre costume department had been able to whip something together for him. Even so, there has no hiding his overdeveloped musculature. Technically, the tank would pass as a shirt, but his pecs were so wide his nipples extended past the fabric and were exposed. About the only thing the giant loose tank hid were his rock hard abs. It reminded me of one of those stringer tanks you sometimes see the pro-bodybuilders wearing. And truthfully that's what our football coach looked like: A colossal, off-season, un-shaven professional bodybuilder. His shorts, socks, shoes, baseball cap and whistle still were holding strong, having grown with him. I suspected he wanted to keep these items on as much as he could in case he grew again. Coach continued to smirk down at the awestruck crowd as he slowly sauntered forward. Even on camera I noticed a handful the reporters get up and walk away and he walked toward them, obviously fearing the brutish giant. Coach reached the podium and stood there, letting the crowd and the world take him in, knowing his masculine superiority could never be more evident. Eventually he spoke. “I WOULD CROUCH DOWN AND USE THE MICROPHONE BUT I'M SURE YOU CAN ALL HERE ME JUST FINE WITH MY BOOMING VOICE.” He joked, but could still sense the tension in among the crowd. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET ME ASSURE YOU THAT YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR. I KNOW I WILL HAVE TO BE CAREFUL AT TIMES BUT I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HURTING ANYBODY. I'M STILL THE SAME 'OLE BALL COACH YOU HAVE INTERVIEWED BEFORE, I'M JUST BIGGER,” Coach chuckled and quickly brought up his naked arms into a quick biceps pose. “I DO APOLOGIZE FOR BEING A BIG UNDER DRESSED. IT'S A GOOD THING I'VE GOT NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF, BECAUSE AS YOU CAN GUESS CLOTHING HAS BECOME A PROBLEM.” Coach grinned down at crowed again, “NOT TO SOUND ARROGANT BUT I DON'T THINK ANYBODY WILL HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME SHOWING SOME SKIN EITHER, HEH HEH.” He then crouched down gave the crowd a quick crab pose, all this muscles exploding in sinewy vascularity. He relaxed the pose, smiled warmly and spoke, "WELL DON'T BE SHY, THIS IS A PRESS CONFERENCE. FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS." Finally the crowd began to relax and began to engage him. “Are you still growing?” one reporter asked. Coach glanced down at Dr. Martin and shrugged his massive shoulders. Dr. Martin stepped up to the podium right in front of the coach. The camera zoomed in to Dr. Martin as he spoke who was completely dwarfed by two muscular calf muscles flanking him on each side. “I'm strictly working off of conjecture here, but I believe the beam that struck Mr. Wood altered his physiology to be able to absorb energy from outside sources rather than simply ingesting sustenance, or eating and drinking. I believe Coach Wood's growth has been contingent on the amount of energy his body has absorbed. He grown twice now, first to approximately 25 ft and now to nearly 50 ft.” Gasps again erupted from the crowd as they learned Coach's staggering height. The doc continued, “Coach grew during the end of his football practices. From what I understand he was shirtless both times. Since it was been especially hot this week, I believe Coach Wood's body was able to absorb energy from the sun's rays. When he exercised via push-ups at the end of the practice after soaking in the sun's energy, that extra internal effort was the catalyst for the energy to be transformed into bodily mass, thus causing him to grow.” “But is Mr. Wood still growing!!” one of the reporters jumped up and repeated. “The good new is that every time Mr. Wood grows he will then require more energy for that growth to manifest itself again. Based on the square-cube law and my calculations, Coach Wood has grown so much that he would have to lay outside and bathe in the sun for four to six days straight to absorb enough energy to grow again.” A relieved sigh could be heard from the collective crowd. The camera had zoomed out again to capture most of the coach in view, and he clearly smirked when the crowd learned it was unlikely he would get bigger. “It would take a tremendous amount of energy for Mr. Wood to grow again. He will continue to absorb energy from the sun and various microwaves that permeate our existence but are invisible to the naked eye, but the majority of that energy he will expel through normal activity.” Coach then looked down and added, “ALTHOUGH, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DR. MARTIN AND I BELIEVE SOME OF THAT ENERGY IS STILL BEING TRANSFORMED INTO BODILY MASS. I KNOW MY BODY VERY WELL AND I CAN TELL THAT I AM SLIGHTLY MORE MUSCULAR SINCE I'VE STARTED GROWING.” To demonstrate, Coach looked down at his legs, pointed his feet outward and FLEXED his quads, filling his shorts to the bursting point with giant, dense leg muscle. “THESE SHORTS WERE SLIGHTLY LOOSE A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO, AND NOW MY LEG MUSCLES ARE ABOUT TO TEAR THEM OFF. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY LEG MUSCLES!” Coach cockily grinned and scanned the awestruck crowd who were staring at his freaky legs causing the shorts fabric to be taught, which had the double effect of accentuating his bulge. The female reporters swooned and the men had never felt so insignificant and out-manned in their lives. Coach then stood back up to his full height and brought one arm up into a triumphant single biceps pose. He smiled at the enormous ball of muscle peaking toward the ceiling. “I KNOW MY BICEPS WERE ALREADY MASSIVE, EVEN WHEN I WAS A SHORT GUY AT JUST 6 FT 6, BUT I CAN TELL MY ARMS ARE JUST SLIGHTLY BIGGER, MORE DEFINED AND HARDER!” Coach reached his opposite hand up and proudly rubbed the inhuman ball of muscle, grinning happily the whole time. “Where did you find clothes to fit your giant frame, Mr. Wood!?” another male reporter shouted up to him from far below. Coach relaxed his pose and made eye contact with the reporter. “WE'VE DISCOVERED THAT MY CLOTHES ONLY GROW WITH ME WHEN I'M WEARING THEM, SO I SHOULD PROBABLY STOP FLEXING MY MASSIVE THIGHS TO KEEP THESE SHORTS INTACT AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. I ALREADY LOST MY SHIRT, BUT THE THEATRE DEPARTMENT HAS STEPPED UP AND CREATED THIS TINY TANK TOP FOR ME. WE SINCERELY APPRECIATE THEIR EFFORTS IN HELPING KEEP ME CLOTHED." Dr. Martin spoke into the microphone once again. “We aren't completely sure the mechanisms for why the Coach's clothes grew with him. Perhaps the close proximity or even his sweat permeating his clothes is what allowed them to grow as well. Frankly, this is completely uncharted territory and we are very much learning as we go. Thankfully Coach Wood has been very cooperative in letting us monitor him.” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME IS SPECTACULAR, BUT LET'S TRY TO REMEMBER THERE IS A FOOTBALL GAME ON SATURDAY,” he spoke, now trying to steer the conversation toward the team. It was a valiant effort, but I suspected it wouldn't last long. A few the area sports reporters were able to refocus and began asking the normal questions on the health of the team. Such as which players to watch for, who's injured, etc. I was thrilled when he mentioned me, “I THINK EVERYONE IS GOING TO BE SURPRISED BY MASON JACKSON, A FRESHMEN CORNERBACK. I THINK HE'S GOING TO BE VERY SPECIAL IN THE YEARS TO COME, POTENTIALLY EVEN AND NFL PLAYER.” I was floored when he said this, did I really have that much potential? Soon another reporter asked, “Mr. Wood, will you be coaching from the sideline this weekend?” “OF COURSE I WILL, WHY WOULDN'T I?” The little reporter seems to shirk in fear at seemingly being rebuked. He added, “Well, Sir, I was just wondering if you still even fit in the coach's box on the side of the field and I-” He stammered before smiled and cut him off. “OH YES I SEE. YES, LITTLE MAN, I WILL BE ABLE TO FIT IN THE COACH'S BOX. ALSO, WE HAVE VERIFIED WITH THE NCAA THAT I WILL NOT BE BREAKING ANY RULES BY BEING SO...MASSIVE. IN FACT IT WILL BE A BIT OF HINDRANCE FOR OUR TEAM. MY VOICE IS SO LOUD AND BOOMING IT WILL BE DIFFICULT TO COMMUNICATE WITHOUT ALLOWING THE OPPOSING COACHES TO HEAR. THANKFULLY, WE DO USE MANY HAND SIGNALS. BUT, OUR AUDIO DEPARTMENT IS ALSO WORKING ON A MICROPHONE THAT I CAN WEAR AND WHISPER INTO.” Coach then looked right at the tiny camera at the back of the room and addressed the team's fans. “I'M ASKING OUR FANS TO BE LOUDER THAN EVER TO HELP MASK MY CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FELLOW COACHES AND PLAYERS! HELP US OUT, BRUTE NATION!” Coach punctuated this statement with a colossal most-muscular pose, filling the frame of the camera shot with huge manly muscle. “I DO FEEL SORRY FOR THE FANS WHO HAVE SEATS BEING ME. MY ENORMOUSLY WIDE BACK MUSCLES ARE PROBABLY GOING TO BLOCK MUCH OF THE VIEW OF THE FIELD. I WILL TRY TO STAND IN DIFFERENT LOCATIONS DURING THE GAME IN AN EFFORT TO ALLOW EVERYONE BEING TO SEE AS MUCH OF THE GAME AS THEY CAN.” Of course this action once again steered the questions toward Coach's development. Another reporter, whom I instantly recognized as the weaselly man from the Channel 11 news, the one who had been bothering me and my teammates, Chet Howard, spoke up, “Just how strong are you, Mr. Wood. Do you think you might be a danger to society?” Coach spotted the little man who asked him the question. He had his hands on his hips in a powerful relaxed pose. The side of his mouth curled up into a half grin. “I WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM, BUT I WILL DEFEND MYSELF AND MY PLAYERS. BUT, TELL YOU WHAT, MR. HOWARD, WHY DON'T YOU FOLLOW ME OUTSIDE AND I'LL WILL SHOW YOU HOW POWERFUL I AM.” Coach then stepped around the podium and slowly sauntered to the opposite end of the field house. I noticed a reporter near the edge of he crowd, close to where Coach was walking, shifting nervously in his chair as our captain's massive sneakers planted on the ground next to him. The camera shifted over to view Coach Wood smirking down across his shoulder at the nervous crowd far below. Once he had passed the crowd and was out of the view the reporters themselves then got up and followed after him. The camera field we were watching was suddenly cut off. My roommate flipped on the local Channel 11 news who also had a live feed running via a shoulder-mounted camera, so we began watching that. The camera turned on to see coach bending over to step outside on the end of he field house that faced the street. The man holding the camera followed and stepped outside into the bright air. Once it had refocused we saw Coach standing on the grass between the field house and the street lined with news vans with his hands on his hips, watching as his little subjects stream outside to watch the events unfold. “I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A STRONG MAN, BUT NOW I'D WOULD SAY THAT IS THE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR, DON'T YOU ALL THINK?” Our leader surveyed the intrigued and nervous crowd below. He picked out and pointed to a reporter. A beautiful, blonde, busty woman that I recognized from the Channel 13 news. “YOU. MS. KING OF 13 NEWS...” Coach winked at her and I suspected that he had previously fooled around with, probably often based on how gorgeous she was. “...WOULD YOU MIND HELPING ME DEMONSTRATE MY STRENGTH?” Vanessa King, the lead reporter at Channel 13, looked around nervously. She was biting her lip, obviously conflicted between her fear and intense lust she was feeling for the sexiest, biggest man on the planet. I wondered if she was also nervous that others might find out that she and coach had been together and jeopardizing her journalistic integrity. Perhaps, though, that was why coach picked her out because he knew she would trust him. She looked up at Coach Wood's hot masculine face, composed herself and stepped forward, standing barely shin high to the huge muscle man in front of her. “Sure, Mr. Wood. How may I help you?” Coach grinned, leaned forward and squatted down. “MISS, IF YOU DON'T MIND I AM GOING TO PICK YOU UP WITH ONE HAND. I PROMISE I WILL BE GENTLE.” I imagine Coach had told her that before in the bedroom before plowing her with the biggest cock she would ever have. Vanessa lifted her arms and Coach reached forward and wrapped his thigh-sized fingers around her torso and slowly lifted her into the air and stood up to chest level. “AND YOU ARE LIGHT AS A FEATHER TO ME, MS. KING. I CAN SEE YOU LOOK NERVOUS.” Coach then softened his voice as much as he could and spoke directly to her, “THERE IS NO REASON TO BE NERVOUS, VANESSA. YOU ARE IN THE SAFEST HANDS IN THE WORLD. WITH ME PROTECTING YOU, NOTHING BAD COULD HAPPEN TO YOUR RIGHT NOW.” With Coach lowering his voice his words came even more sultrily and sexily than anyone could imagine. There was an audible female groan from the other reporters and they absorbed his low rumbling, protective words. Any of the other female reporters would've given anything to switch places with Vanessa King at that moment. Vanessa was breathing heavily but it wasn't from fear so much as lust. Coach knew the effect he had on women and he smirked sexily down at the tiny voluptuous woman in his hand. “AS YOU CAN SEE, I AM MUCH STRONGER AND MORE POWERFUL AND THAN ANY OTHER HUMAN ON THE PLANET, AND IT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE.” Coach flexed his biceps with his opposite arm and the enormous split peak erupted upwards, stretching his skin. “WOULD YOU LIKE COP A FEEL, MA'AM?” Vanessa eyeballed the biceps muscle up and to her left. A muscle so big she could practically live inside it. “Um...yes, sure Coach Wood,” she replied. “OK. JUST REMEMBER I WON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU.” Coach then raised up the excited reporter and set her down on his biceps! She sat with her butt on the peak and her legs dangling over toward the front. “SEE! I AM SO BIG AND MUSCULAR THAT YOU HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE UP THERE, MISS!” “Oh my, yes, Mr. Wood. You are certainly an impressive man. Your biceps feel like warm stone underneath me!” We could see that Ms. King was shivering, either from excitement, lust, or a fear of heights, possibly all three. “OK, THANK YOU MS. WOOD. I WILL SET YOU BACK DOWN NOW. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING ME.” “Oh, it was my utmost pleasure!” Vanessa replied excitedly as Coach gently grabbed and set her back on the ground. “SINCE THAT WAS SO, EASY, I DON'T THINK THAT WAS THE BEST DISPLAY HOW TRULY STRONG I AM.” Coach then turned and stepped over toward the street, leaned down and gingerly picked up a news van! He put one hand on the front and one on the back and lifted it up to chest level. We could see was the Action 5 news van. The crowd gasped at his display of power. “AND MAKE NO MISTAKE, THIS LITTLE VEHICLE HERE IS LIGHT. IT FEELS LIKE I'M LIFTING UP A TOASTER. IN FACT WATCH THIS.” Coach then shifted one hand under the van and rested the toy-like vehicle on this palm. He was holding it now with just one hand! While it was still light for him, the weight of the van caused the sinews of his deltoid to erupt in further relief, Meanwhile, he grinned cockily and brought is free hand up into a single-arm biceps pose. The awestruck reporters were beside themselves. “DOES THIS GIVE YOU LITTLE PEOPLE SOME IDEA OF HOW POWERFUL I AM. LOOK AT THIS. LOOK AT MY ENORMOUS BICEPS MUSCLE AND AS I HOLD ONE OF YOUR TINY VEHICLES IN MY OTHER HAND!” Coach then began raising and lowering the news van up and down above his shoulder as if it was a light dumbbell. “I COULDN'T EVEN GET MUCH OF PUMP FROM LIFTING THIS SMALL VAN, HAHA,” Coach chuckled. “DOES THAT ANSWER YOUR QUESTION OF HOW POWERFUL I AM, CHET?” Coach glared at Mr. Howard, who gulped at being spotted and addressed once again. I then noticed, even through the camera feed, what seemed to be an evil glint in Coach's eye. He motioned to set the Action 5 news van back down, next to Chet's Channel 11 news van. As he stepped over to the street, vehicle in hand, Coach kept his eyes on Chet and spoke. “I WANT TO THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING OUT TO DISCUSS THE RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WITH MYSELF AND THE TEAM...” Coach spoke, eyes still locked on the Chet, not watching where we was stepping. Then it happened. As he stepped over the empty car space his foot came crashing down on the Channel 11 news van! The sneaker easily crumpled the roof of the van down to its chassis. As more of Coach's muscular weight bore down the tires popped and gave way as more the metallic vehicle was smashed to the street. A horrendous sound of broken glass and twisting metal pierced the warm summer afternoon. Some in the crowd shrieked. Coach quickly lifted his foot up and metalic debris fell from the treads of his sneakers. He set his foot back down on the grass. He quickly then set down the un-damaged Action 5 van. “OH MY GOODNESS, I AM SO SORRY. I GUESS I SHOULD'VE BEEN WATCHING WHERE I STEP. WHEN YOU ARE A HUGE MUSCULAR GIANT LIKE MYSELF I GUESS I WILL HAVE TO BE MORE CAREFUL AROUND YOU TINY PEOPLE AND YOUR TOYS!” Coach found Chet again in the nervous crowd and addressed him, with a slight sneer. “I AM SO SORRY MR. HOWARD. YOU CAN SPEAK WITH DEAN WHO WILL REIMBURSE YOU FOR THE DAMAGES. I DOUBT YOUR INSURANCE COVERS YOUR CAR GETTING STEPPED ON BY A GIGANTIC FOOTBALL COACH, HAHA!” Chet nervously nodded his head up to the giant masculine man. We all knew it and few in the crowd who new of Chet's methods did as well, but Coach was clearly punishing Chet for bothering his players. All reporters made instant notes not to cross Coach or his players. “WELL THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING.” Coach's face and tone then turned stern. “NOW, I HAVE TO ASK THAT YOU ALL LEAVE MY PLAYERS ALONE. WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME HAS LITTLE TO DO WITH THEM. DO NOT BOTHER MY PLAYERS, THEY NEED TO FOCUS ON SCHOOL AND OUR UPCOMING GAME. IF YOU WANT TO SPEAK WITH ME MORE YOU CAN TALK TO THE DEAN AND MAYBE WE CAN SET UP SOME INTERVIEWS.” The crowd of reporters then erupted again, shouting out questions at the titanic man. Coach simply smiled warmly and raised his hands to quite the crowd, which instantly complied. “THANK YOU ALL AGAIN. I HOPE YOU WILL COME OUT TO CHEER ON OUR TEAM AT OUR GAME ON SATURDAY.” Coach then stepped around the group of action figure sized people, leaned over into the field house and shut the garage door. The feed cut off and we wondered where things would go from there.