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Oh Henry = Part 2


Bigmusclefan13

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I wrote Part 1 of this story years ago and only recently remembered that I'd never posted Part 2. Hopefully it won't take me as long to write Part 3 😂. Hope you enjoy. 

Link to Part 1

 

Part 2 

Henry woke up well-rested, his chest heaving and blocking the view of his lower body. For better or for worse, today was the day that he’d finally get to see the results of almost 15 months of work with Brandon, the trainer guiding him on his transformation from teenager to man. He eagerly swung his feet off of the bed and walked to his closet to get dressed. Hanging there were dozens of the same white t-shirts and grey shorts, ranging from size small to x-large. He shed his pyjamas and slipped on an x-large t-shirt, which he had just started wearing last month, a pair of medium shorts and a pair of white athletic socks. 

Moving to the washroom, he began brushing his teeth while glancing down at the tensed bicep of his left arm with which he grasped his toothbrush. The solid arm strained the sleeve of his x-large shirt; however, it was hard to comprehend just how large it was, with no mirrors to view it properly and put it in reference with the rest of his body. He thought he remembered this sleeve being loose just a few weeks ago, but his mind could just as well be playing tricks on him. Keeping track of gradual changes had proved almost impossible without photos, measurements or mirrors - all things he had abstained from as per his and his trainer Brandon’s mutual agreement.

After rinsing his mouth free of toothpaste, Henry glanced at the digital clock resting by the sink. It was 8:03am. Brandon would be arriving in just under an hour. Excited for what was to come, and, in an effort to kill time, Henry decided he would fit in one last workout.

In the basement, Henry sped his way through a full body workout and in no time, almost an hour had passed. As he progressed into his final set of Romanian deadlifts - his favourite exercise - he heard the bell ring and the front door unlock. Brandon had let himself in and descended the stairs with a duffel back over his shoulders and a massive fold-up mirror in his arms - the tri-fold kind that you see in clothing store dressing rooms. Brandon leaned it against the wall and came over to the weight rack as Henry pumped out his final reps.

“Couldn’t resist getting one last pump in, eh?” Brandon teased. 

“You know it,” Brandon smiled, contracting his hamstrings for one last deadlift before dropping the weights to the floor.

“Go jump in the shower and I’ll get things set up down here. I’ll fix you up something to feed those muscles as well.”

“Sounds good, coach.” Henry responded as Brandon turned around to start unpacking. As Henry headed upstairs, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Brandon’s bulbous glutes fighting for space in his tight jean shorts, feeling a stir in his crotch as he thought about it. 

 

Zipping open his duffle bag, Brandon unpacked a collapsable black back drop that he set up in the basement, just behind the room’s main pot lights. In front of it, he set up the tri-fold mirror. He shut off the rest of the lights in the room aside from the pot lights and returned to the posing station he had set up. 

Brandon stripped off his white Gold’s Gym tank top and wriggled his tight jean shorts down over his thick quads, revealing an overflowing pair of red posing trunks. He decided to give his set-up a test and strike a few poses. He started with a most muscular pose, triggering the flow of blood to every one of his muscles before shifting into a rear lat spread and admiring the width of his frame in the mirror. Like a pro, he transitioned to a side chest pose, appreciating the extent to which his hefty bulge jutted out from his muscled silhouette. This was no doubt thanks to the complete lack of thigh gap to accommodate his generous genitalia.  Feeling the blood rushing down to his groin, he grabbed his bulging package and let our a loud “grrrr” as his massive ebony frame flexed and glistened in the mirror, popping against the black canvas two feet behind him. 

Giving his make shift posing station a nod of approval, he slide his clothes back on, grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the kitchen. Pulling a fresh carton of eggs from the fridge, he cracked all twelve of them and whisked together a massive omelet for Henry. As it cooked in the frying pan, he filled the blender with Henry’s post-workout shake essentials - two scoops of protein, a litre of milk, boiled chicken breast, his usual cocktail of supplements and two drops from a unmarked vial he had pulled out of his duffel bag. After blending it altogether, he took the entire container and set it on the placemat next to where he’d soon place the He-Man sized omelette.

 

Upstairs, Henry peeled off his sweaty clothes and tossed them into his bedroom hamper. His legs, pumped from his final drop set of deadlifts, forced him to waddle a bit to the washroom where he then jumped in the shower. As he lathered himself in soap, he marvelled at his pumped up legs, caressing his quads and glutes with his hands. His cock swelled to attention and in response, he slid the shower handle to cold to rid himself of his semi hard-on before stepping out and drying himself off. After quickly blowdrying his hair, he slipped on a pair of fresher boxer briefs, his standard t-shirt and shorts uniform and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Eat up, Henry,” Brandon motioned as he delivered the freshly cooked omelette to the table.

“Thanks for whipping this up for me, Brandon,” Henry said, sitting down to the massive shake and omelette. He grabbed the blender handle and took a large swig of the post workout shake. 

“I don’t know what you’re putting in here, but your shakes always taste so much better than mine,” Brandon said as he wiped excess protein shake off from his top lip.

“Can’t help you there, it’s always going to taste better when it’s made by a Mr. Olympia bodybuilder,” Brandon chuckled as he flashed a quick double biceps pose. “By the way, you’ve got mail.”

He pointed to an envelope on the table, addressed to Henry and branded with the Harrison University logo. Henry opened it, quickly reading the one page letter.

“It’s an official reminder that school starts in two weeks. They’ve also given me the name of my dorm roommate… guess I’ll have to reach out to him and start some planning.”

“Exciting stuff, Henry. Once you finish up with breakfast, come downstairs but knock on the door before you enter the basement. I’ve got a little surprise for you,” Brandon instructed him as he slipped some of the dishes into the sink. “I’ll meet you down there.”

Brandon headed downstairs as Henry continued making progress with his breakfast, switching between forkfuls of his twelve-egg omelette and gulps of his massive protein shake. Within five minutes, he had finished it all and started making his way down the stairs.

“I’m ready,” he called to Brandon as he arrived to a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Hold up, I’m coming to get you. No peeking.”

Brandon carefully opened the door and slid into the stairwell without letting Henry see into the basement. 

“Take this and put it on,” he said, handing over a black blindfold.

“Alright, but this is weird.”

“Trust me, Henry.” 

Brandon grabbed Henry’s hands and guided him through the door, towards the make-shift posing station that he had set up in the middle of the dark room. He placed his hands on Henry’s shoulders, rubbed them gently and then remove the blindfold. ‘Alright Henry, take a look at what 428 days of hard work looks like.’’

Henry slowly opened his eyes. Very quickly they were forced to adjust to the dark room around him, save for the pot lights above that illuminated the spot in which he was standing. This created a black canvas against which he could examine his body which he had not seen in a mirror in over a year. 

In the mirror stood a person Henry did not recognize. Henry was a boy, but this was no boy. This was a mass of a man whose reflection occupied the entirety of the trifold mirror that Brandon had set up.

Henry stood frozen in disbelief. He looked at his hand and raised it to his face, observing the reflection do the same. Whether he believed it or not, the man that looked back at him in this mirror was, without a doubt, Henry. 

The once narrow, fragile face that Harry had known for so long was no more. A strong, wide forehead, mighty cheekbones and a new, muscular jawline framed his gentle brown eyes. His former sunken cheeks and thin lips were now full and luscious. His complexion, albeit pale from the lack of sunlight, beamed with a healthy, youthful glow and smoothness only seen on magazine covers.

Lowering his hand from his cheek, Henry caressed his Adam’s Apple that now protruded from the thick podium of muscle holding his head up. His neck, now as wide as his skull, pulsed as veins carried blood up to his head to prevent Henry from fainting in shock. Jutting out not from his neck, just below his earss, lay two hulking traps that made it look like Henry’s head was perched on a triangular pyramid of muscle that strained the ribbed collar of his white t-shirt to the max.

Henry’s gaze slid down from his bull traps to his shoulders that extended out of view from the middle mirror panel. He took a step back, bringing his whole, hulking frame into perspective.  Connected to his traps were two massive cannonball shoulders, hidden beneath his white cotton t-shirt. These spherical deltoids stretched his shirt to an almost cartoonish level, giving Henry’s frame a width that would rival most doorways. Now he understood why he was having to angle himself through his bathroom and standing shower doors - a problem he never experienced just a year ago. 

Henry turned his head to face one of the side mirrors, admiring his massive left shoulder in detail. He looked like a knight wearing shoulder pads beneath his t-shirt, but it was pure, dense muscle rounding off his frame like a suit of armour. Below his shoulder cap, the sleeve of his t-shirt sat scrunched up, not even attempting to stretch over the obscenity of an arm that hung to his side. A massive, bulging bicep pushed against his left pec, its sheer size competing for space along the side of his body. The three heads of his tricep formed a horseshoe so big, it would fit on the hoof of a stallion. Combined, his bicep and tricep made for an arm that rivalled the size of his head.

Henry raised his hairy forearm for a bicep flex and his arm ballooned with power, instantly gaining a couple inches in circumference. As he flexed his left arm in the mirror, Henry’s right hand caressed his bicep, tracing a thick vein that snaked around its peak. He felt the back of his tricep, tracing the shredded ridges of its horseshoe. He tried to wrap his fingers around the entirety of his arm, but it was so big it felt like he was holding on to a football, albeit a smooth, warm one that throbbed with strength.  

“Don’t worry, little man. Don’t be shy,” Brandon walked over to Henry and placed his meaty, calloused hands on his shoulders. “Get these pythons up and let’s see a double biceps pose,” he said as he tapped the back of Henry’s arms, as if signalling them to flex. 

Henry didn’t know what a double biceps pose was, but somehow, his instincts told him to raise his arms up above his shoulders, turning his palms inwards to flex his biceps. Looking in the mirror, Henry tried to bend his elbows further but couldn’t, because the sheer size and roundness of his bicep peaks pushed back against his forearms. His massive triceps rounded out what looked like volley-ball size mounds of muscle to his sides - visual confirmation that his arms were indeed as big as his head. 

“Let’s take a look and see how these pythons compare to mine,” Brandon announced as he took his position behind Henry, raising his arms into the same double bicep pose. While it was clear that Brandon had a few inches of height and width on Henry, both men were surprised to see that they were equals in the arm department. Henry’s arms completely eclipsed Brandon’s.

“Woah, Henry. “I’ve gotta say, you’ve got mad arms for an 18-year old. Don’t think I’ve ever seen tris like yours before. Looks like your trainer’s done good,” Brandon professed with a wink. 

“Now I want you to try something different,” Brandon directed, as he motioned Henry to lower his arms to his sides. 

“You see these muscle titties,” he said, patting the two mounds of meat sitting below Henry’s collar bone. “We’re going to make ‘em jump. Now I want you to breathe in and focus on your upper pectorals and mentally pull them up, taking the rest of your chest for a ride. Just like this.” Brandon, standing close behind Henry, flexed his pecs in unison. They jumped out inches from his body, gently thumping Henry’s back as they popped. 

Henry closed his eyes, thinking about the mind-muscle connection he channeled for every rep of his weekly chest work out. Gently he clenched his pecs, feeling them frolic slightly within the confines of his tight white t-shirt. He repeated this over and over again, feeling the rise and fall of his chest become more significant with every flex. 

Henry opened his eyes to a sight he never thought he’d see. His chest, covered in his white t-shirt, looked like two giant white pillows, pumped and bouncing at his mind’s command. Each time his pecs jumped, they almost swiped his chin. Every time they fell, their size and heft kept them jiggling as they came to a full stop. 

“There you go, little man. You’ve got the hang of it,” Brandon smiled, bouncing his own barrel chest in unison with Henry’s. As a trainer, it made him so proud to see his client experiencing the fruits of his labour. 

“Now let’s ditch this shirt, Henry, and see all of your hard work.” Brandon grabbed the back of his white t-shirt and ripped it down the centre. Henry jolted at this, surprised and excited by Brandon’s forwardness. Brandon walked around to face Henry, who was frozen in place. He pulled the ripped ends of the shirt towards him to get it off Henry’s body, but he couldn’t get the sleeves over Henry’s massively muscled arms. 

“You’ll have to help me out here, Henry. You stay steady as I yank this shirt off of you.” 

Henry anchored his legs to the floor as Brandon grabbed the ends of his t-shirt and pulled with all his might to get it over Henry’s arms. It was like Brandon was playing tug of war with Henry’s bulging biceps and triceps. Brandon tightened his core and gave it one final pull with all his might. He flung backwards as the sleeves ripped around Henry’s arms, leaving the t-shirt shredded in pieces on the ground. 

“We’re going to have to get you some new t-shirts,” Brandon pronounced as he picked the shreds up off the floor. 

This whole situation had Henry’s heart beating a mile a minute. Had he just learned how to bounce his pecs? Had his trainer Brandon just rip his shirt off of him? The thought of having to size up to XXL was incredulous to him as just last year he was swimming in small t-shirts.

As he refocused, his thought process was instantly interrupted by the herculean torso staring back at him in the mirror. He was impressed with his chest before when it was compressed within the confines of his t-shirt, but now that it was unleashed, its magnitude was overwhelming. Unlike Brandon’s pecs which were rounded and plump, Henry’s powerful, square pecs matched those of comic book super heroes. The tectonic plates of muscle jutted out from his collar bone by a couple inches and from the top of his midsection, casting a small shadow onto his abs. Henry stuck his fingers beneath the bottom shelf of his pecs, playing with his nipples that now faced downwards due to the extreme musculature of his chest. 

After toying with his hard nipples, Henry slid his hands along the grooves in his rock hard eight pack. Each abdominal muscle was as thick and defined as a brick. He traced the deep ridges between each square abdominal and caressed the cords of muscle which formed a thick and pronounced Adonis belt above his hips. 

“Turn around and check that back”, Brandon encouraged.

Henry pivoted and turned his head over his shoulder, admiring his gigantic back extending from his tight waist like a bouquet of flowers extends from the opening of a narrow vase. North of his 30” waist, his massive lats sprouted from his lower back, pushing his powerful arms upward and outward. Just like his front delts, his rear delts protruded from his cannonball shoulders and his towering traps formed a mountain peak leading to his head.

More impressive than his sprawling back, Henry’s eyes shifted down to an imposing bubble butt that stretched the limits of his grey sweat shorts. The heft of his ass weighed his shorts down, exposing the top of his bulbous glutes and an inch of his butt crack. Together, these two massive glutes formed a shelf of muscle that swelled almost a foot outwards from Henry’s lower back. 

“Now that’s an ass,” Brandon proclaimed, slapping Henry’s bottom and chuckling as Henry jumped in shock.

Henry twisted his head around to admire his backside in the mirror, rubbing his hand over his bubble butt which would make even the most bootylicious of women jealous.  

“Drop trou’ and let’s see those legs,” Brandon commanded.

Henry pulled his grey sweat shorts off, revealing a pair of bulging white boxer briefs and two enormous tree trunks legs, still pumped from his morning workout. Thick and sinewy, his huge quads swept out from his hips and the mass of muscle protruded several inches out from his knee. Turning sideways, Henry flexed his giant hamstrings that hung heavy from behind. His monstrous legs fought each other for room, leaving zero space between them. This forced Henry into a wide stance, creating a classic ‘X’ silhouette in the mirror. All that muscle between his legs also pushed the contents of his white boxer briefs outward. From the side, it looked like Henry had two pairs of sports socks stuffed in them. 

Henry dropped his right hand to his crotch and cupped the bulge that sat low and heavy against his legs. Henry had always dreamt of filling out his underwear as well as the models on packs of his Calvin Klein briefs. The bulge that he saw reflected in the mirror would be too obscene to ever feature in ad. 

Instinctively, he slid his hand under his waistband and pulled it down, freeing his constrained genitals. 

“Woah, Henry!”

“Shit, sorry I totally forgot you were here, Brandon!” Henry apologized.

“Nothing to apologize for, son. Looks like you’ve grown everywhere, Henry. I had no idea you were packing all that meat.”

Thick as a kielbasa and covered in veins, Henry’s soft cock was a symbol of masculine virility. His two peach-sized balls pushed his cock outwards, its head hanging several inches past them. Over the last year, his family jewels had clearly gone through a growth spurt, but the small changes day to day were difficult to notice without a mirror and without locker room comparisons. While Henry’s hulking body would make even a generous endowment look average, it was clear in his reflection that this cock was outsized even for him. Truth be told, the genitalia in the mirror looked like they’d belong to a bodybuilder porn star. 

“I thought those triceps were unreal, but it’s clear to me which muscle’s grown the most,” Brandon said, chuckling aloud. 

Henry, realizing he had just spent a good minute checking out and fondling his genitals in front of his trainer, blushed in shame and jerked up his boxer briefs. His heavy, flaccid penis got caught on the waistband and he maneuvered it comfortably back into his underwear, tucking it along his right leg. His face was red with embarrassment as Brandon stood there, smirking to himself.

“My bad, Brandon. It’s a bit overwhelming, this whole experience…” 

“Henry - you’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Brandon said, shaking his head and putting his hand on Henry’s meaty shoulder. “Take a look at the man in the mirror. That’s all of your hard work staring back at you. Your grandmother would be proud.”

Henry looked into the mirror, face to face with the new him that he was still struggling to process. He reminisced about his grandmother and her final message to him. While she was not by his side, he knew that she would be happy for him and he was glad he had not passed up her suggestion of a fresh start. 

“Thank you, Brandon, for all of your help. I could have never done this without you.” Henry threw his arms around Brandon in a hug, though they did not make it far with both of their muscular chests in the way. 

“My pleasure, Henry,” Brandon said, reciprocating the hug of his trainee. “Before I forget - we’ve one last order of business.”

Brandon walked over to his black duffel bag and pulled out a scale and a tape measure. 

“Time for a few quick measurements! Stand up against this wall for me, will you Henry?”

Henry walked over and turned to stand up straight against the wall, his muscled ass and back making light contact with it. Holding the tape measure by Henry’s head, Brandon extended it until it reached the ground. 

“Six feet even. That’s five inches you’ve grown, Henry.”

Henry had suspected he’d grown quite a bit in height, but the prospect of being in the six footer club excited him. That was the height of a man, not a boy.

“Now let’s get you on this scale.” 

Brandon motioned Henry over to where he’d set the scale by his bag. With nothing but his boxers on, he stepped on the scale and watched the numbers rise before settling at 221.2 pounds. 

“Holy shit. That’s double my starting weight,” Henry declared, rattled and excited by the numbers he saw on the scale. 

“Good math, my man. Looks like you're a numbers guy, eh?” Brandon smirked, staring down at the semi hard-on that was forming in Henry’s pants. 

Feeling even more embarrassed, Henry grabbed his shorts near the mirror and put them on, hoping they’d help contain his growing erection. 

“You’ll get used to that,” said Brandon, as if reading Henry’s mind. “It doesn’t take much to get bulls like us going, with all that testosterone flowing through these muscles.”

“It looks like my work here is done for today, Henry,” Brandon stated as he began dissembling the backdrop and packing up the equipment he had brought. “You’ve got two weeks until school starts. I’ll see you for your daily workout until you head off, yes?”

“You bet,” Henry confirmed as Brandon picked up his packed duffel bag and walked towards the tri-fold mirror. “Brandon, think I could hold onto the mirror?

“Consider it yours.”

Together, they marched up the stairs and exited the front door of the house. After a quick goodbye hug on his porch, Henry waved to Brandon as he got into his car in the front driveway. Two women walking on the sidewalk did a double-take as they passed by Henry’s house, no doubt sneaking a second glance at Henry’s shirtless, muscular torso. It was attention that Henry was not used to getting, but get used to it he would.

Henry returned to the kitchen and retrieved a marker from his drawer. He drew a large ‘X’ on August 20th, the date circled in red on his calendar. This was the date he had told himself he would rejoin the world, after over 400 days of investing in a new beginning. He wasn’t exactly sure where to start, but he had a few ideas…

 

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What a pretty great follow.

It was everything iw as expecting when ir ead the fic a few years ago tho i hope it doesnt take you another two years to post part 3 ;V

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