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Mighty's Caption Stories


Mighty

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So, as much as I would love to be able to write out an entire narrative, I doubt I could maintain the focus or motivation to finish it once I got started.  One thing I've always enjoyed is the smaller caption-based stories.  It's always more inspirational and immersive to have a picture to reference, and the stories are typically shorter.  I figured I'd give it a try.  I'll post them all here.  Feedback is appreciated, and if you have any particular images or gifs that you'd like to suggest I use, send them to me in a message and I'll take a look at them!

 

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     As soon as it started to warm up outside, the basketball courts on campus were filled with young guys playing pickup games, and I loved it.  Most of the time I didn't even have to have a set plan to go play or a group put together.  I could just walk out and join in with a group of guys for a quick game.  I'd played some in high school, but I was nowhere near good enough to play college ball.  That being said, I could still hold my own against most of the other guys on campus.  I was a respectable 6'2, and at 185lbs, I could throw my weight around on the court.  

     One afternoon on my way back from class, I noticed the courts were empty.  I figured it wouldn't take long to draw in some other guys, so I grabbed my ball and headed out to shoot some free throws until some other people showed up.  I was out there on my own for about fifteen minutes before this dude walked up, dropped his bag by the fence and started walking my way.

     "How about a quick 1-on-1?"  He asked as he walked up.  I could tell he was a smaller guy as he came my way, but the closer he got, the further down I had to look at him.  He had to be about an entire foot shorter than me, but he looked like a scappy little dude, so I agreed. 

     After about ten minutes, I started to slow it down a bit.  I'd never been one to go easy on anybody, but I was running circles around this scrawny little guy.  I'd barely broken a sweat, but this kid's shirt was soaked, and he'd not even made a single shot.  We were still the only two guys out there, so I didn't want to just walk off and leave him on his own, so I tried to play nice.  

     "Nice hustle!" I complimented him.  He hadn't played well, but I could tell he was pretty quick on his feet, and he wasn't about to give up.  I tossed him the ball and jogged over to my water bottle.  As I refreshed myself, I saw him dribble back to the 3 point line and scope out his shot.  He turned to me with a smirk.

     "Watch this!" He called out to me.  He then threw up a beautiful shot from behind the 3 point line, and it swished through the net.  My jaw dropped.  I couldn't believe this kid who couldn't even lay one up was able to make that shot look so effortless.  I gave him a thumbs up and jogged back over to him.

     "I guess my defense is better than I thought." I said playfully.  

     It was like a fire was suddenly lit in the kid.  His footwork started to get more coordinated.  He got the ball, took it back again to behind the 3 point line, and before I could get into a good block, he swished another one.  I looked down and saw another smirk.  At that moment I thought maybe something seemed a little off, but I tried to focus on my game.  I made another shot myself, but as soon as he got the ball back in his hands, he doubled back and sank another beautiful three pointer.  

     "Were you trying to hustle me before, little man?"  I remarked.  As I went for the ball and turned back to see him, I took a visual inventory of the kid, and I was confused.  When he walked up to me earlier, his head was barely above my naval, but he had definitely...gotten taller?  His head was even with my chest.  I wondered if I'd just misjudged his height before.

swish!

     A fourth perfect three point shot.  At this point, my competitive nature was taking over.  I wasn't about to get shown up.  I dodged around him, took the ball back myself and took a shot from downtown.  We both watched it sail through the air, make contact with the backboard, and fly back towards the court.  Not even close.  The little guy darted down the court ahead of me, got the ball, and juked me again to make yet another 3.  This time I got the ball and walked over to get another swig of water.  He did the same, and as we walked back out onto the court, I got a good look at him.  The top of his head was now higher than my pecs.  I stopped with the ball in my hand.

     "Are you...taller?"  I asked him.

     He smirked and then laughed.  "Don't like getting your ass handed to you by a little man?"  He said with a tinge of sarcasm.  He lunged forward, knocked the ball out of my hands and proceeded to dribble past me.  At this point, I had to seriously start playing ball.  I think it took him by surprise because I was able to keep the ball away from him and score a couple of baskets myself.  The serious look on his face became more angry as he shifted his weight, trying to keep up with me.  He managed to take the ball, get it back down the court, and sank another 3.  This time I let the ball stay under the net for a minute and watched him.  He took in a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, and I saw him grow.  It was subtle, but he'd easily added an inch to his height, and at this point I noticed he had some muscle definition on him he didn't have before.  I started to really watch him as we played, which was a mistake because he was able to make his next three pointer with little effort.  Again, he took a deep breath, and his body grew.  I wouldn't have thought anything about his height if he'd come onto the court at his current size.  He was probably a comfortable 5'9 or so at this point.  His shirt was drenched, and I could see the fabric clinging to an impressive amount of definition.  His pecs were impressive, and his arms were filling the sleeves.  

     We both began to play more aggressively.  We didn't speak, mostly because we were both breathing so hard.  What was initially a friendly game started to look like an intense game of street ball.  I wanted to be serious about defending this guy, but there was a big part of me that wanted him to score.  I was at conflict with myself.  I had an opportunity to snatch the ball, but I hesitated.  He used the opportunity to score again.  Three more points.  This time he grit his teeth as if he was in pain.  My eyes were bugging out of my head as his chest began to strain against the soaked fabric.  His nipples protruded, visible through the fabric.  I heard the threads breaking.  He was both packing on some impressive muscle and getting taller.  His eyes were now level with my chin.  

     "Don't you dare go easy on me!" He said through gritted teeth.  I wanted to respond, but I choked on my words.  

     This time I had the ball and was about to lay up a perfect shot when the little punk shoved me down.  His weight took me way off guard as he drove his shoulder into my chest and sent my ass down onto the pavement.  I dropped the ball and hopped up as quickly as I could to get after him.  He made no attempt to help me up, and instead got the ball back to his magic line and sunk another perfect shot.  At this point, I'd lost count of his three pointers.  He let out a deep grunt as soon as the ball cleared the net, rolled his shoulders, and his back split through his t-shirt!  His neck thickened as his traps rose up, creating obscene definition at this point.  He flashed a toothy, gritted smile.  He reached down with his hands and peeled the wet, shredded fabric off of his body.  I stared intently at his layered abdominals as the the sunlight danced off of the sweaty skin.   Even though the shirt was torn, he had a hard time getting it off.   The tightness around his neck and biceps took him a bit, and I was in awe of what was happening.  He was also getting taller as he was battling the shirt.  

     "Ah, fuck!" He exclaimed.  I couldn't see his face because his shirt was coming up over his head, but I could hear pain in his voice.  He jerked the wad of fabric up over his head, finally freeing his torso.  I heard the shirt tearing more as he eventually pulled it off and tossed it away towards his bag.  He immediately dropped down onto his ass and reached for his feet.  He was too late to get to his shoes before they literally split open.  I'd never seen anything like it.  He grabbed at the heel of the sneakers and tore them away from his feet one at a time.  He adjusted his socks, which still fit, chucked his destroyed shoes over by the scraps that used to be his shirt and bounced back up to his feet.  I took a glance at his basketball shorts as he hopped to his feet.  They were previously loose and hung below the knees, but now, the fabric was fighting for space around his muscular quads.  I also caught a glimpse of a mass between his legs that was pulling the loose fabric in a way that was awkward and borderline obscene.  I quickly brought my eyes upwards, past his cobblestone stomach and heaving pecs to see that he was now every bit 6' tall.  I still had a bit of height on him, but I wasn't sure I outweighed him anymore.  

     In his sock feet, he got right back to ball.  At this point, I started to play as though I was actively engaging with someone who was a better baller than me.  I no longer felt guilty about shoving him, but that was no longer an easy thing to do.  It felt as though we weighed about the same, but the dude was hard as a fucking rock.  I was able to knock him unsteady a couple of times and get the ball, but he never went down.  You would think that he would need time to regain his coordination after growing, but he was immediately aware of how to use his newfound height and mass on the court.  I took a risk on a steal, but he shifted his weight, and his thicker back caught me off guard.  He spun around, jumped back, and threw up another 3 pointer.  I jumped to block, but I was too slow.  

     Swish

     I had an idea.  I quickly ran to the ball, caught it on the dribble, and passed it to him.  I figured that maybe if I caught him off guard, he wouldn't be able to grow as much and it might slow him down.  I pitched the ball from my chest out towards his with a lot more force than I should have.  He'd thrown his head back again as he grew.  The ball jetted across the court towards the expanding basketball player.  With lightning fast reflexes, his arm jutted out.  

     And he caught the basketball single handed.  The basketball settled into the kid's palm as his long, muscular fingers gripped the orange skin of the ball.  I heard more tearing and looked down to see his toes explode through the cotton fabric of his socks.  Still growing, he took his feet and drug them backwards, tearing off the remains of the socks and releasing a truly impressive set of dogs.  I'd never thought of a person's feet as muscular before.  Seeing him barefoot, I contemplated offering him a pair of my own sneakers, but I wasn't sure this kid's boats would be able to fit into my own size 13's.  

     Still palming the ball, he walked right up to me.  He put his face in mine, and looked me directly in the eye.  He said nothing, but he shoved the basketball into my chest without breaking eye contact.  The blow knocked the breath out of me.  I took a step back, my arms coming up to clutch the ball in my chest as I let out a cough, but I didn't fall.  The barefoot beast still had plenty of game in him, but I was running out of steam.    He matched me inch for inch, but he definitely had at least twenty pounds on me at this point, and he had every intention of using them.  I thought his footwork would suffer more since he'd lost his shoes and socks, but it was like the roughness and heat of the concrete beneath us had no effect on him.  I had to play completely defensively.  It'd been a while since I had to try to block someone my own height, and it wasn't like I was doing the best job before he got this big.  

     He was only interested in shooting from behind the 3 point line, so I was trying desperately to keep him close to the net.  If he got the ball, he would only try to run it all the way back, and I was able to block him out for a bit.  Eventually he got the ball away from me and started back, and I darted around him to block him with all of my weight.  He went to dart around me, and I stepped back and planted my weight down onto one of his big feet.  I felt the hard mass under my heel, and by the time I realized what was happening, he was already crying out in pain.  I tried to move back and apologize, but before I could even say anything, he pulled his foot back and aggressively shoved me full force.  His huge hands engulfed my chest and I immediately flew back, landing painfully on my ass and back.  

     "FUCK!"  We both cried out.  It took me a moment to piece together what had happened, and before I could pick myself up from the ground, I saw the orange ball sail over me and heard it swish through the net behind me.  Still on the ground, I looked up and was astounded.    

     Anyone who is 6'3" will look like a giant when you're looking up at them from the ground, but this guy was a behemoth.  He slowly walked my way, casting a shadow across me as his broadening shoulders eclipsed the sun.  I looked up and saw his pecs heave out from his body, creating a meaty shelf.  Above the pecs I could see his bull neck thicken, his Adam's apple protruding from his muscular throat.  He brought up his arms and flexed his expanding biceps.  I hadn't believed that biceps bigger than 20 inches were truly possible, especially for a college guy, but I now had to believe because that's exactly what this kid had hefted over me, and they were still swelling outwards, the cut definition of his biceps and triceps only getting more defined as veins snaked their way up his forearms that looked like bowling pins and onto fists that looked like they could punch a hole right through a man.  

     He surged even taller, and this immense feeling of smallness washed over all of me.  I watched a large bead of sweat flow through the deep crevice between his pectorals.  As it flowed down through the canyon between his abdominals, it looked suspended in place as gravity pulled it down, but his torso surged upwards.  His bare torso expanded in the sun, each muscle group growing larger and more defined from the rest.  I kept my eyes in one place, but as he increased in size, my focused was directed from his stomach to his waist.  He had increased substantially in girth, but his waistband had not yet conceded as he was still relatively trim for his size.  My stomach lurched as I beheld the once loose nylon material was now pulled tight, resembling boxer briefs.  Just under the waistband was a piece of anatomy that every man was familiar with, but there was no denying that the equipment he packed was now just as immense as the rest of him.  The material was pulled forward and away from his crotch as I watched his absurd bulge grow with the rest of him.  The bulk of his thighs hiked the material up, exposing the defined muscle groups of his cedar-like legs.  I let my eyes trace down his legs, past his knees and to his lower legs.  His calves were definitely bigger than my biceps, easily pushing 20 inches themselves.  Under those I was surprised to see how close his toes were to my face.  His toes looked long, defined, and dexterous.  I'd seen plenty of tall guys with big feet during my basketball days, but I'd never seen feet like these.  They were wide and powerful.  Thick veins ran across the top, feeding into his thick, muscular ankles.  

     He let out a long, deep sigh.  I turned my head back to try and meet the eyes of the mountainous figure towering over me.  I couldn't ignore the prominent bulge obtruding from his groin as I continued to crane my neck back.  Deep shadows and glistening sweat anointed every facet of his body.  Above his striated, meaty pecs and husky neck I could see his cut jawline, a huge, toothy smile, and finally, his eyes, gazing down into mine.  

     He bent down towards me and reached out one of his meaty hands in a gesture to help me to my feet.  Shakily, I complied.  His hand closed around mine, dwarfing it.  I instinctively reached my other hand up and grasped onto his forearm.  My fingers stood no chance of reaching all the way around his sizeable wrist.  He effortlessly hoisted me up into the air.  I barely landed on my feet as he loosened his grip on my hand.  I slowly released my hold on his arm.  My eyes followed the road map of veins up his forearm and across his brawny upper arms.  My eyes moved across his herculean shoulders and chest, and I stopped.  My eyes rested at the base of his neck, putting him now several inches taller than my 6'3.  I took three steps back so I could easily see his face.  

     He had been wearing that smirk for a bit now.  He reached up a hand and placed his palm on my head, closing his fingers around my skull.  His bulging bicep was in my face, heat and strength emanating from his muscles.  I tried to instinctively pull my head away, but he held it in place.  Our eyes locked.  I took in a deep breath and my lungs filled with a smell that was a mix of sweat and raw testosterone.

     "Little man."  Is all he said, but his voice had filled out and deepened considerably.  His tone was definitely one of using that term to describe me rather than himself.  He released his grip on my head and I moved further back, still in awe of how this shrimpy guy transformed into this titanic monster.   He swaggered over to the remnants of his socks and scooped them up in a hand.  He sauntered over to where he'd left his destroyed shirt and shoes and grabbed them off of the ground.  He strut towards the trashcan and threw his clothes away.  He then began to move towards me.  He was so immense, and his movements were so confident that he was mesmerizing to watch.  He effortlessly moved from a slow walk to a run.  He darted past me, the smell once again hitting me like a wall as the wind followed his powerful movement.  He picked up the basketball and effortlessly jumped into the air before bringing the ball down into an explosive two-handed slam dunk.  The ball rocketed down into the pavement.  He held tight onto the rim, and I could hear the steel goalpost creak under the force, but it did not bend.  He proceeded to preform a handful of effortless pull-ups on the goal before turning himself around to face me and then dropping down onto the court.  He met the ground with a thunderous thud, and I was transfixed on his crotch as his cock bounced between his muscular legs, fighting for room.  He made his way over to the basketball once more, picking it up and holding as I would have a softball.  He then grabbed his water bottle, downing the rest of the water in a single gulp, and picked up his comedically small backpack, sliding it down his forearm.  He carried the basketball and his bag back to the 3 point line once more.  He looked at me, and I realized I hadn't moved at all since he helped me up.  I forced myself to blink and noticed how dry my mouth had gotten.  

     He held the basketball down to his crotch, taking a minute to compare the size of his obscene, round bulge to the size of the basketball.  The rotund package protruding from between his massive thighs almost looked as though he had taken a basketball and stuffed it in there.  His massive cock and tremendous thighs were pushing the material to its limits.  

     "Thanks for the game." He shouted to me in his deep, booming voice.  "But now, I've gotta go play another ballgame." He chuckled to himself as he effortlessly tossed the basketball one more time from the 3 point line.  I watched it sail through the air and pass through the net, landing on the cracked pavement below.  I didn't go for my basketball or my own bag.  Instead, I followed this  herculean muscle man off the court as the sound of grunting and tearing fabric could be heard across campus.

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The sounds of ripping clothes distracted you from your driving.  You looked over and almost caused the car to crash as you see your boyfriend literally HULKING out of his shirt!  He grabs it by the collar and shreds it down the front, tossing the remaining fabric out the window.  You desperately jerk your eyes back onto the road, trying to find somewhere, ANYWHERE to pull over!

He grunts reaching for the seat adjuster, grabbing at the bar between his legs before violently sliding the seat all the way back.  As he sits back up, you notice his legs are longer!  His pecs swell out, and several muscles form along his stomach.  He grunts, relishing in the growth.  His shoulders expand, and his entire torso expands and thickens.  He lets out a sharp breath.  

SNAP!  CLANK!

His sudden growth caused the seat belt to break!  You finally find a place off to the side of the road for you to pull in and quickly put the car into park.  You undo your own seat belt and finally turn to look at him.  

He is magnificent.  You're not sure what's happened, but you've got no complaints!  He brings his right arm up and flexes, causing his monstrous bicep to swell out, growing even more!  He flashes you a thumbs up and perks his lips.  You scramble over the console, desperate for your mouth to meet his.   

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  • 3 years later...

Hey! Let's revive this just a bit using AI!  It can literally create almost anything, so the infinite eye candy is a huge source of inspiration!

yyKGsDSfkR8H9VTISA8hITLLRVbxVL4TFTeWI0CufcZ03sBs1mJKb10sAeqIgg8fAwZUBU5YqNrakLpp5cZH_jpnY5TaDu1hmQmisKUBZSBAj-B8BfRJF2xERzIFdsrP0Z4HndERMO2I8xquSlaY5iI  siVlA9DmmypS7jGRigo2jfg_AFfw8f6OF0-EPg4oS2jPKbQS1SpzFZWY37LeYs0Tsj7up04eSnctlCAXa811zxET4S6JTRkCFvijcYPP1CtTm0eHlo6Cyf3R2mKU3V8D1jSBgZA0BDlo3FGij9sSaws  RRTw1ynB5Id7tLrR5WBWK0Jxxw2Q6aRV25HDfSZFV4GMgTdOb7J0cXZb5sEk25LvyZYNFZ8PJ9v_BxDJWK3i-z84jo2BYjUBFWREtJ3As2tHhk6twnQpXth6FRajWJnwqehv5ZrUJBJxSBVdgdtI600

"Shit."

Clint climbed into the driver’s seat of the old farm truck and cursed in frustration.  He reached for the metal bar beneath the seat between his legs and slid the seat forward multiple clicks until his feet could reach the gas pedal.  The middle-aged man had to adjust every mirror just to be able to see in order to drive the damn truck down the road to fill it up.

He looked down at his feet and couldn’t help but shake his head in surprise at the size of the muddy boot prints on the floorboard.  His own size 9 boots were completely enveloped by the massive boot prints in the floor.  

He started the old truck up and drove it down the dirt road leaving the farm and out into town.  He had to clear his head as he drove.  

The tired farmer pulled the old truck up, climbed down and began to fill her up.  The truck was reliable, but it was a greedy old machine.  The price on the pump was too high for no more than what he would be able to get out of it.  Clint grabbed the gas containers out of the bed of the pickup and proceeded to fill those up, too.  Once his truck and cans were filled, he made his way inside to pick up one more essential liquid for the day - a cup of coffee.

Clint poured the cup, made his way to the register, and put cash down on the counter, giving the young girl a smile.  As he paid, a familiar face, John Morrison, a neighbor and longtime hunting buddy of Clint's, made his way up to him and shook his hand.  The men exchanged pleasantries, and Clint swallowed hard as he knew the inevitable was coming next.

“Man, that boy of yours is something else, ain’t he?  He came by to take Colton out fishing last week, and Cody looked every bit a foot taller than Colton is!  How big is that boy of yours, Clint?”

Clint let out a small snorty laugh and shook his head, adjusting the brim of his hat.  “A few weeks ago his hair brushed the door frame as he came into the house.  I’m certain I saw him duck down as he came in for supper last night to keep from hitting his head on the doorframe.”

“No kidding!” John said with a jolt.  “I thought Colton was just running his mouth when he said Cody’s gotten taller.”

“I know it don’t make sense” Clint started, “but since Cody finished school and started working on the farm full-time, he’s been growing like a damn weed!”

“I mean, my oldest son Pete grew an inch after he left for college, so I reckon it ain’t unheard of.” Another older man chimed in as he walked up on the conversation.  This was Daryl Reynolds, the mayor’s brother. 

John shook his head and put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder.  “This ain’t exactly like that. You know Cody Helton, right Daryl?  He played ball down at the high school these past few years. He just graduated, right Clint?” He turned to the father who nodded in approval.  Daryl also nodded.  “Your boy’s put on more than just an inch by this point, ain’t that right, Clint?”

John continued nodding.  A proud smile crept up on his face.  “Yeah, Daryl, Cody’s probably grown over half a foot since the last time you saw him.” 

“No kidding?” Daryl said as his eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Yep.” Clint took a sip of his coffee. “He’s sliding the truck seat all the way back now when he drives it.”  

“And he’s looking like a tank these days, even more so than when he was playing football!” John continued.  “Seriously, Clint, what work are you putting that boy through?  He’s starting to look like the damn Hulk.  I know your hay can’t be that much heavier than mine!” John laughed, but he wasn’t wrong.  

Clint nodded.  “I know, John. Cody’s always been fit, but these past few months he’s really filled out.”  He took a deep breath and continued.  “Cody was mad just last night about his horse, Thunder.  He’s had Thunder for four years now, and he’s ridden him just about every other day for fun or for work.  He was telling his mama and me that Thunder’s been struggling lately.  Cody thinks that Thunder’s gettin’ too tired when he rides him for long.  I walked out there this morning and I swear Cody’s bigger than that horse.  It’s a wonder the boy’s feet don’t touch the ground when he rides, and Thunder’s the biggest quarter horse I’ve ever had.”

“A boy too big for a quarter horse?  I ain’t ever heard of such.” Daryl retorted.  

“And I ain’t ever seen such, either.” Clint replied “But it’s true.  It don’t make sense unless you see just how big he is now.  He’s growing like a damn weed!”

“You’d seriously think he’s too old for such.” Daryl said

“Yep. You’d reckon, but I swear he’ll outgrow the damn farm truck if he keeps it up!” Clint really was welling up with pride for his oldest son now.  He took another sip of his coffee and continued.  “You know what the biggest size boot they carry down at Wayne’s?  He don’t carry nothing bigger than a 15.”

“You mean he’s bigger than a 15?” John chimed in.

“The boy’s football cleats were a size 13 when he graduated.  He told us they were gettin’ tight during his last season, but he made it through.  We bought him a brand new pair of size 14 work boots when he graduated and started workin’.  They fit him fine, but It wasn’t a couple a months before he was tellin; me that they were gettin’ tight on him.  We were driving fence posts towards the end of the summer, before the other boys went back to school, and I swear to God I saw that boot rip and Cody’s toes poking through the front of ‘em.  You can ask Wayne himself. I had him measure Cody’s big ol’ feet, and he said he’d need a size 17!  We went ahead and special ordered him a pair in size 18.  Cody’s said himself that he thinks he’s still growing and’ll end up needing bigger boots before he’s done!”  

“Before he’s done?” Both older men said in unison.  

“I’m not joking! He says he’s still growing, and Dr. Greene agrees.  He ain’t seen anything like it, either.” Clint was then cut off again.

“Poor Beth!” A female voice chimed in.  “Cody alone must eat as much as a platoon, and I know you and the twins ain’t going hungry, neither.” Linda Thompson spoke up, carrying a two liter soda in her hands.  She was right.

“Cody’s nearly insatiable, but he’s spending most of his own money on his food at this point.  Beth’s still cooking it, but at least we have enough food on the table for the rest of us.”

“But don’t you pay Cody?” John asked.  “He’s working for the farm, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” Clint replied.  “Cody’s a bottomless pit, but he’s also the hardest working employee I’ve got, and he’s damned near getting to be as strong as a tractor.  And at the rate things are going, feeding Cody’ll be cheaper than putting Diesel in my equipment!”

All of the adults laughed at this point.  Clint stepped out of the way and continued drinking his coffee as his neighbors paid the young lady at the register, said goodbye and good luck to Clint.

“What’ll you do if the twins wind up growing as big as Cody?” John asked as he started out the door.  

Clint took another deep breath and a look of exasperation washed across his face.  “You know,” he started, “they’re already talking about drivers licenses and everything.  And wouldn’t you know it they’re already every bit as tall as I am, which is something I don’t think Cody had done yet by their age!  I might be in real trouble, John!” Clint said with a nervous laugh.

“Aw, it’ll be good, Clint.  Ain’t no dad gonna complain that he’s got three strapping young Goliaths working his farm.  Maybe I need to send Colton over more often to eat whatever the hell Beth is cooking for your boys!  It wouldn’t hurt for him to be a bit taller or stronger.”

Clint chuckled and really thought about how John called his boys “Goliaths”.  He smiled at the young woman at the register, noting her curious expression as he left the store.  

The man climbed back into his old pickup truck and drove it back to the farm.  He made sure to slide the seat all the way back before he climbed out.  He hadn’t been back five minutes before he heard the heavy footfalls of Cody’s huge boots against the gravel approaching.  “Hey dad!” the deep baritone voice boomed out.  “Can I run the truck up to the western pasture to check on that calf?  I’d take Thunder, but I swear he acts like I’m too big to ride him!  I put his saddle on him, and he got all spooked.”

Clint turned from his work and looked up at his towering son, meeting his serious, youthful gaze.  The boy’s big frame took up a ton of the wide barn doorframe.  It was no wonder he looked like he was squeezing himself into the house every evening.  He took a second to examine his oldest boy.  He took note of the tight-fitting football camp t-shirt that looked painted on at this point, and his pants looked too short.  It wasn’t even lunch time yet, but Cody had already worked up a decent sweat.  His shirt was starting to soak through in several places, showcasing his broad, meaty chest and his tight sleeves.

“Cody!” He said with a startle. “Those ain’t the pants you just bought a couple of weeks ago, are they?” Clint gestured towards the exposed ankles of the tall man before him.

The behemoth young man let out a nervous snort and brought his muscular arms up to his head.  He lifted his ball cap off of his head and scratched his sweaty scalp.  Clint’s nose was immediately assaulted with the musty smell of his son’s sweaty body.  The pits of the shirt were drenched.  As Cody had his arms up, his biceps were flexed, and the barn was filled with the audible sound of one of the sleeves of the shirt from his high school days splitting across the top of the head of his muscular bicep.  

“I swear these are my newest pants, dad!  They just didn’t fit when I got up this morning.  I could say that maybe mama shrunk them in the dryer, but we both know that excuse stopped working a while back.  Cody said with a laugh.  

“But that shirt ain’t new.” his dad responded flatly.

“Yeah, it’s only a 2XL, but it’s a long shirt so it covers my stomach, and you’re the one who said I couldn’t be workin’ shirtless.  Here.” Cody said as he reached up and, without any struggle, tore the sleeves off and pulled the material away, creating a makeshift deep tank-top.  “That’s better!”  He said with a smile.  The cool air hit his sweaty, hairy pits, which only filled the barn with his sweaty musk further.  

Clint couldn’t deny it.  He was looking at a modern day Goliath.  This Goliath was a farm kid in his late teens, and it made his dad proud.  Clint couldn’t think of any other worthwhile response as he just gestured towards the truck with a nod.  “Keys are in it.”  

Cody took the wet cloth that used to be the sleeves of his shirt, wiped his forehead with it, and tossed the wet material into the passenger’s seat as he climbed into the truck.  Clint watched the old pickup lurch to one side as his son’s hefty body weighed down one side.  As he placed one huge boot into the floor, he instinctively reached for the bar under the seat to move it back.  There was nowhere further back for it to go as he crammed himself into the vehicle.  “Shit!” He heard his son say to himself under his breath as he placed his huge boot on the smaller gas pedal and cranked the truck.  He awkwardly slammed the old metal door shut before rolling down the manual window and hung a meaty arm out as he backed up and peeled off towards the far end of the property. 

 

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