transformation Charlie

[mario2007]

I hate being redundant.  Ditto all the above.  Thanks, for the new material!

[crushme99]

I second all the comments about your great writing style.  This is totally good stuff. 

[mario2007]

Now that's how you write a cliffhanger!  Awesome stuff, dhalden!

[Mdlftr]

I love that the narrator's guilty, horny conscience is making him all paranoid and weird.  Charlie is pretty cool about it all. His expressions and behavior seem so "normal" you're not sure what he suspects or knows about what the narrator is thinking.

 

Great writing!  I really enjoy the descriptions of Charlie's huge muscles, and the narrator's observation of the bartender flirting with him, to his own surge of desire to all the conflicting ideas in his mind.  This is a very effective, very stream of consciousness writing style that makes this all seem so plausible.

 

It could happen to you......... 

[dhalden]

Charlie. Standing before me in all his naked glory.

 

The image had been stuck in my head for a week, gloriously burned into the retina of my mind’s eye. His huge, round shoulders that nearly jutted from one wall of the hallway to the other; the shapely bulk of each individual pec that drooped heavily off his chest and the stubble of hair peeking from the deep cleft between them; his rolling valley of abs that tapered  ever so sleekly down to that alluring V of his hip flexors and lower obliques. All of this was, of course, accentuated by the glisten of water clinging to his smooth, bronzed skin. Cloaked in the towel tucked loosely about his waist, the only thing hidden from view was his lower half, but this too was soon revealed. As if this veritable Adonis standing before me weren't enticing enough, Charlie changed his stance, shifting all his weight from one foot to the other—and shaking loose the towel in the process. This was no slow reveal, mind you. All at once this piece of living artwork was elevated. His hugely prominent thighs surged into view, sloping outward in every direction from his waist, layered over with smooth teardrop-slabs of muscle. Captivating as they were, however, it was the dark shadow of pubic hair and the impressive package it mounted that inexorably drew my gaze. Hanging thick and heavy, his cock and balls were thrust forward by necessity, the lack of room between his robustly developed inner thighs disallowing them to dangle freely downward, further highlighting their huge size. His cock alone was mesmerizing. Even flaccid, it was remarkably plump and engorged. And the length! I had seen up close and personal more than my fair share of man-meat in my lifetime, but this was truly impressive by any standard. If it wasn't double digits, it was damn near. His fat dick looped weightily over his balls (full and generous in their own right) to hang halfway down his thigh; heavy folds of skin were bunched up around the corona of its mushroom head, promising even more length when it was fully hard. And I thought I was big. Faint veins snaked their way up around that long log of meat and spread upward and outward across the lowest regions of his abs, rerouting his virility throughout the rest of his bountifully developed body.

 

I took in all of this in the milliseconds that seemed to stretch for hours. Charlie glanced down, glanced back up at me, and down at the towel again. He shrugged and unhurriedly picked up the towel. “Sorry about that,” he said. “But, hey, nothing we haven't both seen before, right?”

 

"R-Right," I stammered.

 

That I could not unsee it must never have occurred to him. The image of his near-flawless body lingered like a veil over my eyes wherever I went in the days that followed. In the supermarket, driving to work, in the gym, as I watched television, while I ate, when I showered…

 

"Andrew?” I glanced up from my desk, where I'd been mindlessly drilling holes into the metal surface with a blank stare, to see the principal of West Cape High standing in the doorway of my classroom. He was a short, bald man with a stomach round and wide as a watermelon.

 

“What’s up, Herb?” I said, waving him in. I had decidedly taken lunch in my classroom, partly to savor the peace and quiet of a silent classroom for once and partly to avoid Lynn, who had taken it upon herself to not-so-surreptitiously bring up her distrust of Charlie whenever I saw her. Half a dozen Tupperware containers were scattered over my desk, nearly empty of the brown rice, chicken, and broccoli they contained. I quickly gathered them up as Herb waddled in, nervously wringing his hands.

 

“Leave them, leave them,” he said. He stopped beside my desk and sheepishly smiled at me. “So how is everything going on the home front? Swimmingly, I hope?”

 

“Good,” I said, slowly. My stomach dropped. I’d learned that nothing good ever came from the sudden interest of a superior, at least not in academics. I quickly scanned my memory to recall if I’d missed an important meeting or committed some other negligible sin. Nothing came to mind…nothing except that image of a naked, gleaming, muscular Charlie.

 

“That’s great!” he said, continuing to wring his hands. “You’ve been working out, I can see. You’ve been looking big lately. That must, uh, take up a lot of your time, huh?"

 

I frowned. “I make time for it. Herb, is everything alright?”

 

He dropped his chin to his chest. “Not exactly. We’ve, uh, been having some issues with organizing the Halloween dance this Friday. There’ve been some, uh, cancellations with one or two of the chaperones.”

 

The block of ice in my stomach melted. I grinned. “And you want me to sub in?”

 

He fretfully met my gaze. “Yes—if it isn’t too much trouble, I mean.”

 

“It’s fine,” I said, chuckling. “I didn’t have plans anyway.”

 

“That’s a relief to hear. Not that you don’t have plans, I mean. Just that you’re available.” His quivering lips formed a weak, relieved smile. He started for the door again, stopped, and turned around again. “I, uh, meant that thing I said about you looking big. You may need to buy a new shirt soon. That one’s looking small.”

 

This shirt is feeling pretty tight around the shoulders, I thought. Herb thanked me again and disappeared out the door. The moment he was out of sight, I raised an arm and flexed. The plaid material stretched tautly against my bicep. That’s the stuff, I thought. The image of Charlie appeared in my mind’s eye again. I can get even bigger though. I will get bigger. With that thought in mind, I dove ravenously back into my lunch. I had just finished the last mouthful of rice and chicken when the bell signaling the next period rang and my next round of students trudged in.

 

“Afternoon!” I said cheerfully. A few grumbled a response as I walked to the whiteboard and began copying down a set of sonnets. When I finished, I turned back to them. “Yesterday we talked about the differences between Italian sonnets and English sonnets. I’d like you to copy down these sonnets on a sheet of paper and label whether they’re Italian or English and why. When you’re finished—” In the back of the room, a hand drifted toward the ceiling. “What?”

 

“You’re blocking the board,” Luke Freeman said.

 

“Oh,” I said. I glanced behind me and was surprised to find that my shoulder was in fact blocking a good portion of the text on the board. I slid aside. “Sorry.”

 

“Thanks, Mr. D.,” he said. “You’re getting too wide!”

 

A low collective chuckle drifted throughout the room. Too wide? Me? A warm sense of pride swelled in my chest. And going to get even wider, just you watch. Hard as it was to concentrate on the rest of my lesson, I somehow managed to do just that. But by the time the final bell of the day had rung though, my stomach was grumbling again, obliterating any focus I might have had. Always so damn hungry these days. Comes with the territory, I suppose. Can’t grow big without fuel. Instead of driving straight home, I stopped at Chipotle and ordered two burritos loaded with every topping. “An extra side of guac,” I told the server. She just looked up at me and smiled.

 

By the time I reached home, I was surprised to find that I had already finished the first burrito. It had become my new habit to eat with wild, mindless abandon, shoveling in inappropriately large bites of food without even thinking about it. To anyone else it would look unmannered, but I hardly noticed. My stomach demanded food and I was there to serve it. Inside, I plopped down on the couch, opened the second burrito, and chowed down. I must be growing. Another bite. I could never have put this much away a few weeks ago. Chew. I wonder how much I’ve grown. Swallow. A sudden thought occurred to me and I pulled out my phone to check the date. Guess I’ll find out—it’s measuring day!

 

An odd blend of apprehension and excitement coursed through my veins at the thought of breaking out the measuring tape again. While my last collection of measurements had been somewhat disappointing, I was certain they would prove encouraging this time around, if no other reasons than the fact that I simply felt bigger. The compliments that had been floated my way earlier in the day aside, there had been other pieces of evidence to attest to my growing muscles. My shirts, for example. Nice as it had been to hear, it had not taken Herb telling me my shirt was getting tight for me to realize. Nearly all of my dress shirts had become pleasantly taut across the chest, in the sleeves, around the collar; even my baggiest t-shirts finally looked appropriate sized. My trousers, too, were getting surprisingly tight around the backside and in the legs, while growing ever looser at the waist. Not to mention the unexpected bumps and knocks into doorframes and passersby that my swelling shoulders afforded me. And then there were the unexpected glimpses of my reflection I caught in mirrors and windows. Each time I was caught off guard by the sight of my head seemingly atop another man’s body and had to take a moment to reconcile the slender, out-of-shape image of myself that I had stored in my memory with the shapely, increasingly muscular form being built before my eyes. There was simply no denying it: I was a growing.

 

Burritos thoroughly destroyed, I made a protein shake to wash them down while I packed my bag for the gym. Charlie had decided that two workouts a day could more greatly benefit me, and given the obvious results thus far, any argument against the idea seemed useless. Even better: it’s arm day. As much as I loved the swell of my pecs after a long workout or the heavy weightlessness that plagued my wobbling legs after a good squat session, there was nothing that could beat arm day. What guy didn't love throwing up a double biceps pose at the end of a brutal set of hammer curls?

 

I texted Charlie to tell him I would meet him at the gym and pulled into the parking lot of Platinum Fitness Warehouse twenty minutes later, spotting his car three spaces down. I found him inside, already pumping out shoulder presses. He spotted me as I approached, dropped the dumbbells in his hands, and grinned that brilliant fucking grin of his.

 

“I thought it was arm day,” I said, scanning his swollen, melon-sized delts.

 

“It is,” he said. “Just thought I'd mess around until you got here.”

 

I glanced at the weights at his feet. Evidently, “messing around” constituted effortlessly throwing around sixty-five pound dumbbells. Fuck he’s strong. And no wonder. I’m getting bigger everyday but next to him, I feel like I’m shrinking. Charlie was now at the very outer limits of what most people would consider “exceptionally athletic” and very near the region of “jacked”. Whereas my clothes were only just beginning to fit me snugly, Charlie’s were practically a second skin. You could see plainly the striations and rolling mounds of muscle beneath and make out his prominent, snaking veins. His arms, always large, were now bulging even when relaxed, and his chest had taken on a new level of thickness. And he wasn't even pumped yet.

 

We started with barbell curls. As I loaded plates onto the bar, I watched Charlie do the same beside me, admiring the fact that he was piling on more than double the weight I was loading. He’s a fucking beast, I marveled inwardly. And I want to be just like him. Five sets later I moved onto preacher curls, but Charlie kept plowing away with barbell curls. Oh man, look at those biceps. So big. I tried to imagine how Charlie would react if I simply strode over and wrapped my hands—well, attempted to wrap my hands—around one of his swelling arms. How it would nearly dwarf my hands and inch my fingers further and further apart as inrushes of blood pumped it beyond capacity, his bicep becoming hard as granite, large as a softball. His skin would be hot, I knew, the blood practically boiling as it surged through his veins, forcing his muscle fibers to expand to the ripping point. Even as I watched, he swung the barbell to his chest, completing another rep. He squeezed at top, his upper lip peeling back to reveal his impeccable teeth beneath. “Grrraahh!” Down the bar dropped. Another rep, slower this time, but controlled. Another squeeze at the top. “Uhn!” His arms, already capped by his swollen delts, were growing even larger right before my eyes, the veins on his ballooning biceps practically throbbing. With one final rep—“Rrraaahhh!”—he dropped the bar to the floor, where it clattered thunderously. “Phew!” he said, wiping his forehead. “Hell yeah!”

 

I quickly returned to my own set of barbell curls while Charlie began plowing on hammer curls with dumbbells that looked heavy enough to crush a child flat. Larger and larger though he may have swelled in my periphery, I soon lost myself in the potency of pumping iron...

 

A few sets in, and the world began to fall away. As the blood boiled in my veins, my focus boiled down to one desire: growth. Like a creeping shadow, the drive to grow bigger had settled over my life incrementally, so slowly I hadn’t realized, until one day I looked up and recognized that nearly every aspect of my day-to-day activities revolved around promoting optimum growth. From when I went to bed and when I awoke, to what, when, and how much I ate—how I organized my day around when, and how many times, and for how long I needed to go to the gym—the plasticity of my budget to account for my ever-growing grocery list, gym membership, and new wardrobe—all of it was determined by my drive for muscle. In any other life such a relentless pursuit would be called unhealthy. An addiction. But I was fast learning that what some peopled saw as an addiction, others saw as an art. Gotta get bigger. Wasted too much time. Could’ve been so much bigger by now. I plowed through one last set of curls, finished, and moved onto hammer curls.

 

I gasped as the first truly powerful inrush of energy surged through my chest and exploded down my arms. A faint “Oooh yeah” slipped past my lips before I could stop it. My arms were practically on fire now, invisible flames licking at my expanding muscle. I closed my eyes and strained to take in every minute detail: the beads of sweat rolling down my temples, the faint taste of blood on my tongue as I bit my lip, and most importantly of all, the incredible tightness of every engorged fiber. “Aaahh!”

 

“Yeah, buddy!” Charlie exclaimed a few feet away. When the weight became too much, I dropped the dumbbells for a pair of forties and continued curling away. Soon my biceps were screaming, but I gritted my teeth and reached for a pair of thirties. Can practically feel them pulsing. Gotta go to failure though. When my range of motion finally became impaired, I traded the dumbbells for one last pair of twenties, gathered a monumental breath, and forced out one last set. Eight…seven…six…

 

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. My eyes snapped open to find Charlie’s reflection standing behind me in the mirror, just off to the side. Fuck look how much wider he is than me, I thought fleetingly. The blazing pump in my arms quickly pulled me under again.

 

“Come on!” Charlie said firmly. “Get it!”

 

Five…

 

“Uuunnh!”

 

…four…

 

“Fuck yeah, Andy—come on!”

 

…three…

 

“Grrr!”

 

…two…

 

“One more rep, baby! One more!”

 

…one!

 

“GRAAHH!”

 

My gripped turned gelatinous and the dumbbells tumbled to the floor, rolling in opposite directions. I wanted to collapse, but suddenly two strong hands were gripping my shoulders, squeezing encouragingly, and holding me upright. I looked up in the mirror again to see Charlie’s huge hands on my shoulders, and for the first time, they didn’t swallow them completely. He leaned in until his lips were brushing my ear. “You fucking owned that,” he growled, his breathe hot on my skin. “Good job, man.” When he pulled away, I felt the slightest sandpaper brush of his stubble on my neck and shivered. Panting, I turned and watched him stride away. He thrust one fist over his head, exclaiming, “Next up: cable curls. Then on to triceps, baby! Woo!”

[dhalden]

PS - really gonna try to get the "Halloween chapter(s)" up by this weekend. It'll be a "trick" if I can manage to pull it off, but if I can, it'll be a "treat" for you guys!

[Ro20316]

MM I wonder what kind of àrty Cahrlie will atend and Andrew will be happy to go and dress up for the party at school

[Mdlftr]

 As the blood boiled in my veins, my focus boiled down to one desire: growth. Like a creeping shadow, the drive to grow bigger had settled over my life incrementally, so slowly I hadn’t realized, until one day I looked up and recognized that nearly every aspect of my day-to-day activities revolved around promoting optimum growth. From when I went to bed and when I awoke, to what, when, and how much I ate—how I organized my day around when, and how many times, and for how long I needed to go to the gym—the plasticity of my budget to account for my ever-growing grocery list, gym membership, and new wardrobe—all of it was determined by my drive for muscle. In any other life such a relentless pursuit would be called unhealthy. An addiction. But I was fast learning that what some peopled saw as an addiction, others saw as an art. Gotta get bigger. Wasted too much time. Could’ve been so much bigger by now. I plowed through one last set of curls, finished, and moved onto hammer curls.

 

 

AMAZING WRITING!  DHalden you ROCK!!!

[cg12345]

The workout scenes are better than sex! Amazing writing!

[mario2007]

dhalden, I gotta say, that was just AWESOME!!!  You only hit home runs. 

 

Thank you for that!  Can't wait to read the next one