|« PREV||INDEX||NEXT »|
|Dan was never really interested in sports. In junior high, he started
lifting weights to attract girls. By the time he was a freshman, he
was stronger than every varsity football player and wrestler, and that
got him the attention he wanted with the girls. He loved showing off
around the big men on campus. Dan would challenge them to arm
wrestling matches at lunch, letting his huge arms flex in front of
their admirers. After he smashed their hands into the table, the
admirers would be his. They'd ask him to flex and if they could feel
his hard peak.
Dan excelled in gym class, like he did in all his classes, but when the coaches asked him to join the team, he always said no. Dan was more interested in the science fair than winning another trophy for the school.
In the summer, Dan hung out at the pool. He'd lift weights in the morning, getting a nice pump, then pack himself into his speedos and spend the rest of the day tanning. When his hormones got the better of him, as they often did, he'd make a date with one of the high school or college girls that offered to rub tanning lotion on his back. The first time Dan had sex was when he was 15, and he soon got a reputation for not only having the hottest body, but for being more man than most girls could easily take. When someone described him as "a perfect 10", Dan learned to quip, "oh, easily more than two inches bigger than that."
Dan majored in biology in college, then entered medical school. After his residency, Dan taught at a research hospital. Dan was particularly interested in neuromuscular diseases and mitochondrial abnormalities. When some researchers in Germany found a particular abnormality that caused the body to not produce a hormone that inhibited muscle growth, he was particurly intrigued. He took a sample of his own blood, and found out that he had the abnormality. Now it made sense why his body looked the way it did. He then proposed a grant to NIH and DoD to track the progress of children born with this trait. DoD was very interested, and a database was set up. Dan sought out a surrogate to carry his child, a woman who was a carrier of the gene. It took two years, but his son Ben was born.
Dan had prepared. He created his own version of a Skinner box for the baby, one that would stimulate the child's muscles. From the first month, Ben's developing motor skills were augmented with muscular stimulation. The normal thrashing and reaching of a baby learning to control its body was supplemented with weights, pullies and cables. Ben looked like some sorta science fiction experiment. Not only did Ben's cradle have a musical mobile with airplanes and birds, it also had a pully system that attached to his arms and legs. At first, there was no weights, but soon 1lb, then 5lb then 10lb weights were added. Dan devised rubber and teflon clothing that inhibited Ben's movement, forcing the baby to flex his chest and back in order to move. When Ben began to crawl, Dan weighted Ben down, forcing into weighted squats and movements to develop Ben's quads, hams, calves and glutes.
The results were astonishing. By the time Ben was one, he had no baby fat, just a defined musculature of a child of nine or ten. Ben was also incredibly strong. Although he weighed only 35 pounds, he was benching 150 and curling 50lbs.
Ben didn't socialize with other children. Dan learned early on that people didn't understand what he was doing. When they saw Ben in his crib, or with the weighted device designed to stimulate his muscle growth, they accused Dan of torturing his son. They didn't understand that it was all in the name of science.
Between ages one and two, Dan set up a play room of weights and lifting equipment for Ben. Rather than playing with building block and toy cars, Ben played with dumbells and free weights. He may stack than and build towers, but as long as he was lifting, Dan knew he was getting stronger.
Ben seemed happiest when Dan was with him. He always smiled when his father picked him up and held him. Sometimes he would squirm, especially if he were in his reinforced muscle shirt, or if Dan was wearing a thick t-shirt. Soon, Dan realized Ben liked it with either one or both of them were shirtless.
The terrible threes where hard for Dan. Ben already looked like Mr. Olympia, and had the phenomenal strength to prove it. His temper tantrums were destructive. If he banged on something, his powerful fists tended to dent or break it. Wood shattered and steel deformed under his powerful punches.
One of Ben's first tantrums involved clothing. Dan was taking Ben shopping. It was cold, so he told Ben to put on a sweatshirt. "No!" Ben announced defiantly.
"You have to wear a shirt. It's cold outside," explained Dan.
"I don't like shirts," Ben said. "I won't wear it!"
Dan grabbed his son by the shoulder. "Yes you will!"
Ben got an angry look on his face. Dan felt the boy's body flex in anger. He twisted, Ben's muscular shoulder breaking free from Dan's grip. Dan reached down again, but Ben raised his hands and grabbed his father's, stopping it. Dan pushed harder, but Ben's body pushed up, his legs coming to life and reinforcing his strong upper body.
Dan knew the boy was strong, but hadn't realized just how strong. He lifted his hand, and Ben let go. Dan bent down and grabbed Ben by the waist. The boy bucked like a bronco in his hands, but Dan held on and lifted him up. "Listen young man, you will put this shirt on!" Dan sat Ben down in a chair, grabbed the sweatshirt and put it on his head. Ben started to cry, but Dan persisted, grabbing on of the boy's thickly muscled arms and forcing it into the shirt. He put the other arm in, and forced the shirt over the boy's muscular chest.
Dan stood back, pleased that Ben had stopped fighting. The sweatshirt was several months old, and already the boy had begun to outgrow it. Ben's arms stretched the fabric, and his big boyish pecs and thick lats filled out the chest. "I..." Ben proclaimed, beginning to flex, "won't..." the fabric strained as Ben forced his muscles to expand, "wear..." Dan heard seams pop and saw a small tear under the sleeve, "IT!". Ben flexed hard, moving his arms forward and causing the shirt to rip down the back. Ben moved his hands to the collar of the shirt, and before Dan could stop him, pulled hard, ripping the shirt. He threw the rags on teh floor, and jumping on the chair, stomped on them.
"That was very bad," said Dan. "You're getting a time out for that. Go sit on the stairs until I tell you to go."
Ben stormed away, going to the stairs. He put his arms on his knees, his big kid biceps bulging, then put his face in his hands and scowled. "I hate shirts!"
Another incident occurred several weeks later. Ben was playing in the basement and found an old sailor's trunk that was Dan's grand father's from World War II. Dan had cleaned it out, and Ben was playing around it. Dan didn't notice that Ben climbed inside it, using it as a fortress to fend off some Indians. He turned and knocked it, the lid slamming shut.
Dan heard a muffled shriek from inside the trunk. He turned, to see Ben's fist hit the side with such force that the steel-reinforced side bulged out a good inch. Next the top flew off, the hinges snapped as Ben kicked the lid hard with both his feet. Ben pounded into the walls, breaking one off and splitting another. The trunk fell about. A wall that fell on Ben generated another loud cry and flew into the air, hitting the ceiling and crashing down on the other side of the basement.
"Ben!" Dan screamed, running over to his son. "Ben! It's OK! Daddy's here." Dan tried to get close, but Ben was flailing his powerful arms and legs, and kept pushing Dan away. "Ben! Calm down! I'm here."
Ben looked up, tears in his eyes, then stopped. "Daddy!" he cried, raising his arms to be picked up.
Dan picked Ben up, and ben flung his arms around his father's neck. "What happened."
"It was dark, and I was trapped," cried Ben, tears running down his face. "I thought the walls were coming at me. I was scared."
"Well, Daddy is here now and I'll take care of you. Nothing will hurt you."
That night, Ben started waking up screaming. He would say he felt trapped, like he couldn't move and he was scared. Dan would reassure him it was only a nightmare, but Ben had that same nightmare until he turned five, when he outgrew it. Still Ben hated being confined at all, or having his arms or legs restrained, lashing out violently when it happened. Dan never understood why.
Ben was homeschooled. He never had interactions with children. Before Ben turned five, he was stronger than Dan. Dan watched as Ben benched, curled and squatted more than he could. Dan didn't care, but noted in his research papers the amazing strength his four and a half year old had. Dan knew that Ben would hurt kids his own age, so never allowed him that interaction. Whever Ben wanted to play, Dan would step in and be his playmate, even when it interfered with his own work.
One day, when Ben was six, he was watching TV. The sports channel was covering a bodybuilding show. Ben had stripped down to his underwear, and was mimicking the men on stage. Dan peeked in to see that everything was fine. He saw his son striking poses, and noted that he looked much better built than the teens on the television. Dan went back to his den to work.
About five minutes later, he was disturbed by a commotion. Ben was shouting. He ran to the room, and Ben was pointing at the TV and jumping up and down. "It's a kid! It's a kid! Just like me!"
On the screen was a boy. He was hugely muscled, and the caption said he was only eight. The word "WINNER" flashed below it. One announced was speaking, "And while Tom, or Tommy as his friends call him won the tournament, this commentator really wonders what type of childhood the boy has."
"I've heard he was kicked out of school for being violent," said the other talking head.
"I've heard that..." the commentators kept talking, but Dan's attention focussed on Ben, who was excitedly jumping next to him.
"Daddy! That boy on TV. He had big muscles like me!"
"Yes, he does," replied Dan. He grabbed the remote for the DVR, and rewound to the beginning of the segment. The boy named Tom took the stage, and there were gasps from the audience. The music to "I'm a Little Teapot" began to play, and Tom posed to it, bending his arm and putting his fist on flexed obliques to "here is my handle" and flexing his other bicep to "here is my spout." The crowd laughed.
"Look Daddy!" said Ben, making the same pose. The music on the television changed, and Tom had struck an impressive double bicep pose. Ben gleamed and did the same, his own biceps looking thicker and larger than Tom's. Dan smiled, comparing his son to the winning muscle kid, and knowing that Ben had him beat in size, shape and definition.
When the segment was over, Ben turned to Dan. "Daddy?" he asked affectionately, like he did when he wanted something.
"Would you like to compete like that?" Dan said, anticipating the question.
"Oh no," said Ben. "I was just wondering if, well, if I could meet Tommy. I don't have any real friends, and I was kinda hoping Tommy would be my friend and play with me. I'd promise not to hurt him."
Dan looked at his son. "Well, maybe. But why don't you want to compete? Are you afraid of losing."
Ben frowned. "Daddy," he said, explaining, "these people are called bodybuilders. And the winner is the bodybuilder who is bigger and stronger and got more veins and stuff."
"I know Ben," Dan said.
"Ya, well, look..." Ben sucked in his stomach and flexed his abs hard. He flared his lats so big that they formed a huge V at least twice as wide as his thin waist. He bent slightly forward, tensed his arms and flexed his chest. Veins popped below thin skin over around his necks, pecs, shoulders and arms. Ben's pecs were thick and ripped, cross-striations visible on both the upper and lower pecs, which were clearly defined. Ben's wide shoulders added to the illusion of his massive size. To complete the pose, Ben moved one leg in front of the other. His thighs burst into definition, the veins and striations just as visible as on his upper body. Ben grinned a big grin. "I'd win the competition easily," he said.
"So, you do want to enter?"
"Daddy!" Ben cried with some exasperation. "Tommy won! Tommy is the best. I want Tommy to be my friend. I don't want to beat him!"
"But you're muscles are bigger than Tommy's?"
"I know," said Ben. "But Tommy wants to win. I just want to be his friend."
Dan frowned. "Well maybe someday."
For the next year, Ben asked for every article or a copy of every TV show about Tommy. He would cut out pictures of Tommy and put them up on his wall. With each new article, Ben would ask his father when he could meet Tommy. Dan always said "Soon."
A year passed, and Ben heard they were televising Tommy's competition again. Dan had urged Ben to compete, but he said no. "Tommy's gonna win again!" Ben declared.
When Tommy came on stage, Ben jumped up and down with excitement. Like he always did, he posed with Tommy, mimicking the older boy's actions with his bigger and more defined muscles. When Tommy was through posing, the station went to commercial.
"Did you see him! Did you see Tommy!" Ben said excitedly. "He's even bigger than last year! I can't wait to meet him!"
Dan just smiled.
"And we're back," said one of the commentators on the screen. "Next up is another nine year old..."
"He'll be nine in a few weeks," corrected the other comemntator.
"Wow! Look at that body. It looks like our previous competitor is going to have real competition this year!"
"WHAT!" cried Ben. "Nobody beats Tommy!"
Ben's body tensed as he watched Wally go through his routine. During the posedown, as the commentators ranted, "Wow! Look at the peaks on Wally's bis. This kid is leaving Tommy in the dust!" Ben began to fume. He began to mimick Wally, mocking him with his size.
"I'm way bigger than him!" Ben said. "Come on Tommy. Crush him!" as if wishing his superior muscle to the boy he idolized. When Wally struck a devastating most muscular pose, his thicker arms behind his head, wider lats leading to thinner waist and his more powerful legs, Dan knew that Tommy was beaten, then he looked at his son doing the same pose.
"You can beat Wally," he said.
"Tommy will win!" Ben demanded.
When the announcer pronounced Wally the winner, Ben stormed out of the room.
Dan found Ben in his weightroom. He was doing leg presses, and lifting harder than Dan remembers.
"What are you doing, Ben?"
"Next year, I'm gonna beat that Wally." said Ben, locking the weight after a set of ten reps. He got up and added weight to the machine.
"You want to compete?" asked Dan, trying to conceal his surprise and approval.
"I'm gonna be way bigger and way stronger than Wally," Ben announced. "And if he thinks he can beat Tommy, I'm gonna beat him!"
That was the beginning of a year of intense growth for Ben. Dan put pictures of Wally winning around the gym. He read each new article about Wally O'Toole, the boy with unbeatable kid muscle, to Ben. When Ben heard that Wally routine wrestled Tommy to the ground, the two pretending to be super heros, Ben worked so hard he ran out of weights to lift. Dan had to go out and buy another 300lb olympic weight set so Ben could continue his workout.
As the contest approached, Ben's determination only increased. Dan didn't tell Ben that he was already lifting way more than Wally. Dan wanted Ben to be even bigger.
When Ben got to the competition, he and Dan saw Tom and Wally at the registration table.
"Dad!" Ben said with glee. "Look at Tommy! He's huge."
"It's OK Ben," Dan said. "You'll beat him easily."
Ben stopped. "But Daddy, now I don't have to. Tommy's going to win. I know it."
As he said it, Tom and Wally made struck a double bicep pose for a photographer. Tommy was bigger and more cut than Wally.
"But we came all this way," said Dan. "I'd really like it if you enter."
Ben shook his head. He crossed his arms under his huge pecs, his thick biceps unable to cross any higher because of his powerful muscles.
Dan knew he couldn't force his son, then had an idea. "Well maybe afterwards, we can go backstage and you can meet Tommy and Wally."
Ben's face gleamed with excitement. "I can meet Tommy!"
"Ya, and you can show him your muscles and even play with him if you want!"
Dan and Ben watched the competition. He was so excited, he didn't even complain about wearing the baggy sweatshirt his father made him wear. Dan had explained, "Let's make it a surprise for Tommy. You can take your shirt off after you meet him." Ben screamed encouragement as Tommy flexed and posed, his physique looking bigger and more powerful than teens twice his age. When he won, Ben jumped out of his seat. He dragged Dan backstage as quickly as they could get there.
Backstage, the press had crowded around Tom and Wally. Two men had just announced a camp.
Ben turned to Dan, wide-eyed. "Did you hear that Daddy?" Ben asked. "Can I go? Can I?"
Before Dan could answer, Ben had begun to push through the crowd. "Tommy!" He ran up to Tommy and picked the bigger boy up like a doll. "You're my hero!"
Tommy grabbed at Ben's hands and tried to pry them apart, but found that he couldn't. Ben's huge arms were pressing into Tommy's lats with crushing force.
"Ben," Dan cried, pushing through the crowd, "put Tommy down."
"I'm sorry," Ben said, lowering Tommy. He looked around. "My name is Ben, and I'm strong like you!" Ben grabbed the top of his sweatshirt and pulled. It ripped like tissue paper, revealling globe-like pecs and ripped abs that looked like the bed of a brick road. Ben peeled the shirt off his arms, and raised them in a double bicep. His arms were so thick, it seemed impossible that he could move them at all. When he flexed, peaks like Rocky Mountains emerged below his skin.
"That kid is a muscle monster," whispered a reporter near Dan.
Dan smiled. "Yes, he is."
Tom shook his head, then flexed his arm next to Ben's. The boy's bicep was a good two inches bigger than his own. Ben giggled, and flexed harder, making his peaks bounce with new size.
"Ben has a 60 inch chest, 24 inch arms, 35 inch quads and a 24 inch waist," Dan announced to the reporters. "He benches over 600, squats close to 900 pounds and curls 250. And he's only eight years old."
The reporters turned to Dan. "And my son is the biggest, strongest, toughest muscle kid there is."
|« PREV||INDEX||NEXT »|
This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.
Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.
Archive Version 070326