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|So, this is how I got started jogging: My weight continued to go up, along with my strength. My trainer T-Bone said he'd never seen anyone pack it on like me, and, even though he knew I was adding muscle mass, he wanted me to lose some size, so he upped my cardio. But after I broke two treadmills and an elliptical machine, the owner took me aside and told me I couldn't use the cardio equipment anymore, I was too hard on it. He was nice about it, but I felt awful. Like a fat clumsy kid all over again. I would have stopped coming to the gym altogether if I wasn't getting so turned on by the whole thing. "Where can I do cardio?" I asked the owner. "Why don't you try running outside?" he suggested. I looked out the window of the gym. Outside? It was hot outside. And humid. With a capital H. And I sweat buckets even in air conditioning. Didn't he realize I was an American? Outside. He must have seen me shudder, because he laughed, and reached up to tousle my hair. "Give it a try, kid, you might like it." That seemed difficult to believe. Not only because of the heat, but outside, people would see me, big fat Andy, lumbering down the street in his sagging sweats in the middle of August, huffing and puffing away. If I hadn't noticed how much of my fat had melted away already, I would have skipped cardio altogether and lied to T-Bone about it. So, the next morning, I got up at six AM. I checked myself out in the mirror. My shoulders were definitely thickening up and widening. I flexed my arms and watched them ball up bigger than ever. They felt heavy, but in a good way. My morning wood jutted out toward the mirror. That was happening every morning now... used to be about once a week. I stroked myself a couple times and , god, did it feel good. Better than I'd ever remembered it feeling. And I don't know if it was because my gut was shrinking, but my cock seemed bigger than ever too. I cupped my balls...yep, they were definitely bigger. Used to be like almonds, now more like unshelled walnuts. I could have so easily jacked right then, but I had to be at the butcher shop for work by 8, so I shook myself out of it and put on my sweats and sneakers. I headed out to the street and started jogging. My high school was only about a half mile away, and I figured there'd be no one on the running track this early on a summer morning, so I headed that direction. It was already pretty warm, and so humid it was almost foggy. By the time I reached the track, I was soaked, my calves were on fire, and I was breathing heavy, my lungs already burning. The difference between running on a treadmill and running outside was huge. I made one lap around the quarter-mile track, and was dying. I stopped to catch my breath, leaning over because of the cramping in my stomach. Fucking A. I started jogging over to the gate leading out of the track, but by the time I got there, I was doing better. I jogged around the track two more times. Then two more. I was huffing like a freight train, all 290lbs of one, sweat spraying off my nose as I exhaled hard. I jogged 3 miles, then headed for home. It was tortuous, but I had done it. I picked up speed as I got to my street, feeling so stoked up. As I passed Cheryl's house, I saw her coming out of the front door. I stopped and bent over, hands on knees, breathing deep. She stopped dead in her tracks. "Andy?" she asked. "Is that you?" "Uh-huh," I panted out. "What...are you doing?" "Just took a jog." "Outside?" she asked, walking over to me. I stood upright. I felt like I was towering over her. Was I getting taller? "You look so...healthy," she said. Cheryl had always told me that I was good-looking, but I figured she had to say that, seeing as how she was my best friend. "Have you lost weight?" "No, not really. Must be all the fresh air," I answered. "Fresh isn't exactly the word for it. It's muggy as hell!" she said, going over to her car. "I'm late for work. Call me later, handsome." I walked the four houses down to my place, stripping off my shirt along the way. It was the first time I'd gone shirtless outside for years. Handsome, she'd said. Our next door neighbor, Mr. Trapp, was pulling out of his driveway. Mr. Trapp was an ex-marine, around 30 years old, who did some sort of government work now. Mom thought he might be CIA. I didn't think there'd be a big call for that here in Wisconsin, but who knew? In his spare time, he trained for ultimate fighting competitions, and had converted his three-car garage into a gym. He stopped his car when he saw me coming. He looked me up and down. Mr.Trapp was one of those people I had always been invisible too, only today, he nodded at me. I nodded back. In the four years he had lived next door, this was the longest conversation we had ever had. As he drove off, he continued looking over at me. When I walked into my house, I saw my reflection in the hall mirror, but was it really me? I was all flushed from running. My chest looked huge and ruddy. I could see abs. I could fucking see abs. I clenched my stomach, and saw them even better. Still buried under a gut, but emerging. I walked over closer to the mirror. My jaw looked squarer, thicker. So did my brow. My stubble was thicker. I was beginning to look like a jock. A handsome jock. At the butcher shop that morning, I worked like a maniac, unloading the deliveries with gusto. Helmut watched with amusement as I lugged beef quarters from the truck to the cooler, not using the meat hooks, but waddling back with them using my own strength. I was stoked. Later in the day, when I told Helmut that I was hoping to arm wrestle my trainer before the end of the summer, Helmut told me that he had been an arm wrestling champion when he was a young man back in East Germany. He was a big man, so I could picture him being a tough arm wrestler. He offered to teach me some technique, so when the store slowed down that afternoon, he cleaned off his big butcher block, and told me to get ready. He took off his bloody apron, then took off his shirt, so that he was only wearing a tight sleeveless undershirt. Helmut was heavily muscled, with a big pot belly that look hard as cast iron. His thick skin was smooth except for some hair on his delts and traps. His delts were monstrous. His arms were big and thick enough, but his forearms were massive and veiny from years of cutting and handling meat. His hands were beefy, and his fingers thick as rolls of quarters. I could feel the strength in them as we locked up. I was surprised to see that our hands were almost the same size. Our first training session was just pinning each other back and forth, with only slight resistance, to get a feel for the leverage. We did this for about ten minutes, with him giving me tips on how to put my wrist and shoulder power into it without lifting my elbow. He said my wrists were thick and strong like his, although I thought his looked thicker. We had to stop when the late afternoon customers starting coming in. Helmut left to help them, and I started cleaning up in the cooler. My arm, even from those easy back and forths with Helmut, was pumped like a balloon. I balled it up into a hard flex and slapped my other hand against it. Then I slapped my hand against a hanging side of beef. It felt the same. Solid. So solid. Strong. T-Bone was in for a big big surprise. I was feeling hungry, so I went over to a vat of ground ham that Helmut used to make ham salad. I grabbed a handful of it and started stuffing into my face. My hunger sometimes got the best of me, but I couldn't help it. It tasted so good. I'd eaten about half of it before I realized, so I spread it out to hide how much was missing. I went to the small bathroom in the back of the store. My face was covered with ground ham. I looked like a freaking Neanderthal. But I felt so strong after eating all that protein and fat. So very strong. I rinsed off my face. Then I rolled my sleeve back and flexed my right arm. The muscle mounded up like a giant baked potato. I felt the hardness of it. I felt its strength. I dug my fingers into it and felt it not give. Damned if it wasn't making me hard doing it too. Good thing the workday was almost over. My big balls were full and aching for release. |
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