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Becoming a Man (By John D.)
|Bobby is a 13 year old kid who lives next door to me. Bobby has always been what I would call a dumb kid, barely getting “C’s” in school and spending all his time playing video games. Three months ago, he was a fat little 13 year old, with lots of baby fat covering his very unimpressive little body. He was 5’ 4” tall and looked just like a stupid fat kid, which he was. I’m 16 years old myself and I guess you would call me a nerd.. I’m 5’ 6” and I only weigh 98 pounds. I guess you could say I’m the 98 pound weakling. I’m really skinny - always have been. I’m pretty smart and I hate sports. I’ve known Bobby since we were little kids. We aren’t really friends because of our age difference and because our interests have never been the same. I hate video games.
Every Saturday, Bobby mows the grass in his back yard. It’s one of the household chores he has to do. His parents have a hand mower and it was really hard for this little kid to push it along. But his dad said he had to do the chore, so he got the lawn mowed every week. Our yards aren’t separated by a fence, just a two foot high hedge. One day in June I was in our back yard while Bobby was mowing his grass. He always wore just his shorts when he mowed the grass, so I could see his fat little body very well. It was late spring, so his body was a pale white. His baby fat kind of jiggled as he pushed the lawnmower. He looked kind of funny, like a stupid kid. He could barely push the lawnmower as his baby fat jiggled. He probably weighed about 115 pounds, all baby fat. I told myself I’m glad I never had baby fat like Bobby even though I was as skinny as a rail.
Bobby and I started talking a little bit and I noticed that his little-boy voice had become deeper. His voice had changed. My voice had changed when I was almost 15, so Bobby had entered puberty a lot earlier than I did. “Your voice has changed,” I noted. “You’re a teenager now.” Bobby smiled. “Yeah, I’m becoming a man. I was a boy but now I’m a man.” I laughed. “Well, you don’t look much like a man. You still look like a boy to me. You gotta get a lot older before you become a man.” Bobby looked at me and said “No, I’m becoming a man. I know I’m becoming a man. I just know it.” I looked at his boyish body and said “Well, okay, Mr. Man. See ya around.” I went inside while Bobby finished his mowing.
I didn’t see Bobby very much for the next several weeks. Every Saturday I watched Bobby mow the grass from my second-floor bedroom window. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Every week he looked different. His fat seemed to be going away. I wondered if he was on some big diet. But while his fat was disappearing, his shoulders and arms were getting bigger. When he pushed the lawnmower, I could see some muscle in his arms, muscle that wasn’t there a few weeks before. His triceps kind of bulged out as he pushed the lawnmower. And I could see muscle in his shoulders that I knew wasn’t there before. His chest was bulging a little under his nipples and I thought I could see lats forming on his back. He could now push the lawnmower a lot faster. Before he could barely push it through thick grass. Now he pushed it right through the thick grass like it was nothing. And his skin was getting very tan. It was obvious he didn’t wear a shirt very much and the early summer sun was turning his white skin very tan. He had steel blue eyes and light brown hair, which he had now cut short. He actually looked kind of handsome, something I had never noticed before. And I couldn’t believe what was happening to Bobby’s body. He looked like a different boy. I was so curious.
So one month after our last conversation I went out to our back yard while Bobby was mowing the grass. I looked at his body as he pushed the mower, seeing his shoulders and triceps up close. “Bobby, you look different. What have you been doing?” Bobby smiled and said “I’m becoming a man. You said I couldn’t do it, but I’m becoming a man.” He walked over to me and flexed his bicep. “Look at my muscle. I put an inch and a half of muscle on my arms already. Look how big my bicep is.” I looked at his bulging bicep and my mouth dropped open. “Actually, I probably put on over two inches of muscle, ‘cause all my fat went away. I don’t got no fat in my arms anymore. They’re solid muscle. Go ahead, John. Feel my bicep. Feel how hard it is.” I reached over and felt Bobby’s bicep. It was the size of a small orange and it was hard. I kind of gasped as I felt his muscle. It was way harder than any of my muscles. Bobby laughed. “Yeah, that’s a man’s muscle,” he said. “Flex your arm John. Lemme see your muscle.” I flexed and was immediately embarrassed at how small and flat my bicep was. It was nothing compared to Bobby’s bicep. Bobby reached over and felt my muscle. “Kinda puny, ain’t it. Way smaller than my muscle. And it’s soft too. Not hard like my muscle. My arm’s way bigger. Way bigger and way harder. I’m becoming a man and you’re not doing shit. And look at my gut. All my baby fat is going away. My body’s burning away the fat. It’s just disappearing, like magic. Pretty soon I’m not gonna have no fat at all. Just muscle. I’m gonna be a man!” He flexed his abs and I could see a six pack forming under his now-thin layer of baby fat.
I stammered, “How did you do this? Last month you were just a fat little kid. Now look at you. What are you doing?” Bobby grinned. “I’m becoming a man, John. When my voice changed, I told my dad I wanted to be a man. A real man. So my dad gave me a little plastic weight set that I’ve been using in my bedroom. It’s only 110 pounds and I’m already stronger than the whole set.. I’ve been working out real hard three times a week. I told my mom I wanted to become a man, so mom’s feeding me real good food with lots of protein. Plus I got some protein supplements. I eat six times a day. And I don’t eat no dessert or fat anymore. Just protein and good stuff. So my muscles are growing and my fat is disappearing. I love it. I’m becoming a man. You told me I couldn’t do it but you were wrong,” He put his hands on his hips and spread his lats. I gasped as I saw Bobby’s lats spring out under his shoulders. In one month he had built those lats. Meanwhile I had no lats at all. I looked at Bobby’s tan skin and bulging muscles with a look of envy in my eyes. He could see it. He was loving the jealousy in my eyes. He liked being a man. “And I’m getting a lot stronger John. When I started I could only bench 50 pounds. Now I can press every plate I have, all 110 pounds. I know I’m stronger than you. I’m twice as strong as I was a month ago. I’m so strong I need more weights!”
Without thinking, I said, “I got some weights last year but I don’t use ‘em.” Bobby’s eyes lit up. “Awesome! Lemme see ‘em.” He jumped over the hedge and headed towards my house. I followed behind him as he entered the back door. He didn’t ask my permission. He just did what he wanted. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. He said, “Where’s the weights?” “In my bedroom,” I said as I followed him, looking at the muscles in his shoulders that looked a lot wider than his slimmed-down waist. He knew where my bedroom was and he headed right to it. He went into my bedroom which I always keep very neat and tidy. “Looks like a fuckin’ library,” he said, scoffing at my neatness. He started looking around for the weights. He opened my closet and saw the weights on the floor. I had about 175 pounds of plates, from 25 pounds down to 5 pounds. My weights were iron, not plastic. “Fuck yeah!” he said as he grabbed a 25 pounds plate and curled it up a couple of times with one arm. “How come you don’t use your weights?” I thought back to the time my uncle had given me the weights. “I tried ‘em for a couple of weeks but nothing happened. So I put ‘em in the closet. I guess I just didn’t see any point in it.” Bobby looked at my body and all my books and laughed. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he said. Then he looked over and saw a weight bench in the corner of my room. It was covered with books, but you could see it was a weight bench with a rack. “Fuck, you got a weight bench! I don’t have no weight bench. I’ve been benchin’ from a coffee table and that’s fucking hard as hell. I’m takin’ your weight bench. I’m takin’ your whole fucking weight set.”
Bobby went over to the bench, picked up the books and threw them on the floor. “Hey, be careful with my books,” I said. “Fuck the books,” said Robbie. “I want the fuckin’ bench. You can clean up your stupid books later.” Bobby picked up the bench and brought it towards the door. I could hardly lift that bench and Bobby was picking it up easily. He put it down and looked over at the weights. “I’ll take the bench and you take some weights.” Bobby never asked me if he could take my weight set. He was just going to do it. I picked up a 25 pound plate and could barely hold it at my waist. “Kinda heavy,” I said. “I can only take one weight at a time.” Bobby looked at me with scorn in his steel blue eyes. “God you’re fucking weak,” he said. He came over and put one 25 pound plate on top of another one. Then he picked them up and pressed them over his head five times. “Fuckin’ easy,” he said. “Take your one fucking plate and follow me.” We left my house and went over to Bobby’s house, with Bobby carrying the bench like it was nothing and me struggling with the 25 pound plate. We walked up to his bedroom and Bobby opened the door. His room was an absolute mess. Clothes were all over the floor and video games were strewn around everywhere. I could smell sweat, sweat that had poured off his body as he was lifting and was now on his clothes on the floor. He had absolutely no books in his room. Over on the far side there was a bar with plastic weights on it. I couldn’t see any other plates around, so he must have put every plate on the bar. And there was a coffee table, the one Bobby used for his bench presses. Bobby dropped my (now his) bench and went over and grabbed the coffee table. “I’m too big and strong for you now,” he said to the table as he hauled it out the door. Then he put down the bench where the coffee table was. He reached down, grabbed his bar and put it on the rack. He got on the bench, gripped the bar and took it off the rack. Then he cranked out 10 reps like it was nothing. He reracked the bar, jumped up and yelled “Fuck this bench is great. It makes benching so easy, so much fun. That bar weighs 110 pounds. It’s a piece of cake. Before I had to get the bar to my chest. Now I can just use the rack. Fuck, I’m gonna be able to bench a ton of weight!”
Then he hurried to the door. “Let’s get the rest of the weights!” he yelled as he ran towards my house. I followed behind him, running too. Bobby was so excited. He got to my room and loaded himself up with weights. I didn’t count how much weight he was carrying, but it was three times as much as I could carry. We made a couple of trips from my room to his room, giving Bobby all my weights plus my barbell bar and my dumbbell bars. My weights were now Bobby’s weights. Of course he never thanked me. He just took ‘em. Bobby’s eyes were bright with excitement as he looked at the weights. “I wanna work out right now,” he said. “I wanna challenge my muscles with the new weights. I wanna see how much I can lift.” He turned around and looked at me with his steel blue eyes with a look that said “I’m the man and you’re just a nerd. I’m buildin’ muscle and you’re just shit.” He grabbed me by the arm and pushed me out the door. “See ya nerd,” he said as I stumbled down the hall.
I went back to my room and saw the lawnmower still in Bobby’s back yard. I knew he would have to come out after his workout and finish his lawn mowing. I did some reading in my room for the next hour and a half. But I really couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking of Bobby working out, lifting heavy weights with his brand new month old muscles. I thought about his shoulders pushing up those weights, how big and hard they were as they lifted the heavy iron. I thought about seeing those shoulders in front of me as Bobby walked or ran and I thought about all the muscle he had already packed on to them. I thought about his biceps curling the barbell, with Bobby straining to lift as much weight as he could and his biceps bulging out of his arms. I thought about his lats flaring out at his sides like wings as he did heavy rows with his new weights. Finally I put down my book and just thought about Bobby.
After about an hour and a half I went out in my backyard, pretending to do some chores. After a few minutes, Bobby’s door opened and he walked out into the yard. His body was glistening with sweat. I could see beads of sweat on his chest and abs and sweat was dripping off his face. He had a big glass of white liquid in his hand which he was drinking down, gulp after gulp. His muscles looked a lot bigger than when I had seen him two hours ago. His skin was red and it looked like his muscles were bulging out of his skin. I could see veins in his arms and even on his shoulders, thick veins pumping blood to his lungs and heart. He walked over to me and yelled, “Fuck, what a workout! Look at how pumped I am. Look at how big my muscles are. My muscles blow up and get huge after a workout like that.” He flexed his arms and I looked at the sweaty muscle. His arms looked huge. The bicep was bulging up much higher than it did before and the tricep looked like a football underneath. “Feel ‘em, John. Feel how hard they are.” I reached up with both of my hands and felt Bobby’s right arm. His skin was very hot and it was wet with sweat. I squeezed and I just shuddered when I felt how hard his muscles were. They were as hard as rocks. Hot sweaty rocks. “Fuckin’ hard, ain’t it,” said Bobby. “I was curlin’ 60 pounds for a few reps. Shit, I could only curl 30 pounds a month ago. Now I’m twice as strong.” He put down his arms and flexed his pecs. He ran his hand over his bulging pecs, feeling the thickness of muscle that had sprung up on his chest in a month. “And I was benchin’ 140, using my new weights on that fantastic bench. I could only do 50 pounds on the fucking coffee table when I started. Now I’m using the rack and, fuck, I’m almost three times as strong . I’m puttin’ on muscle so fast.” I was completely overtaken by Bobby’s progress. I had no idea a kid could put on muscle that fast. It sure didn’t happen to me. “That’s amazing, Bobby,” I said. “I can’t believe how big you are, how strong you are.” Bobby smiled. “Yeah, nerd, I’m becoming a man. And I’m gonna get a lot bigger and a lot stronger. I just know it.” He drank the last gulp from his glass and threw it on the ground. “A big protein drink. I drink a lot of protein. I eat a lot of protein too. I’m getting’ tons of protein. My muscles need lots of protein. And they’re getting’ it.” He flexed his lats and watched my eyes as I saw them expand. He laughed. He knew I was in awe of his muscles.
Then he flexed his legs. I couldn’t believe how big his legs had gotten and when he flexed them the muscles bulged like ridges of rock. He had hardly any fat on his legs anymore and you could see the ridges of muscle bulging under his skin. “Look at my fuckin’ legs. Did you know the rack on that bench lifts up so it’s a squat rack too? God that’s fantastic. I loaded that bar to 180 pounds and I squatted it! I squatted 180 pounds! Fuck, I can’t believe myself how strong I am. And I’ve only been lifting a month. And now I have a shitload of new weights. I’m gonna get huge!” I looked at Bobby’s face. He was smiling and was obviously so proud of himself. His eyes were bright and his face looked so handsome. He had turned himself into one hot dude. “Well, I gotta finish mowing the lawn. See ya, nerd.” He flexed his arm in my face one last time.
Then Bobby turned away and started mowing the grass. I stood there and watched his body. His muscles were still sweaty and his triceps and shoulders absolutely bulged with muscle as he mowed. I was so overcome. When he came by one time he took one hand off the mower and easily powered it ahead with his other arm. Then he flexed his tricep in front of me and I gulped. “Fuckin’ strong,” he yelled. “I’m a man and you’re a fuckin’ nerd.”
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