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The next evening was a Friday and everyone in the Nielsen family was in a hurry to finish dinner.
"Easy there, champ," grinned Mike's mother, as she pinched the firm roll of flesh pushing over the side of his jeans. "You're getting a little too healthy for your own good!"
"Aw, Mom!" blushed Mike. "You can't be too healthy!"
Friday night was, traditionally, Marge Nielsen's night to play bridge and Richard Nielsen's night to play poker with the boys from the office. Mike and Kevin were obviously pleased with this situation as it gave them free reign to do as they pleased with the start of their weekends.
"So what are you boys planning to do with yourselves tonight?" Marge Nielsen asked in her best concerned-mother voice.
Kevin responded first. "I'm going over to Gino's to watch TV and spend the night."
Mike gave his cousin a knowing smile. He was able to translate that answer to mean that Kevin and his best friend, Gino Manelli, would be out having a wild time on the town with no curfew to worry about. Kevin was Richard Nielsen's first cousin's son, and he'd moved into the house last year after some trouble down south that no one liked to talk about. Everything had been just fine here ever since, and though Mike had his suspicions about what had happened, he'd guessed it didn't really matter.
Kevin was a great guy, always so laid back and happy-go-lucky, and although the blood relation was rather thin, and there was a two year age difference, they'd been like brothers since the day he'd moved in. One thing was for certain, thanks to Mike's parents' Friday night rituals, Kevin had been able to develop a reputation as one of the wildest partyers at Edison Community College, despite the fact that he was only a sophomore. His best friend on the gym squad, Gino had a pretty cool father who was barely ever home, and together they made a good match.
"Well that sounds nice!" Marge continued. "And what are you planning for tonight, dear?" she asked, turning to Mike.
"Oh, I'm just going over to Tony's. He just got a brand new set of work-out equipment and I told him I'd help him set it up."
"Well, be sure you're home by one, Mike. I don't want a lot of noise when you get in either, " his father said.
"Okay, Dad." Not that Pop would have known if he wasn't. Richard Nielsen seldom got home from his poker games before two in the morning, and usually in no condition to be aware of what his grown son was up to.
After they finished the meal, Kevin helped his aunt clear the table and load the dishwasher. As soon as it was running, Marge took up and Richard was not long in following.
"So what have you really got planned for tonight?" Mike asked his cousin as soon as they were safely gone.
"Actually, I was telling the truth for a change," Kevin confessed with a shrug. "Gino's dad is out of town on business so we were going to hang around his place tonight. Of course, we also have a bag of great pot and intend on getting wildly stoned," he added with a smile.
"Ah, yes! Vitamin M!" Mike said with a laugh.
"How 'bout you? Any truth to the new weights bit?"
"Yeah, I'm afraid so. I guess I'm just getting boring in my old age."
"Well, shit, man! If you feel like it, when you're done at Tony's, come on over to Gino's. There's more than enough pot to go around and you know Gino would be happy to see you. Shit, she's always asking about you."
"Sounds great! Maybe I will. It depends on how long it takes to unpack the stuff." Something long and firm in Mike was hoping for other developments with his best friend, and some sly overture was coming to a slow simmer in his horny mind, but shit, that was just wishful thinking-and Gino sure was easy to look at.
"What's Tony need with work-out gear, anyway?" Kevin asked. "From the why those buttons have been straining on his shirts, I'll bet he's been eating a lot lately. I've never seen a beefy dude put weight on so well. If I had a build like that there'd be no stopping me on the mat!"
"Hell, you don't exactly have a feeble-looking body, yourself," Mike laughed as he stood up and slapped his cousin on the back. "Listen, I might just take you up on your offer later on. Save me a jay."
The early October night had turned unseasonably warm at around sixty degrees.
As he walked, Mike couldn't help but think about what a sexy looking beefy dude Kevin was becoming. He thought back just about a week ago when he had attended one of his cousin's wrestling meets. His mouth literally hung open when he first saw Kevin stroll out onto the mat wearing his skin tight uniform. Mike stared in disbelief as he surveyed the awesome meaty body this mischievous little relative of his had developed. Kevin's sumptuous torso didn't have the same kind of mass that was common to gainer boys like Mike, but he more than made up for it in the definition department. Mike's attention had been riveted as he watched Kevin flex his forearms, biceps and triceps, as he stretched them behind his back, just barely exposing the dark blond tufts of hair beneath his arms. He was even more impressed when Kevin began to do some deep knee bends. The thing that always impressed Mike most about wrestler dudes was the swelling legs they were able to develop, even more so than gainer boys, and his cousin was definitely no exception. The powerful, fleshy muscles bulged visibly, stretching out the leg openings of his spandex uniform as he performed his warm ups. Looking up, Mike noted with interest the contrast between Kevin's furry legs and the bare, voluptuous pectorals of his chest-or at least what he could see of his cousin's chest before it sloped down under his uniform. Though they really were barely related, their bodies were similar-hairy legs and a practically bare, sumptuous torso except for some light fuzz-and that little fact had really begun to turn Mike on.
The most impressive thing about Kevin that night was what Mike saw so poorly disguised over the crotch of his skin tight uniform. By all appearances, his cousin's stomach was getting a little plump! It was the kind of gorgeously well-fed, jock belly that had him salivating and filled his mind with thoughts of weight gain. It put Mike in a trance as his brother pinned another hapless victim, and he had only snapped out of it when the match was over. Afterwards, to his amazement, Kevin's plushy gut looked even slightly larger. He only had a brief look, though, because his brother quickly picked up a towel and held it in front of him as he walked back to his team's bench.
Mike was so turned on by the memory, that he started to get a hard-on as he walked up the sidewalk to Tony's house.
He only had to wait a couple of seconds after ringing the doorbell for someone to answer. It was Tony and all he was wearing was a belly shirt and a skimpy pair of running shorts that looked like they'd been outgrown about five years ago.
"Hey dude, glad you could make it!" he beamed as he ushered Mike into the house. "I've already gotten started putting this thing together in the garage. My parents are downstairs watching TV so we shouldn't be bothered."
As they stepped into the garage, Mike couldn't help but shake his navel because the Wallachs' garage was anything but a chilly house for two-point-five cars. There were no vehicles stored in it, or lawn equipment, or recreational work-out gear. It was more like just another room in the house. The doors were all sealed shut, the floor was carpeted, and the place was well lighted. It came complete with a couch, tables and a TV set. Tony had designed it as a personal rec room when his part-time job and roommate up-campus plans had fallen through before the beginning of the term, and he used it almost constantly. His father had told him if he still couldn't afford to move out by Thanksgiving, the family would chip and have the place insulated for the winter.
"This is what I've unpacked so far," he said, as he waved his hand over a recently assembled bench press. "I thought this whole thing was going to be a snap but it took me a fucking hour just to put it together."
"Well, don't worry buddy, the expert is here now," Mike boasted as he took up the jacket he was wearing over his untucked T-shirt. The T-shirt was ribbed, clinging tightly to his body. The stitches at the elastic around his biceps almost popped every time he flexed his arms. The ribbing bulged where it was stretched by the muscle in his chest...or the deliciously slow inflation around his middle.
With the additional help, the job progressed quickly. By ten o'clock all the work-out gear had been unpacked and assembled. The two jocks stepped back, admiring their handiwork, and after a pause they began placing all the free weights onto their respective racks. The sheer strenuous-ness of the job had gotten the two of them pumped and horny.
"Okay, beefy dude," Tony said as he grabbed Mike's upper arms from behind and kneaded them roughly, "it's time for the real thing. Let's try the bench first." He picked up a fifty pound weight and slid it onto his end, and Mike picked up another fifty pounder and slid it onto the other end of the bar.
"You go first, I'll spot you," said Tony, checking out his buddy with a gainer's eye. "You've put on a little weight, haven't you?"
"You think so?" Mike asked, his cheeks blushing red. "Guess I've been eating a little too much, lately."
"Yup," Tony said, hungrily noticing his buddy could hardly squeeze into his jeans any more. "Look at that little jock paunch you've started to put on!
"How 'bout I just stand over from the front and spot you from there?"
"Sure, that'd be great," Mike said, despite the fact that it seemed kind of strange to him. Why wouldn't Tony have wanted to move the whole contraption into the middle of the room? There was plenty of space.
Mike lay down on the bench and grasped the bar while Tony swung his leg over in a straddling position with his arms outstretched and ready to offer assistance. Staring up at his muscular friend, Mike paused a second, affecting a look of concentration while really just stealing a good long look at Tony's tensed, beefy arms and the smooth, rounded chest hanging so deliciously close above him. A few beads of moisture could be seen trapped in the hair beneath Tony's powerful arms, and Mike was forced to pull his mind away from such things in order to keep his swelling cock from making himself obvious.
He took a deep breath, quickly raised the heavy weight up and down up and down about twelve times in rapid succession. Then, he returned the bar to its resting place with a little assistance from Tony, his quickened breathing the only visible sign that any effort had been expended.
"Good job," Tony said as he grabbed two ten pounders and added one to each side of the bar. "Let's see you try two hundred."
Mike stared at Tony's crotch, which was only about a foot away, as he moved back into position. He lay there gazing at Tony, young, hot, somewhat over-fleshed at the belly, his soft, tight half-shirt fraying at the hem. He could plainly see Tony's bare belly plumping out over the tight material of those ancient gym shorts. God! It almost looked like he wasn't wearing a jock strap underneath it. In fact, as he breathed in deeply, he detected a powerful, musky, sweaty smell that must have been coming from Tony's groin.
The smell and the thought was all that was needed to trigger a raging hard-on in Mike's jeans, and in a desperate attempt to divert his mind as quickly as possible, he hoisted the new weight with as much intensity as he could muster.
"Intense, beefy dude," Tony said as the huge dumbell came back to rest, "now let me have a shot at it."
Mike stood up, twisting his meaty body as best he could to turn the protrusion in the front of his jeans away from his friend. Tony set himself down on the bench and, looking Mike right in the ravenous eyes with his own steely blue gaze, the handsome, dark haired teenager said, "Now it's your turn to do me, buddy."
Mike was taken aback for a second by the intensity of Tony's stare, but quickly got into the straddling position, hoping that Tony wouldn't see the hard-on through his jeans.
Tony did see it, though, and at that moment his hopes and suspicions about his best friend were confirmed. Tony loved slightly overfed jock boys as much as Mike did! And now, he decided, it'd be as good a time as ever to do something about it.
"Shit, man," he smiled, poking Mike in the softness of his stomach and pinching his fingers into his T-shirted sides. "Look at this! I can't believe what I'm seeing here! You're really putting on a bit of a spare tire, there, aren't you? You're gettin' a little soft around the edges, buddy. These force-feedings are finally starting to fatten you up!" Tony then pinched a bit of the extra flesh under Mike's chin and pulled his worried face up so he could look in his eyes. "Hey, don't sweat it, dude! Don't sweat it at all! So you put on some pounds? Isn't that what we're here for? I like what I see. I should have given you some work-out shorts. Your legs must be pretty cramped all packed up into those jeans."
As he said this, Tony brought his hand up and began to rub and massage Mike's thighs through the rough denim material. Mike just stood there in stunned disbelief as his hunky friend started to feel him up. Tony took the silence as encouragement and moved his hands towards Mike's bulging crotch. As Tony's fingers touched the throbbing mound, Mike let out a sigh and almost instinctively reached back to grab Tony's own mouth-wateringly tender plumpness: "Oh, man, I like you looking nice and juicy in those worn out jeans you're wearing. Keep gaining weight and you're gonna get too fat to button them closed, dude! Man, I'm gonna start you on a super weight-gain diet, dude -- stuffing you 'til that bloated, sexy gut on you bursts open those tight-buttoned jeans. Then I'm gonna check out that chunky muscle-boy body on you. God, dude, you are gonna get fatter and fatter!"
Tony kept pushing his fingers into the soft, warm flesh around his blushing best friend's waistline. "Mmmm... Mike, I'm gonna have to start measuring you for a deep dish roasting pan and rubbing you up with herbs and spices. Look at me, I'm starting to drool! Oh yeah, buddy; I've been waiting for this for so long."
Tony reached up and began to pull down Mike's zipper.
Just then, Tony's father burst into the garage!
"Oh, Tony," he sobbed, "I hate to be the one to tell you!"
He was so obviously distraught, that he hadn't even noticed the signs of the heavy scene that was only just beginning to transpire. Tony nearly passed out, and Mike went white as a sheet.
"What is it, Dad?" Tony asked, visibly startled, but already figuring his father hadn't seen anything.
"It's your Great Aunt Hildegard. She's passed away in her sleep!"
Tony's first thought was: who the hell is Aunt Hildegard? His second thought was: why the fuck did she have to kick the bucket just as he was about to make it for the very first time with his super-delicious looking best friend?
His third thought was: screw the insulation, I'm getting my own apartment by Christmas if I have to hustle burgers at the neighborhood White Castle to do it.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Dad," he said, trying to sound solemn. "When's the funeral?"
"That's part of the reason I'm falling apart. It's tomorrow morning and it's an eight hour drive from here. We have to get packed and on the road as quickly as possible!"
Tony and Mike's hearts sank. They looked at each other with expressions of utter frustration on their faces. Mike quietly stood up, his penis now flaccid, and grabbed his sweater and coat. "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Wallach. I guess I should get going."
"Yes, Mike. Thank you."
"Give me a call when you get back, okay, Tony?" Mike asked hopefully.
"You bet, buddy," Tony said grabbing Mike's shoulder and squeezing it. "We'll continue just where we left up."
As Mike walked down the cool, dark street he had a hard time convincing himself that the last fifteen minutes had actually taken place. But, they had. He could tell by the pit of frustration in his belly, and the knot that had pulled tightly in his balls. What had just happened was so amazing! There really is nothing hotter than a well-built muscle jock who's let himself go a bit and gotten a fat stomach. And there was someone else like him on the team-his best friend-who was making his own fantasies come true.
"Fuck!" was all he said.
He was just about ready to turn towards home when he remembered Kevin's invitation. Shit! He could stand to get stoned right about now. It sure beat going home at 10:30 on a Friday night, so he turned around and headed in the direction of Gino Manelli's house.
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