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Don't Push Me - Chapter 11 added March 21


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Looks like Sam will be packing on more solid plates of muscle as cupid shoots his arrow at him and Chris.  Love the pace of your very well-written story and very much look forward to Chapter 6! 

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Sam is such a hardcore muscle freak. GROW SAM! GROW INTO THE MONSTER YOU WANT TO BE!

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Chapter 8
The next four months passed like a blur. With Dr. Henry Conrad’s help, I felt like a new man almost immediately. He had taken special interest in my progress, setting up two appointments a week to track my progress. The rest of my time was spent at the gym, literally. My recovery and stamina were off the charts, which only made my already manic dedication increase exponentially. It was like living in a dream.

My alarm went off at 6 a.m. and I practically jumped out of bed, well, as much as I could in my current state. As I lumbered towards the bathroom, I smiled as the floorboards creaked underfoot. I flicked on the light and stared at my reflection for the longest time. It had become a regular occurrence for me to have to take time each day to release the person staring back at me was not in fact a dream. I hit a couple of quick poses but had to tear myself away because was going to be a busy day. My first workout would start soon and I had a checkin with Henry. It had been three days since my last one and I was curious to see the results. I glanced down at the shattered scale I could no longer use, it had disintegrated weeks ago, but I kept it as a souvenir of that momentous day.

I walked from the bathroom to my room naked and wet, towelling off was too much of a chore. I riffled through my clothes, all gym attire, and pulled out a 3XL pair of basketball shorts and a 4XL hoodie with the arms cut off half-way. I had been warned by gym management two weeks ago that I had to cover up due to the “chaos” I regularly created. I hated it at first but came to appreciate how no matter what I wore, it couldn’t hide the development underneath. Besides, the almost constant drama I induced at the gym was becoming a little distracting.

Walking the three blocks to the gym always provided a source of entertainment. People looked confused by the disproportionate size of my head atop my body. They either dove out of my way or got frustrated by the slow pace of my movement. Once in a while, a true muscle head would recognize what I really was and just stare in complete awe. There were even a few storeowners that would hand me a free snack or drink as I waddled by, those were my favourite people.

As the gym door opened, everything changed. My face hardened and my demeanour became very serious and more times than not, my cock would twitch in anticipation. Today was chest day and I had three hours to utterly annihilate it. As usual, all heads turned as I entered. The regulars waited to see what I was training so they could avoid the weights and machines I needed. I never bullied anyone but there was a collective agreement among everyone that this just made life easier.

I dropped my gym bag at the bench press and grabbed two 45 plates with one hand and started loading the bar. Six more plates made my warmup weight a comfortable 405 pounds. I slid under the bar, feeling my lats spill over the sides of the padded bench and gripped the bar. It rose like a feather and barely made contact with my chest before flying back to starting position. Like a piston, I cranked out 30 reps before placing it back on the rack like it still weighed nothing. My subsequent sets with 495 and 585 went pretty much the same way. I loaded seven plates on the bar for what would be considered my first working set. The 675 pounds rose a little slower but still in my complete control. At 20 reps, I was starting to feel some soreness in my growing pec meat. I reached 40 reps and the pain was becoming intense but I refused to give in. I lowered the weight for the 41 time and held it an inch from my pecs. My arms started to shake and I could no longer contain a loud, primal growl. I stomped my foot, counting to 10 before pressing it back to the top. I learned a while ago, that these slow, intense reps were the only way to get the proper use of the weights. I repeated the movement for 9 more reps and by the end, I was screaming pretty loudly. When the bar was slammed back onto the rack, I let my arms fall to my sides, stretching my spent muscles, experiencing the full intensity of the lift. My shirt sleeves had been hiked up to my shoulders, exposing my blood-engorged forearms, biceps and triceps. I sat up on the bench and glanced around the room. No one was staring but I could see that was due to people forcing themselves not to look. I stood and added two more plates, almost reaching the limit of what the bar would hold. I returned to the bench and hoisted the 795 pound bar of the rack. After three more sets at that weigh, the bench was surrounded by my sweat. I slammed the bar back with such force, a number of plates crashed to the floor around me. I was lost in the sensation of my pecs grazing my chin while still fully reclined that I didn’t initially hear the screaming.

“MY FOOT! MY FOOT!” I heard coming out my trance and sitting up. Next to me, a gym member was on the floor, holding their foot while two other people huddled around them. One of the rouge weights from my bar lay nearby.

“Are you ok?’ I asked.

“NO I’m not ok you big freak! Your weight flew off and landed on my foot. I think it’s broken.”

“I’m really sorry.” I said and stood up.

“Stay away! Just stay the fuck away you big dumb fuck.” The injured person screamed at me. 

Not wanting to escalate the situation, I raised my hands and slowly moved to the free weight area. I felt bad for less time than I should have but my growing chest pump superseded my empathy. I tilted the bench up for incline press and grabbed the 110 pound dumbbells. As I prepared to lift the weights, I glanced behind my reflection and saw the group members surrounding the injured member shake their heads in disbelief that I was continuing my workout.

For the next sets using the 110, 120 and finally with the heaviest 130 pound dumbbells, I made a point of not dropping them but rather slowly lowering them to the floor. By the end, my hoodie stuck to me like a second skin. I rolled off the bench and cranked out 100 pushups with my chest slapping against the floor with each rep. When I finished, I rolled onto my back and took a minute to rest. It was at that moment I saw two feet appear beside me.

“Sam?” The voice asked timidly.

I rolled to my side and used the bench to rise to my feet. 

Tim the manager looked at my fully pumped pecs with fear and looked to be having trouble speaking.

“What’s up Tim?”

“S-S-Sam,” he sputtered, “I can’t ignore what just happened. The member has been taken to the hospital and is already threatening to file a lawsuit.”

“It was an accident Tim.”

“That may be but this is not the first issue lately. Last month you snapped a cable on the pull down machine. Two weeks ago you broke the bathroom scale and just a week ago, you left a crater in the floor right there when you dropped the 130 pound dumbbells.”

Fury was rising inside me as Tim continued to list his grievances.

“And that doesn’t include the on-slot of complaints I get daily from people uncomfortable being around you or quick frankly disturbed by your appearance.”

“What are you saying Tim?” I said as calmly as I could.

“I’m sorry Sam but you need to find a new gym.”

I took a step back so I could not reach for Tim’s neck like I wanted to. I surveyed the room and noticed everyone was not only watching this exchange but actually enjoying it.

“Let me get this straight. You open a gym designed for people to get in better shape and when someone does that you kick them out.”

“Now Sam…” Tim tired to interrupt but I raised a hand he he stopped talking.

“I’m EXACTLY what this place was meant to create. But I can see that all you people can’t understand that because NO ONE will reach the level I have because NO ONE here has what it takes. You say you are sickened by my extreme workout style or appearance but this is what it’s SUPPOSED to be!”

“Sam, please don’t make a scene.”

“Oh Tim, why would I make a scene?” I said as I started to stalk around the room, causing people to move out of my way. I picked up the bar someone was using to bench with and performed a few curls. I walked over the leg press, loaded with weights, and pushed it a foot with just one foot.

“Sam please.” Tim shouted.

“NO! You do not get to criticize me ANYMORE. I don’t know why I ever let you. I’m not anything like these people. Hell, I’d kill myself if I was like any of you. This place has tried to restrain the monster I’m becoming for TOO LONG and I’m not going to let that happen anymore. THIS IS WHAT NONE OF YOU WILL EVER BE!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs and ripped my hoodie off.

“OH MY GOD! THAT’S TOO MUCH! WHAT THE FUCK?” I heard people scream.

“Oh, is this too much for all you ‘gym people’?” I said, walking to the other side of the room, where there was a wall of mirrors. “Do you know, I haven’t been able to pose shirtless here in months?” I said, raising my arms and hitting a double bicep pose, causing more screams of disgust.

I dropped the pose and moved to the preacher curl machine. “I can’t even fit into this machine anymore, it can’t accommodate my size.” I said as I leaned down and gripped the sides of the heavy machine. “But I bet I can lift it with this inappropriate body though.” I said as I stood up, cradling the machine and its full weight stack together. I repositioned my grip and with a loud, terrifying scream, pressed it above my head. I felt my biceps press against my ears and my pumped chest protested by shooting waves of pain all over my upper body.

“NO!” Someone screamed.

“YES! This is want I’ve become. TOO MUCH for this PUNY GYM and it’s small minded members.” I said as I took a few steps with the heavy machine above my head. I caught my reflection in the mirror and had to agree the sight was pretty extraordinary. I maneuvered to a nearby squat rack and with one jerk of my whole body, launched the machine so it came crashing down on the top of the rack, eight feet off the ground.

“Good luck getting that down TIM!” I said as I picked up my discarded shirt and gym bag and headed for the door. I stopped and turned around, surveying the shocked faces in the crowd. “Thanks for reminding me that I will NEVER hide what I really am again.” I said as I pushed the doors open with such force, they blew off the hinges like an explosive device had ignited.

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