A Man To Be Proud Of

[Chronicler]

"Hey Dad? What are those men doing? And why are they so big?"

 

"They're called bodybuilders, son. They are competing to see who has the best looking muscles among them."

 

"And why is that?" 10 year old Jacob inquired.

 

"Well…" you pondered. You gave yourself time to think, as you discreetly re-adjust your stiffening manhood in your pants.

 

"Because building muscles takes a lot of hard work." You flex your respectable biceps to prove your point. "So they wanna show-off all the hard work they've done, and make themselves and their family proud."

 

"Okay Dad!" Jacob's eyes bulge wide at your explanation. He imitated your double biceps pose. "I wanna grow up and be big too, Dad! I wanna make you and Momma proud!"

 

"I'm sure you will, son. I'm sure you will."

 

Both of you returned your attention to the television screen, where you were watching a contest by yourself before your son stumbled in.

 

-

 

Sadly, Jacob's health was tumultuous.

 

At age 12, he had a severe asthma attack. While the other attacks before were mild and manageable, the severity of this one took everybody by surprise. It didn't help that he forgot to bring his inhaler on the first day of family vacation. He had to be hospitalized for 3 days.

 

You agreed with your wife that Jacob should refrain from most, if not all, sports.

 

At age 14, Jacob suffered from a seizure. His classmates invited him to a casual round of basketball, stating that with his height (a trait he has inherited from your tall wife), it should be easy for him to score some hoops.

 

It was traumatizing, with reported flailing and frothing at the mouth. A week of hospitalization, followed by a series of anxiety-inducing medical check-ups ensued.

 

That experience had certainly shaken up things in your family.

 

A frantic spree of safe-proving the house, dilemmas with insurance agents, and tearful breakdowns happened. You and your wife had to go to couple counseling, and when Jacob was deemed well enough, family counseling. You took it in stride and agreed to work from home, becoming a househusband.

 

Whereas Jacob was timid and shy beforehand, he became socially withdrawn. He became exempted from PE, and was picked straight home by you after his curriculum.

 

He remained as sharp as ever, keeping up with his academics, his Robotics club and whatever after-school activities his Mom allowed. It's just that he wasn't as outgoing, in his quiet way, as before.

 

At age 18, it was time for the army. Jacob, fortunately, was exempted from military training, and was assigned an office role. He got to go home everyday.

 

By then, your wife started to relax and let go. Jacob was allowed to go out with friends for dinners and outings, but definitely no drinks. He could spend the weekend as he wanted as long as got home on time.

 

Jacob had largely recovered emotionally as well. He joined community clubs like Speech & Drama. It was a bold step forward, one that you're proud your son had chosen.

 

Things were looking uphill during this period. 2 years later, however, tragedy decided to rear its ugly head again.

 

Your wife collapsed in the middle of the street after work. It was a stress-induced heart attack. She toiled day and night, all to provide for the family. Her meticulous and heavily layered  insurance payout guaranteed both you and Jacob will be comfortable for a very, very long time…

 

But what's comfort without warmth?

 

-

 

At the age of 21, Jacob decided to take a gap-year, before taking on his IT university scholarship. You agreed. Both of you needed time to process your grief.

 

Your son decided to smuggle some exercise equipment into his room. Those light plastic dumbbell weights. Push-up and sit-up bars. He hides them in a wheeled box, tucked away in the corner of his room. You discovered them when cleaning up his room.

 

You closed one eye on this matter; your son hasn't had an attack in years. Maybe it's time for him to go train his fitness. While he's at home, however, you still keep both ears open, especially when he's in his room.

 

Those weren't the only things you discovered in his room.

 

Fitness and Bodybuilding magazines were also stashed in a hollow compartment of his desk. They were … excitedly marked, with dried up globs of glue.

 

You weren't surprised. You're Bi yourself, and came out to your wife years before your marriage. You and your wife long suspected your son was gay, and decided to support him if he ever came out.

 

Jacob worked out everyday with his home equipment. You could tell, despite (or because of) his blasting of the radio in his room, by the tell-tale bumps and grunting; You've tuned your ears for any sign of him collapsing and convulsing. Sometimes, you hear soft moans. On those days, you sneak yourself past.

 

Yet Jacob's due diligence was not rewarded enough. While he has claimed your wife's height and more, he also has your wife's genetics for leanness.

 

Diligence and determination is what he definitely learned from both of you, as he continues this routine religiously.

 

-

 

A week before Jacob's 22nd birthday, you felt nostalgic. It was nearing contest season again. As a former amateur bodybuilding, you won your fair share of placings. You decided to relive those glory days.

 

Sifting through your bodybuilding memorabilia consisting of photos, medals and trophies, you selected a record of a winning posing routine you did long ago. You stripped down to your briefs, dimmed the lights down, and played it on the TV screen.

 

A slimmer, much more defined version of you walked out on stage, waving. You still kept your size after all these years, with maintenance gym sessions.

 

Both of 'you' smiled. As the music played, you mirrored your younger double's poses. Archer. Double biceps flex. Followed by your favorite, the 'Crab'. You strained yourself, grunting. Those arms still got it!

 

As you turned around to do a lat spread, your eyes caught onto Jacob's presence. "Son!"

 

"Hey Dad," he sheepishly replied.

 

"I didn't hear you come in! Hahaha, sorry about this." You paused the video. It's not the first time your son walked in on you while you relieve your bodybuilding days, but it's certainly the first in a few years. It's also the first time he finds you posing in briefs.

 

"It's alright, Dad." You both abashedly stood there for a full minute, averting eye contact. Jacob then stepped in, and sat himself down on an armchair.

 

"Dad?" Jacob inquired. "May I watch your whole routine?"

 

Incredulous, you replied: "Really, Son?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that was cool, Dad. I would like to see the rest of it."

 

You complied. You wiggled your arms and legs, loosening up first. Resetting the video, you pressed play, and walked and waited at the doorway.

 

As the MC announced your name, you stepped out, waving and winking to your son just as your younger self did.

 

The music played. You let yourself be carried in the flow. This is your spotlight, your stage. Each beat drops to your pump, each verse a testament to the story your body has undergone.

 

You're in perfect sync with the music. With the lights. With that youthful version of you. With the audience both old and new. With your son.

 

As the recording ends, Jacob joins the audience in rapturous applause. "Damn, Dad! That's amazing! Why did you stop competing?"

 

"Well, son, it's because we had you."

 

Seeing Jacob so crestfallen, you brought him to a hug.

 

"Son," you reassured him. "I stopped building up my body, because there's something more important for me to build. You."

 

At this, Jacob sobbed out: "I wanna make you proud, Dad!"

 

"You already do, son. You already do."

 

-

 

As the birthday candles blew out, you asked Jacob what he wished for.

 

"I wanna be a man you can be proud of, Dad!"

 

"Haha, son, I already told you, I'm proud of you. You know what I wished for you, son?"

 

"What, Dad?"

 

"I wish you'll be a man you can be proud of."

"Thanks, Dad." Jacob gratefully replied.

 

"So son, here's your birthday present." You handed a simple lidded box. As Jacob lifts the cover, it reveals a set of photos, a CD, a medal and a pair of posing briefs.

 

"Jacob. These are from the last contest I had before you. I was 22 then. Your mother was there in the audience already expecting you. I managed to clinch first place. It was my proudest moment before. But when you arrived, I felt I clinched first place in life. And I couldn't be any prouder."

 

"Dad… thank you so much!" Jacob wrapped his arms around you. "Can I… try it on?" He asked, almost surprised by the brazenness of his request, just as you were. "Sure, why not?"

 

Jacob returns to the living room, clad only in those navy blue posing briefs that had some light glitter to them, the golden medal wrapped around his neck. While the briefs threatened to slip past his slim legs, it was held up by his prodigious package. Another benefit that came naturally along with his height.

 

As he clambered around the room, you clapped your hands, and whistled. Popping in the CD, Jacob nodded at you and faced the screen. As the music starts, he imitates your routine to the best of his ability.

 

The scene was fairly comedic: the pale skeleton body of your son juxtaposed against the hunky tanned outline of your competing days. You would have laughed had it not been the intense look of focus on Jacob, his eyes furrowed and fierce, while you witness his body trembling from the sheer effort of flexing, forcing out non-existent muscles. This was not him merely play-acting as a bodybuilder, but his untold aspirations to become one taking form.

 

The music crescendos, as Jacob bends his knees, going for an eagle spread. But something's wrong: Jacob crumpled over his stomach, gasping, writhing on the floor.

 

You paused the video, rushing for the emergency inhaler. Before you reach it, Jacob calls out: "Dad, I'm fine! Please continue playing the video."

 

There was a certain confidence in the way Jacob said it that reassured you. It out-weighed your instincts to panic, to call an ambulance, to refute back. Calmly but hesitatingly, you took the inhaler and went back to your seat. "Please play it, Dad." Jacob implores you again. You gingerly pressed the button.

 

As the recording continues, Jacob becomes entranced by the routine. His wheezing subsides, his convulsions settling down. When the pose transitions to a double biceps, Jacob gives a loudening roar that deepens with each rising decibel.

 

What left you quiet after that was nothing short of a miracle: Jacob began growing.

 

His arms burst forth, his biceps swelling from twigs, to lemons, to oranges, to grapefruits, and finally cantaloupes. Running across those peaks were popped veins feeding into his shoulders, each turn and rotation adding mass onto those formerly bony and sharp features while they stretched big and broad.

 

Heaving in hypnotic waves, Jacob's chest rises and falls to the rhythm of his breathing, keeping in tempo with the beat. They resemble tectonic plates, with their defined ridges and titanic size, so developed that the areola is pointed down, hanging juicily.

 

These were soon followed by his core.

Performing an abdominal flex, striations formed and spread all over those deepening crevices, each containing such power and control that Jacob could trap any finger tracing or testing them.

 

Standing up, a lat spread reveals what wide wings carry him, as though a butterfly emerging from his cocoon, and seemingly lifting him. A quad stomp supports his ascension. They have become from sickly sticks to colossal columns that seem to support the heavens, a testament to Atlas.

 

You crane your neck up to see Jacob's face… then crane it some more! While Jacob used to be called tall, his new height towers over that! When your eyes finally reached and settled on your son's face, you became awestruck by the avatar of masculine beauty he now is!

 

Gone was the pale sunken face that seemed to waste away, rejuvenated now to a bronze-gold shine applied to angular cheekbones and chiseled jaws. His once dour panda eyes that had a glisten of intelligence now blazed with fierceness and sharp clarity, producing a gaze so strong to command authority.

 

The man in the recording gives a wave, oblivious to being outclassed in all ways by another. Jacob gives you a wink and struts over to you. You realized the briefs were lost, burst apart by this explosive show. Now there hangs an elephantine cock beginning to trumpet.

 

You flubbed out your confusion, unable to form a comprehensive question. You then notice your pants have gone wet from that divine performance 

 

As you're about to faint, a firm hand grounds you into this new reality.

 

"Things are gonna be alright Dad. I don't know what happened, but it looks like our wishes came true. I'm finally a man both you and I can be proud of."

[Ro20316]

Son rally made his wish come true

[arpeejay]

Great work, thanks!

[Xmanjakob]

Terrific story,thanks