The Weatherman. Part 16. The Plowing

[DawnFire98]

A question for @bbmikenj

What methods and tips do you have for portraying/depicting a character as "cocky", like with Hank? 

[bbmikenj]

I based a lot of Hank’s personality on a guy I went to high school with. A big blond ox with a rich father. When he was old enough to drive, his father gave him an old hearse to drive around in. Pretty dumb, but smart enough to know that he was stronger than everyone in school, including the coaches. So full of himself. He was like Biff from Back to the Future. I remember going to a party at his house once. The parents were away, and it was a big blowout of a party, with kegs and a lot of pot. He and his older brother were completely wasted, and started throwing smaller guys, fully dressed, into the indoor pool they had at their house. 
I’d say a get a lot of ideas for the characters from real people I’ve known or seen, and then develop them from there.

[bbmikenj]

By the time Sam arrived in Florida, spring training was wrapping up. Kurt had spent the month down there working out with the team in their state-of-the-art facilities. He was bigger than ever. Since the end of the steroid era in baseball was long over, the average weight of the players was between 190 and 220 pounds. Next to Kurt, they looked like Little Leaguers. 

 

On the last day of training, Kurt brought Sam to the locker room. Most of the players recognized Sam from TV back home, and one them asked Sam if he was as freaky strong as Kurt. Sam grabbed an aluminum practice bat from an equipment bag. His 22” arms bent it easily. “Close,” he said. 

 

Then Kurt picked out two baseballs, one in each hand, wrapped them in his big fingers, and crushed down until the stitching popped and the balls were mashed into handfuls of frayed wool and crumbling cork. “But not too close,” he said.

 

“Showoff,” said the team’s big catcher, as he swaggered by, naked, fresh from the showers. Although nowhere near as big as Sam or Kurt, the swarthy athlete was a physical specimen of near perfection. Sam couldn’t help but admire the catcher’s plump ass as it rolled by, matted with damp, chestnut-colored fur, and the way his broad shoulders swayed back and forth, all cocksure from a whole lifetime of being exceptionally good at sports.

 

“Come on, freakshow, give us one more look,” said another player to Kurt. The huge sportscaster didn’t need much coaxing. He stripped off his polo and started flexing. Clearly he had done this for them before. As the team hooted and hollered at Kurt’s 25” arms, the third baseman called out, “Come on, Weatherman, show us what you got.” Sam grinned, then unbuttoned his 5XL Tommy Bahama shirt and peeled it back, exposing his giant pecs, covered with the golden stubble of his chest hair, growing back in since his contest. As he flexed his chest, one of the outfielders said, “Christ, he’s got better tits than my ex-wife!” Everyone laughed. Then Sam flexed his abdominals. His abs popped to attention. “Look at those fucking bricks,” said the shortstop. “You gotta share your ab workout with Simmons over there.” Everyone looked over at the left fielder, who had gotten a little thick thru the middle during the off season. 

 

“Very funny, Ruiz. Why don’t you strip down and see how you compare to these two?”

 

Ruiz took the dare, and made a big show of peeling off his shirt, then wedging his way between the two bigger men. He start posing, and although he was a good-sized guy, with the solid build of a young pro athlete, he looked comically small between Sam and Kurt. But he did have the whole room cracking up at his goofy flexing. 

 

And then not to be outdone, Kurt undid his pants and pulled them down over his powerlifter thighs that were inches bigger than any of the players’ waists. As he flexed his highly developed quads, the locker room grew hushed by awe. Some of the men gulped. These guys were not used to feelings of inadequacy, but they were having them now, especially when they got a look at the bulge in Kurt’s briefs. Ruiz stepped back to get a better view, and Kurt put one leg forward and flexed it hard. All the beefy thigh meat tightened up like concrete. 

 

A mystical aura swept thru the room like an electric charge. The men felt the charge like a religious epiphany, and the desire to worship at the altar of massive muscle overtook them, the two superior physiques in front of them became their gods, one a square-jawed Nordic supreme being, the other, a powerlifting juggernaut of Bunyanesque proportions. The room became a chapel of muscle lust.

 

“Jesucristo,” muttered Ruiz as he started to touch himself. Other players gathered around him in a semicircle, most of them already stroking. Sam stripped down naked and did a vacuum pose, and the sight of a 320lb bodybuilder with a 34” carved waistline made the first baseman shoot his load without even touching himself. Kurt hit his most-muscular pose, and two more players let it fly. Then he and Sam turned around and spread their backs, flaring their huge lats at the team. The two men felt hot jizz spewing all over their backsides. When Kurt turned around and pulled out his own dick, letting it flop out in front of him, the rest of the team sprayed the locker room with their jock spunk. Then Sam turned around and saw cum running down lockers and dripping off the ceiling like melting stalactites. He hit a side chest shot, his pecs ballooned out, and three of the players fell to their knees.

 

Just then, the strength coach walked in. When his feet hit the slicked up floor, he slid halfway across the room and slammed into a locker. “What the…” he stammered, and as he turned around, Kurt ambled over to him, and the aura hit the coach like a freight train. By the time he sat down on a bench, his dick was hardening. Kurt loomed over him, huge and hairy. The coach had never seen someone so big and powerful, even though he’d been a strength coach for professional athletes for the past twelve years. And with Kurt just inches from his face, the coach could smell him, feel his body heat. He felt disoriented. He reached out and put his hands on Kurt’s tree trunk thighs, and became unaware of anyone else in the room. Kurt flexed his legs, and the coach had a transcendent experience as he felt power that he thought no human could ever achieve. Kurt lifted him up and rubbed the coach’s face in his thick chest fur. 

 

“Who’s your daddy?” Kurt whispered in a baritone that rumbled thru his barrel chest. The coach’s body twitched like a marionette, as he ecstatically came in his lifting shorts. Kurt laid him down on a bench, then he and Sam headed to the showers. The players rallied together to mop and clean the locker room. Two of them carried the strength coach, who was twitching catatonically, to the training area and plopped him into the ice bath. He went under briefly, then came up gasping, his muscle trance broken. After Sam and Kurt left, the players didn’t talk about what had happened, but they knew they had shared an experience that transcended baseball.

 

The two massive musclemen then drove down to South Beach. They caused quite a stir by jogging along the shoreline in their made-to-fit posers, specially created for their oversized glutes and equipment, exposing most of their combined 745lbs of beef, a pair of Nietzschean supermen on full display. Running their way north, faster and faster, they flew past a group of jogging Crossfitters at twice their pace. They flew past hordes of spring breakers, deftly dodging their way around stoned frat bros, who stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the two huge musclemen sprinting their way along the surf. The duo bulldozed their way up to Haulover Beach, where they stripped off their posers and charged into the ocean like two naked rhinos. They groped each other up, jacked from their nine mile run, and, as rough waves crashed over them, they made ‘sex on the beach’ mean more than just a drink.

 

Afterwards, they grabbed their posers and tugged them over their huge legs, stuffing themselves into them. Energized by their ocean romp, the decided to swim the nine miles back to South Beach. They swam hard and fast, jostled by the big waves. By the time they emerged from the surf, their muscles were engorged with pump. As they made their way up the beach and over to the open air gym on the sand, they heard stunned beach goers gasping at the sight of them. Even in the rarefied world of physical beauty like South Beach, they stood out like Olympic gods. 

 

At the beach gym, Kurt and Sam did bodyweight exercises, starting with set after set of one armed pull-ups. Kurt’s 425lbs bent the bar permanently. A crowd gathered as they did parallel bar handstand push-ups for sets of fifty. They challenged onlooking bodybuilders in the crowd to try and hold their legs down as they did hanging leg lifts. They pumped out rep after rep with two big men pulling down on each leg, their powerfully developed ab muscles lifting the men like ten pound ankle weights. They had the same men hang from them as they did parallel bar dips until their chests were absurdly extended with pump. After that, they did wind sprints up and down the sandy beach with the same men hanging to their necks.

 

When they were done, the two behemoths waddled to their rental car, almost immobile with pump. They forced themselves into clothes, then stuffed themselves into the car and drove to the Epic hotel, where they got a suite for the night. They ordered up $400 worth of food from room service. After they ate, they stripped down and collapsed onto the king-sized bed and fell into a deep slumber. During the night, their muscles grew. By the morning, they woke up bigger and stronger than ever.

 

They stayed in Miami for a week, and hit the beach every day. Every night, they ate at a different Brazilian churrasco steakhouse, and gorged themselves on the ‘all you can eat’ offerings of huge skewers of various meats. The waitstaff eagerly shaved off big slabs of meat for them, especially when Sam and Kurt obliged them with a flex of their biceps, Sam’s now at 23”, Kurt’s at 27. In a city full of beautiful faces and bodies, the two huge men were standouts. The restaurants’ managers were happy when the gringos gigantes left, but the servers hated to see them go, with their voracious appetites and generous tips. 

 

By week’s end, the two massive amigos had each gained 20 pounds. 

 

“You ready to head home?” Kurt asked, as they lounged by the pool on their last day in Miami.

 

“Yeah. It’s probably past time to check in on Hank.”

 

“You think he’s still there?”

 

“Dude, I’m hoping the barn is still there.”

[mario2007]

Who else would like to see drawings of these two?

[Ro20316]

OHHHHH Kurt and Sam had a fun gettaway while Sam and Joe were alone in the barn, I wonder why they were up to.

[Jtchef2]

Another excellent chapter. Keep them coming please

[debate1]

I hope Joe has blown up to even out the punishment some. 

[dredlifter]

Loved that chapter. 

[arpeejay]

Awesome (as always!)

One quick point: If (at the start of the week) San is 320 and Kurt is 425, their combined weight is 745, not 840. Looking forward to seeing them at 840! 

Xoxo

Richard 

[Lutz]

5 hours ago, arpeejay said:

Awesome (as always!)

One quick point: If (at the start of the week) San is 320 and Kurt is 425, their combined weight is 745, not 840. Looking forward to seeing them at 840! 

Xoxo

Richard 

I got a bit disapointed, when I found that. I was very happy to imagine how massive Kurt must be.

 

 

But otherwise every bit as hot as always