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The Odd Couple, a short sequel to BBMikeNJ's "The Interview"


TheOnceandFutureFreak

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First, I would like to thank BBMikeNJ who I have been a fan of for countless years. He has influenced me far more than he’ll ever know. I have received permission from him to post this short follow-up.

Always trying to live up to the title of “Marcus”

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As the sun danced across the room stirring me, I reached towards the sky to stretch out my tight body and yawn loudly. The only sound in the room outside of that was the faint sound of sucking going on. Even with the deep stretch I just did, he didn’t really stir, absentmindedly sucking on my left pec as he dreamt of flexed biceps.

 

I smiled and reached down to stroke his head, showing all the signs of male patterned baldness. “Mr. B, it’s morning and time to get up.” It was a Saturday which meant it was two session day in the gym, so I had to get Tom up and get breakfast inside us.

 

The past 6 months had flown by. I had moved in with Mr. Beck the second week of working with him. Even with the doubling of my salary, so much of it was going to my growth that it only made sense to move into his basement, which he had converted to a mother-in-law suite years ago to increase the overall value of the home. It also helped to live with a muscle pig to keep my other needs met.

 

I was finally able to get his lips from around my tit, and he moaned softly and began to stir himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. I rolled out of the Alaskan king we shared most nights and sauntered my way to the restroom to relieve myself. I lifted the toilet seat and the sound of a steady, powerful stream filled the room. Today’s workouts were starting with Back in the morning and Shoulders in the evening, if my memory served me right. I let out another loud yawn while finishing up my morning business. I stuffed myself back into my boxer briefs and stepped on the scale to find out where I was sitting this morning.

 

We had just replaced the old scale, that I crushed, with the type they use in doctor’s offices. The digital face blinked up to 432 lbs. “Heck yea,” I hollered. I was up almost 50 lbs since moving in with Mr. B and almost to my recent goal of 450 lbs. I stepped off and turned to look in the mirror. I smirked at the image I saw, and did a quick flex, the big “ALPHA” tattoo across my chest stretching as far as the eye could see, due to the amount of growth I had undergone. The tat was creeping up my collarbone and front delts, so the very top of the lettering was almost out of sight.

 

I knew I had really packed on size since the measurements we recorded last week and I wanted to beat those numbers in the next month when we retook them.

 

I had managed to pack on another 2 inches to my chest to make it an even 70, another inch to the arms to make them officially over 2 feet, and 1 and half inches to my quads to get them to a robust 38 and ¾ inches, closing the gap between it and a ‘4’ being the first digit of my quad size. I was snapped out of my daydream as Mr. Beck worked to squeeze by me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he followed a similar routine to mine, first draining his snake, and then popping on the scale.

 

“What does it say, Mr. B?” I asked with curiosity. The look on his face told me he was pleased with the number he saw. “Fuck, I’m 275lbs as of this morning.” He exclaimed. I smiled. He had been outpacing me and I chalked a lot of it up to beginner gains. I had put him on an intensive stack with growth hormone on top. Even with his advanced age I was proud of the old man.

 

I slapped him on the ass with an ‘attaboy’ touch, and he let out a little yelp with a smile. I waddled out of the bathroom and ascended the stairs to the kitchen, the smell of breakfast hitting me in the face.

 

“Hey Alan. I see up early as always.” I said to Mr. B’s husband. He was close in age to his husband, although far from Mr. Beck in build, even before I took him under my wing. He was a good deal more slender. One of those guys who didn’t really gain fat or muscle even as he aged. He had taken to our little arrangement well, especially since he would rather spend his days gardening than lifting weights.

 

I could always hear him listening to some of his favorite arias as I was tapping his husband deep after we had gotten back from the gym. I could never tell if it was just an evening routine, or to drown out the noise we would make every night.

 

That night for dinner, Tom joined us in some boxer briefs that probably would be stretched to their limits about 30 lbs ago, and now would definitely be leaving marks in his legs later. “How nice of you to join us,” I chirped jokingly, knowing that he would be starving just like myself after our late-night session involving heavy chest, where I ended incline bench by repping out 6 plates a side. It was quickly followed by a myriad of other movements to really push my chin-tapping pecs to their maximum bloatedness. I knew they were fully pumped because the right strap on my tank top snapped under the weight of them. That sent Tom right over the edge. Let’s just say we ended the night in an unusual fashion where he managed to pec-fuck my chest cleavage, and I wasn’t even flexing.

 

I was reminded of the feat as Tom stepped in my direction and lifted my chin to scrape some of the cum I had missed from the stubble lining my neck. He stuck his tongue out at me in a mocking manner and pulled out a chair for himself.

 

Those were all the words we exchanged for the next 45 minutes where we shoveled food prepared by Alan nearly as fast as he loaded our plates up. I finally tapped out a bit after Tom, due to my plates being loaded up a good deal more, and just having more capacity than him. I stood up from the table and let out a loud burp, patting my tummy in the process.

 

By the time we got ready and arrived at the gym I knew my body would be ready for more so I made sure to pack some of the cooked chicken in Tupperware for my gym bag and prepared our intraworkout shakes, a big one for me and a smaller one for Mr. B.

 

As we squeezed into my F250 and my shoulder easily spilled over into his side of the truck, he smiled and shoved back playfully.

 

“I’m only going to be wider after our session this morning,” I promised, as I backed out of the driveway.

 

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