Chapter 1
Being the kicker on a football team isn't really as bad as some people make it out to be. These days, everybody recognizes that the kicker is one of the only guys on the team who can score points, the guy who bails the team out when they don't quite make it to the endzone, and the guy who sets up the other teams field position when you punt. The kicker is inevitably the smallest guy on the team, and thus is at the mercy of his teammates when it comes to getting picked on or forced to do menial work for the team, but in my case, I'm lucky to be on a team with a group of guys who have taken me under their wing, almost as a little brother, rather than give me a bunch of shit.
And they should, because I'm a damn good kicker. Back in high school, I set school records for field goals made and fewest misses, and a state record for longest field goal. My skill with my feet has awarded me with the respect I deserve.
I wasn't always a kicker though. Actually, I only decided to start when I was 15. I had never even played football until then, but I decided to try out for the team after my friends encouraged me. I was already a pretty successful soccer keeper, where I developed tremendous kick strength and accuracy, but I always had my eye on the football team. Not necessarily because I loved the sport--I actually think it's pretty boring compared to the ebb and flow of soccer--but because I knew joining the football team would get me closer to the hot, huge, muscle studs I lusted after from afar.
So I joined, and it was great both from an athletic standpoint and from an eyecandy standpoint. I was able to pretty easily hide my true feelings and orientation in the locker room having grown up with an athletic background playing soccer, and nobody suspected otherwise.
After high school, I was awarded a full ride scholarship to the University of Minnesota. Upon joining the team as a freshman, the first order of business was of course to get better and prepare myself to be a starter in a year or two, but the second, of course, was to assess all the beef among the lineman. There were plenty of huge, great-looking guys, but the one who stood out to me the most was a freshman lineman named Ben.
The special teams called all the kickers, long-snappers, and others aside, and I was happy to see Ben follow; apparently he was a long-snapper. As I looked over at him, I took note of his features; short black hair trimmed to a military-style crew cut with dark tuft of hair on the front middle, massive arms which had a sheen of sweat. His cut off practice jersey didn't quite cover up the furry slice of belly I saw sticking out at the bottom, and his shoulder pads only accenuated the obviously huge pectoral muscles and boulder shoulders. His pants looked too tight as they strained against his thick legs, and his calves were so massive, so big and round that I did a double-take. He had a heavy brow and dark, thick eyebrows over relatively small lips and a finely trimmed, dark chinstrap beard. He sauntered over to the special teams coaches, dripping with sweat and huffing from the warmup drills. I sat down next to him on he grass. I could smell him; testosterone, body oder, dirt, and sweaty football gear.
The coaches gave us the rundown of what they expected from us this season, and eventually started pairing people up for drills. Lo and behold, just as I had hoped, they paired up Ben and I for field goals and punting, him as the long snapper and me as the kicker. As we both stood up, Ben a couple inches taller than my 5'10" and far bigger than my lithe, lean form, we introduced ourselves.
"I guess we're paired up, eh?" Ben said in bassy voice which dripped with a thick Minnesota accent. "I'm Ben."
"Matt," I responded, trying not to get flustered. I had years of practice not letting my lust get the best of me, and I wanted to be genuine friends with this guy. I had to keep my cool. "Looks like I'll be staring at your ass for the next hour or so." Goddammit, nice one.
Ben bellowed with laughter and slapped my own firm butt firmly. "I guess so, and there's plenty of it to go around!"
That was the start of my friendship with Ben. We lived just two rooms down from each other, and I saw him at practices, games, and we had meals together every so often. We hung out somewhat regularly, and I saw him during games, in the bathroom in the dorms, and at parties. I learned that he was from the Iron Range in northern Minnesota and had grown up on a farm, mostly raising corn and chickens. That explained his build, solid and thick. He was 275 and 6'1" I would learn, and he was actually even stronger than he looked; he was immediately one of the top lifters on the team even though he was just a freshman. He said it was all the farm chores he did growing up, something about developing "functional strength". Neither of us actually played during our freshman year, not all that surprising considering how deep the team was, but we got a lot out of our practices. I was poised to be the go-to punter next season, and Ben was right on the cusp of being the first string long snapper and defensive lineman.
We both took advantage of the college's excellent gym facilities and food plans; I put on some much-needed size, and Ben put on the Freshman 15, but in his case it was mostly muscle. When our first year of college ended, we went our separate ways. I was excited to see him next year, as he told me his summer goal was to put on another 10 pounds and get to 300lb, which would really increase his chances of being a starter. I was also excited because we would be rooming together next year.
____
Sometime during Freshman year......
I was sitting at my computer reading an assignment for class when Ben passed by my door. He had just returned from the gym. He had been really putting the work in with the weights lately. Seeing me in my room, he came in with a sheet of sweat covering his thick arms and his thin tank top soaked to the point of being see-through. He was still breathing hard as he flopped his bag down on the floor and stripped off his shirt.
"Man, I'm beat! I was down there for 3 hours doing chest and biceps and then cardio for an hour." He grabbed my super sized jug of protein powder and a gallon of milk--I was a nice guy and let him use my stuff all the time--and dumped a liberal helping of both into the blender sitting on top of the fridge. "You should have seen me on the bench today, I was a monster. Never had a pump like that before," he said while idley scratching the fur on his chest, which had curled into little ringlets in the sweat covering his torso. "Workouts like these are gonna push me into the starting lineup next season, that's what coach said." As he reached up to put the powder back above my closet, I caught a whiff of his powerful, almost overwhelming odor. It was masculine, sour and sharp, and absolutely intoxicating.
"Wooooh man, you need a shower, buddy! I can smell you from over here. It's bad enough that I have to have the background stench of your gear coming from down the hall," I said. He had a pile of massive football shoulder pads, pants, jersey, and dirty jock straps laying in a heap in his closet, and often kept the door open. The truth, of course, is that I absolutely loved that smell; whenever I caught a whiff, it gave me a boner every time. Sometimes he would accidentally leave his sweaty gear in my room, and I had got my hands on his jock strap and muscle shirts and taken deep, huffing breaths many times before giving them back to Ben.
"Yeah, you want me to shower? Think I smell bad from over here? How about this!" Ben said as he suddenly was standing over me, his wet, thick muscle towering over me as I sat at my computer trying not to get a chubby in my pants. Suddenly Ben grabbed me in a headlock, his massive, bulging bicep, thick and pumped from his workout, squeezing against my head. He turned me around so his soaking wet, hairy armpit was right in my face, and I had no choice but to breath in his powerful odor, his overwhelming, masculine scent. It was one of the best things I had ever smelled; raw power and testosterone mixed with football gear, gym metal, and Ben's own unique smell that permeated the room. I resisted the temptation to start licking the sweaty pit right there.
Instead I faked disgust--and honestly, it was such an overpowering smell I couldn't breath--and struggled out of his unbreakable headlock. He just laughed and let me go, sauntering back over to the blender and picking up the container. He hefted the thick shake and chugged the whole thing in one go, protein shake oozing down the side of his mouth and dripping on to his chest fur. He burped loudly as the last trickles of it dripped into his mouth and down his throat, feeding more growth, and he fingered up the bits that had dripped onto his pecs.
"Mmmm, that's the stuff. I can't wait until I get even bigger" Ben said while feeling the weight of his pecs. "I just want to keep growing and getting bigger and stronger. What do you think, Matt?" he said as he flexed his traps, arms, and chest in an abbreviated most muscular.
Ben had never really opened up like this in terms of talking about his body. For me, it was a golden opportunity to lavish praise on his magnificently massive musculature without risking blowing my cover.
"Ben, you look fucking awesome. I can't believe you're so big, I'm always impressed especially when you've got your shirt off like that," I said, trying not to sound too eager.
"Yeah, fucking huge," he grunted and flexed again. "I want to be so fucking huge, you can't even imagine. I've always wanted to just get bigger and bigger, no limits, you know?" Ben said seriously, the intensity in his eyes burning as he looked at me. "I've always been the big guy, bigger than everybody, even when I was a little kid I was big. And now that I'm this deep into football and getting the lifting bug and loving being in the gym all the time...I just want to get stronger, bigger, fuckin' huge."
"Yeah man, go on, how big do you want to get?" I said, egging him on. This was so hot.
Ben had gone back to the fridge to make another protein shake. I knew he was going to dinner right after this too. His big gut was already looking distended and swollen from his first one. When he finished mixing it, he turned back to me and sauntered over, towering over me again. He looked down at me from between his massive pecs, swelling them out and flexing with a low, deep growling rumble that came from deep down.
"I want to be so big, I want to be looking down at you like this when we're both standing normally. I want to be twice as thick and five times as strong as I am now. I want the ground to shake when I walk. I want to be the biggest, strongest motherfucker on earth," he said, his voice sounding deeper, more commanding, and more dominant than ever. With that, he chugged down his second shake, which looked even bigger and thicker than the first. I watched as his massive gut swelled until it was pressing against my face. I could feel its heat and power, could hear the protein sloshing into his stomach where it would turn into muscle, making Ben's already massive body even bigger. I could smell his powerful masculine body odor as his sweat dried onto his skin.
Ben belched again as he finished his shake and smirked down at me. With a deep chuckle, he turned, his wide ass shaking up and down as he stomped back to his room. He threw on a dirty t-shirt, told me he was going to dinner with his linemen buddies, and rolled down the hall towards the exit. I immediately whipped my rock-hard cock out to relieve the pressure, and I came all over myself almost instantly. I couldn't believe he had such a deep-seeded desire to grow even bigger, and it turned me on so much. I went over and picked up the soaking wet muscle tank he had left behind in my room, and rubbed it all over my face. The stench was intoxicating. I couldn't wait for him to get even bigger and more dominant as college went on. I could only imagine just how big he was going to get.
___
It was August and I was in Ben and I's new apartment unpacking my thing when I felt and heard some big footfalls stomping up the stairs. Was one of the bigger guys on the team also rooming on this floor? There was no way it could be Ben; the floor was now shaking with more and more force as this guy got closer. Suddenly Ben came into view and planted himself in the doorframe.
"Hey there Matt!" he bellowed as my jaw hit the floor. He was abso-fuckin-lutely gigantic, way bigger than the last time I saw him. He filled up the entire entryway, his enormous chest and shoulders brushing against the side of the doorframe and straining against his tight t-shirt. He had grown a full beard and looked more mature, more like a man than a college kid. I panned up and noticed that the top of his head was dangerously close to the top of the door frame; it looks like he had somehow grown 2 or 3 inches taller. I sputtered, "What the hell happened to you!? You're fucking huge!"
"Haha, yeah I guess I put on a few pounds! Lots of hard work at the gym, shitload of food, all that crap," he said while sauntering over to me. He got close and sized me up. "Did you shrink, little man? You seem way smaller than the last time I saw you," he said as he looked down at me, his voice more like the bassy rumble of a subwoofer than an ordinary human voice. He wrapped his thick arms around me and gave me a bear hug, lifing me up off the ground effortlessly. "You're way lighter too, hah! he said as he put me down roughly. He reached under his shirt and scratched his barrel chest, revealing a swath of furry belly and causing his thick forearms to bulge and undulate.
"No Ben, I think you just got a lot BIGGER!" I said, staring up at him. He looked down at me and grinned. I knew that grin. It was the one he used when he got what he wanted or was teasing someone.
"Heh, I guess you might be right. A whole 50 pounds bigger, actually. And three inches taller. And a hell of a lot stronger!" he bellowed. He backed up and flexed his biceps; they caused the sleeves to ride up to his round shoulders as his thick peaks pushed the fabric to the breaking point. "MMM, feels good. These babies are almost as big as my head!"
I was stunned. "How did you do it? I mean, you gained like 50 points in three months! That's crazy! I mean, I worked out hard this summer and put on like 10 pounds, but you're just ridiculous. I've never seen somebody get that much bigger that quickly."
"Yeah, well, like I said, diet and exercise!" he said as he turned back to his bags. I could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth, but I couldn't guess at what he was hiding. "Anyway, I have a lot of shit to unpack, so I'm gonna start hauling it upstairs. I don't need help though; gotta use every opportunity to exert my body so I can get bigger and stronger! What can I say, I'm a growing boy," he said as he once again lumbered through the doorway and thundered downstairs.
I was having trouble processing all this. Ben was hot and huge before, but this was another level. He was absolutely GIGANTIC. If he had gained 50 pounds and 3 inches of height, that would put him at 340lbs and 6'3". Do people normally put on so much size during the offseason? Do people outside of puberty normally put on three inches of height in one summer!? That seemed really unlikely, as I know that Ben would balk at the idea of anabolics or hardcore steroids...not that he was against the idea, but he would get kicked out of football if he tested positive. Maybe it WAS just food and exercise. He had been training like a beast last spring, and god knows the guy could eat, I thought to myself. I was broken from my reverie when Ben appeared in the doorframe again, hauling a heavy-looking refrigerator on his back and a full suitcase in his left hand. He slammed both down in the middle of the room and let out a puff of air.
"Wooo, it's hot out there! Fuck this shirt," he said as he peeled the white tee off his massive torso, revealing every muscular bulge in perfect detail. I could see turtle-shell abs poking through his beefy gut, his meaty, muscular pecs bounce and tense as he adjusted his arms, his traps and shoulders rise like a mountain range. He was way, way bigger than last year.
"Seriously man, how did you get so much bigger? You've gotta be the biggest guy o--"
"It's none of your fucking business, alright?" he suddenly said. His deep voice was commanding and loud, and I immediately froze. "I got bigger. A LOT bigger. That's all there is too it." He seemed very defensive. "I'm gonna get the rest of my shit out of the car, and then we've got a game to get ready for tomorrow," he said, wiping the sweat that was pouring down his face and once again stomping out of the room.
----
Well, that was an easy game, I thought to myself as I slid off my shoulder pads and starting undoing my pants. The coach had moved Ben to the defensive line after seeing his impressive gains in size and strength, and it had pain dividends. The other team couldn't get anything going on the run with Ben clogging up the middle, and forget passing; Ben was always crashing right through his defender (or defenders, it didn't seem to make a difference) and either rushing or sacking the quarterback. The poor quarterback looked so discouraged by the end of the game I almost felt sorry for him.
I felt good too; I had kicked in two field goals, one from about 40 yards out. Not bad for a sophomore.
Ben was always the last one to leave the locker room, and I saw him waddling to the showers as I finished packing up my stuff. He was the man of match, and everybody had been congratulating him at the end of the game. He lapped up the attention and puffed up with pride, I could see it in his face, that smirky, cocky grin that I had seen the day before.
I was still blown away by how much bigger he was; his back was wide and thick, muscles bulging and flaring out. His traps and delts rose up and merged with his thick neck to make it look like he was always flexing them, even though he wasn't. His thighs were like thick tree trunks of muscle; his quads hung over his knees and out from his hips, like oil barrels full of muscle and power. His calves looked bigger than most peoples' thighs, and I had never seen ones as thick and round as his. The fact that he was taller, significantly taller than last year, just made him even more imposing. Last year he was a big guy; now he was just downright intimidating. I left the room as I heard the water turn on.
I was just getting the keys out of my pocket for my car when I realized I didn't have them. I had left my wallet and keys in my locker. Flustered, I rushed back to the locker room to grab them.
As I entered the room, I heard something. Deep, gutteral sounds, like an animal grunting...I quickly realized it must have been Ben. Ben masturbating! His tone was one of pleasure as he growled and groaned. I peeked around the corner to see his massive back and wide, naked ass. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was pumping his thick cock with his huge right arm. I unfortunately couldn't get a look at his cock, but from the intensity of his grunts I could tell he was getting close to finishing up. Sure enough, with a satisfied groaning roar, Ben shot his load. Strangely though, he stepped out of the water spray just as he came; he seemed to be trying to collect as much of his jizz in his cupped left hand.
To my shock, Ben proceeded to drink up the cum in his left hand and slurp up what had spurted onto his right. He wiped up the ropes of thick white paste that had shot all the way up to his pecs and licked up all of that too, growling and humming like he he was tasting the most delicious food on earth. Then the biggest surprise of all happened.
As Ben finished slurping up his own cum, he took a couple steps back into the middle of the shower area and relaxed, his wide back still turned to me. The whole room went quiet as he seemed to be lost in thought. Was he contemplating how much he had dominated the game? Why did he just drink up his own cum?
Suddenly Ben's breathing rate increased and deepened, and he seemed to be intensely concentrating on something. He started grunting with each of his breaths, huffing and groaning. I was starting to get a little freaked out, it was like he was psyching himself up for something...but the game was over, not just starting. He was creshendoing and getting louder, and clearly he was focusing on something in his mind really intensely. That's when the unbelievable happened.
Ben roared and seemingly flexed every muscle in his body. I heard a wrenching, popping, stretching sound and I swear to god he grew bigger. Every muscle on his body seemed to bulge and pump up bigger in the blink of an eye. He let out his breath, and then again flexed. His muscles definitely bulged out in all directions; his chest swelled out and hung lower, his arms pumped up bigger, and his traps rose higher and thicker. Next he seemed to stretch out his whole torso as he got on his tip-toes and stretched, and I saw him rise ever-so-slightly taller. His calves pulsed and then burst with new muscle, and his thighs did the same. He sighed and relaxed as he finished growing, and I could tell he was looking over his body, inspecting the changes.
This was obviously how he was had grown so much bigger over the summer. He had just added at least a few pounds to his already massive frame in seconds. If all it took was him slurping up some of his own muscle cum to grow like that, on top of all the eating and lifting he did, no wonder he grew like a muscle weed. Add on the fact that he was a huge, horney, virile 19-year-old college football player, and I was actually surprised he hadn't grown even more.
Of course, at this point I was rock hard. Like, a soft breeze would cause me to shoot my load kind of hard. And it was at that point that Ben turned around and saw me.
I was slow to react, caught in my shocked reverie of seeing my roommate and college crush grow before my eyes. He didn't react with anger, he just grinned and walked towards me, wet from the shower, ruddy and pumped from the game, pulsing with power after his growth. He walked right up to me until his pecs and gut pushed into me and forced me backwards. He backed me up to the wall and looked down at me. He was in complete control. I was thisclose to shooting my wad.
"Strip," was all he said, a command not a request, in a voice even deeper than the one he had heard yesterday. I complied almost instantly. My long, hard erection was pointing straight up, my cock pulsing and aching for release.
"I've got an experiment I want to test," Ben rumbled, now looking straight ahead, above my head, like I wasn't even important enough to look at. "As you probably figured out, I found I can grow after I eat my cum. I was pumping out some cream after a workout in July, and I figured hey, there's protein in cum, why waste it? I need all the protein I can get, baby!" he said, punctuating his statement by slapping and rubbing his rock-hard gut in my face. After a satisfied growl, he continued, "I felt this tension after I ate my thick load, like I was filled with this tremendous energy. I was compelled to flex, and instinctually I did...reached way down deep and flexed with all I had. Man, I bust out of my skin when I saw myself grow for the first time, and it feels way better than a fucking orgasm. Feels like your whole body is cumming, swelling with power and vitality. Fuck," he groaned as he rubbed his cock, which was already chubbing up again. "I get fucking hard just thinking about it. But I got a theory. I figure, why limit myself to just drinking up MY cum? I don't give a fuck about gay or straight, I just want more power. More strength. More size. More muscle. More power!" he said and swelled his chest out. It had to be over 60" around now; the term "barrel chest" did not do his perfect pecs and wide frame justice at all.
And with that, he crouched down, his giant thighs bulging out, grabbed my bubble butt with his meaty paws, and wrapped his mouth around my cock. I was stunned, and came almost immediately, pumping hot cream into his waiting mouth. I could feel an intense, almost painful suction on my member as he sucked every last drop of cum out of my balls.
Growling with satisfaction, he stood back up to his full height and towered over me.
"Oh shit yeah, I feel it coming, bigger than ever, better than ever. Holy shit! Oh shit!" He started panting and grinning, breathing deeper as he swelled up in anticipation for the growth.
With a groan, he once again flexed. Last time was nothing compared to this. He jolted an inch taller instantly and swelled outward. His chest bulged outward as he took a massive breath and flexed his pecs. His chest looked like it stayed flexed and swelled up even after he let his air out. He took another deep breath and flexed his biceps in front of me. His musky jock odor made me light-headed and I watched his arms swell thicker, the round peaks rising higher and bigger. He stretched his arms out wide, flexing his triceps, and they bulged larger, as did his massive shoulders. He looked down and chuckled as he flexed his thighs; they reached their biggest, maximum flex, and then made a cracking, squashing sound and swelled bigger; his calves did the same as he raised one leg and flexed and then did the other. He looked down at me and grinned that same grin he had on his face yesterday when he came into the room.
He turned from me and headed straight to the scale on the other side of the locker room. His round, hard ass was the perfect counterpoint to his bulging, spherical gut, perfect, thick pecs, and shoulders. My god, they were so wide. He was massive, that was the only word for it. Just freakishly huge. He had to practically waddle to walk, his thighs were so huge....no, the word was saunter. Stomp maybe, even. Either way, merely the way he walked commanded authority, screamed power.
He stepped on the scale, which creaked and groaned. His feet took up the whole surface, and he had to peer over his shelf-like pecs to see the new number.
355.
He had gained 15 pounds in a matter of minutes, and at least an inch in height.
"Oh fuck yeah," Ben said as he looked back at me, past his boulder shoulders. He flexed a massive bicep at me, easily over 22", an grinned again. "I'm gonna get fucking huge. And you're going to help me. I know you want to," he said as he faced me and flexed his biceps, "want to help me grow and grow, get bigger and stronger. Fuck yeah you want it, I can see it in your eyes. Fuck, I can see it in that boner you're already sporting again. You're my own little muscle slut, and your cream is the fuel to turn me into a fucking giant."
He walked over to me and bumped into me, his weight and sheer size overwhelming me. Even though he had just showered, his smell was already overpowering, masculine and musky.
"Let's go eat, I'm fucking starving," he bellowed in my face and laughed. It was the start of an incredible partnership, I could tell right there. I couldn't wait to watch him get bigger and bigger.
______
The next two weeks were a flurry of discovering the extent of Ben's incredible strength on and off the field, defining the limits and capabilities of his growth abilities, dominating guys on the gridiron, and plenty of flexing, showing off, and muscle worship. Ben's personality was becoming increasingly confident, arrogant, dominant as he continued to grow and explore exactly how powerful he was, and he wasn't afraid to show it. Everybody love it though, especially the coaches and the guys on the team; Ben was quickly becoming a leader on the team, in and out of the locker room because of the respect his massive body and incredible strength commanded.
Of course, it wasn't like I was making Ben grow every night. In fact, after that first night I fed him my cum in the locker room showers, Ben told me what he had discovered over the summer. His growth was limited to once every few days; it seemed that his body had to recharge or sorts to make use of the cum he was feeding on...for now. That didn't stop him from slurping down as much cum from himself as he could, but he had other ideas for me. Despite being almost constantly horned up around him and even most of the time when I wasn't around him, I had been trying for the last 6 days to hold all my cum in to prepare for when he was ready to grow again, and damn it was hard. It was so hard NOT to feel on the brink of cumming around him, or even being in the room. The room stank of his sweaty pads. His shoulders were so wide and enormous the coaching staff had to special order a set of pads that would fit him, and they were already getting tight again after the last growth spurt. To me, the pads were as long as my whole torso and much wider, and they were extremely heavy even to lift, much less wear.
Ben had decided to stop washing his clothes because he enjoyed his own musky jock scent so much--he claimed the smell increased the power he felt and amplified the growth process--and the room was growing increasingly pungent as the pile of sweat-covered shirts, shorts, and jock straps grew to a mountain in the corner of the room. A lot of the clothes in the pile weren't even wearable anymore; Ben was quickly outgrowing many of them, despite having bought a bunch of new stuff during the summer. Coming back from the gym covered with sweat and ripping out of a t-shirt he could no longer get out of was coming a common occurance for Ben, and most of his underwear hardly contained his massive, thick cock and pendulous balls.
Oh how those balls could pump out cream. Ben probably masturbated at least 3 times a day, usually looking at his own expanding body in the full-length mirror, which was just wide enough to show his whole frame, for now. Even though he only grew maybe a pound a day when his body wasn't ready for another big growth spurt, he always saved and slurped up as much of his cream as he could. He always pumped out a ton of it too, and there was a growing stain on the carpet in front of the mirror where he hadn't bothered to clean up.
Ben's appetite was increasing along with his size and strength as well. He was going through a 5lb jug of protein powder every week along with the rest of the food he was eating at the cafeteria. He and his lineman buddies, or occasionally me, would hit the caf in force; the food service workers always cringed when they saw the corp of lineman, led by the unbelievably huge Ben, roll in to feed. It was hard to estimate just how many calories Ben was consuming every day, but it had to be over 8000. All the food made his perfectly round, rock-hard stud gut swell out and hang over his belt, causing the tortoise-shell abs to stand out. He loved swatting and rubbing his big belly, and used the weight, size, and power of it to dominate on the football field along with his incredible strength.
Along with his appetite, of course Ben's strength had exploded. By the time freshman year had ended, he was already one of the strongest guys on the team; now it was just a question of whether he was the strongest man on the planet, or maybe even the strongest persone to have ever lived. His training was hardcore, several hours a day, and involving insanely heavy weights. He had easily totaled over 3000 for the three traditional powerlifting lifts; he was just over 1000lbs on bench, no shirt, and well over 1000 in both the deadlift and squat. He was using 180lbs for his hammer curls, deep, slow reps that hit the core of his biceps and made them balloon and swell to 25". When he was lifting, everybody else in the gym just stopped and stared; his incredible feats of strength DEMANDED attention, his gigantic frame drew every eye.
Oh and he loved the attention. That confident, smug smirk was now fixed on his face almost permanently, but especially when he knew people were staring at his magnificent body or when he was dominating in the gym or on the field. There was a spark in Ben's eye that wasn't there last year, one that said he knew the potential and power he held within himself to become the biggest, strongest human being ever.