The Freshman 150/Fat + Muscle, Part 1

For my September poll, the idea about a college freshman gaining 150 pounds instead of the normal 15 was the most popular, but I heard back the readers wanted two versions: one where he gains just fat (already written and posted), and one where he gains fat AND muscle. Here is Part 1 of the second version, and I'll post Part 2 in a few days. If you have suggestions for what should happen in Part 2, please leave them in the comments section below or send me a message.

Keep growing!

January 15

Tucker Hay knocked on the door of his coach’s office. “Enter!” said a booming voice from inside.

The 6’5”, 270-pound football player opened the door and walked in slowly, ducking his large head and gelled flat top under the head jamb. He wasn’t smiling, but still somehow managed to look young and optimistic. “You wanted to see me, Coach?” Tucker asked.

Coach Mike Alston looked up from his desk to see his player, who he always though looked like a young Howie Long, wearing a white university t-shirt and grey athletic shorts draped over his bulky body. “Yeah, Tuck, I do. I want to ask you a question,” said the coach, pointing to a chair on the other side of his desk. The coach was a smaller man – around 5’8” and 180 solid pounds, but he commanded a lot of respect from the young men on his team even though he was not much older than many of them at 27.

Tucker sat down obediently and smiled, hoping he wasn’t going to be cut. He needed the scholarship money to stay in school, and he still had three and a half years to go before he would graduate.

“Look, there’s no way around it – we had a shitty season this past fall. Only two wins, and dead last in our division. Nothing, and I mean nothing, seemed to work for us. You guys did your best, but it just wasn’t enough,” said Alston.

“Coach, are you going…”

Alston cut him off with a quick hand gesture. “Don’t worry, son. I’m not getting rid of anybody. In fact, I think I’m going to need you more than ever…if you say yes to what I’m proposing.”

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

“Did I ever tell you about my brother, Dwight? He goes to the university, too – he’s a science student over at Parks Hall. He has developed something I think is going to help us actually win some games next year.”

“Like some new plays?” asked Tucker.

Alston shook his head. “No, it’s something he cooked up in the lab. A very experimental formula that’s gonna help one of my players in a big way. And I think that player should be you.”

“Just one? And why me, Coach?”

“Well, it’s all very hush hush…done on the down low, at least for now, so he could only make one. And we picked you because…well, to be honest, I think you have struggled to fit at a particular position. You’re a little too slow to be quarterback, not big enough to be on the line, and not skilled enough to be special teams. But you do have talent, brains, a big frame that we can pile a bunch of weight on, and you’re only a freshman, so you can really help us the next three years. And once you take this formula, I think you’ll be our MVP.”

“What will it do?” asked Tucker.

“It’s gonna help you get bigger, Tuck. Real big. And strong, too. How much do you bench right now?”

Tucker looked a bit dejected. “My max is only 350.”

Coach smiled and pulled out a small vial from the top drawer of his desk. “After you take this – if you take it – you’ll be benching at least three times that weight. Maybe even four.”

Tucker’s big eyes grew even bigger. “Really? Then I’m definitely interested…as long as it’s safe.”

“I guarantee it’s safe, and legal, and you’re not gonna regret it. But let’s get some measurements first so we have a baseline, OK?”

Coach stepped around from his desk and got all the important numbers from his soon-to-be star player:

• Height: 6’5”
• Weight: 270
• Chest: 48”
• Gut: 50”
• Arms: 18”
• Thighs: 26”

Tucker turned back to Coach after getting his stats recorded. “OK, so what do I need to do, Coach?”

Alston reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a vial. “Simple. Just drink this down. That’s all there is for you to do. I want you to report back to me in a month to see your progress, but come by anytime if you have any negative side effects. Got it?”

The big man opened the vial, drank the contents, and handed it back empty to his coach. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, this is our secret, OK? You cannot tell anyone, not even your girl.”

Tucker promised, and then he ducked again as he left the office.

February 15

Tucker Hay knocked on the door of his coach’s office. “Enter!” said a booming voice from inside.

The now 320-pound football player opened the door and walked in slowly, ducking his large head and gelled flat top under the head jamb.

“Damn!” exclaimed Coach Alston when he looked up to see Tucker. “Son, you grew a ton in the last month!”

Tucker smiled. He was wearing the same outfit he had on during his previous visit, but instead of loosely falling over his form, the shirt and shorts were stretched to their max, and about two inches of his muscle gut peaked out between them. “Yep, 50 pounds as of this morning. I’m at 320 now.”

Alston quickly got up and walked over to Tucker to check out his growth up close, and everything looked thicker and fuller. Tucker’s neck and shoulders were both wider, and his chest and arms were much beefier. Down below, Tucker’s legs clearly had added a ton of mass, too, and his ass looked like it had gained at least 20 of the 50 pounds he had added. “So you feeling OK? Getting stronger, too?”

“Yeah, I feel fuckin’ awesome, and I’ve gotten soooo much stronger. I’m benching over 600 for reps, curling 180, and squatting 800. Most of the other guys in the weight room have been real supportive, but I can tell some are getting jealous.”

“Let’s see your guns, Tucker.”

The athlete obliged and hit a double bicep pose. Previously it would have been an unimpressive sight – although 18 inches around, his arms lacked shaped, hardness, and definition, and nobody would have noticed a difference between their unflexed and flexed states. But now, post-formula, they were packed with dense muscle. Alston wrapped his fingers around Tucker’s right biceps and triceps and squeezed with his considerable strength, but there was no give it all. Not even a millimeter.

“With arms like that, I expect you’ll be curling over 200 in no time. Any side effects?” asked Alston.

“Well,” replied Tucker, “I am starving all the time. The cafeteria closes down at 8:00 and doesn’t re-open until morning, so nights are the worst. I get awful hungry.”

Alston moved his hands down to Tucker’s gut and tried to shake it, but it was stuffed full and hard as a rock. “I get it. You got a big tank to fill. Listen…there’s campus perk for coaches that you don’t know about – we get reimbursed for all DoorDash meals during the school year. I’ll sign you up for my account and you just order what you need.”

Tucker’s mouth opened wide. “Seriously, Coach? That would be awesome. I don’t suppose you get reimbursed for clothes, too. Mine are getting really tight. These are about the only ones I can get on anymore.”

The coach, whose hand was lingering on Tucker’s midsection, pulled up the bottom hem of the t-shirt to release the big man’s gut. The rounded ball of flesh surged outward after being set free from its fabric prison. “I bet that feels better, huh? You need some bigger sizes, for sure. Listen, I’ll reach out to our uniform suppliers. They often ship us product samples of athletic gear, and I bet they have some shirts and shorts laying around that might work…maybe even some dress clothes, too. Sound good?”

“Definitely! I took my girlfriend out for Valentine’s Day last night and she was not happy that I couldn’t fit into anything fancy for dinner.”

Alston looked concerned. “Did that upset her?”

“Yeah, she’s been pissed lately about me getting bigger. ‘Too big,’ she says. We’ve dated since high school, and back then basketball kept me pretty trim. She’d prefer I go back to the days when I weighed 220 and still had abs so she can show me off to her friends.”

“And what do you want?”

Tucker’s smiled returned. “I wanna keep growing. Pardon my language, Coach, but I get so fuckin’ horned up each time I step on the scale and see a higher number. I love my body more than I ever have before. I love my big arms and my big ass and my big belly. Last night after polishing off 5 huge burgers and 2 milkshakes I tried to get my girlfriend to massage my gut, but she wanted me to go jogging with her instead.”

Alston smiled, patted the hefty stud’s belly one more time, and then grabbed his tape measure. “You really do look better as a bigger guy, Tuck, and I’ve never seen you happier. So let’s see how large that body of yours is.”

• Height: 6’5”
• Weight: 320
• Chest: 56”
• Gut: 54”
• Arms: 22”
• Thighs: 30”

“OK, big man. I want to see you back here in another month. I’ll text you later today once I get the DoorDash account set up for you, but you should be able to start ordering tonight. I want to you to get anything and everything you want, and don’t worry at all what it costs. I’ll also send over the clothes to your dorm once they come in, and keep hitting the gym every day.”

“Got it, Coach. Thanks for everything!” replied Tucker. He turned and lumbered back out the office door, and Alston could not keep his eyes off his player’s bouncing buns as he left.