Nowhere to Go But Up, Part 4 (Conclusion)

The first surprise I received came about six months after Frank left.  As part of our effort to re-connect, I started meeting with my friend Phil each Sunday morning for brunch at one of my favorite restaurants, Le Grand Homme.  I loved this place for two reasons: the first was that it actually offered a brunch buffet, which meant I could eat as much as I wanted.  I always filled up several plates and typically consumed 3,000-4,000 calories in waffles, eggs, sausage, and so many delicious breads.

The second was that the restaurant had exceptionally sturdy seating for its guests.  No wimpy little chairs here – everything was strong, reinforced, and laden with extra padding, so I always felt comfortable and secure that my 330-pound body wasn’t going to break any of the furniture.

And yes, 330 pounds was my weight by that time, up from 300.  I had been at this plateau for several months, but it felt like the maximum my body could handle (again, I’m still just 5’6”) and do my job properly at the Carlisle.  My gut had grown to 60 inches, and thanks to my improved posture that kept me from leaning forward, it REALLY stuck out as I walked around – I would joke that it entered a room a good 10 minutes before the rest of me.  It had firmed up a bit, too, but still jiggled and bounced quite a bit as I walked around.  I still got the stares from people, and the big tips at the Carlisle, which made me feel more attractive and more confident.

The weather during the six months that Phil and I had been meeting was unusually cold for our city, and the temperature in La Grand Homme could be downright frosty – we liked to joked that we were actually meeting for BRRRRRRunch.  I loved it because I ran pretty hot and it kept me from perspiring, but it was not unusual for the other patrons, including Phil, to be bundled up in sweaters, sweatshirts, and coats while they ate their meals.

That all changed, however, on the first weekend of May when the temperature had already soared past 80 degrees by 11:00am.  I walked over to the restaurant and had a light sheen across my face when I arrived, and I was thankful that it was still cooler inside Le Grand Homme.  I took at seat at our usual table, and a few minutes later Phil arrived.  Or I should say, the new Phil arrived.

I had known Phil for almost 20 years at this point, and I thought I knew everything about him.  I knew he was 6’1” tall with brown hair and brown eyes. I knew he got the weird scar on his left knee when he fell on my driveway when he was 12. I knew he was not a huge fan of gymnastics but still came to cheer me on at my meets back when I participated. I knew he loved oranges but not orange juice.   And I knew he secretly watched Sex and the City but didn’t want anyone to know. But he really surprised me during this brunch. Several times.

First, he walked in and waved hello, but that was typical for Phil.  He was always friendly and smiling and happy.  But that day, the first day I had seen him without a coat or sweater in 6 months, Phil waved and a big ball of muscle popped up in his arm, stretching his white t-shirt sleeve to its limit.

By the time he sat down next to me, I had about 100 questions.  “What happened to you?”

“I know, I’m a few minutes late, Ryan. Sorry. It took me a while to find a parking spot.”

“Not that,” I replied, and then grabbed his upper arm with my hand.  “What’s going on here? When did your muscles get so big?”

Phil smiled.  “Well, I’ve been working out a little.”

“A little? Jesus, Phil, you’re huge.  And not just your arms, but your chest, too!  You’ve obviously been putting a good deal of time in at the gym.”

“Well, you know, that’s what one does.”

“Does for what?” I asked.  “Are you trying to get healthier, or is it more about getting noticed?”

Phil’s smile grew brighter.  “Well, both, but mostly the latter. Trying to catch someone’s eye.”

Like me, Phil had had a lot of casual relationships over the years. A few girlfriends had stuck around for a while, but nothing that seemed to get too serious, so I was surprised he had worked that hard to attract somebody new.

“You must really want them bad,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve even seen you jog before, let alone stick to a hardcore lifting regimen.  What’s her name?”

“It’s Ryan,” he said, now beaming.

“She has the same name as me,” I asked incredulously.

“No, dummy, it is you, said Phil while staring into my eyes.  “I was trying to attract you.”

Mind blown.  I mean, really blown.

He scooted toward me.  “Look, I realized I was bi a few years ago, but I never really explored that side of things.  But when we met up for the first time after you had gained all the weight, I REALLY liked what I saw.  You were so freaking attractive. I went into the bathroom of the place where we had lunch and jerked off…twice…because I could not take it anymore.”

I started fumbling for words.  “Twice?” was all I could come up with.

Phil nodded.  “Yes, twice. I figured I might see if you were interested in taking things to another level since you had broken up with Frank, but I decided to start bulking up in the gym first because I know you like muscly guys and thought it could help sway your opinion.”

“You got that right,” I said.  “How much did you gain?”

“30 pounds.  From 180 to 210.”

My dick was already getting hard.  “You got bigger in all the right places, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You, too,” he said while putting his left hand on belly.  “So is that a yes to moving things up a notch?” he asked.

I nodded, and Phil leaned in so we could kiss. Fireworks, baby!

I think we set a speed record for the fastest brunch ever eaten, and we immediately went back to my place to have sex.  Phil definitely had a very nicely developed physique under his clothes – OK, maybe he spent a little more time on his upper body than his lower, but the result turned me on.  It really revved my engine every time he flexed his baseball-sized biceps and they would bulge up while I nibbled on them.

During our session Phil mentioned that I was the first man he had ever been with, but you wouldn’t have known by the way he made me feel.  The guy was good – very good – and fucked me better than my previous boyfriends.

He seemed particularly obsessed with my giant man-tits, which very much enjoyed the constant exploration from his calloused hands.  The added strength Phil had acquired also helped his maneuver me around the bed a few times, and that was no small feat given that I outweighed him by almost 100 pounds.

By the end of the week, Phil had moved in to my apartment and we never looked back.

The second surprise came about a year after that first one.  Phil and I had decided we were interested in buying a house together for several reasons – we wanted to set up our own gym space so we could work out together in private (a.k.a., completely naked), we wanted more room for entertaining when friends came over, and we were considering starting a family in a few years and would need an extra bedroom or two.

To determine what we could possibly afford, I decided to look at the value of the investments I had set up when I was with Frank.  It had been a while since I had checked them, and I was hoping his financial wizardry had been able to increase the total enough for us to cash out some stocks and purchase a nice split-level in a good neighborhood.

It took me a while to remember my credentials for the online account, both of which were conceived after a very late night with my former lover.  Eventually I recalled that my user name was “Ryan6969,” and my password was “FuckMeFrank10inches!.” So subtle.

Once I logged on, I could not believe what my eyes were seeing.  I picked up my cell phone and dialed his work number.

“Go for Frank,” said the voice on the other end of the call.

“Frank, what the fuck did you do to my account?”

Frank laughed.  “I was wondering when you might notice.  I’ve been working hard for you, Ryan.”

“But how? How is it possible?” I asked.

“I told you I was going to be the best broker in the world.  And you are one of my special clients who I include on the very best deals.”

“But 20 million dollars? I’m worth 20 million?”

“Ry, there is nowhere to go but up as long as I’m in charge of your money.  It’s just gonna keep growing bigger and bigger.”

I wanted to say something like “I cannot believe it,” but actually, once I thought about it, I could. Frank was very good at what he did, and I considered that his own net worth must be huge by this point.

Frank let me know I should check Phil’s account as well. The balance wasn’t as large, but still substantial since he had been overseeing those investments for the last year as well.

We finished the conversation, and I immediately went online and arranged to send him a $5,000 gift card from Brooks Brothers, his favorite store.  Then I ran down the hall to tell Phil the good news.

The next day, I put in my two weeks’ notice at the Carlisle Club and filled out applications for Phil and I to become members.  I shared the good news with Ron and gave him a big bonus for all the clothes he had made for me in the past few years.

Three months later, Phil and I had purchased and moved into a two-story, five-bedroom penthouse condo only a few blocks away from my old apartment.  We had a terrific view of the city, plenty of room for entertaining and working out and an eventual family, and we got to stay in the downtown core close to all our favorite restaurants and the Carlisle.

Six months after that, we got married to each other in a very low-key ceremony at city hall.  Neither of us wanted a big wedding, but we made plans to fly our family and friends to Hawaii later in the year for reception/vacation.

Once back at home on the night of our wedding, I checked my weight on the scale in our master bedroom. Well, Phil checked it, since I could not see the numbers due to my fatness.

“350 pounds,” he said.  “My baby’s getting so big. I guess quitting your job at the Carlisle allowed you to break through your last plateau.”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror – other than my crown of blond hair and blue eyes, I looked nothing like the sad sack who Phil convinced to interview for the Carlisle valet position a few years ago. Everything about me was round and fleshy and gigantic, and I was wearing a white undershirt that didn’t quite cover my belly, as well as a pair of boxer briefs that looked to be painted on.

“I had a feeling I was growing,” I said. “I could barely squeeze into this underwear this morning.”

Phil stood up from the scale and walked behind me. He was 7 inches taller, and had added another 30 pounds of solid muscle in the past year, so I could still see the reflection of his thick neck and broad shoulders in the bathroom mirror. He reached over my shoulders and put one big paw on my left pec, the other on my belly, and began to caress them both. I could feel his erect cock poking into my butt as he got closer, and he began to kiss my cheek. “You just keep getting sexier and sexier, Ryan. I hope you get even bigger in the next few years.”

I got excited as I pictured myself at 400 pounds, and 450, and even 500, and even more excited knowing Phil would be there with me every step of the way.  I turned my head, kissed him back, and told him I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.