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The Tale of Thick Johnson, Part 1
🕑 Added 2021-07-10 22:45:24 +0000 UTCAs a part of a poll I ran at the end of June, I asked patrons to choose what stories I should write in July, and one of the selections that received the most votes was about getting revenge on Thick Johnson, the cocky and well-muscled football stud.
And here is that story! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments.
Darren Johnson pulled his car into his driveway, parked in the garage, and hoisted his rotund body out of the car. He was starving, so he hurried across into the house to chow down on some microwave burritos and stave off his hunger until he could make a real dinner. He thought about his wife…or rather, his ex-wife, and how nice it would have been in she was at home to have a meal waiting for him when he arrived after a long day at the office.
But Olivia had left him six months ago, disgusted with Darren's growing belly and saggy pecs. She had married him for his once-hot body, and she worked hard to stay in shape even after having a child. Olivia hated that Darren had softened into a fat sweaty slob, and so she packed up her belongings and ran into the big muscled arms of her new lover. He was a good-looking superstar who had recently signed a fat contract to play baseball in the major leagues, and even though only 22, he quickly fell in love with the hot cougar who couldn't stop staring at his guns while he was blasting out his bicep curls.
Darren popped the burritos into the microwave and was trying to forget about Olivia when he heard his son call out for him in the living room. “Hey, Dad, you home?”
The big man waddled into the living room to see what Rick needed and hoped that he was in a good mood (most of the time, he wasn’t). Darren rounded the corner to find his son, sitting on the couch wearing only a tight pair of boxer griefs that clearly showed the outline of his enormous cock, and next to him was a pile of college brochures.
"Hey, son," said Darren as he took in the sight of his 20-year old son's well-muscled physique. "Still trying to decide where to play football next fall?"
"No shit, dad. Is it that obvious?" asked his son.
Darren's son did more than just play football – he was the star quarterback on his high school team. And he was big – really big. 6'4" tall and 240 pounds of solid muscle, thanks mainly to the great genetics provided to him by Darren and the fact that he had been held back twice as in elementary school and was two years older than the other students in his class (he was big, but not bright).
And just like when Darren was in high school, Rick hardly had to train to stay in shape – his fast metabolism and natural muscle-building ability kept him in great shape no matter how much, or how little, he worked out. He had broad shoulders and boulder-like pecs that tapered down to his tight, shredded midsection, and a pair of pumped up arms that would make a professional bodybuilder jealous. And everything below the waist was plenty huge as well, including the size of his private parts.
But Rick's natural body was even greater than the one Darren used to have – his muscles seemed to be perfectly put together, and they appeared to be pumped up all the time. They just had a natural thickness to them, so much so that he had pretty much everyone stopped calling him Rick and now called him Thick.
With those big muscles, however, also came a very cocky attitude. Thick could be very condescending to others who were not in great shape, and that included his own father. He liked to make fun of his dad, especially when he had friends over. Darren had tried to teach Thick not to be so mean, but Thick was definitely now the alpha male of their house since Darren had gotten so fat.
Darren ignored his son's sarcastic remark. "Um, why are you sitting there in just your underwear? I mean, what if I had brought somebody home with me? What would they think if they saw you like that?"
Thick smiled, and then he got up off the couch. As he walked over to his father, Darren could have sworn his son was growing larger with each step. Thick stopped a few feet in front of him, revealing to Darren the many veins that snaked across his arms and chest.
"So many questions, old man. Well, first, I'm sitting here in my underwear because the rest of my clothes have gotten so tight lately. All the eatin' and liftin' I do have pumped up this body so big that it's a lot more comfortable to wear hardly anything at all. And the clothes that do still fit were all sweaty from the gym, so I threw them in the wash. You remember the gym, right? It's all those weights in the basement that you used to lift, back before you turned into such a disgusting pig? Anyway, I know you know about sweating, because you are practically drenched in it just from walking in from the car."
Darren looked down, and sure enough, he could see sweat stains appearing on his shirt just from the short jaunt he had taken from the garage.
Thick continued. "And if you had brought somebody home, I'm sure they would have been amazed that a giant tub of goo such as yourself had some a grade A piece of beef for a son. They probably would have stared at my body, just like you are doing now, and wondered how all this fine muscle could possibly be related to a chubster such as yourself. And if it was a woman you somehow conned into going home with you, she would instantly forget about you and spend the rest of the night with me."
Darren looked back up. "Now, son, that was uncalled for. I think you should..."
"Apologize," interrupted Thick. "That's not gonna happen. But I will tell you what I'm gonna do."
Thick moved so fast that Darren couldn't stop him. His son reached around and grabbed his wallet and removed his Platinum Visa card with an incredible amount of speed and grace for a large man. "I'm gonna take your credit card here and head off to mall to get me some new threads. Enjoy getting fatter, old man."
After taking the credit card from his father, Thick put on a t-shirt and pair of cargo shorts. Both were obscenely tight and constricted his movement, but they were about the only things left that he had that fit anymore. "At least if I wear these," he thought, "nobody at the mall will be able to take their eyes off of me."
Thick got into his truck and drove to the largest mall in town, which was only about 10 minutes away from his house. He pulled into the lot, parked, and strutted into the doorway.
As expected, people immediately began turning their heads to take in the sight of the tall, handsome musclestud. Many people just stared with their mouths slightly open, and the more brazen would approach for one of two reasons when he was walking in public – ladies would ask if he could flex for them, and guys asking for workout advice.
"Everybody loves me," thought Thick. "I'm like the perfect blend of Superman, Thor, and Captain America."
He eventually made his way to his favorite clothing store. Thick went inside to find it was staffed that day by two people from his high school. They were two heavyset 18-year old seniors named Stephanie and Melissa.
Thick knew they attended his high school, but he couldn't recall their names. He didn't even try to remember what they were, however, because neither was pretty enough for him to care. Both women were tall, somewhere around 5'9" or 5'10", but their round plain faces, pear-shaped bodies, and unflattering outfits were a big turn-off for Thick.
The pair immediately knew who had come into their shop. Although neither one knew Thick personally, he was the hero of the school's athletic teams and definitely the BMOC at their school.
Stephanie, who was blond and the taller of the two, stepped forward when he entered. "Hello," she said politely but with a bit of nervousness. "What brings you to the shop today?"
Thick sneered at the thought of these unattractive dogs helping him. "What do you think? Clothes, duh?"
Stephanie tried to laugh of his response as a joke, even though she was a bit offended. "OK. Do you need something special, like a suit, or are you looking for just everyday wear?"
"Everyday wear," replied Thick. "I've been getting bigger lately and nothing hardly fits me anymore."
Melissa also stepped forward, as the everyday wear for men was her specialty. She was just a bit shorter than Stephanie and had brown hair, but at 180 pounds, was about 20 pounds thinner than her friend. "We have lots of clothes I think you will like in that department. Do you know your size?"
Thick chortled. "Is that your subtle way of asking me to flex?"
"Um, no, I was just asking if you knew your shirt size. You know, neck and arm length."
The big man smiled. "I get it. You want to measure me, right? All over, I suppose. I can't blame you though."
Both women were confused. "Can't blame us for what?" asked Stephanie.
"For wanting to measure my body, touch it, caress it, feel my big ol' muscles. I get it. You probably don't get this close to a 10 very often, right?"
Now Melissa was getting angry, and her excitement about meeting Thick was waning quickly. "And you're supposed to be a 10?"
Thick nodded. "Clearly. And with you two being a 3 and a 4, I'm guessing the opportunity to touch a 10 is pretty rare."
"A 3 and a 4?" asked Stephanie. "That's rude!"
Thick chortled again. "OK, maybe a 4 and a 5 if you lost some of that flab. A few laps around the track would help your scores a lot."
Melissa was fuming by now. "I'm sorry, I was wrong. I don't think we have anything in your size. Maybe you can try the men's shops down the hallway. They may have some 7's and 8's who can help you."
"Whatever," replied Thick. "I guess you fat bitches will have to earn your commission from someone else." And with that, he turned and exited the store.
Stephanie and Melissa were very upset after Thick left. They had heard stories that he was a bit arrogant, but he had been a jerk to them for absolutely no reason, and he had insulted their looks in the process.
But neither of them had much time to wallow. They immediately planned to get even with Thick by asking their PE teacher, Miss Gunderson, for assistance. She was an outspoken feminist who always made the Stephanie and Melissa feel like they could accomplish anything, and she hated it when the male students at the high school made the female students feel ashamed of their bodies or that they were the weaker or lesser sex.
Melissa said, "We need her to help us."
