Brandon Twice
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Dr. Titan
🕑 Added 2019-11-23 20:32:07 +0000 UTC[Age Regression: 60 years to 20 years old; Mental change]
The big powerlifter filled up the doorway to Julian’s office. Julian wasn’t a stranger to large men (he was nicknamed “Dr. Titan” at Global gym, because of the way he turned out one 300 lb bodybuilder after another) but something about Ulrich made him seem more imposing than the usual superheavyweight giants Julian dealt with.
Ulrich was just an ape of man. He was in his early 60s now but he’d been competing as a powerlifter for almost 50 years. Ulrich was as big as a fridge, 6’3” tall and filled out with dense flesh on all sides. His last weigh-in put him way up over 350 pounds. He had a big keg-belly of course and no part of him was, in any way, “lean,” but his massive frame easily eclipsed even the biggest pro bodybuilders in Julian’s stable.
A few years ago he had a DNA test done; the results showed that he had some rare genetic “defect”: his body produced nearly no myostatin (the hormone that limits muscle synthesis). Basically it results in a man who effortlessly piled on muscles. He bragged about it for months after he got the results.
As soon as Ulrich stepped into the room (his heavy footfalls actually rattling the coffee cup on Julian’s desk), the big man’s stink filled up the room. Julian didn’t wear deodorant (another fact he boasted endlessly about) and his body gave off a thick fog of masculine musk even when he didn’t stink from an afternoon spent flipping truck tires and slinging massive chains.
“Ulrich! Thanks for coming in, buddy. Have a seat,” Julian said, gesturing to the chair.
“You sure that thing can hold me?” Ulrich grunted. He cricked his neck and ran a huge paw through his bushy white beard. “I’m good standing,” he finally said.
“Suit yourself. Want something to drink?” Julian tossed Ulrich a bright orange can. It looked comically small in Ulrich’s big, ton-hoisting mitts.
“What’s this?” Ulrich said as he eyed the little can suspiciously. “Buncha caffeine to get your little bodybuilders jittery enough so they can squat half their bodyweight a hundred times?”
“Actually it’s a real high-quality weight-gainer. Top-of-the-line protein. Right up your alley, big man.” Julian looked down at his clipboard. Ulrich’s hygiene issues were at the top of the list of complaints against him, as well as his aggressive harassment of the female clientele, his destruction of gym property (two shattered mirrors and three broken dumbbells in that month alone), his poor treatment of the staff, and his parking lot violations (at that moment, Ulrich’s monster truck parked diagonally across three spaces). But as Julian watched Ulrich crack the can and gulp back its contents, he felt confident that all of this would be resolved in time.
“So what’s the deal? Why am I getting called in?” Ulrich said. He belched loudly and patted his big, firm belly. He put a boot up on the desk--the stance was, Julian had to admit, incredibly intimidating with all that mass looking down on him--and adjusted his undeniably huge junk in his sweatpants. “What’s the deal? Have I been naughty?”
Julian just smiled. He thumbed toward the window of his office. “It’s your boys. Your little tribe of powerlifters came in here hardworking guys who wanted to get strong. You made them all oversized bullies.”
Ulrich looked out the window with pride at his crew of buffalo-sized “students.” They all had varied athletic ability before he got ahold of them, but he pumped them full of growth hormones and chinese buffet, got them deadlifting three times a week, doubled their PRs and then some, and built a team of massive Kongs with the attitude to match. His six acolytes were, essentially, just a crew of mini-Ulrichs, and the big man couldn’t be more proud. He watched one of his guys, a clydesdale named Tuck, give a bodybuilder practicing his poses a shove that sent him to the floor.
“See, here at Global we’ve never had a ‘bodybuilding vs. powerlifting’ rift. This is a hardcore competitive atmosphere for all.” Julian set the clipboard down and folded his hands. “But you’ve created a toxic environment and we can’t have that here.”
Ulrich chuckled and ran his tongue along the underside of his thick, silvery moustache. “What’s your deal, little man?” he said, with emphasis on the word “little.” He looked down at Julian and eyed up and down his frame. “You like to boss around big men? You’ve got your little nutrition degree and you like to tell guys with real athletic potential how to eat and how many situps to do? Ever wonder why you never got good enough to compete?” Ulrich belched again, unleashing a cloud of stomach gas and a spray of spittle at Julian’s face.
Julian just smiled. He could smell the contents of the can he had given Ulrich, meaning his body was digesting it. And that meant soon, things were going to change for big Ulrich. “I competed back in the day. Injured my knee, got surgery, and things were never the same. Seemed a shame to waste all my expertise so I got into coaching. And I’ve done a damned good job of it, too. Quite a few pro-bodybuilders owe their careers to me. And so you know, my degree isn’t in nutrition, it’s in biotech.”
Ulrich rolled his eyes and turned away. “Look, buddy, you want to give me a formal reprimand or some shit so you don’t lose face in front of the owners? Fine. Let’s get it over with. I’ve got shit to do. You don’t get as big as I am just shooting the shit with little pencil-necked geeks.”
Julian checked his watch, eyeing Ulrich’s body closely, looking for any changes. “Let me ask you, Ulrich, what were you like when you were younger?”
The question caught the big man off guard. “Like as a kid? The fuck you care about that for?”
“Your early twenties,” Julian asked. “It’s a pivotal time for all athletes. You could have been a strongman, a bodybuilder, a sumo wrestler, a freaking NFL lineman if you’d wanted to. Your genetics are phenomenal. What were you like when you were younger? What led you down the path to be what you are now?”
Ulrich closed his eyes and winced a little. Clearly he could sense something going on in his body, although he wasn’t sure what it was. Julian couldn’t see anything distinct yet, but it was clear something was happening, like he was seeing a million infinitesimal changes all at once. “I was big as a fucking truck,” Ulrich said. “Strongest guy anyone ever met. I used to get drunk and rip parking meters out of the ground for fun. I never used to fight guys, just flipped their fucking cars over. Still can, y’know, so I’d… I’d… watch it…”
Julian could see it now. The cragginess of Ulrich’s weathered face was smoothing out. He could see little bits of brown sprinkling through his silver hair and beard. His shirt and sweatpants looked baggy, but only because they were 4XL. He was still a massive man, although his size was noticeably diminishing.
“So, I’ve printed up a notice to your clients,” Julian said as he watched Ulrich starting to wobble unsteadily on his legs. Clearly the regrowth of cartilage and tissue in his aching joints was causing him sensations he wasn’t used to. The big man reached for the chair Julian had offered earlier and fell into it. “I’ve told them you’re going on a little vacation for a couple of months.”
Ulrich looked around. “V-vacation?” he asked. His beard and moustache had gotten thinner at this point. His hair had darkened to brown. He looked like a good-looking grizzly bear of a man in his 40s. He was swimming in his clothes now but only because a lot of the paunch of his older years, plus the roidgut and water retention of the massive amounts of gear he started to stay competitive when he hit his 60s, had all evaporated. “I’m not goin’... nowhere…”
“Oh, you’re not,” Julian explained. “You’ll stay here, training with me, but no one’s going to recognize you. And you won’t even remember being you--at least, not the 60 year old behemoth who thrives on bullying. Do you even remember that? Do you remember why I called you in today? Do you even remember my name?”
Ulrich’s hair was now dark brown. His facial hair was short and neatly trimmed. Compared to the size he’d walked in with, he looked small, but he was just under 300 pounds but healthy. The scars and aches of his old age, plus the massive drug abuse of his most recent years, were all gone. Even Ulrich’s overwhelming stink was starting to fade away. The big guy looked around, seeming lost for a moment. “Yeah, your name’s uh… uh…” He looked around the office like he were seeing it for the first time.
“Anyway, your boys are going to get a notice that you’ll be gone for awhile. You’ll be staying in my guest room, training with me, and we’re going to push your body to its limits in a very controlled way. We’ll give your body exactly what it needs as opposed to what your gut or your pea-brained lifting buddies told you. Understand?”
The transformation was more or less down now. Ulrich looked half the size he had been when he walked in--still a huge man of course, but nowhere near the mammoth he used to be. His face was now totally smooth (devoid of both beard and age-lines). He had dark brown, shaggy hair and a strong jawline. He still had his thick neck, broad shoulders, barrel-chest and large frame packed with muscles, but all of the absurd size he’d accumulated in the past forty years was all gone. Now he looked like an exceptionally large young man, not a grotesque over-sized caveman.
“Ulrich,” Julian said, and the beefy young man snapped out of his daze.
“Uh… yes sir,” he said. He looked lost. That was natural, after the process he’d just been through.
“Ulrich--can I call you Rick? You said that was your nickname on your application.” Julian glanced at his clipboard again, pretending to be reading from it.
“Application?” Ulrich said, lost. He was so bewildered, coming out of what felt like a blackout, that he pretended to go along with what was happening. “Yeah, Rick. Some people call me that.”
“Good,” Julian said. “So anyway, Rick, how old are you?”
Ulrich paused to think. He looked shocked that the answer was so far away, his mind so foggy. “I, uh… I’m 20. Just turned 20 years old,” he explained. He pulled at his shirt and pants, seeming to wonder why he had put on such baggy clothing.
“Perfect age to start training,” Julian said. “So over the next two months we’re really going to be putting your body through its paces. Tapping into your potential while I guide your development in a way you’re not going to regret when you’re older. I want to keep that body healthy, strong, big, lean. How does all that sound?”
Ulrich still seemed bewildered but nodded along with Julian.
“Okay, buddy,” Julian said, giving the big young man a pat on his beefy shoulder. “Let’s get you in some clothes that fit and get you out there training.” They heard a loud smash as some weight smashed to the ground out in the powerlifting area. Ulrich looked out the window at all of his “students” roughly clapping each other on their big backs and aggressively thumping chests.
“Who the fuck are those guys?” Ulrich asked. Julian just smiled and helped the 20-year old to his feet.
*
“Who drives something like that?” Ulrich asked as they walked into the gym the following week. He looked at the massive monster truck pulled into the furthest spot from the building. It just barely fit.
“A guy who doesn’t give a fuck about anybody else,” Julian said, holding the door open for his big trainee.
Inside, Ulrich went through his stretching routine, then did some cardio to warm up. The pack of big unruly powerlifters, led by Ulrich’s former protege Tuck, stomped past.
“Hey, when the fuck is our coach coming back?” Tuck said as he squared up his big bull body, looking down at the much smaller Julian. “This vacation shit is complete bull. I paid for training. I oughta fire him and hire someone who’s not gonna bail with no notice.”
Julian shrugged, resisting the urge to laugh that their coach was right in front of them--although, now, a couple of years younger and dressed in a tight tank top and neon compression tights. “Well, you know him. He just kind of does what he wants. If you want to hire someone else that’s your prerogative. Maybe he’ll come back with a new attitude though, who knows?”
Ulrich had started his leg day with some leg presses. Julian had him load four plates on each side; the negatives of each rep were slow and controlled, drawn out to a three-count. “But explode up on the positives!” Julian coached. “Time-under-tension, that’s how you’re gonna trigger growth in those legs, Rick.”
Ulrich seemed confident on the first five reps, but by the time he got to the thirtieth he was red-faced and pouring out sweat. When he re-racked the weight he got off the leg press and paced wildly around the machine while he clutched at his swollen, torched legs.
“Jesus!” Ulrich said with a grin. “Those things fucking kill you…”
“That’s how I make giants,” Julian explained. “Why risk injury with three times the weight when you can bigger, better quality muscle with less weights?”
“I take shits heavier than that weight,” Tuck taunted as he walked by Ulrich. He gave the sweat-soaked man a shove. “Fucking chick weights. Gotta be kidding me.”
“Ignore them,” Julian soothed. Ulrich looked troubled by the assault but he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and got ready for the next set.
*
Ulrich held his shirt up to get his body-fat tested. Julian pinched at his flesh with his calipers, recording the results. Then the big bodybuilder hopped on the scale.
“Jesus,” Julian said. “Your bodyfat’s dropped 5% and you actually gained three pounds. In one month! You’re a monster!”
Ulrich hopped off the stale, blushing with pride. “I’ve never had abs before,” he said, running his hands down his six-pack. “And I feel strong as fuck.”
“You’re excited about 3 fucking pounds?!” It was Tuck, nearby getting some water. Ulrich ignored the jeers, standing in front of the mirror to admire his physique. Even though he was only 3 pounds heavier (bringing him to a grand total of 268 pounds), he looked much bigger than when he had started this “training camp.”
“Y’know, you’re bigger than them,” Julian said as he walked Ulrich toward the parking lot with a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah but they’re, like, powerhouses,” Ulrich said, staring down. The big man wore a cut-off over spandex shorts, his body bulging imposingly in all directions. He’d had a wide “big-guy” gait when he had started, but his legs had widened enough that he now had the start of a muscleman waddle.
“Still, they’re probably just jealous,” Julian continued. “Give them a few years, they’re going to be so injury-ridden they’ll be popping pain pills just to walk to the bathroom. Your career’s going to have some serious longevity.”
Ulrich nodded. Julian wasn’t sure, but his big student’s focus was so honed that Tuck’s torment may not have bothered him anymore. “Today was a pretty impressive chest day. You know what’s next.”
“Yessir. ‘Train into the hypertrophy window but no further,’ “ he quoted. “ ‘Then break-up fascia, refuel and rest.’ I know the drill.” Ulrich patted his big pecs, which stood out like a shelf now. In the past four weeks, they had blown up with muscle the most. His big glutes were in a close second; Ulrich’s backside was so wide and dense it looked like the back end of a van.
Train, eat, sleep, repeat. Ulrich had embraced this lifestyle wholeheartedly, as if he’d always wanted it. Julian watched his gargantuan pupil strutting heavily toward their car. One more month, he thought. What else could he accomplish with this man’s massive potential in that time?
*
Ulrich stood on the posing dais in his hot pink trunks (he chose the color--”Makes my tan and my muscles really pop!” he had declared emphatically when he first slipped into them) and went through his mandatory poses as Julian coached him along.
“Nice panties, princess!” yelled Tuck from twenty feet away, clapping his chalked up hands together and smirking at the huge man wearing nothing but a tiny swath of pink.
“Ignore him,” Julian said.
“Ignore who?” Ulrich said with a cocky grin. “All I see are my goals!” He stomped a foot down powerfully, put his massive arms behind his head and hit his abdominal-thigh pose. His gut was a veiny 8-pack of thick cobbled muscle now. His body was absolutely shredded, his skin paper thin. Ulrich was up to 275 pounds but leaner than he had ever been in his life. Every inch of his body was dense muscle mass shrink-wrapped in tan skin, covered in veins like fuel-lines. Despite Tuck’s taunting, the man was starting to attract a crowd.
Julian glanced at his watch. Time was almost up for the formula he had given Ulrich. He was hoping to have the man in a more private environment when it finally wore off, but Ulrich had insisted on posing. “I feel too fucking good!” he had declared.
“You know, you could step on stage and dominate any competition in America,” Julian said.
Ulrich flexed 24 inch biceps and blew out his lats, like thick veiny wings on either side of him. He was an absolute beast, and everyone in the gym, whether bodybuilder, powerlifter, or casual gym-goer, had commented on his unbelievable success with Julian over the past two months.
“That boy has genetics like you wouldn’t believe,” Julian would tell people. “You might think I have him stuffed full of gear, but he’s been mostly natural during his time with me. He’s just learned an ironclad work-ethic and some fundamental principles that will keep him healthy on his path to being the biggest and best.”
Ulrich hit a crab shot, holding it confidently as he admired his own progress, but then he winced like something had bit him. For the first moment since he had stripped down to pose, his confidence faltered. He looked around, then over at Julian, who just gave him a thumbs up.
“It’s all good, buddy,” Julian said. “Just roll with it. You’ll be fine in time.”
There, on the dais in front of everyone, Ulrich’s body slowly started to grow. Not only was his body starting to expand with lean bulk, but he was gaining muscle maturity as well. His body was phenomenal and shredded before, but now it was sharpening in a million tiny ways.
To the shock of the crowd, a dark brown beard suddenly sprouted on Ulrich’s face. It became full and lush in an instant, and he wiggled his face as he felt the sudden growth. Big Ulrich’s back swelled out, his pecs rising like bread dough, his legs thickening by the instant. His ass got so big the trunks disappeared in the crack between those two massive globes. And even as Ulrich’s body got bigger, he seemed to get even more shredded.
Within minutes, as the crowd watched and gasped, Ulrich grew from an up-and-coming bodybuilding phenom to an absolute freak. His body blew up to Dallas McCarver proportions and then beyond, while getting more shredded than anyone ever assumed possible. Those massive, wide-set delts, those gigantic quads, all made to look even bigger by the wasp-like waist.
Suddenly streaks of grey spread up the side of Ulrich’s hair. He blinked and looked around, baffled by the sensations assaulting his entire body, as age started to show on his chiseled face. While he still maintained his lantern jaw, lines formed around his eyes and mouth.
When his hair and beard finally went full white, the changes seemed to slow. The posing trunks he had put on earlier were now far too small on his massive physique, nearly strangulating his bigger-than-average package and threatening to snap at any moment.
Then it was over. In moments Ulrich had regained the 40 years he had lost when he first drank Julian’s formula, but the training had caused them to reform differently. Instead of 40 years of hoisting heavy weights, swilling beers, stuffing himself with food and pumping himself with hormones, Ulrich had experienced 40 years of fine-tuned elite-level bodybuilding. While his face resembled the apelike brute he had been two months before, the body was anything but. If anything, his new body seemed to dwarf his old powerlifting frame, despite the fact that it was about forty pounds lighter.
Ulrich’s jaw fell open as memories flowed back into his mind. Still, as he remembered who he used to be, his 2 months with Julian had left deep grooves in his psyche. All of it was a lot to process. The gargantuan man hopped down from the dais and walked unsteadily away.
“Holy fuck!” Tuck shouted as he recognize the man he had idolized. “Look at you! You’re a… a fucking bodybuilding sissy now!”
Ulrich stared down at the younger man, his nostrils flaring as he considered the situation. He raised a hand; Tuck flinched, preparing for an assault, but big Ulrich just poked him in the chest. “You need to learn some goddamned respect,” he responded gruffly. Then he turned around and muscle-waddled toward Julian.
He extended one gigantic hand. “Thank you,” he said as he shook Julian’s hand. “You really are Dr. Titan. There’s a part of me that’s really fucking angry at you for this, but it’s like… that guy’s fading away. All I gotta say is…” He wiggled uncomfortably, his posing trunks digging painfully into his granite flesh. “...First I gotta get some trunks that fit better, then we gotta pick which stage I’m gonna dominate. For starters.”
