Make Your Pops Proud (Patreon)

Harry had been less than thrilled when he learned that his father would be getting sole custody of him once his parents’ divorce had been finalised. He’d always had a much better relationship with his mother - well, he had until she’d found a younger man to run off with and suddenly she had no interest in being a parent anymore. Mercifully Harry was already eighteen, but it would be another month until he graduated and three months beyond that before he left for university. Four whole months sharing a space with a man who didn’t understand him at all? It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

It wasn’t hard for outsiders to see that Harry and his father couldn’t be any less like each other. Harry’s father owned a local construction company and also volunteered as an assistant coach for the high school football team. To say that their relationship was strained due to their differing interests would probably be an understatement. Given the older man’s burning passion for football, his father actually had more in common with Harry’s bullies than Harry himself! More than once he’d even tried to justify their actions to his son - “They’re just boys being boys! You’ll have to toughen up one day, you can’t always be this sensitive!” - so it was hardly a surprise that the soon-to-be high school valedictorian had kept himself locked away in the closet for fear of how his father would react if he knew he’d fathered a homosexual!

It was barely forty-eight hours after his wife’s sudden departure when the man of the house decided that Harry should start his day by accompanying him on his morning run around the neighborhood. Harry tried his best to make an excuse but his father was a stubborn man and refused to let him weasel his way out. “Trust me, son, you’ll have a much better day when you’ve got the blood pumping nice and early,” his father remarked sternly, throwing a pair of his own gym shorts and a running tank onto his son’s bed. The idea of wearing his father’s clothes didn’t exactly sit all that pleasantly with Harry, but he was always one to crumble under pressure so with obvious reluctance he pulled himself out of bed and got dressed in the clothes. It was hardly surprising that they sat incredibly loosely on his slender frame; his father was an oak tree compared to the tiny sapling that was Harry.

The morning cardio became part of Harry’s daily routine thanks to his father’s insistence and although it didn’t become any more enjoyable for the high school nerd, he was forced to admit that his father had been right that it gave him more energy and a more positive outlook throughout the day. Apparently that wasn’t quite enough for his old man though, as at the end of their first week alone in the home together, his father instructed him to join him in the home gym he’d constructed in their basement for an evening workout. Harry had always done his best to avoid the basement: it smelled heavily of his father’s musk and one of the walls was completely covered by a floor-to-ceiling mirror, forcing him to look at his diminutive body. He was barely a quarter the size of his father and his hulking muscles!

Harry’s body had never before endured a hardship like the workout his father put him through, and his fragile frame throbbed from exhaustion for the next few days. He’d worked with the lightest weights his father’s owned - a pair of ten pound dumbbells - while his father had curled ten times the amount. Deep down there was a part of Harry that was amazed by the bulging muscles of his father’s biceps, but he had long ago resigned himself to the knowledge that it was unachievable for him. He was to remain a beanpole for life and he didn’t think there was really anything wrong with that. Evidently his father didn’t agree. Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew why his father was making him go for a run every morning and getting him into the weights room: he wanted a son he could be proud of, rather than embarrassed of. Harry silently wished that he had a brother just so the expectation wouldn’t fall solely to him, but his parents had stopped trying after one child together. It was his burden to bear alone.

It had already been quite the tiring day for Harry when he arrived home on a Friday to find his father waiting for him with a shaker bottle in hand. Inside the bottle was an orange liquid that seemed to sparkle in captivating fashion when the light from the open door hit it. His father was dressed up in shorts that barely survived around his massive quads and glutes and a stringer that did little to conceal the hairy forest of that powerful chest. Truthfully Harry found his father rather intimidating to be in the presence of, which was why he accepted the bottle as it was thrust towards him. “What’s this?” he inquired, opening the cap and taking a sniff of the contents. The smell was pleasant, reminding him of apricots, his favourite fruit.

“A pre-workout mix,” his father all but boomed in his bassy voice, “You’re joining me downstairs. Go get dressed - and drink up!” He levelled a sharp glare at his son; it was the same look that had tamed even the rowdiest player on the high school football team, so of course Harry stood no chance against it. He was up in his room and decked in some of his father’s workout clothes - still horrifically oversized for Harry’s skinny frame - and then down in the home gym in record time. His speed earned him an approving nod from his father and while their relationship was still incredibly complicated Harry did feel a sense of pride from the positive acknowledgement.

The workout was more intensive than the last had been and by the time they finished some sixty minutes later Harry was drenched in his own sweat. A musky scent hung in the air and Harry was somewhat embarrassed by the knowledge that he was the source of at least some of it! He desperately wanted to go and clean himself up in the shower but his father instead forced him to accompany him to the kitchen, where the patriarch made up another drink in the shaker bottle. This one was slightly thicker in consistency but had the same apricot taste. As he downed the contents of the bottle, Harry listened to his father explain the benefits of having a protein shake twice a day. The high schooler didn’t exactly think it was necessary, but he wasn’t about to say no to his old man, so protein shakes inserted themselves into his daily routine right next to the morning cardio and the evening workouts that were increasing in frequency.

Only a week after he had started drinking two shakes a day (plus the pre-workout mix, of course) and Harry was already beginning to see results in the mirror: his shoulders were a little wider, his flat chest sported a little definition around the pectorals, all of his tees were fitting tighter around his upper arms and almost all of his pants made his rear look obscene with how stretched they were around his glutes. The rational part of Harry’s brain knew it was illogical for such results to appear on his physique as quickly as they had, but it was easy to dismiss the oddness of it when his father clapped him on the back and praised him for supposedly redirecting his work ethic to where it “actually mattered”. Harry wasn’t sure he agreed but he was delighted to find that the frosty atmosphere between the two men was beginning to dissolve. “Keep this up and you’ll make your Pops proud,” his father had even said, flashing him a rare smile to accompany it.

Over the course of the next three weeks Harry began to go further on his morning runs and tackled increasingly heavier weights during his evening exercise, all under the watchful eye of his father. The elevated intensity of Harry’s efforts was reflected by his body which had continued to pack on muscle at an astronomical rate. There wasn’t a single item in his wardrobe that fit him anymore, not now that his pecs were fully pronounced and he was even beginning to carve out a row of defined abs. Even his neck was wider, making it impossible for him to do up the top buttons on his shirts, while his thicker arms had caused the sleeves on those same shirts to burst open at the seams at even the slightest flex. When it became clear that his own clothes were now ill-fitting for the strong frame he was building up - comparable to that of a lightweight wrestler - he had started to wear more of his father’s clothes, as they no longer dwarfed him to such a humiliating extent. Sure, his old man was still twice the size of him, but Harry had already come a long way in a short space of time!

Unfortunately his newfound passion for fitness had come at a price. His schoolwork had suffered as he found himself getting easily distracted in the classroom; he was too busy thinking about what he was planning to do for his evening workout to pay attention to the droning voice of his teacher. The role of valedictorian had completely slipped through his fingers as a result of his lack of focus, and yet he couldn’t really bring himself to feel too upset about it. His father had been pretty reassuring when Harry had broken the news to him - “There’s more to success than getting high test scores,” his old man had informed him. It wasn’t just the thought of working out that was distracting Harry from his studies though. Somewhat bizarrely he even found his gaze getting captured by the long legs of the cheerleaders, although he tried not to dwell for too long on what it might mean, other than that he might have been a little hasty in assigning himself as strictly homosexual… To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he had checked out another guy in a sexual manner. These days he was instead looking at the school’s jocks as inspiration for what he wanted to be like rather than the type of guy he wanted to attract.

The workouts in the home gym were more intense than ever. Harry and his father would train for two whole hours right after school before sitting down for a protein-heavy meal. No longer did Harry shy away from those large mirrors either. Instead he found himself practising his poses while his father snapped shots for his Instagram profile. His follower account had sky-rocketed since he’d started posting the progress pictures from his fitness journey. Even some of the school’s jocks were following him on there and praising his dedication! Their praise only spurred Harry on even more: he wanted to be able to out-flex every single one of the guys who had tormented him for being a skinny runt of a nerd. He knew now that his father was right - he’d needed to develop some thicker skin - but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a little bit of revenge by showing them up and getting bigger and more popular than they ever were, right?

On the morning of his graduation, Harry was surprised to find the football team’s coach approaching him. He’d only met the man a few times, as his father worked closely with him, and he was of a similarly intimidating build. “Really wish you’d decided to bulk up sooner,” the coach remarked, clapping a hand down on Harry’s broad shoulder and looking him up and down. “Your father tells me you’ve got some powerful legs and a good arm. You might have made a good quarterback!” The remark caused a sudden flare of emotion within Harry, although he couldn’t quite understand what exactly it was that he was feeling in response to the comment. Disappointment? Regret? Alarm?

Mercifully Harry was saved from responding by the arrival of his father, who exchanged a nod of greeting with the coach. “Harry here is still a work in progress, but I’m mighty proud of what he’s made of himself,” his father declared, slapping his son on the back. It was the macho sort of gesture that Harry had once scoffed at, but now it only felt natural. The confusing cocktail of emotions in his head had finally sorted themselves out into a single clear feeling: delight. His father had said that he was “mighty proud” of him, and what more could Harry have possibly ever asked for? Every son wanted to make their father proud and knowing he had done just that made him feel great.

Later in the day, after he had stepped across the stage and collected his diploma, Harry spared a moment to thank his father for properly taking him under his wing after the departure of his mother. Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that his life was better without his deadbeat mom there - she had always worked to alienate Harry and his father from one another, it was so clear for him to see by now! After all, what else could explain how they had become so close in her absence? He didn’t just see the other man as his father anymore, but rather as his best friend, and when he went off to college at the end of summer he was going to use everything his old man had taught him to make a name for himself in the athletics department and come out the other side as a professional sports superstar!

Maybe he’d even get lucky and be able to bring home some pretty blonde chick to meet his Pops. He could only hope that one day he’d be lucky enough to share the importance of fitness and self care with his own son. Like hell was Harry ever going to let his son become a softie who thought having brains was more important than brawn or was more sensitive than any chick. After all, the family legacy had to live on and they were a family of alpha men!