bestie I had things to do today. now I'm just thinking of feeding those big mfs with the full intention of bulking them up. with my cooking/baking skills it would not take long. (Source: friends with strongman types and do this for them willingly)
GOD them coming to you after their workout still dripping in sweat and telling you how good the place smells. Sitting together at the table and demolishing the whole spread you put out, moaning around their forks and lavishing you with praise. Watching them sink back into their seats with clean plates and hands resting over distended stomachs, wide smiles on their sleepy faces.
It's flattering how much they love your cooking. The praise, the adoration, the way they get a little sheepish asking if there's enough for second. The answer is always yes, you take good care to make enough to feed your personal army, but desert comes before seconds. It's tradition, and the cheesecake you'd made is sitting pretty in the fridge just for them.
Second tradition is that they help you clean, which is all the motivation you need to keep up this labor of love (as if the love wasn't enough). And it's not that your kitchen is the size of a broom closet or anything, but with all of them crammed in that space you're better off sitting back and admiring them work. Washing the dishes, wiping the counters, sweeping the floor. They brush and bump against each other the whole time, the ensuing and inevitable shoving match usually leading them to your couch, where they once again make the place look like a doll house.
They spread out on it like oversized dogs, leaving just enough room for you to squeeze in between. Everyone shuffles around until you're perfectly surrounded, keeping at least one hand on you at all times. Rubbing your feet, massaging your hand, stroking over your back until the combination of the heat, your full stomach and the soothing touches puts you to sleep. The hum of their quiet talking mistaken for the TV nobody bothered to turn on.