CHAPTER I: MUSCLE-BOUND AND LOVING IT
At only twenty-seven years of age I felt burned out and washed up. I had been unemployed for several months. I couldn't seem to find a job that paid more than minimum wage. And I simply couldn't bring myself to accept a job flipping burgers on a hot grill in some local fast-food joint. My fear was that if I allowed myself to sink that low that I'd never be able to rise above it, never be able to pull myself up and out of that hole. The thought that my friends and family would see me at this menial task and always relate to me on that level, was more than I could abide. I didn't want them looking down on me. I wasn't only down and out, but down on myself. So using my year's prepaid membership to a local gym that I had purchased just prior to losing my last job, I took out my disappointments and frustrations on their heavy-duty equipment. That equipment would prove to be stronger than my anger at my lowly economic statues.
Now I was living on the kindness of friends and family, my own bank account having been long since depleted. It didn't take long before this situation began to wear a little thin on both them and me. It started with subtle hints, like their not answering the phone or the door. They were all starting to avoid me like the plague and I couldn't blame them. I knew I had to do something, and do it quick. By then any old job would suffice. I could no longer afford to be choosy. Flipping hamburgers had begun to look better and better. At least it would be an income, albeit, a meager one.
Due to the fact that almost everybody I knew was now avoiding me, I was becoming quite lonely. My only recreation in those days was long walks and the gym. They were in a sense, both free. Now I went almost daily to the gym, and as a result of that, I'd never looked better. And except for constant worry and those acute feelings of worthlessness, I'd never felt better in my life. I was eating less but more nutritional food. This was due mainly to my sad financial status. With so little money I had to be very careful what I bought at the grocery store. Every dollar had to be counted for and spent wisely. So out went the often expensive junk food that I had loved so much. After a few months of this I had shed, with little effort, almost twenty pounds. Up until that time I wasn't even aware that I had that much weight to lose. If I had lost this weight without the benefit of added muscle, I've no doubt that I would have looked unhealthy and sickly. And in that case I would have drawn attention for all the wrong reasons. It is, of course, much better to be looked upon with admiration, and even envy, than it is to be looked upon with disgust and pity.
I would go to the gym and take out all my frustrations over the pitiable state of my life (of which there seemed to be many) on the sturdy equipment. No one at the gym knew that it was my aggravation and disappointment in both myself and my sorry state that fueled the energy needed to knock out that kind of muscle bulk in such a short time. From the envious looks I often caught, most had thought I was simply that determined and that disciplined. They seemed jealous that they weren't able to discipline themselves enough to accomplish what I had done in such a short amount of time. Little did they know that a sufficient amount of poverty, along with its by-products: anger and resentment at those who clearly were successful, goes a long way in fueling ones' resolve and determination.
At first I tried to disguise and cover up the changes taking place in and on my body by wearing loose-fitting clothes. I wasn't at all certain as to how other people would perceive these changes, or if they'd even appear as improvements in another man's eyes. In the beginning I felt awkward around those people who exercised on a regular basis. I had always looked upon them as fanatics. To me they were people who were clearly out of control, obsessed with their bodies. I had always been one of those on-again, off-again exercisers. For some reason I could never get truly serious about flexing my muscles. It had always seemed not only stupid to me, but also an idle waste of time. In those days if I wanted to lose weight I would simply stop eating. That I thought was true discipline, but of course now I realize the damaging affect that must have had on my body and my health in general. That was then. I could never do that now. And now I could see just what a misguided notion that was. I feel silly sometimes just thinking about the fact that I once thought that way.
Because of those frequent and strenuous workouts at the gym I now sported abs and pecks that looked impressive in a tight T shirt. This I found out by sheer accident one day when I went to put on a T shirt and discovered that what had once been a little loose, now felt too tight, which I found strange since I had lost so much weight. I went ahead and put the shirt on anyway and stepped in front of the full-length bathroom mirrors. There were mirrors in the front of me and also at the back of my body. I was amazed at the changes in my body structure. I didn't recognize it as mine. I guess I simply hadn't paid that much attention to my body since I had begun working-out. After all, I was working-out out of sheer frustration and boredom. I had found that exercise elevated my emotional being and allowed me to sleep at night. This new body was merely an unexpected bonus.
I had only my white briefs on at that time, so I began to flex my arm muscles, and much to my astonishment, they bulged and rippled beneath that layer of thin cotton. I was impressed, turning this way and that, viewing my new found body from various angles, and liking what I saw. My thighs and butt were hard as a rock when I flexed them and moved into a Mr. Olympia pose. I couldn't believe that was really me I was looking at. The only thing I honestly recognized as my own was the face. It still resembled the mug-shot on my driver's license. But now it looked strangely out of place to me, like green grass in the desert. It was as though someone had put my head on some body builder's shoulders. Even my neck had grown thick and sinewy. I was flabbergasted that I hadn't noticed these changes in my own body. I guess my own body wasn't something that particularly interested me. I had never been a narcissist, never had reason to be. And my calves, when I flexed them, were well-defined.
I was now high on the sight I was admiring in the mirror. Now I had to know just how much like a body builder I did indeed look. So I grabbed for the bottle of baby oil in the back of the sink cabinet where it had sat untouched for several years, and started slathering that glistening liquid all over my hill and dale of a body. I discovered this often-used competition ritual to be not only exciting, but also sexually arousing. I loved the feel of my big, strong hands, a direct result of my body building, gliding effortlessly over the mounds and valleys that now made up my body. Once I started, I simply couldn't get enough, so I slathered oil on my other hand and began roaming this strange, but beautiful new body. It was as though I were touching someone else's body, and not my own. But I was receiving the benefit of my own warm, masculine hands roving over the highs and lows of this other guy's body. It was sheer bliss, this visual feast. I was making love to another man, who just happened to be me. Wow! Is that convenient or what? It was like having your cake and eating it too. I was enthralled by the physical aspect of one-in-the-same man making love to each other.
This other man's hands found their way to my nipples and began to pinch them. I was no longer certain as to whom the real me was; the man with the gorgeous body, or the face that owned those large hands, which were calloused from months of frequent weight lifting. If only I thought, the face, handsome to a fault with its full lips and sapphire eyes, could reach down and take the body builders nipples in his hot, wet mouth, then ecstasy would surely prevail. I roamed and then he roamed the contours of the body builder's luscious flesh. From the well-muscled neck and down the strong hard chest, across the deeply furrowed ridges of his abdomen, our hands moved in unison, slipping lightly over the white cotton mounds and down over the rock-hard thighs, skimming the skin that shown luminous in the light refracted by the mirror, sliding amorously over the hardened calves and stopping only when the toes had been reached. There seemed to be light everywhere, bouncing off the mirror onto the shimmering male skin and back again to whence it had come.
We, I,--there was no way of knowing--felt on the verge of fainting from the smell of baby oil mingling with the heated scent of man and the awesome light show that blinded all our senses.
I opened my eyes that had closed momentarily in their attempt to take respite from the blinding white fireworks display, to see that the most wonderful bulge had formed in the man's white underwear. The cotton had become damp from the steamy baby oil, and was perfectly outlining the man's ample manhood, showing off both its impressive width and girth. It made me hungry, and I looked up and saw that the man was shamelessly salivating over that inviting macho display. He took the cotton-covered rod into one of his impressive hands and teased it into growing even larger. The head was big and thick and looked as though it were about to explode when the man squeezed it hard and unrelentlessly.
I hoped it wouldn't burst. I hadn't touched it yet. I wanted to feel it hot and hard and weighty against my skin. I longed to fondle its imposing size, to get the full affect of its inspiring presence. The sight, the smell, the shimmer of oiled-skin, stirred something deep within me. The whole of my body was awakening as if from a deep slumber that had lasted a lifetime. My slick hand entered the man's briefs and felt the warm throbbing of life as it slid past. Warm, slick skin met with hard, pulsating meat, both sliding against each other, enjoying the glow of tightly bound friction. But the hand pulled out just before the cannon had built up enough steam to blast its ball. This saved us all from an eruption that would have prematurely spoiled the bliss that was building within.
The body builder dropped his shorts and walked gingerly out of them. He now stood there in all his glory with his imposing manhood, as slick as the rest of his body, jutting out before him, so proud and tall. That very same penis, which had, in my opinion, always looked too big for my body, now appeared to fit well on this body builder. It had found a suitable home at last. That hard, strong muscle had no problem competing with the beefy mass that made up the rest of his body. The body was now as impressive as the cock had always been. I could see that it was an harmonious marriage indeed. I found myself elated for the both of us. I felt like crying, so happy was I.
I dared to place my own rough, but slick hand, upon it, and experienced the life that dwelt within. It felt somehow foreign to me, as if someone else owned it. And relishing in that feeling, I stroked the body builder's energetic manhood. The coming together of my hand and his cock was a feeling that sent all my senses reeling. It was far more than the average hand full. It throbbed and pulsated under the determined strokes of my hand. I took my eyes off the rod in my hands and raised them to the level of his deep blue irises. And although we locked gazes and slipped into a trance as lovers often do, I could still see and feel the ardent action taking place just below his waist. We both swam in lust, me for him, and him for himself. I felt the swift speed with which the hand that held tightly to his remarkable man-muscle was moving. It was almost a blur, it moved so fast. Suddenly I saw reflected in his eyes the unbridled euphoria he was experiencing as he erupted like a powerful volcano, spewing forth his thick, white male essence. I watched enthralled, as it splattered on the mirror with the force and velocity of an erupting volcano. The mirror and the light that refracted from it, caused the white man-juice to appear as plentiful as the lava that would flow from it. It was everywhere. And I couldn't help but wonder why the body builder was still alive, since it seemed to me that all his life-force lay dripping down the mirror where it puddled itself on the floor.
After that dynamic climax the lust-induced trance lost its power over me and I was able to get dressed once again. I left the bathroom humming a new tune, one I'd never heard before. The melody mirrored the satisfaction I was feeling at discovering this beautiful new body. I was going to like this new, sexier image.
For weeks to come I was highly aware of my new image and the desirous affect it had on people. The clothes I now wore showed off the new and greatly improved physical me. I would bask, as I took my evening walks, in the aroused stares that I would receive from a good deal of appreciative men I encountered along the way. I felt like a male model or some celebrity, even though I knew that it was only my muscular build that commanded their attention and garnered their intense stares. I would photograph in my mind those lustful, hungry looks and take them home where I would then make love to the body builder time and time again. I was, and still am the body builder's most devoted fan.
Now that I could appreciate the attention I drew when walking down the street, I loved to walk around with my sunglasses on, which allowed me to watch without being detected. The girls and women would look quickly, and then turn away. But some of the guys allowed their stares to linger as they openly appraised my lean, muscular physique from head to toe. They often looked with a jealous or envious frown plastered on their faces. They no doubt saw me as unfair competition. But then other men simply looked at me in admiration. Those of course were the preferred looks; the ones that allowed me to feel good about myself, at least as far as my appearance went.
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