Me and the Old Man



I got to the gym that day ready to hit it hard. One month out from the contest, and I had the bod right where I wanted it, lean and tight. My training

partner Todd thought I might be a little too tight for this far out, but I disagreed. OK, so I got a little testy now and then from the strict dieting, and got dizzy and headachy now and then. It would be worth it when I stepped out on stage razor-sharp. Today was leg day. My gym had a separate room full of leg training equipment... a squat rack on a raised platform, two leg press machines, two leg

extensions, a hack squat, two different leg curl machines, three different calf

machines, plus a ton of free weights. It was a great place to work legs, and usually, this early in the morning, Todd and I had the room to ourselves. I was here before Todd, so I headed to the leg room to do some warm-up squats. Now that I was dieting so hard, I had lost some strength, but nothing serious, and I knew I'd get it back after the contest. I heard plates clanging as I turned into the leg room. "Hey, look who it is!" said Ron. He was loading plates onto the leg press, but stopped when he saw me, and came over. "How you doing, Anthony?" he said. "Doing good, Ron," I said, dropping my gym bag in the corner. I wasn't much in the mood for talking, but the old dude was always so goddam friendly. "Well, you look like you're training hard, bud, getting ready for that contest. Even your jaw line looks more chiselled up. You must be watching what you eat too, you look a lot smaller." I had to give it to the old man, he did notice whole face had squared off more since I'd been cutting up, but I wasn't sure I liked the word "smaller", even though it was true. Ron, on the other hand, looked bigger and broader than I'd remembered him, although he still wore the big sweats, so maybe that was it. "And, because of you, I went ahead and entered that contest," Ron said with a big grin. "No shit?" "Yep. Your buddy Todd got me an application, so I'm in. I'm just finishing up legs here, let me do my last set." Ron went back to the leg press, and laid down. As he position his feet, I noticed that there were 9 plates on each side. That's 810lbs, a lot of weight for anyone, let alone an old dude like him. But then I realized that they weren't 45lb plates. The old fucker had loaded the machine with 100's. That was 1800lbs he was about to try. Just as I was about to go stop him, he pressed

the sled up, undid the side locks, and started pressing out reps. Up and down the sled went. He went down deep too, till his knees tapped his delts. Rep after rep. He made it look easy. I counted twenty before he stopped. He locked it out at the top and started doing toe raises. Fuck. The big old dude was strong as goddam shit. He did thirty reps of calf raises and then locked the sled back. He stood up and walked back over to me. "Damn that feels good," he said, shaking out his legs. "No wonder you like this, Anthony. Ten sets of those and I feel amazing. Whatdya think?" With that, he pulled his sweatpants down to his ankles. His legs were shockingly pumped. "Wait a minute," he said, and he rolled up his boxer briefs, totally exposing his meaty quads. "Not bad, huh?" he said. Then he began to flex them. His quads looked like they were made up of giant boa constrictors, writhing and bulging up and down. They were the biggest fucking quads I'd ever seen, and they were completely shredded up. I could see every thick fiber, dancing at

his command. "You could see the muscle even better, if there weren't so many veins sticking out," he said. He was right. His vascularity was insane. Thick veins, branching off and diving deep into his massive thighs. "Hope that doesn't hurt me at contest time," he said. Fuck. "And my calves seem to be responding real well to the training," he said. He turned his foot to the side, and brought his foot up on its ball. The heavy calf muscle responded by bunching up into a jagged boulder of rock hard muscle, nearly the size of a football. "See? Your buddy Todd thinks I might have to cut back on my leg training, so they don't get too big. They were 34 inches when he measured them out last week. But I'm kind of liking the look myself." He looked down at his legs, and flexed them out as he watched. Fuck. I sat down on a bench, feeling dizzy. The old man had been working out for two months, and had a set of pro quality legs. "You alright, bud? You're looking a little green around the gills." "Yeah, I'm good." "Here," he said, grabbing a carb drink from his bag, "drink some of this." I didn't want any carbs, but I was about to pass out, so I took it. It tasted so good, I guzzled the whole thing. This goddam diet. Maybe I had started it too early. The carbs flooded into me fast, I felt better almost immediately. Just then Todd came in. "Hey, you old fucker," he said to Ron. "Damn it man, look at your legs! I told you to cut back on training those suckers, you're getting them supersized!" "Can't help it, Toddie," said Ron, continuing to flex out his sizeable quads. "I get such a rush working them, feeling them engorge and grow with every set." I'm sitting there looking at them in amazement. When did the two of them become such tight buds? "Hey, Tony, I got those posers you wanted me to order online," said Todd, pulling a couple suits out of his gym bag. I'd asked him to get me 2 each of three different colors. "I guess I'm going to have to order a pair of those myself. Where'd you get them?" asked Ron. "You're gonna need more that one pair, big man. You won't wanna use the sweat stained ones from prejudging for the evening show. Here, take a couple of

these." What the fuck, I away my posers. "Well, thanks, Todd, that's mighty kind." Ron took the posers and looked at them, puzzled. "There's not much to them," he said, rolling them around in his big fingers. "That's the point, Ron, they're supposed to show off all the muscle." "Uh huh," he said, still looking at them. Then he looked at me. "These things hold in everything you got? I mean, you know, your goods don't just come

flopping out? "Nah, man, they're stretchy and tight. It all packs in good." "Uh huh," he said, still unconvinced. "Hey 'Toddie'," I said, "we doing a leg workout today or what?" "Hell yeh bro. You up for it though, you look a little drained." "I'm fucking fine," I said, getting pissed off. "Hey, sorry guys, I'll let you get to it. I'm done with my workout. You want me to leave the weights on there for you to use?" "You kidding me, big man? Neither of us have ever..." "Just leave them, Ron, we'll be fine." "Whatever you say, Anthony." Just as Ron was about to leave, Todd stripped off his sweatshirt. Underneath, he had on his "2004 Armwrestling Championship" tee shirt. It was tight enough to show his thick solid build, and his overbuilt arms stuck out like hamhocks. "You an armwrestler, Todd?" asked Ron. "Yeah, I'm a little into it," said Todd. "You could say that alright," I said. "Todd's been into it since he was 11 years old, and has won heavyweight division of the state championship two years in a row. You looking for a match-up?" I said, sarcastically. "Take it easy, Tony, jessus," said Todd. "Hey, no, it's my fault, I'm holding you guys up. But if you ever want to test out what you got against me, let me know." Ron started to leave. "No offense, old man, but I'd crush you," said Todd. I smirked as I saw his competitive side coming out. "Is that right, bud?" said Ron, turning back. "No fucking question," said Todd, clenching his fist, and making his arm muscle twitch. "How about a wager?" said Ron. I swear I saw his pecs rolling under his sweatshirt. "Name it," said Todd. "You win, I'll sponsor you for the next year of your armwrestling competitions...all your supplements, gym fees, travel, anything you need." "Fuck yeh!" said Todd. "Let's go then buddy." Todd clenched his fist so hard, his knuckles cracked loudly. "I win, and Anthony has to shave me down for my contest, and come up with my posing routine." "That's it? You got a deal, grandpa," said Todd, looking around for a spot to wrestle. "Wait a minute," I said, "how'd I get into this?" "Take it easy, man, you know I'll take him," said Todd, eager to have his needs met for the year. "I haven't lost a match in three years." "You fuckin' sure, man?" Todd nodded hard. "OK, then, how about the front desk?" I said, eager to see old Ron taken down a peg. "Fuck yeh, that's almost perfect," said Todd. The three of us went up to the front of the gym, and told John, the manager, what we had planned. "Fine with me," he said, happy to bust up his normal routine with a show of muscle and strength, "I'll clear it off for you." Todd went behind the desk while it was getting cleared off. He began to shake out his arm, and was jogging in place like a boxer. Ron drank the rest of his carb drink, and slowly peeled off his sweatshirt. He had a sleeveless muscle shirt on underneath, so soaked with sweat from his leg workout that it stuck to him like a wet suit. Turns out, the baggy sweats he'd been wearing weren't baggy at all. His upper torso was massive and broad. And his arms... his fucking arms. Todd let out an audible gasp, then stopped jogging and said "holy shit" softly. Ron's arms were gargantuan, and the veins running down his two huge biceps twisted and curved like the mighty Mississippi. Take a look at it on a map, and you'll know what I mean. Totally insane. By now we were drawing a crowd around the front desk. Word was spreading about the challenge, and while most guys just assumed Todd would crush any challenger, a buzz spread thru the gym quickly when people got a look at Ron's upper body. Ron lift his heavily muscled arm and sat his elbow down on the desk top. Even relaxed, his muscles bunched up thick and rugged. He stared straight at Todd. "You ready, junior?" •

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