Somehow I got through the evening, slept like a log and was up bright as a button at 5.30 to prepare myself for the onslaught. I showered and shaved with a rod reaching up to my navel - in fact it had never really gone down since I left the gym. Talk about self-control! I put on a really tight jock to keep myself looking halfway repectable, slipped a pair of Hotskin shorts over the swollen jock and a tank on my top half, a jump suit over the whole (not velours unfortunately) and set off for the gym, not knowing what to expect - half excited, half really nervous. Would he give up on me as soon as he saw how wimpy my bench press weight was?

As I passed his office at 6.55 on the way to the locker room he yelled at me to Step in here! "First of all, in future I expect you to be here at least 15 minutes before our sessions begin to get warmed up. You can do your abs or fifteen minutes on the treadmill. Now, swallow this."

"This" was a beaker of "OJ" into which he measured eight drops of something liquid from an eye dropper, which i took with FIVE of those tablets. "Today you will take one of these between every set we do, with plenty of water. Now, get on to that treadmill while I get ready."

I was real warmed-up when he stepped into the gym. I almost died. He was wearing practically the same as I was, tight short shorts, tight string tank. Nothing was hidden, certainly not the bulge that preceded him wherever he went, nor those huge muscles that he usually kept covered when he was working someone out (or over). Any description of him would be a cliche, but here goes. Huge melon-sized delts on those wide, wide shoulders; thick thick traps sweeping up from the Schwarzenegger chest on which you could stand a cup of coffee on his upper pecs which were so thick at the sides that the string tank just could not contain them at all. Wide thick lats curving down to (for him) a tiny 32" waist where a bit of dark pubic hair could be seen rising from his shorts into the gap between shorts and tank. That thick, corded, cut eight-pack was amazingly supported by serratus and intercostals almost as big as the muscles of the eight-pack. And I could tell that his obliqiues were plunging down towards his genitals - one of most sexy effects of a good physique, and one to die for, if you can get it.

His quads swelled out of his shorts wirth every muscle thick, full and separated, the biggest calves I've ever seen on a man balanced out the huge thighs perfectly. The arms beggared belief or description they were so big and cut: like Matt Duvall's or Aaron Maddron's you wondered how there was enough bone to support those great guns, fore and aft.

A thick gold ring through his left tit, matching the one in his left ear. No doubt who was the top around here.

But why this walking exhibition of living statuary? He must have noticed my dropped jaw for he grinned and said "I thought you might need a little living incentive as we begin today. And as the gym is practically empty at this hour I thought I'd pay you the compliment of strutting my stuff!"

"Gee, thanks!" I grinned sarcastically. "Not sure how much weight I'm going to be able to lift with all that muscle towering over me."

"Excuses, excuses! No excuses here, and I shall enjoy watching your discomfort as I constantly flex around you. It's your second incentive. How's the first doing, by the way?"

This muscle display had temporarily made me lose touch with the potency of his chemicals. I was feeling like Superman meeting Super-Superman. "Good! that's the way I like my clients to feel before I knock it out of them! Get down on that bench!"

As he loaded - oh my God - two 45 pounders on each end of the bar (225 lbs. when I thought 185 was my top weight!) he explained that we should not attempt to work out the whole body in two days so he was going to concentrate today on chest and biceps. "Where you seem to be most deficient!"

Instead of spotting me from behind in the usual way, he straddled the bench over my waist so that I got the full benefit of seeing the true thickness of those monstrous pecs from underneath at the same time as his package was practically shoved in my face. Slowly I began to uderstand that this was his technique with "beginners" - give 'em as much muscle and sex as I can to look at while they're pressing to inspire and incite them. Or destroy them! I said despairingly to myself as I grabbed the too-heavy bar over my head.

To my surprise I got five easy reps out of it before I began to quiver. That's when the shouting and the insults began. "Get that fucking bar up, you wimp, or go home!" And I forced out another 5 reps before he relieved me of the bar. He then sat down between my legs and started to massage my swollen pecs, his bulge rammed up against mine. "Those tablets helping any?"

"They must be, because that weight's way beyond my normal strength." "Good," he said, "sit up." He hardly moved to accomodate me so were were eyeball to eyeball as well as pec to pec and crotch to crotch. "You are already beginning to benefit from my treatment. But I need to emphasize that it's your own effort that's going to make you grow - not the chemicals. They just open uo your hidden capabilities and remove the mental barriers of 'Too heavy!' that we all place there."

He removed his hands from my chest and, because his face was so close to me anyway, kissed me gently on the mouth. (Now I had never seen him do that to any other client. What's going on here?) Here's a pill, now go and drink a full glass of water with it." And he slapped me hard on the rump as I got up to go for the water.

Two similar sets later (with a 20 pound increase on each one) I returned from the water fountain and he said "How do you feel?" "Great! Huge! Give me more!"

He flexed his pecs into a most-muscular pose. "I want you to feel these pecs - go on, really feel them - don't just touch or stroke them, FEEL them HARD!" I was on the point of eruption again but, with one hand, without releasing the pose, he slammed me one in the balls. That dealt with that. "Now, FEEL!"

So I felt those striated, bunched up, vascular mounds, felt and squeezed those inch-long iron nips - all that muscle under my hands!

"Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine these muscles are yours. Catch that physical image in your mind and transfer it to yourself while you do the next exercise." Which was the pek-dek. As I squeezed the handles in ("SLOWLY!") I really FELT I was squeezing them with HIS muscles, constantly on show, and flexed, in front of my nose. At the end of the set he helped squeeze them in then had me release the negative ultra-slowly.

And so it went on, five sets of pek-dek, another four of Hammer Strength Incline Benches. Water and pills between each set. I was beginning to tire - just a bit! "Good," he said - "I want you to be inspired by me always, but any feelings we may have must be sublimated to PURE MIND/MUSCLE ATTITUDE. Think you can do that?"

"God knows I don't want to prejudice what I can already feel happening, even half way through our first workout together - so, as I promised, I'll follow your lead and do as you say - but you don't know how difficult you're making it for me."

"Good boy. Something told me I was going to be able to rely on you. I'm not disappointed yet! But there's a long way to go, even before tomorrow night!"

"Tomorrow night"? what was that to bring? I was mulling that over when he told me to go and lie down in hisoffice for 15 minute then come back. "Take these four - they're different - restorative - and a pint of water - and! no hands!!"

Lying on HIS bed in HIS office after all that made "No hands!" the most difficult part of the workout yet. But I could feel that all that muscle juice churning inside my balls, so anxious to get out, was what was going to fuel this amazing workout, so, No Hands wasn't as difficult as I imagined as I happily dozed off.

We went through the same three exercises three more times that morning - the 9 am client was a fiction - the second time, very heavy weights and low reps, the third time very high reps and very low weight but punishingly slowly. Each time with another snooze and more tablets.

At about 1 pm we showered together. That was really cruel and he knew it. This was the firtst time I had seen all of him in all his glory and he made the most of it. Although his monster erect dick actually reached the bottom of his pecs, he continually slapped mine to keep it in control. And didn't he enjoy it! Frankly, wonderfully erotic as it all was, I was relieved when we had our clothes on and went out to lunch. At which time I was lectured severely on diet and provided with piles of paper detailing my "menu" for the next week. "We'll talk about supplements tomorrow."

"Assuming I don't flake out on you and renege on our agreement."

"That's not going to happen, I know that for sure, Mr Wimp! I know you better than you know yourself and I tell you THAT's not going to happen. I've got your fish safely squirming in my net! You have no idea what I have in store for you!"

Back to the gym with orders to sleep for an hour. Then it would be biceps. "Most people train tris with chest, but you've tired them out so much with all the pec workout it wouldn't do you much good. Now go to sleep! Muscles grown while you sleep!" •