Trainer, The: A Dream Fulfilled

Sunday's Workouts


By Musclebuff

I woke with my stomach screaming for food. I obliged it as fast as I could but nothing seemed to satisfy it or to calm the cramps that were driving me nuts. I'd already wolfed down 12 egg whites and a large bowl of oatmeal but it wasn 't until I'd consumed two protein shakes that I began to feel normal. Only then could I stumble into the bathroom to relieve myself. I turned on the light and gasped as I was confronted with a hot new guy in the full-length mirror. Yes, it was me - but I hadn't shrink as Zak had warned me I might: my chest was a lot bigger and, if I couldn't yet stand Arnold's coffee cup on my upper pecs, it was bursting with thick new muscle I had never seen before. My eyes popped out as I flexed my bis and they in turn popped out, hard as cannon-balls and twice as beautiful, with thick veins running the full length.

I knew this couldn't just be the muscle effort I'd put into the workout - it must have something to do with all those pills, and I wanted MORE. I raced through my shave and , though I could hardly get the blade up to my face, I couldn't resist shaving my pecs clean as a baby's glutes - and I spent more time in the shower than I should from the sensual pleasure of feeling all that new muscle slipping under my soaped-up hands. I grew an enormous boner as I imagined what was going to happen next time I got Zak into a shower!

I raced to the gym, wearing the briefest tank I had to show it all off, determined to be well-warmed-up before Zak got hold of me but that voice yelled at me to come into the office as I rushed past. He was back in the donkey-suit (but for how long? I wondered). He slammed the door and ripped my tank off. "Hey!" "Don't worry, you'll soon be too big for it and I'll lend you one of mine. Now let's see." And as if I wasn't there he began to feel, stroke, knead my pecs, delts and bis. My trunks tented at once. He slapped down the growing tower as he turned me round and started to examine my back, tris and traps.

"Good," he murmured to himself, "satisfactory synergistic improvement here. It'll help with tomorrow's back and tricep workout."

"Tomorrow?" I said to myself - I thought our arrangement was just for the weekend. He must have sensed my surprise for he said "You think I was going to waste all this effort on one weekend? Without me you'd be back to square one before you could say 'Wimp'! Hold your hand out."

And he poured six tablets of different sizes into my palm and slung a beaker of his special "juice" at me. Slosh this down and get onto that treadmill - you're already late!"

"Thanks to you!" My retort was rewarded by a massive slap on the rear as he turned me and pushed me to the door. "And another thing - I don't want you to wear anything but your jock today. Got it? Today's the day we breathe some body-consciousness into those matchstick legs!"

I guess he meant dick-consciousness for what else could it be, working out next to that jock with nothing on but a jock?

Where was all that affection he showed me last night? I wasn't going to find that out till the day was over. It was a gruelling workout and my dick didn't have much chance to embarass me.

He deliberately kept his sweatshirt on as he clearly wanted to emphasize his lower half. His legs were bare practically to his waistline and it was on them that I'd be spending most of the day concentrating and passing that flex feeling into my own quads, hams and calves. I was beginning to learn his system and it all went much faster than yesterday. However, the day was not without incident.

After he had practically killed me with 6 sets of squats (the first of which was just him sitting on my shoulders with his great package pushing into the back of my neck while he yelled at me about proper stance and form. This was achieved by concentrating on not tipping him off me! Five sets and dozens of tablets later we embarked on leg extensions. There were two machines side by side and we matched rep for rep. He had me put one hand on his quad while he was flexing, the other on my own.

"Make the comparison! Make the comparison! Shut your eyes and feel. Transfer that feeling into your own leg. Now open them and look at them both. Will yours to be as big and striated as mine!" This went on for set after set until I was so sizzy that I couldn't distinguish his leg from mine.

"NOW we're getting somewhere!" I opened my eyes, my left hand still on his right quad. "Gee, Coach! What's that huge muscle there?" and I slid my hand up to where his briefs were threatening to burst open. And, of course, I was immediately hard myself, in spite of the rigors of the workout.. He grabbed me by both ears and pulled m y face down hard on his hard knocker, so hard it hurt my nose. Then he shoved me roughly away so that I fell painfully off the machine onto the floor.

"Get out of here!" he roared. "Into the office with you and get a pint of that juice down your wimp gullet and take ten minutes to control yourself!"

I limped away. Had I blown it by doing something like that in public? How was I going to make it up to him? Shit, why was I so worried? Well, because he'd snared me into this muscle-building and I wasn't going back now! I just had to stand by our agreement and do exactly as he said and keep quiet!

Five minutes later it was as if nothing had happened as we got going on hams.

"I don't usually let clients do hams on the same day as quads, but this is a special occasion - " Wow! Special! - "and I don't want you going home with unbalanced legs. You might never get there!"

Hams were twice as painful as quads but, as he stood with my head jammed tight between his thighs so that I could feel him flexing against my face, I didnlt have much chance to think about pain so, lying face down as I was, I was able to clutch his hams and so compare them with my efforts.

"Now you've got to do this mental exercise on your own. Imagine how thick my hams are, how they bunch up like huge biceps when you flex them. Imagine them growing and they will."

I may not have been able to see him, but I was certainly able to feel him as he kneaded my muscle on the flex and slapped them on the slow negs. He got his steel fingers deep into my glutes ad commanded me to feel the flex going right up into my ass. I found out why he only wanted me in a jock when those steel rods found their way right into my joy-hole as he squeezed the glutes with both hands as I lay imprisoned with my head between his thighs..

"Feel it right up here, boy! This is where all your musculo-sexual power originates. Right here!"

And his fingers found their way up onto prostate which he squeezed over and over again, unmercifully. "Feel it! Feel it! Right there!" Jab! and Jab! again. squeeze and relax and squeeze again and again in time with my reps. I started slacken off and groaned with sexual pleasure.

"Don't you dare stop those reps! You've got to learn that this is where it all comes from. I'm not doing it to turn you on to anything but mind-muscle power! If you concentrate and force your mind to remember where the power originates, you can transfer this sensation to every rep of every exercise. If you can't do that, if you cum all over that bench, you're out!"

Eventually I was allowed up. I was pouring with sweat and before I had a chance to wipe off, Zak turned me to face the mirror. "Now what do you see? Of course it all looks better with a lot of sweat or a little oil!".

I couldn't believe it. I knew from watching all those contests how important the oil is to bring out the cuts and highlight the muscles but, although my legs were a pumped-up mess with not a cut showing, I also knew that leg work, particularly squats, were supposed to enhance the whole physique, provoking it into growth. But I just couldn't believe how every other muscle in my body, particularly those I'd worked on yesterday, and even my delts and my neck, seemed to have grown beyond recognition - and cut and vascular with it.

As I started to preen and pose in the mirror Zak leaned in to my ear: "It's not all you, you know! Don't give yourself all the credit! While you're about it look at those wretched calves. How can you go about with those shrunken things under your new quads?"

He was right. Shrunken and wimpy they looked. So they came next, after another five minutes out and some more "sustenance".

He warned me that the calves would give me real trouble tomorrow with cramping up and he was right. So he didn't go so hell-for-leather on them as he had with the hams and quads. But he made me flex and stretch to the extreme while he squatted down and held his hands on them throughout the exercise..

"That'll do for now. Take a long shower then sleep on the bed in my office for an hour while I go out on some errands." First he poured various supplements in to me, particularly glutamine, and prepared a gallon of protein shake to be consumed after half an hour - then sleep. "Or you'll shrink!" he threatened as he closed the door. "Lock it behind me." And off he went, without any other endearment or encouragement. Everything in its proper time and place, I guessed - at least I had to respect that.

I was still asleep when he hammered on the door to be let in.

"Time we had a talk." He was back to being the gruff self of yesterday - no sign of any kind of relationship or feeling for me. Uh oh. Have we changed our mind because of today's happenings?

"Sit down! .... I see great potential in you, but I don't know how far you are prepared to go with all this.." I spluttered. "Naw, keep quiet! and listen - if you can!

"You've seen my other clients - they're big, much bigger than you. They're all good guys but they will be nothing compared to you if you stick this out."

I started to flush and blush - getting hot with excitement. But I kept quiet as told.

"What is your interest in competition?"

"I've never even thought about it - it seemed so far away from anything I could ever achieve."

"I will give you that body you so much desire - and, with it, every other perk coming your way - IF you will make yourself over to me. I'm not going to pass on my secrets - or myself - to a wimp who won't go the whole ten yards. I want to see you achieve everything they cheated me out of because I came out of the closet - like Bob Paris. Yeah, those other guys have ambition too, and would like to get all that too, the fame, the limelight, the adoration of both sexes, any women they want - or men - but believe me when I tell you that I can tell you, with your looks and genetics, you have 900% more chance of getting there than they have.

"Yeah, you've read all those magazines so you know what sacrifices have to be made to move along on that rocky road. I have no doubt you can achieve this physically - if I had we wouldn't be in here now - but would you be able to sustain everything else?"

There was a silence between us you could cut with a knife. I knew it was no good blustering my desires and ambitions and thanks to this man, this man that I worshipped by now, so I did not."




He understood.

I'm not going to bore you here with the lecture he gave me that day, and the many more to follow, about supplementation, diet, SLEEP, schedules etc. There was only one more thing he had to say that hooked me for good.

"You have experienced the mental muscle-transfer in a small way today and yesterday but, on the big screen, you have to get much deeper into that. Yes, I'll give you all my special pills and juice that you need - that goes without saying - but the intensification of that mind-muscle transfer is much more crucial and that's where you have to work hardest and I'll be most help.

Get your things together, we're going home."

Still no sign of the earlier affection. I bided my time. •

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