The Trainer - PART I

[artwork314]

[COLOR=white]The Trainer[/COLOR]

Part I

[COLOR=white]By artwork314[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I was 28 years old when it happened. I had been into muscle since I was 11 or 12 years old- from x-men comics to flex and musclemag, and then the internet with its endless pictures and videos of huge guys. In the beginning, my fantasies were mostly of a skinny kid wanting to be massive and powerful, to feel the weight and bulk stretching my own skin to its limits, to feel swollen and tight and invincible. As years went by, that hunger for size stretched to other men as well, and while I had sex with men of all different physical types, when I fantasized and masturbated it was always about being huge with another huge man.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]After college I had moved to New York, where gay muscle men were no fantasy, but flesh and blood all around me. I was lucky enough to be tall and masculine, with a good face and a confident attitude, and learned quickly that you didn?t necessarily have to be muscle to get with muscle. Still, even when I was wrapped in someone?s bulging arms or sticking my dick in a hungry musclebutt, I felt a twinge of regret, even shame, that I wasn?t giving my partner the same thrill, and that I didn?t know how it felt to make a guy throb and leak just with my size and shape.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I tried several different jobs over the first few years, trying to find something I was passionate about, but even during the day at work I would be thinking about some monster jock from the gym or some swollen gogo boy from a club instead of the task at hand. I fooled around with the gym, with small bouts of progress, but usually spent more time looking for sex, or having it, or masturbating than I did training, resulting in an athletic beefy build that wasn?t embarrassing, but by no means head-turning. More than once I would bring home some stud from the bars and remove my shirt to a look of disappointment or just disinterest.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]One day in March I was sitting at my desk, in a funk, frustrated with a missed promotion at my job.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=white]I was at a crossroads ? on one hand, I was making decent money, and had a pretty good life, but I just couldn?t see a long-term future for myself. What was it? I wondered. What did I really want to do, what would make me happy to wake up every day, what was my oldest dream?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]Then it hit me. I didn?t want to be an architect, or a famous chef, or a screenwriter. Sure, all those things were fascinating, but did I spend hours every day pursuing them? Nope.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=white]The only thing I had done for hours every day for almost as long as I could remember was think about muscle.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white] And I realized that nothing else fascinated me more. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]There was always a body I hadn?t seen that would amaze me. There was always a new way to do a familiar exercise, a different plan for nutrition, for training, for supplementation. I had spent so many hours poring over muscle magazines and websites that I had begun reading the articles diligently for years, storing a HUGE stockpile of knowledge about training, nutrition, and drugs, even creating detailed workout and meal plans, even steroid cycles. But I had had my pride in my intellect and my abilities, and shame for my obsession, always holding me back from exploring it as an outlet for my life?s work. Much better to be an accomplished professional, perhaps teach someday. How was an upper-middle-class bookworm who had never played a sport in their life going to be a?a?personal trainer?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]But as I sat there, at the end of the workday, drained and distracted, frustrated and fuming- I knew.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I was put on this earth to be huge, and to help everyone else who wanted to be big and built get that way.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]And so I made a plan.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]Out with the hyper-ambitious training-plans. No pro-style splits with two sessions a day and bodyparts 2 and 3 times a week. I knew that lifting just 4 days a week was more than enough. For the last couple of months, I had been boxing a few times a week, and that had leaned me down considerably, but when I went to lift on the weekends I felt weak and tentative. I cut out the boxing and started running every morning before work. It gave me a boost, and by the end of the day I?d be dying to hit the weights. The daily protein shake became 3, and the snacks changed from granola bars and chips and cookies to cottage cheese and cans of tuna. Instead of wandering the streets at lunch looking for chowhound holes in the wall and great noodle shops, I started packing chicken and brown rice, or pork tenderloin or cubed steaks and eating several small meals a day. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]Before I left the office each evening, I?d down an espresso and head to the gym, with a shaker full of protein for afterwards. And in the gym it was like never before. I had a purpose, a goal. This wasn?t just keeping up appearances. This was my new life. Instead of walking around cruising or trying to find an isolated machine, I went to the gym with a plan of action. No more pec deck, I?d grab a bench and keep it for half an hour. At first it was a battle, since the weights I was handling were small- just 25s on the bar while guys next to me would be packing on the plates.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]But this new focus was something. Within the first six weeks my 6?1 frame went from 195 to 205. Now, that may sound like 10 measly pounds. But my waist went from 36 to 33! And my arms from a flabby 14.5 to a pumped 16. Those 25s on the bar were on the outside of a pair of 45s by my third month. I had probably lost 15 pounds of fat and put on 25 pounds of muscle![/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I was stunned- I had heard about the beginning bodybuilder?s first spurt, but had never been consistent enough to experience it. And I was hooked. Every meal or snack I ate, I thought about how my body would break it down. It felt like even just putting something into my mouth I knew what it would do for my body. I started putting my supplement knowledge to work- taking creatine, amino acids, glutamine. And I started getting militant with my diet. Steel cut oats and fruit instead of granola. Protein powder and skim milk instead of cottage cheese. It was the beginning of summer, so I started doing half an hour of abs before my morning run. By the time I got into my fourth month I was a shredded 210 pounds and my arms were past 16.5?. My traps bulged from the front and the curve of my spine was etched between the columns in my back. My formerly droopy pecs had been transformed into lean plates with a split through the middle. My shoulders bulged out roundly and my triceps mounded up high and thick. My forearms hung heavy and veins had begun to wind around them. My ass had always been round and sexy, but it had been soft and beefy, and fairly subtle in its curve. Now it was full and tight and hard as rock, and while the waist in my pants was loose, it was hard getting my phone and wallet in my pockets. My thighs had always been solid and thick, from years of biking and hiking (and yeah, a little bit of dancing), but now they literally bulged- that elusive sweep to the sides finally starting to show, and the teardrop clearly defined. I even had little veins on the front of my shoulders when I was pumped![/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]At first my new obsession aroused some suspicion at work. I was so caught up in the changes that were happening that I couldn?t stop looking at diet and exercise information at my computer. But once my routine was in place I realized I needed the money from my job until I could transition into a training position somewhere and got it together. Since my energy levels were up and consistent, and my sense of well-being was off the charts, I actually became more productive- popping out contracts and reports in record time. I was confident it?d be worth my while when my bonus came.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]As the summer went on I continued my regime, balancing out my shape, bringing up lagging bodyparts, but most of all, having fun with my new body. I got a buddy to take some naked pics of me for my online profiles, and the response blew me away. Class-A party boys who had ignored me for years were giving up their asses and cocks, and I rolled into work quite a few times with rug-burned face from all-night fuck sessions. I intentionally laid low for a couple months, seeing close friends for dinners and the occasional post-work drink, but avoiding the weekend bar scene altogether. When I hit the rooftop of the Eagle for the first time in late June on a boiling Sunday afternoon, my shirt was off before I even went up the stairs. My friend Dave spit out his beer in shock.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=white]I heard people whispering about how I?d finally done a cycle and just smiled to myself.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=white]I?d never had trouble getting laid, but had always been a pursuer. Now I could just stand around and guys would come up to me, and I was surprised how many wanted to talk about working out. Lots of guys I had known for years, plenty of them legitimate muscleheads, were in jubilant disbelief, as if I was kid who had finally hit puberty. I joined in the muscle-talk with gusto and people couldn?t believe how much I knew.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]By the end of the summer I had left my sportsclub and joined a hardcore gym where mostly trainers and bodybuilders worked out. I had bought some books and was studying diligently in the evenings to prepare for a couple of trainer certifications. I wasn?t kidding around, either- I was going for an ACE and an NSCA personal trainer cert, and was already eyeing the courses for CSCS. By September I was up to a lean and mean 220, and was starting to get the look of a junior bodybuilder. My 17 inch arms hung heavy like meat, and my upper pecs were filling in to bulge out along with my burgeoning shoulders. Pants were starting to be problematic, but luckily my workplace was fairly casual and I could just slide into baggy jeans, as my thighs had begun to look like an overgrown speed skater and my muscle ass had gone from high and tight to an out-and-out bubble. I knew from the bars and the circuit parties just how irresistible it was- guys just wouldn?t stop touching it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]But even though I was getting around with the muscleboys and having plenty of great sex, I knew that this wasn?t about who I could get, it was who I could become. My desire for muscle had been around before my desire for other men, and it was the fuel to my furnace. 220 was fun, 220 was hot, but 220 was SMALL.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]In the pit of my gym there were guys who were pushing 300 in their post-contest fall bloat. Their muscles were inflated, engorged with blood. They waddled and strutted and sweated and grunted. I was in heaven, and these guys knew I meant business.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]In October, right after I turned 29, I started my first cycle. I could have started easy, test alone probably would have blew me up, but I had been waiting way too long. The years of yearning in high school and college, watching the jocks and meatheads cruise through life had built up a fever in me, and I just wasn?t going to wait any longer. I loaded up on sustanon, deca and tren, and had plenty of clen and HCG to coast out- a 2-month monster cycle.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]By November I was 235. By December I was up to 245. My arms were 19 and my chest was 52. My back had become my pride and joy, flaring out hugely to the sides, pushing out my hamlike triceps and bowling pin forearms, and tapering down to a 34 inch waist. My belly was still hard, but the abs of summer had given way to my first roidgut, still hard and corrugated, but now bulging low under my pecs. And those pecs! The lean plates of June and July had turned into full-blown tits, heavy, rounded and bulging. My once-lean, long shoulders had filled out into spherical caps, and those veins that used to come out halfway through a brutal workout where there when I rolled out of bed.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I had become a fixture at Steel gym, talking to all the trainers about everything from physiology to post-cycle-therapy, and everybody watched me power through my first cycle with great interest. One of the top competitors started calling me Bubba for my Kentucky drawl and the name stuck. I passed both of my certifications and started training a couple of young guys on the weekend. A few of the trainers even let me train their clients when they had to be out of town or wanted a quick vacation. When Christmas rolled around, my bonus check was fat, but my boss took me aside and asked me about my steroid use, and if I knew what I was doing. I said that I did, and I offered my resignation.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]It was enough money to live on for a few months, so I put out some ads in the local gay rags and started training people full time. As it was the first of the year there were tons of people dying to get into shape for their resolutions, and when they saw my ad, my voice mail was overflowing. I had taken two pictures of myself, one fiery-eyed but flabby from that fateful day in March, and the second grinning and pumped from right before Christmas at the peak of my cycle weight. No gay boy in Chelsea could resist the possibility of that kind of transformation. For the first time in my life I knew, from the bottom of my heart, that I was doing what I was meant to do. Every day I would get up early and pound the weights for a couple of hours, train 3 or 4 clients, and often pull a trick or two from the street or the internet. Hell, I got a few from the gym too, but I tried to keep those quiet.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]But even still, something was missing. I was having a blast, but I needed a partner. And in February, that?s exactly what I got. It was a freezing morning about 8 am, and I was finishing up 4 miles on the treadmill with my gallon jug of water, drenched in sweat. I had been eating like a pig from the holidays, so I had bulked out a bit and lost the freakiness, but I was still a solid 255. I was heading to the lockers to take a piss when I saw a guy waiting at the front desk I?d never seen before. Maybe a little older than me- dark blond hair, full trimmed beard with a little red in it, piercing blue eyes, and just fucking jacked. The guy was probably 5?10 but had to outweigh me by at least 15 pounds- one of those guys who looks like a pro but never sets foot on a stage. He had a huge wrestlers neck flaring out from his buzzed head, a lantern jaw with a broad chin, and some tawny fur was sticking out the top of his skin-tight black t-shirt. I was standing there, mouth open, and my dick was twitching in my jock. A neighborhood fireplug named Paul walked behind me and slapped my huge bubble butt and said ?wake up, bubba?. At that moment, the newcomer?s eyes rose from the form he was reading and saw me. His eyebrows flicked up instinctively and the side of his mouth curled into a grin. And that fucking grin. When he flashed those whites at me I just melted. It wasn?t an arrogant smile, or a sleazy come-on, but an effortless smile full of recognition, warmth, and good-natured lust. I smiled back, and nervously scratched the back of my head and walked into the locker room.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]Who. The FUCK. Is THAT?! I said to myself. I opened my locker, to get my shaker and make myself a size-on/superpump cocktail to guzzle during my morning lifts, and was absently scooping powders when he walked right in and threw his bag down on the bench next to me.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]?Hey.? He smiled and nodded, all jock-bro friendliness, but beaming ear to ear because he had just busted me checking him out.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]?Hey.? I replied, ?I?m Will.? And reached up my hand for a shake.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]?Mike.? He said, and furrowed his brow in mock confusion, ?but I thought your name was Bubba?? he said in thick Long Island and that grin took on a little bit of a smirk.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I let out a redneck guffaw and said ?well, shit. I guess you know some people around here. Are you a member??[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]?Nope. Trainer. Just moved back from 5 years in LA. Fuuuuuuck that shit. I am glad to be back home.?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]It turned out that the owner of the gym had met him out in LA and heard he wanted to come back east, and had told him he could train people without a fee for a couple months just to get him in the gym. As he pulled off his t-shirt to change, I could see why.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]Absolute perfection- 22? arms with heavy celtic bands around each, hanging almost 45? off lats you could see from the front. And while this guy wasn?t in contest shape, he wasn?t exactly offseason either- his Serratus fed those lats and his huge chest showed some cross-striations. This guy had to be every ounce of 260.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]I let out a low whistle. He looked up, that mischievous grin still in place.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]?You see something you like, Bubba??[/COLOR]

[COLOR=white]to be continued?[/COLOR]

[onemusclefreak]

This Is Great!!!

More!!

[arpeejay]

What Freaky said:

More, more, more!

Excellent job!

xoxo

Richard

[Mdlftr]

I want his business card!



mdlftr

P.S. I LOVE the description about his pecs: "the flat plats of June and July had become the swollen, heavy tits of December!" YEAH!

[tagsnola]

... Artwork314 has written not only to entertain, but also to instruct. Very impressive knowledge displayed here. This story could be entitled "Template for growth." Weaving so much information into an interesting story narrative is not something I've not seen here before. Writing that both entertains and informs is indeed artistic, Artwork314. Thanks for your posting this story.
- TagsNOLA

[growinmuscl]

great!!! keep up the story!

[avatarnw]

Nice set up of the background. I am looking forward to where you take your characters.

[Terrylee Long]

Hi I liked your story so far. I hope that you let the trainer help him to get to look like a monster. The bigger the better. A little sex along the way will not hurt also
Good luck with the rest of the story
Terrylee

[redroger11]

Man, You have talent. Keep Writing.
redroger11

[michaelv2]

Great start! I loved the descriptions of his body's metamorphosis, and what a great education!

[artwork314]

thanks to everyone for all the feedback and compliments - this was honestly a fantasy that i just pumped out in one sitting from what's been going on inside my head lately- it actually started out just being about will, the main character, and the fantasy of leaving the drab office world for a life in the gym, but then i thought that it would be nice to bring in a second character to liven things up- any suggestions are welcome- part II should be up in the next week. thanks again to everyone for the encouragement!

[johnd]

Great story. I love the first person narrative. I can almost feel myself thinking the same things. Only I never got big like you. Keep it up!

[global]

Interesting and very hot story, please continue

[monstermusclebe]

The first I've truly enjoyed in a long time. Why? Because it is real, not something involving magic pills or their ilk, and where working out and dieting are essential parts of the lifestyle.

[JohnNewEngland]

Fantastic first chapter; beautifull and believably written. Anxious to see where you take this. Great job, dude.

[Mdlftr]

What I REALLY enjoyed about this story is that it focused on muscle growth, in a believable, realistic way. The narrator talks about his entire life, and how the muscle growth is a natural outcome of his life experiences and priorities.

I also really like that the focus of the story is unapologetic about the muscle growth, has not (yet) changed over to a "wham-bam-sexploits story" and gives the narrator some very realistic characteristics: competing values of "middle class education and career goals" versus "following your bliss"; the need for human connection (looking for a partner, which could mean a business partner as well as or instead of a f*ck buddy)

Great job, Art!

Mdlftr

[brucedonohue]

Keep going buddy, and keep as informed on the training techniques and the cycles these two could go on together and how all those raging hormones from their cycles together could pan out in lust,desire and need to feed from each other's protein to supplement the cycle and get even bigger and better because they are muscling and taking in all that extra protein from one another.

Post Part 2 Soon!

Bruce

[Eager Muscle]

What an interesting, realistic and relatable character study! I'm sure a lot of readers recognize themselves in Will. I sure do!

[redroger11]

I just have to ask if seven days counts as a week?
Just asking.
redroger11