The Mentor: Part 2 -- Working Arms and Legs

Corwin · #1 August 12th, 2005, 05:35 PM

Jim received an email from Jen later that week. 'Meet me at 6PM
Friday outside the locker rooms of the company gym.' At 3 o'clock on
Friday, Jim finished the last of the company reports, and decided to
get in a workout while he waited for the designated time. First, he
walked over to the fridge in his office and pulled out a quart jug of
what looked to be milk. He pulls the cap off, and chugs down the
Fantastic formula. Finishing the quart, he tosses the jug in the
trash. "Time to work legs," he said, knowing the Fantastic formula's
effects were strengthened with vigous workouts.

The gym was normally deserted on Friday afternoons, the staff eager to
start their weekends or join group Happy Hours. It was always Jim's
favorite time to exercise. He quickly changed in the locker room,
barely noticing his growing testicles, an immediate effect of the
formula he just drank.

Entering the gym, he noticed two benches holding two bars each with
five plates. Turning to the squat rack, he saw no plates. "Fuck! I
hate when some lazy fuckers don't return the weights when they've
finished." Jim started to the benches, prepared to move the plates to
the rack, when a voice behind him says, "Who said I was done?"

Jim turned to see Clint standing by the water fountain.

"Shit, you startled me. I didn't see you there Clint.
Uhm... catching a workout?"

Clint smiled and walked toward Jim. "You know how it is Jimbo. Gotta
keep growin'" Clint extended his hand. Clint was as tall as Jim, but
much wider. Jim looked at his forearm which was nearly as big as
Jim's upper arm. Jim took Clint's hand and squeezed, hard. Clint
continued to smile, his hand absorbing Jim's tightest grip with ease.
Clint's forearm twitched slightly as his grip tightened and began to
crush Jim's hand. Jim tried to resist, but Clint's crushing force
totally overpowered him. He reflexively pulled back. Clint felt Jim
trying to escape, but held Jim's hand for a couple seconds, the grin
never leaving his face. When he did let go, Jim's hand shot to his
side as he shook out the pain from Clint's grip.

Clint feigned a look of surprised. "Oh, sorry man. Guess I don't
know my own strength," he said as he walked over to the benches.
"Thought I was going easy." Clint made a fist, his forearm bursting
into rippling sinew of muscle, blue veins bursting up into his
paper-thin skin, forced high by raw muscle.

The demonstration was not lost on Jim. Clint could have crushed Jim's
hand, turning bone into sand without any thought at all. Jim decided
to ignore the arrogant display and concentrate on his workout. "I was
planning on working legs, but you got all the big plates over here.
Mind if I take one of the bars?"

"When I'm done, sure," replied Clint.

"But you don't need two bars and benches to work chest," Jim objected.

Clint stood between the two benches. "Not working chest. Working
arms." With that, Clint grabbed both bars and lifted them. Staring
straight at Jim with a look of determination and contempt, he slowly
and purposfully curled the bar in his left hand up. Lowering it even
more slowly, he then repeated the maneuver with his right arm.

Jim stood awestruck at Clint's form and power. His thickly muscled
torso stood rigid as his arms did all the work. Clint's
basketball-sized biceps totally controlled a quarter-ton of weight
each. Each rep seemed timed with the precision of a metrinome as
Clint powered through rep after rep. Jim stared at Clint, his mouth
agape as he marvelled at the thick veins on the man's forearm and the
ease that he controlled the weight. Jim counted, disbelieving as
Clint powered through 8 reps, then 10, then 12, finally stopping at 15
before gently putting the bars back on the benches.

"Good warm-up," Clint said, staring at Jim mockingly. He flexed his
right arm, daring Jim to look at it. "Measured this at over 30 inches
this morning. Lots of power in it too. But, I see you've already
noticed that." Clint begins to remove the collar from one of the
barbells, then says, "But I'm here to get bigger. I love dwarf'n all
you little guys with my mass, and I'm gettin' fuck'n huge! Guess you
came to watch a real man work out, huh Jim?" Clint laughed and added
another hundred pounds to each bar.

Jim blinked, as if coming out of a trance. He felt angry. Clint was
using him, playing him like a violin. The frustration and desire he
felt looking at Clint's size and strength had caused him to freeze, as
if hypnotized. Jim hated feeling so small and weak. Clint knew that
Jim was use to being number one, just as he knew no one could match
him now. "Just wait asshole. Soon..." he muttered under his breath.

Jim turned, looking for someway to get his workout while Clint hogged
the weights. He walked to the leg press and saw that it still had
plates he could use. Jim put 200 pounds on the machine. He took his
position on the seat. Bracing his left leg on the floor, he cranked
out fifteen easy presses with his right leg. In the mirror, he
watched Clint mechanically do alternate curls with 100 pounds more
than before, again for 15 reps. Jim changed positions and did a
warm-up set with his left leg.

Jim doubled the weight on the press. Before he began his first set,
Clint began a new set of his own. Jim's cock jumped as he marveled at
the size of Clint's arms. Clint stared at Jim, intense concentration
on his face, each exhale sounding like the word "grow". Jim did a set
of 12 with each leg, then added another 100 pounds to the press.
Clint had done the same to his 'dumbells' as he continued to churn out
sets of 15 reps. 'Soon' he told himself as he did 9 reps at 500 pounds.

Before he could add more weight to the press, Clint had walked over.
He was massaging his left bicep, his right hand stretched over its
leg-sized thickness. "We got a problem here, bud," he asserted as he
began to remove the plates from the machine. Jim started to object,
but stopped as Clint lifted 250lbs of weight as if it were only a
'cockring'. "My guns are just too strong for that weight. I need
more, and all that's left is what you're using." Clint flexed his
left arm and thrust the mountain into Jim's face. "You can see,
barely got any pump at all!" Sweat from Clint's pit filled Jim's
nostrils, triggering a subconscious desire for muscle that turned
Jim's envy into lust. He raised his hand and felt Clint's bi. Jim
squeezed, his own popeye-like forearm bursting into striations as he
applied his own bone-crushing bodybuilder force to Clint's
muscle. Jim's fingers turned white as the titanium-hard muscle didn't
even dent under his power. Clint laughed. "Pretty hard, huh, but
still too small. I know a little guy lik you," Clint paused, letting
his eyes scan over Jim's championship body, "want to grow too, so
maybe we can help each other. Let me use these weights and I'll
provide resistence for you training legs."

"How?" Jim asked incredulously.

"With these big arms!" Clint said with a big grin as he flared his
tricep into a deep, striated horseshoe. "These boys look bigger than
those chicken legs you got," said Clint as he admired his monster
arms.

"Fuck you asswipe," screamed Jim, jumping up. "My wheels..."

But before he could finish, Clint reached over and pushed Jim with
such force he stumbled back and fell into the seat.

"Ya, I know," Clint said sarcastically. "You won trophies. Your legs
are huge and ripped... yadda yadda yadda." Clint snarled, "That was
before ME." Clint walked to the back of the leg press, and pressed
his right arm against the empty weight rack. "Go ahead, try to move
this arm."

Jim's lust for Clint's muscle changed to anger at his arrogance. "No
way are you that strong, fuckwad," screamed Jim as he positioned his
leg. Without warning, he began to press with all his might. Over 30
inches of thick leg muscle came to life, swelling and pressing against
his skin. Thick muscled striations pushed veins that pumped blood to
power a force capable of moving nearly a half ton with ease. The
press didn't budge.

"Whenever you want to start," said Clint, who looked relaxed leaning
against the machine.

Jim couldn't believe it. There was no strain on Clint's face at all.
Jim doubled his efforts. He felt his face flush as blood pumped
harder supporting his effort. He let out a rebel yell, letting his
anger fuel his strength.

Clint's arm didn't budge. He shook his head and sighed a long sigh
that demonstrated his disgust at Jim's effort. "Knew those twigs of
yours couldn't compete with the strength of my guns." Clint raised
his free hand, flexing it into a bicep before straightening it and
worshipping his own tricep. "Maybe you'd have better luck with two
legs, Jimbo."

Jim stopped his efforts, his anger flaring. 'No one is that strong,'
he told himself, knowing his own limits and realizing just how out
classed he was by Clint's super human physique. He positioned both
his legs on the press. Without warning, he powered his thighs,
demanding that they straighten.

Clint was caught off guard, and the press moved 6 inches before he
stopped it.

Jim's face turned red, feeding his anger. Clint steeled his face and
concentrated on straightening his arm.

Jim felt the force on his legs increase. He felt as if he were trying
to press a Mack truck, but he knew he could not give in. He forced the
press up another inch.

It was the last inch he would get. Clint's anger showed on his face,
which reddened as Jim's had. "NO MORE!" he screamed, his arm shaking
as his tri flexed harder into inhuman relief. The press began to move
slowly down.

Jim's legs shook as their bodybuilder power was overcome by one man's
arm. He screamed, tears running down his face. He felt nauseated as
his abs burned at the effort of keeping his upper body from buckling
at the effort. None of Jim's efforts could stop the muscle of Clint's
arm. It took a minute for the relentless battle to conclude, but
Jim's legs were beaten by Clint's one arm.

"Youn win," Jim conceded as he tried to stand up. Instead, he bent
over and threw up his lunch.

"Told you these arms could give you the best leg workout of your
life," Clint bragged as he shook out his pumped arm. "Let me know
when your ready for the next set -- gotta get this pump on my other
arm." Clint picked up the weights and walked over to his bar. He
began to do curls.

For the next hour, Clint's arms overpowered Jim's thighs, first on the press, then
squats, then improvised leg extensions. Clint's arms were unbeatable. It was the
best leg workout Jim ever had. In the locker room Clint paraded his
fat nine inch hang, bragging about his power and how he was growing.
Jim could barely walk, and he refrained from cutting Clint down to
size with Mr. Fantastic. 'You're time will come Asshole.'

Jen was waiting outside the men's locker room when Clint and Jim came
out. She jumped into Clint's arms, embracing and kissing him as she
cooed, "Hi Teddybear! I missed you." Clint returned the embrace and
deep throated her with his tongue. Jim just stared, more because each
step was a new episode in pain from his aching muscles than from the
fact that he knew Jen had something for him.

"Wait til I get you home..." Clint snarled with affection.

"Buy a working girl dinner first, stud," she replied.

Jim cleared his throat,

"Oh, you know Jim don't you hon," Clint said by way of an introduction
as he began to walk away.

"Sure," she said following like an obedient dog in search of its
biscuit. "Hi Jim. Bye Jim." Almost as an afterthought she added,
"Oh. Someone left that package for you." She winked at him.

A copypaper box sat by the door. An envelope with his name was taped
to it. He opened the envelope.

Mr Fantastic,

God, have I missed you. There is another envelope in the box, and a
copy of Teddy's diary. The Bear takes T and HGH with the stuff in the
jugs. Stole a week's supply for you and Mark. That should be a good
start.

Mark and I will stop over at 3 tomorrow. Maybe you and I could go out
to dinner later? I REALLY MISS YOU REED RICHARDS!!!!!

XOXO
The Invisible Girl.

Jim smiled as he picked up the box. He even forgot about the pain in his legs.