In Corpore Sano - Part 2

[tekuno]

I wanted to make sure that I can work on nothing but part 2 of Caveman tomorrow, when I have time to write, so I stayed up and finished this. Apologies for any typos -- I seem to be making a lot of them recently, and no amount of rereading before I post helps me catch them. (Actually, I felt like writing earlier, and probably could have finished this much faster if I had done it then, but I had some stuff I wanted to do before the predicted bad weather hit, and I went and did all that instead. And, naturally, the bad weather still isn't here as I write this, nine hours after it was supposed to start. Not a snowflake or a drop of rain. Of course, now I'm ahead on those particular chores, but I lost the writing mood as a result. Phooey.)

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In Corpore Sano
Part 2

This story has been completed. Content warnings and general description are included with the prologue, general commentary is in the comments following the epilogue.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Epilogue

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After the dream I had, I really didn't feel like calling Paul. Fortunately, I had a ready-made excuse if he showed up and asked why -- my standing policy of not getting involved with customers. I was, for once, glad that I had made that decision, because having to admit that I didn't want to hang around with Paul because I had a creepy dream would be just asking for some seriously embarrassing explanations -- especially if he involved any coworkers (or -- god forbid! -- my boss) in the conversation.

To my relief, Paul didn't show up at the restaurant while I was working for the next ten days. I had almost forgotten about him entirely, and was back in my usual routine of working, working out, and hanging out with my gradually-increasing circle of friends, when I saw him again.

He was seated in the same booth as usual. This time, he had someone with him; much to my relief, the other occupant of the booth was not the man out of my dream. Instead, it was a heavy-set, athletic guy with a blond fauxhawk, wearing a tank-top to show off his torso, which I freely admit was pretty spectacular. The two of them were deep in conversation, which was a relief -- no doubt this was Paul's boy-toy of the evening, and I was off the hook for further flirting. It was actually somewhat humorous to see the skinny Paul in the company of someone so large.

I was sufficiently reassured that I stopped paying attention to them and concentrated on my work. About half an hour later, I glanced in that direction and realized with a shock that Paul had a booklet out and was pointing to it, exactly as though he was giving a lecture. I gave myself a shake, and deliberately avoided looking in that direction for a while.

When I finally glanced back, Paul's... friend? guest? lover? associate? whatever... was standing next to the table and shaking Paul's hand. I could see from this angle that his back was pretty broad -- the kind of muscularity I was hoping for, myself, but was still far from achieving. Still, I saw guys that big or bigger at the gym quite frequently.

Predictably, after paying the check, Paul sidled over to the bar.

"Hey, Scott, how are you doing this evening?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Just dandy." Paul gave a smirk. "So, did you lose my number? I was waiting for your call."

"You looked like you didn't need any extra company just now."

"What, you mean Jay? That's nothing social, just business." Paul gave a small smile, as though he had just made a small joke. "At least, probably. So if you're interested I'm free."

"Sorry, Mister Armstrong, I don't get involved with customers."

"Aw, come on, I won't tell your boss."

"It's not his policy, it's mine. Or, at least, he didn't have to tell me something that basic."

Paul gave me another smirk. "That simple, huh? Well, okay."

With that, Paul turned and left. For the third time that night, I felt a wave of relief.

This time, I didn't see Paul for a while. At first, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop -- I couldn't believe that someone who made me feel that uncomfortable would really just give up and go away. In my experience, it's the unpleasant customers who always come back. But as the days passed and I didn't see him again, I stopped worrying.

It was also around this time that I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't just going to the gym for work. Deep down, I had always wanted to be big -- not just bulky, but muscular. And so I started to reconfigure my diet. I jettisoned the snacks and sweets, started making sure that every meal had some serious protein involved, and even broke down and bought a tub of protein powder, although I still wasn't wild about the idea of supplements.

The results weren't as dramatic as in a comic book, but since I made those changes, my arms finally broke the 16-inch mark, and then some, with similar improvements elsewhere. I regretted not taking a daily picture in the mirror; the really big guys in magazines and competitions can gain or lose an inch and still look big, but to a beginner, even half an inch makes a big difference, and I managed to grow more than that. I was pleased, and responded by putting in even more effort.

As I got bigger, the customers continued to flirt more frequently, and the tips came rolling in, and in increasing sizes as well. For the first time in my life, I was financially secure and totally free from debt. I could have moved out of my half of the 2-flat if I had so desired, although it would have meant a much lower standard of living because my parents charged me about a third of what it would have cost to rent a place of equivalent size. Instead, I started putting money away, and bought the occasional luxury item.

One day at the gym, about six weeks after Paul's last appearance, I was trying to bench 180 for 10 reps. This would have been a new personal record for me -- I might have been healthier and stronger than before, but most of my bulk was still fat; good for nudging reluctant drunks out the door, but not really helpful in my role as bouncer -- but I didn't make it. I got to 6 reps and failed to get any further. I was just barely holding the bar above my chest, puffing with the effort of trying to lift it, when someone walked up and pulled up on it. They didn't pull very hard, all things considered, but the assistance lightened the load enough that I was able to put the bar back on the rack. I lay there, exhausted, and a familiar face leaned into view over the top of the bar.

It was, of course, Paul. He was cleaned up, and shaved, but he still had his characteristic smirk.

"Hi there, sexy. Fancy meeting you here."

"Hello, Mister Armstrong."

"Call me Paul, Scott."

"Quite a coincidence, us being in the same gym."

"Not really, Scott, I joined because you were a member here."

That was an unpleasant shock; it gave me the motivation to sit up, so I could express myself with a bit more authority.

"How did you know which gym I use? This place isn't near my house."

"Oh, I just asked your boss. Nothing to it."

I felt a little stab of betrayal -- I had always kept up a very high standard of professionalism, and it hurt to find out that my boss hadn't done the same. On the other hand, I hadn't said anything at all to my boss about keeping the gym location -- or anything else -- secret from anyone, let alone Paul in specific. In fact, my boss and several of my coworkers also had memberships at that location and frequently we showed up in groups after work, so it wasn't exactly a secret that was mine alone. Still, I felt exposed.

"So, having a chest workout? Seems to be doing you some good, you sexy boy, hmmmmm?"

I was at a bit of a loss as to how to answer that. Paul had cleaned himself up, but he was still almost painfully thin, and his workout clothing made it more obvious than usual. To make things even more awkward, Paul reached out and stroked my left pectoral. I really hate it when people do that sort of thing.

"Well, uh, after I started getting in shape, I finally realized that I had always wanted to be big. So I'm kind of trying for that."

"Ah, me, too -- me, too. I always meant to get big. Big muscles are really sexy. But I never had the time before. Now I do, though."

"Well, uh, good luck."

"Oh, I have it all worked out. I'll be huge before you know it. I have -- an edge."

I was done with my chest workout -- part of the reason I had failed so badly was that it was my last set of my last exercise for the session -- and so I headed off to the bikes and treadmills to get in some cardio. I paused at the door to drink some water from my bottle, and looked back. Paul was looking into his own eyes in the mirror. He was smiling; it was a vicious smile, and I didn't like it at all.

Part 3