The Inn at The Cove

TyrFull · #1 June 5th, 2007, 07:13 PM

The Inn at The Cove

I was your typical mid-forties, harried businessman. The company I work for supplies software to these mega drug stores that seem to be popping up on every corner in suburban America (usually across the street from each other). Once these stores purchased our software, it was my job to train the staff on the product. These positions I trained for were at the cash register, in the back for taking inventory and for receipting the multitude of stuff that now is sold in “drug stores” of the 21st century, plus many other applications in the store (pharmacist, photography, etc.). It is during one of these training sessions that this story takes place. (The names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

I arrived at LAX late on Sunday night and drove north along the Coast Highway about two hours, to the town of my next 2 weeks of client training. Since this was a last minute trip, arranged just 3 days before, I was unable to get a hotel room at the normal hotels I usually stay at: i.e., Holiday, Hampton, Sheraton, etc. I was able to get a room at The Inn at The Cove, a small Mom and Pop place about 30 minutes from the client. I usually don’t like these, because I can’t get any benefit from the stay (points, free rooms, airline miles, etc.). But I had a room, and if it was too bad, I could stay a couple of nights and go somewhere else later.

I drove up the road, following the directions I got on the Internet. The road was desolate and dark. I drove along looking for the address and would have passed it, but I just noticed the small sign at the side of the road, The Inn At The Cove and Spa. (Spa?) The sign was unlit. I pulled in the drive and followed it down the hill, around a sharp curve. Before me was a typical single story ‘70’s motel in the shape of a curved boomerang, with the office in the middle and the wings, containing the rooms) spreading back toward the parking lot. It was dark so I couldn’t tell too much more.

I went to the office to check in. The woman was pleasant and had my reservation all ready. I gave her my credit card and signed the slip. “By the way Mr. Miller, I noticed you are here just for business. We also have a Spa here, and since you are a Guest here, you can use some of our facilities at a greatly reduced price.”

She handed me a menu of available services and said I could contact her later about them.

“Thank you” I said.

“Good night Mr. Miller. Have a nice evening. Will we see you at our complementary breakfast in the morning here in the lobby?”

“That sounds good to me. I’ll see you in the morning.” I drove over to my room.

The room was a total surprise. If this was an old motel, they had done extensive renovations to it, probably in just the past few years. The d?cor was of a contemporary rustic/Adirondack style, kind of like the new batch of timber frame homes you see now-a-days. Interesting, it was a 2-story room. You entered into a small dining room and kitchen, and there was a living room toward the back with a flat screen TV on the main level. Downstairs was a huge bedroom with a King size bed, another flat screen TV and a rather elaborate bathroom. This was nicer than many other hotels I have been in, and this was less expensive. I think this will be very nice for the next 2 weeks.

The far end of both floors had sliding glass doors that each opened onto a deck upstairs and a patio downstairs. These overlooked the Cove, an enormous lake that was hundreds of yards long, surrounded on one side by the motel, and thick woods on the other. It had to have been quite deep too, as there were lights deep underwater that made the crystal clear water glow an eerie blue-green. It was now after 10:00 PM, but there were a dozen or so people swimming laps or just sitting in the water enjoying the evening. This was going to be a nice place to stay, I could see.

As I unpacked my things, I glanced at the “Spa” menu, noticing exotic things such as mudpacks and manicures. Not for me. But there were also health checks, personal trainers, swim lessons, scuba lessons, yoga and a multitude of other things that might be of interest. The last couple of years had taken its toll on me, since the divorce. I had been a workaholic before, but now, I had thrown my entire life into my work. I had gained weight and started to smoke again. These next couple of weeks might be just what I needed. I decided to first have a checkup, and then see how bad I really was. I called the front desk and inquired about their “health check”. Once or twice a week, a local doctor came in and did checkups, before the spa guests started their week of events. I was lucky, as there was an opening at 7 PM tomorrow night, Monday, with the doctor. Would I be interested in that? “Sign me up,” I said.

I went to work the next morning and met with the manager and owner of the drug store. We reviewed the software, what they expected of the system, what I had to do over the next 2 weeks, designed a training schedule, went through some preliminary setups and toured the store. I was introduced to the employees, who ran the gamut of all types. There was: Shannon, the high school, over make-upped, valley type, gum-snapping girl, who was working there for the discount on the cosmetics; Mary, the retired teacher everyone loved, that was looking for something to do and still kept her in contact with the neighborhood “kids” (and her former students); Frank, a mid 20’s kid with the pierced ear, spiked-blonde hair, oversized shirt, baggy cargo pants and an attitude of “don’t bother me, man”; Steve, a 40ish pharmacist whose life was, and always will be, there behind the drug counter; plus numerous others, all who make up the work environment of the 21st century. We put together a preliminary schedule of events and the training sessions for the next 2 weeks, and I got to work. The rest of the first day was mostly “busy work” on my part.

I grabbed a quick bite to eat on the way back to the room, and inquired at the front desk where I was to meet with the doctor. The desk clerk said that the doctor would come to my room about 7:00, and about that time there was a knock on the door. I answered and an older man stood there with a typical black medical bag, and introduced himself as the doctor who would give me my physical and entered the room. The physical was typical; blood pressure, height, weight, and medical history, all of the normal things. It took about an hour, and he said that I was fine to start a program, but to start slowly as I was overweight (I already knew that). Don’t push it too hard, though, and he left.

I went down to the front desk and asked about the personal trainer, the expense, the time required and if one would be available. One of the reasons these services were at a reduced rate for Guests of the hotel, she said, was that things had been a little slow recently. They would rather make a little less on the services and keep their staff employed, than to stop the services altogether. I was in luck; one of their trainers was available Tuesday night at 7:00 PM. Would I be interested?

“Sure, let’s get this started.”

She tapped a few more keys on the keyboard, “OK, meet FX in the health club at 7:00 tomorrow night. He will be expecting you, and he will get you started.”

“Eff-ex? What kind of name is that?”

“All I know is FX. These guys all need their “handle” now-a-days. I really don’t know his name, but I understand he is a very good trainer.”

“OK, fine, I’ll be there tomorrow night at 7:00.

I walked down to the health club and noticed how very state-of-the-art it was. All of the usual machines were there plus tons of free weights. The air was ‘clean’ and cool. The people were all busy and dedicated, working and grunting away (some instructing, some spotting), and extremely well built. They had been at this a while, I could see. I would be very out of place, but no one knew me there. Maybe I could hide in the corner until I worked out a little. Crap, I had no workout clothes with me! I jumped in the car, went down the road to the local mega-box store and bought shorts, t-shirt, socks and sneakers. At least I might look the part now.

I returned from the store, checked the refrigerator and found all kinds of fruits, health drinks and various shakes inside. I grabbed something cold, went out to the deck and enjoyed the evening air, while eating an apple and a granola bar. I watched as people walked alongside the Cove and those that were swimming. I hadn’t noticed this last night, as I was tired from the trip. They were all as well built as the ones I saw in the gym earlier tonight. The women were tall and built like fashion models, and the men, they looked as strong and hard as professional athletes. What was going on here? Little did I know, I would find out sooner than I thought. I would be part of “Them”.

Tuesday morning I was at work with the employees of the drug store. I showed them the system and how it worked. I spent time with many of them, but would work with all 22 of them before the weeks were up. Each had his, or her, own story, and I had to pattern my training around their abilities and duties, from “I create web-sites in my spare time” to “What’s a mouse?”. It made the job challenging but fun, as no 2 clients were ever set up the same or trained the same. The normal after-work, evening rush came and I was at the store longer than I had wanted, watching each as they used the system for their needs. I hurried back to the hotel, again grabbing a quick meal on the way back, got to my room, changed my clothes and went to the health club.

I inquired at the registration desk for FX. “He’s the one over there with the green shorts.” “Thanks” I said, and walked away from the desk. As I approached this man from the back, I noticed he was one of “Them”; with a build that had taken years to create and develop. His shoulders were broad and muscled, and his back tapered to an incredibly narrow waist. The white tank top he had on seemed to be painted on, showing every nuance and curve of muscle, revealing arms that the size of grapefruit hanging by his sides. The green gym shorts barely contained his thighs and his calves looked like they belonged to a horse. They was not an ounce of fat anywhere. He was talking to another impressive man in his own right, who had just finished a set of bench presses with weights that looked as if they would break the bar they were attached to. With apprehension, I approached the guys.

“Excuse me, which of you is FX?” I inquired. The one in the green shorts turned around and said, “Yes. That’s me.” The other man walked away. I looked him in the eye and said “Frank?” Aghast, he looked at me and said “Mr. Miller?” It was Frank from the drug store I was working at, the kid with the attitude. He was different, extremely different from the kid at the store. “What’s with this?” I said, as I pointed to the gym and to him.

He laughed. “I’m sorry, sir. But this is what I’m doing part time to pay off my college loans. I’ve got a lot of them”

“Don’t be sorry”, I said. “I think this is great. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He smiled. “I seem to catch a lot of people off guard, Mr. Miller. Now what can I do for you?”

“I’m your seven o’clock appointment.” I said. “You are? It was for John Miller. You’re John Miller? I thought your name was Ryan.”

“Ryan is my middle name, and that is what I go by most of the time. When I signed up for this session with you, I guess they put me down as John, since that is the name on my room registration. And what is this FX stuff?”

He smiled again. “That is my nickname. My full name is Francis Xavier O’Connor, Jr., a good Irish name. My Dad went by Frank, so my Mom called me FX. It just stuck. When I took this job, I thought FX would be a better personal trainer name than Francis, so here I am.”

“OK, FX. Let’s get started.”

“Right, Mr. Miller.”

“Oh, by the way. No more Mr. Miller. I’m Ryan, your student now. OK?”

“OK. Now what do you want to accomplish, Mr., err, Ryan?”

I explained what I wanted to do and why, having never worked out, needing to relieve stress. “That doesn’t sound like too much of a problem. You’ve got 2 weeks here? I think this is do-able. I’ve seen more in less time. Now, you do as I say, right Ryan?” “Yes sir, Frank, err, FX.” I smiled. “Let me ask one last question, before your beat me up.” Looking at him, and motioning to his build, I said, “Why do you hide that? Most guys would die for a body like that!”

“When I first started at the store after working out, I did reveal more of myself. And people wanted more from me. Help me here, do that, move this. It was a real pain in the ass. I decided to hide ‘me’, just fall back into the background again. No one expects anything from me now. I kid that, that’s my Peter Parker side. He just fades away. I want people to see me for me, not my body.” I looked at him, saw the spiked hair, pierced ear and thought of him hiding in those baggy clothes. He does an excellent cover up job.

“Now” he said. “Lets get working on you. You do what I say and I promise you, you will be a different person by the time The Cove and I are finished with you. I’ve seen amazing things here, and I’m proof, I’m one of the miracles.” With that he led me to a desk and laid out the program he was going to put me through, weighed me, measured me and then started me on the workout. He took 2 hours and put me through hell. I did sets and reps, and he moved me in ways I didn’t know I could move. I was sore and beat.

“We are done with the hard part of the night. Now that we are finished with the workout, I want you to cool down. Now, follow me outside.” I did as he said. We walked out to The Cove. “Take off your shoes and socks”, and I did. When I stood back up, he picked me up like a child and threw me out about 15 feet into the water.

When I came to the surface, he said, “I hope you can swim.” I laughed. “OK, now I want you to swim, float, tread water, do what ever you want to do but stay in the water. I want you moving for the next 20 minutes, more if you can. There is a lighted clock over there on the wall and you can see the time. This will help cool you down, keep you muscles from cramping up and allow your muscles to recover from the workout tonight. The Cove is always ‘open’, so you don’t have to worry about being thrown out of there ‘at closing time’. If you can in the morning, swim for another 20 minutes or so when you get up. This water is very therapeutic. You should feel pretty good in the morning. Good night Ryan. See you at work tomorrow.”

I called back “Good night FX. If I’m alive, I’ll see you at work tomorrow too.” He laughed, and waved as he walked away.

My arms and legs felt like lead, but I managed to tread water for a few minutes and attempted a few laps. First I took off my now wet t-shirt and tossed it up on the deck. The more I swam, though, the better I felt. With the Cove being so long, it took quite some time to do a couple of laps, so by the time I returned to the close end again, I had been in the water for ? an hour. The lights in the water under me gave the illusion that I was somehow flying, and that made the time pass quicker too. I dragged myself from the water and while catching my breath, sat on the deck for a few minutes staring at the sky. Out here in the middle of nowhere, there more stars than I never knew. It was beautiful. I got up, picked up my shoes and socks and went back to the room. I undressed, dried off and checked my emails. It was almost 11 PM, and I was beat. I took a quick shower and went to bed. I was asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.

When I awoke in the morning, it was early. I was sore but it was a “good” sore, if that is possible. I dragged myself out of bed, put on my wet shorts (Yuk) and went down to the Cove for a swim. I wasn’t the only one there, but it was so big no one was in each other’s way. I swam for another ? hour, showered, changed and went to breakfast. I was so hungry, I ate everything, and it tasted so good. I grabbed a few things out of the refrigerator in the room and went to work.

I worked with the staff at the store more today, and would continue through the balance of this week and into next. My hope was that by next Wednesday or Thursday, I would not have to be right on their tails. They would only call on me if they had a problem. BUT this week, I was still their shadow. I worked with Frank today too. He was picking up on the programs very quickly, but I could see the act he put on for the others. He couldn’t fool me now, and he knew that. Every once in a while, he would slip back into his “dumb” routine, and I would say, “Excuse me. You can’t pull that on me now.” Once, when he walked away from me, I looked at him knowing what he was hiding. Under the baggy shirt, you could see the mountainous shoulders and the cargo pants hid the bulging thighs. The shirt that hung over his belt hid his narrow waist. Very clever disguise. But, when you knew what was there you could see it.

I asked him if he was going to work with me again that night and he said yes, he would meet me again at 7, in the gym. I had a decent dinner on the way to the hotel and was able to relax a while before I had to change to go to the gym. He was there before me, but I started the stretches he showed me the night before while he finished up with the client he was with. He walked over and shook hands as if we had not seen each other before that day. Put on a show for the others. Tonight he had on a black t-shirt that was 2 sizes too small for him. It accentuated his massive chest and his chiseled 8-pack abs. The white nylon bike shorts strained from the pressure of his thighs and the package he carried. The seams groaned under the strain.

Yesterday, he walked me through a general routine, covering all body parts. Tonight, he started me off with the routine I would do for the next 10 days. First night, upper body, second night, lower body, every night abs work, and repeat. He stacked on more weight than he did last night. Curls, presses, flys. More sets, more reps, over and over. Between sets, he forced me to drink nutrition shakes and power bars. At the end of the night, back in the water for another 30 minutes.

Thursday night the weights were mounted again and I was doing squats, leg curls, and weighted crunches. More shakes, more power bars. My thighs were screaming, my calves throbbing. My waist was bitching up a storm. He threw me back in the water. He stripped off his shirt and shorts, revealing his rock hard body and a very brief bathing suit, and dove in after me. He hounded me lap after lap, keeping the pressure up, pushing and pushing. Never once did FX show any sign of effort. For almost an hour he pushed me through the water. We got to the deck and he hefted himself out of the water as if he had just jumped in. I could hardly keep afloat. He reached down, took my hand and lifted me out of the water as if I was 5. I sat on the pool deck breathing like I had just ran a marathon, and he looked as if he had just stepped off the cover of Men’s Health. Was it me, was it the angle or is he bigger that he was earlier? No, I’m just tired. “Frank, how do you do it?” I asked.

“Ryan” he said, “Give me a couple of more days to work with you and I’ll show you. Please, trust me.” I could barely walk to my room that night. I check my emails, and went straight to bed, not even showering.

In the morning, I spent another ? hour in the lake. I was amazed how the swim loosed up my sore body. After the in-activity of sleep, I was always sore when I got up.

Friday night came and FX showed up looking as fit and fresh as ever. “Come on Ryan, don’t wimp out now. Another cycle. Let’s get going.” The pain was getting intense. He pushed and yelled. I had heard other trainers yelling at their students, but FX seemed more intense than they were. Maybe it was personal, maybe he wanted to prove something, I don’t know. All I did know was that I was the brunt of his effort. My arms screamed at the pressure the weights caused. My chest heaved against the dumbbells that were sent to defeat them. My abs buckled and twitched at each succeeding set. My body rebelled at the onslaught against it. At the end of the workout, back in the water again, and he dove in again to harass me. We swam lap after lap, he was pushing me, again and again, harder and harder. My arms were like dead fish, slapping the surface of the water, not moving me forward any more, not moving me anywhere. He swam over to me and said “Ryan, drink the water. It’ll refresh you”

“What water?” I gasped. “The Cove water, drink it!”

“I’m not thirsty, I just want to get out!” I yelled.

“Damn you Ryan, drink the water. Swallow it!!” “NO, NO!!”

Like a powerful dolphin, FX jumped vertically out of the water, dove under me and grabbed my ankles with one hand and used the other to swim deeper. He dragged me down, down into The Cove. I kicked my legs to get away from his grasp, but his powerful arms were too strong for me. My hands clawed for the surface but I couldn’t reach it. Down, down, down we went. He seemed to get stronger the lower we went (or was I getting weaker). I struggled, fighting to get away from him. The surface lights were fading and the bottom lights were getting brighter. My thoughts were getting foggier, I was struggling less and I opened my mouth to scream. My mouth filled with water and I swallowed. I coughed and inhaled the water and I was getting groggy. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t fight. I blacked out.

When FX felt I wasn’t fighting anymore, he checked and saw I was out. He immediately reversed direction, and with the speed and power of that dolphin carried me to the surface. He swam to the deck and again lifted me out of the water and laid me on the deck. He started mouth to mouth, first blowing water into my lungs, waiting until he thought it would have the time needed to take affect, sucking it out in one powerful pull and then blowing in air until my lungs were clear. He performed CPR and pumped my chest, and breathed again into my lungs. After a few seconds, I started to cough, spitting water back out. With no effort at all, he carried me back to my room, took me downstairs to the bedroom, pulled off my wet shorts, dried me as best he could with a towel and laid me in my bed. In the semi-conscious state I was in, I thought I felt Frank’s hands on me. He put his hands on either side of my neck, feeling for a pulse and slowly slid them across my shoulders. Placing them on either side of my left arm, he progressed down my biceps and forearms, feeling all the way around them and even checked my fingers. He duplicated that move on my right arm. Next, he laid his hands on my chest near my neck, slid them left and right across my chest, and slid them down the sides of my torso, across my stomach, feeling carefully across the lower abs. As though I was being frisked, his hands moved down both sides of each leg, carefully probing, especially the thighs, down to the feet and toes. Lastly, he placed his hands on my crotch, making sure everything was there and in place, I assume. I was in no condition to complain, if it had actually happened at all. More to himself than to anyone, he said quietly “Great, it’s working. I think it’s even better than others I’ve worked with.” He pulled the covers up to my neck and went upstairs to the kitchen. In the back of the refrigerator, was a bottle I had not seen. He removed it, shook it up and placed a small straw in it. He returned to my bedroom, raised my head in his hand and carefully had me sip the contents, until it was empty. He took the bottle with him, left the room and threw the bottle in the incinerator. FX returned to my room, pulled up a chair near the bed and waited. I was his responsibility tonight. He also promptly fell asleep.

As the light came in the window on Saturday morning, I awoke with a start. I lay in bed, thinking I had had some horrible dream. Was this whole week a dream? I stared at the ceiling and saw the wooden beams that supported the floor above me. No, this room was real. The last I remember, I was in the Cove and I thought I was drowning. Can’t be. I looked around the room, the sun was bright. I glanced to my left and FX was sitting in a chair staring at me. “Good Morning, Ryan” he said. I jumped up and nearly fell over. My head was in agony, my entire body hurt. “Take it easy, Ryan, you’ve had quite a night. Take it one step at a time.”

Pushing ineffectively away from him, I yelled “Get the hell away from me!” “You tried to kill me last night!”

“No” he said calmly, “I was trying to help you and you didn’t want the help. So I helped you help yourself.”

“You tried to drown me! That’s freak’n helping me?” I tried to get up and fell back into the bed. I was off balance, dizzy. I felt top heavy. FX stood up and offered me his hand. “Let me help you” he said. “NO, get away!” Again, I tried to get up, but to no avail.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let me help you out of bed and into the bathroom. I want to show you something. If you don’t like what you see, I will leave. If you do, I believe you will trust me and we can continue on your program.”

“Trust you? How the hell can I trust you after what you did last night?”

“Ryan, you are in no condition to be alone right now. You are weak and could hurt yourself. Please let me help you into the bathroom. OK?”

After another failed attempt to get up, I wearily nodded my acceptance. He only had on a pair of nylon running shorts, and as his powerful body approached me, he held out his hand. With great trepidation, I grabbed his wrist, as he did mine. He held out the other hand and I grasped that too. He easily pulled me to my feet. He let go of my left hand and placed his arm around my back, and I felt the strength he had. Slowly, we walked into the bathroom.

As I said earlier, the bathroom was rather amazing. One of the things about it was one entire wall was mirrored. That was fine for some people, but I had avoided it as much as possible. When we entered the bathroom, I noticed FX’s reflection in the mirror. He just wanted to rub salt in the wound, I thought. Then another reflection appeared next to him. How could that be? I thought. It was another young, hard, muscled guy. But there was a difference in the second reflection. The first had blond spiked hair, a pierced ear and was wearing running shorts. The second had brown hair, no earring and was wearing underwear. FX removed his arm from my back as I looked in the mirror. It was me, I was the second reflection! The spare tire around the middle was gone, replaced by a firm mid section, my chest was thick and defined, my arms had size and definition, my thighs were veined and the forearms were ripped. Through the cloth of my briefs, even my dick looked larger than I ever thought possible. I studied the reflection, checking things I knew about myself and seeing the difference before me. I looked at FX, “What is this, Frank? Am I dreaming?”

“No” he said, “It is the miracle of The Cove. Welcome.”

I looked at myself with amazement, but the previous evening had taken its toll on me. I was dizzy, and if I hadn’t grabbed the edge of the stall shower, I would have fallen over. FX then helped me back into the bedroom and sat me on the bed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that, he left the room. He quickly returned with his gym bag, from which he removed some clothes from it, removed his running shorts, slid on a pair of tight cutoffs and donned another tight t-shirt. He left again. I was in no condition to argue. He returned, but this time he had gone to the dining room and brought back a large tray of food: ham, eggs, hot oatmeal, bacon, skim milk, and other things. He spread it out on the kitchen table, pulled some juices and shakes from the ‘fridge helped me up the stairs and we had breakfast. I was famished, consuming anything he didn’t.

After breakfast, he said, “You are tired, and so am I. I will let you sleep some and I will go home and do the same. I will be back about 1 PM, explain some things and we will go into an intensity session, which will solidify your metamorphosis.”

I felt better after having something to eat, but was still beat. With questions racing through my mind, I said “OK. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Do you need help down to the bedroom?” he asked. “No, I’ll be alright. Thanks.” With that he tossed the trash in the can and left with the tray. “Get some sleep, OK?” I agreed. I carefully walked down the stairs and into the bathroom again. The man in the mirror was amazing. The 30-year old stud staring back at me smiled, as did I. If I had not recognized the face, I would not have believed it was me. I took a wiz (amazed at the new tool in my hand), turned and returned to the bedroom. I had hardly pulled the covers up when I fell deep asleep.

FX returned about 1:30, filled with piss and vinegar. He threw some workout clothes at me and said “I’ll see you in the gym in 10 minutes”. I put on the clothes and would have been embarrassed just 24 hours ago wearing these. There were Lycra shorts like FX was wearing and a tight tank top. I admit, I DID look good. I filled them out rather nicely, if I do say so.

He went to work on me with vengeance. I was amazed at my own strength today. FX loaded 300 lbs on the bar and I pressed it easily. I curled 80 lbs, squatted 450 and was doing crunches with 25 lb plates held behind my head. My body grew as he worked me to an extreme. The shirt stretched to its limits and my shorts expanded to hold my thighs. After 3 hours, he said that was great and we headed to The Cove. We both peeled off our shirts and dove in the water. It was then I noticed that all the men there were built like he was. We swam for half an hour and drank the water. The more I drank the stronger I felt.

When we got out of the water, we went over to a couple of chaises and sat there. Many of the other guests were sitting around too. Their tan, buff bodies were soaking up the sun, as were we. As I watched them, FX started to explain why he pushed me so hard and forced me to drink the water. For the next 2 hours, he went into the details. “The Cove had been a hide-away for decades. An old hotel sat here for 50 or 60 years. People came here for therapeutic reasons, soaking in the “waters”, feeling better. It was said that it was a fountain of youth. When that hotel burned down in ’69, this motel was built here. No one could prove its rejuvenating properties and this place died. About 5 years ago, the current owners bought it at a foreclosure sale, thinking they were just going to open a get-away motel, kind of a bed and breakfast. Then the guests were seeing changes when they came for a weekend stay.”

“When the owners added an exercise room, and later expanded into the health club we have today, the guests were radically changing. There were some who just worked out and did not change much. But the ones who worked out and swan in the lake were showing amazing changes. The owners called in some medical experts and they found out that there was something in the water of the Cove, but couldn’t be duplicated. It is a natural spring and the minerals in it have amazing effects. They bottled the water but there were no effects. It seems the medical benefits dissipate very rapidly over time. They started the health club and spa, and now generally have a waiting list. I started here 3 years ago. My degrees are in biology, pharmacology and, since I’ve been here, physiology and kinesiology. Yes, I have 2 masters and a PHD.” I looked at him with amazement. “I could be making a lot more elsewhere, I assure you. But I enjoy seeing the changes in the guests here, physical and, especially, mentally: Each has their challenges. The guests are completely different when they leave.”

“My thesis research found out, the more one is pushed and exhausted, the more effective the water is. Their adrenaline has to kick in. That is why I forced you to drink the water by pulling you under and having you fight me. The struggle initiated the effect. Not only does the water affect the body from being in it, but also drinking it after intense exercise almost doubles the benefits. All of the fruits and vegetables here are grown with the water, and all of the shakes and supplements in the fridge are made with the water, too. Everyone you see around here”, as he gestured at the people, “ has been here between 10 days and 2 weeks. Look at their changes. It is a fountain of youth! We are trying to keep it quiet, but word of this place does sneak out.” Reclined on the chaise, his waist was firm and ripped; nothing excess there. He flexed his arm and his bicep expanded at the request, his pecs gleamed in the sun, and his stone, hard quads glowed with strength. “How old do you think I am, Ryan?”

“I don’t know. I originally thought, maybe your mid to late 20’s, but looking at you more recently and hearing you talk about your education, early 30’s?” FX smiled and said, “I’m 48, Ryan. I have been working out here for the past 3 years. When I was a part timer here, I noticed the changes. I worked out intensely for 6 months. The changes were extraordinary. I lost 50 lbs of ugly fat and gained an immense amount of muscle, as you can see. There is no other way I can explain what you see here, except for the water. I had to change my birth year on my application at the drug store so they would hire me”

With that he stood and stretched, walked to the deck and dove back in the water. I followed and we swam for another half an hour. When we got out again, he said, “Ryan, the changes in you have been great, but you have another week of your stay here. You still have gains to be made, I promise that. In the days remaining, you have time to make those gains, if you want to.” I stared at him. I looked down at my thick chest and hard abs. My thighs twitched at the thought of an additional increase in size and strength. “Of course I do”, I said. “I would be nuts not to. When do we continue?”

“You need some recuperation time, so I want you to take the rest of the day off. Lie around The Cove, swim often, watch some TV, read a book and relax. I’ll be back at 10 AM tomorrow, and your Sunday will be anything but restful.” As he walked away, he clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Have a great day.” He picked up his shirt and walked away from me. His tanned broad back, muscled shoulders and narrow waist were still wet from the swim and glistened in the sun. He’s 48? Four years older than I am? No way!

After I returned to my room, I looked at myself in the mirror. I flexed, and tensed some, and looked approvingly at my reflection. How could this be me? And this can be improved upon? The Lycra shorts revealed the bulge I did not have when I arrived last Sunday. Do I want more? More strength? More size? And there were a few less wrinkles and I think a little more hair. I looked like I was in my late 30’s. You bet I want more!

The bathroom was as impressive as I now was. The shower was on the ‘outside’ wall of the room. It had a curved, glass-block wall that stretched about 5 feet into the courtyard alongside the bedroom patio that surrounds it, from the brick wall adjoining the next room to the edge of the doors to the bedroom. It also had a glass ceiling. I took a long, hot shower in the sun in this oversized fish bowel. With the warmth of the sun on my back and the soap on my muscled chest, it all felt mildly erotic. When I got to wash my abs, the tingling down below increased. When I washed my genitals, their size was impressive. That which had been aroused from the warm sun and soapy water, stood to a hard, tall attention. I was overpowered with an urge that was unexpected, and it seemed to take control of my hand. I was making long powerful strokes and the pressure was growing. Internally, I could feel increased volume and more pressure. I didn’t want to, but I tried to hold back, but couldn’t. The sudden flow started, thrusting my hips forward and pulling my mind under its power. It shot up and across the shower stall. I leaned back against the warm brick wall of the shower in ecstasy to steady myself, as stream after stream continued to fly across the shower. Between the warm water, the warmth of the sun and this ecstasy, I seemed to shoot semen endlessly. Eventually, the supply seemed exhausted, as was I, but the hose stayed erect, wanting more play time. My legs were weak, I was out of breath and my whole body was shaking from the overwhelming effort I just expelled. It was extremely difficult, but I ignored its continued beckoning. The warm water felt wonderful and I finally finished. After rinsing the glass ceiling and sides off, I stepped from the shower and dried off. My flagpole continued its beckoning.

When I dressed, or tried to get dressed, my clothes were too small. I tried on everything I had brought with me, but nothing fit. I finally found a couple of things that were very tight, but I could wear to go shopping (just don’t inhale deeply). I went to the local mall to buy some things that fit. I had to go to many different stores, and had to try everything on. The sizes I needed were larger than I thought. As I tried shirts on that turned out to be too small, I walked out of the dressing room, sometimes shirtless to get the next size. My build impressed the other customers in the stores and they wondered who this hunk was. Me, a Hunk? I can’t think of myself like that. After I melted my AmEx card several times, I returned to the motel. I did read a little, but was too excited thinking about tomorrow to concentrate on the book. There were magazines about health and fitness on the coffee table. I flipped through them getting a few ideas. I watched a couple of exercise DVDs that were in the room, tried to take a quick nap, but couldn’t.

The sun was setting and there was a beautiful sunset, so I decided to go for an evening swim. As I changed my clothes, I drank one of the shakes in the fridge, charging my body up for the next day. I had bought a new bathing suit today too, a very brief tank suit. I never thought I would ever wear one. Now, I don’t know why they get such a bad reputation. I again looked at the new me in the mirror. The severe taper from my lats to my waist was even more evident with the tank suit, resting low on my hips. The waistband was way below my navel, being pulled down by the size of my crotch. I grabbed a towel and joined the Babes and the other Hunks at The Cove. I dove in, hardly causing a ripple. My powerful arms pulled me effortlessly through the water. I swam the 500 yards to the other end, seemingly in no time, and I repeated that for an hour. Each time I turned at the end of the length, I took a large mouthful of the precious water and swallowed, feeling it surge through my body. I was getting ready for the beating I knew FX would bestow upon me tomorrow.

I returned to my room, showered again (avoiding certain parts of my anatomy), dried off and changed my clothes. I turned on the TV, and started to watch a movie. I set the timer on the TV and got into bed. The cool sheets felt good against my sore, warm body. I hardly got to the second set of commercials when I passed out, and slept a deep, needed, renewing sleep.

A few minutes before 10, I walked into the gym. Frank was already there. This was the first time I had seen him working out. The plates on his bar looked as if he had cleaned out the local sporting goods store of free weights. Finishing his bench set, he moved over to the preacher’s bench. From what I could see, he had nearly 200 pounds on that bar. His biceps were engorged with blood, snaked with veins and enormous. The massive pecs were still pumped and stretched his tank top as he easily completed 20 curls. He glanced at the clock, pumped out another 10 and replaced the bar in its rack. Glancing in the mirror, he flexed and nearly split his shirt with the ripped body inside it. I think FX could crush a bowling ball without breaking a sweat.

He hadn’t seen me yet so I acted as if I just gotten there. He had grabbed a towel to wipe down his face and arms, hung it around his neck and grabbed another to wipe off the benches he had just used. I walked over and greeted him with “Mornin’ Frank”.

I caught him a little off guard. “Good morning, Ryan”, he returned. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“I was getting “a last drink” of water before you execute me today. You know, if you are humane, you will give me a final request.”

“And, what might that be?” he countered.

Quickly thing, “Ah, just tell my parents I love ‘em.” Laughing, he said, “Tell them yourself when you see them, as you will be the best you have ever been. You can thank them for having great genes. By the way, in here it is FX. If they ever pick up on the Francis around here, I am dead meat. I will never live it down.”

“From what I have seen”, I said, “I think you are extremely capable of taking care of yourself. So, what torture do you have planned for me today?”

“Oh, I have a few things I want to try on you, if you don’t mind. Your progress made me throw out the entire plan we set up last week, so it’s Plan B, and we will add to those amazing gains you’ve already made. We will continue with your training, but I’ll throw in a few goodies every once in a while, to keep you hopping.” His strong hand grabbed my neck from behind, and he pushed me toward the equipment. “Now, come into my classroom and we will continue your education.”

With that, he started me on the most intense work-out program I have ever seen or heard of. For the next 2 hours, he beat me with sets and reps, and weights I could never have imagined being able to move at all, let alone multiple times. There were very few breaks; only when he modified the equipment for my now increased body size and strength. He kept bringing over power bars, shakes and bottled Cove water, and I drained each liter quickly. I was sweating bullets, but he continued to push me further.

He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to a standing position. “That is enough for today, Ryan. You have gone farther than I ever though you would. I want you to swim for a half an hour to cool off and soak in the waters. Drink it in too. Maybe take another swim before you go to bed.”

He continued, “But first, I want to show you two things.” I stood there on wobbly legs. “Step up on that scale there” FX requested. I did as I was told, even though my legs felt like Jell-O. “Remember last week I weighed and measured you?” I nodded my head. “I purposely didn’t give you the readings then. I want to show you the difference a week can make.” The scale indicated 187 lbs. “Last Tuesday, you were 203! You dropped 16 pounds. And I can attest that, through previous client’s results, you probably lost over 35 pounds of fat, and gained back 19 of pure muscle.” He then checked my height. “You’re 1 ? inches taller than you were last week too. Your body had to grow to accommodate the increased muscle mass you are caring. I won’t give you the other differences until after we are done. Let’s see what the next week brings.” I stepped off the scale.

“Now, is it at all possible that you could peel off that extremely small t-shirt without destroying it?” he asked. “Why didn’t you wear the nylon one I gave you yesterday?” I hadn’t noticed its tightness because I had other more ‘pressing’ things on my mind (and legs and chest and arms). I looked down and saw it was soaking wet with perspiration, and then, there was the issue of even seeing over my chest. Grabbing the bottom of it, I carefully tried to take it off. As I raised my arms, my back and delts expanded. It was virtually impossible to get it above my chest. I could hear a slight tearing too. “I didn’t think so” he said. I lowered my arms and the shirt stayed wedged under my pecs. “I guess we have to do it this way” as he reached up and grabbed the neck of the shirt. With minimal effort, he pulled down on the neck and the t-shirt shredded in his hands. The remainders of the sleeves, I pulled off myself. “Next time, get Lycra or nylon. Cotton gets so ‘messy’.” That next time will have to be this afternoon, I thought.

“Come over here for a minute” as we walked to the side of the gym. In front of the full length mirror, I looked at the new me. The delts looked as if I was wearing shoulder pads. My chest was ripped and wide, with the separation between the pecs, deep and, below that was a near perfect set of abs. I pulled down slightly on my shorts and noticed they were becoming a 6-pack, with the obliques aiming at my crotch. The lines weren’t sharp or defined, but I never thought I would ever have a build like this. The baseball sized biceps were still red from their workout, the veins were pumping blood through their new, longer paths, and my thighs, which were still a little wobbly, seemed to twitch each time my heart beat. Even my face was leaner than it was before. I was no where near as ripped at FX (and never would be), but there was no comparison to what I saw in the mirror and what I was just 5 days ago.

“Now”, FX asked, “what do your think?”

“What do I think?” I exclaimed, flexing a little. “You are a miracle worker! This is the most miraculous transformation I could ever imagine! And I’m it!!”

“Everyone grows differently. You are one of the ones who grow uniformly. I frequently get clients, who go through similar routines as yours, and they increase size unevenly. The get Popeye forearms, or enormous chests, but their legs never develop. I have one client who has legs that could piston a truck over, but his forearms are not strong enough to hold onto a barbell for the time it needs to do some curls. I’ve had clients that were twins, and each developed their own unique musculature. Human physiology is very weird.”

“No, it’s not me”, FX returned. “It is The Cove, you and up here” he said as he stabbed my head with his index finger. “I can give you direction and instruction, YOU have to do the work. Yes, the water of The Cove helps a great deal, but you have to have the determination to see, and the belief that it works. OK? ” He raised his hand in the air and gave me a high five. “Now go and cool off in the lake. Have a great night. I have another appointment in half an hour and I want to work on my quads before she gets here. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” We grasped hands and he walked toward the squat rack, stopping occasionally to bring his knees up to his chin, stretching his legs on the way for his workout.

After he left, I turned to go to The Cove. Seeing the remnants of my shirt on the floor, I looked back in the mirror. “Look at my freakin’ body!” I said to no one but myself. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone near by. But I’m sure these mirrors have heard this exclamation many times before. I flexed my arms again, tightened my pecs and tensed my abs. Damn, this can’t be me! If it is, I love it! If it isn’t, it is one hell of a dream!

I picked up the soggy, torn cotton remains of my shirt and happily threw it in the trash, sliding my hand across my chest and down my abs.. As I went outside, the hot California sun bathed me in a wonderful warmth. I wasn’t self conscious just standing there as I would have been a week ago. I removed my sneakers and socks, slid off my shorts, revealing the brief tank suit underneath, now even lower on my narrower hips. Standing by a chaise for a few minutes with my eyes closed, I soaked in the sun’s rays, letting it warm my tired, sore body. After a few minutes, as the beads of perspiration ran down my chest, I turned to go swimming. I dove in and effortlessly swam the waters of The Cove. For the next hour I absorbed and drank the special properties they contain, wishing, somehow, I could stay here for more than just another week. I lifted myself easily onto the deck. Others looked at me and it didn’t bother me, as I walked across to my chaise. Grabbing a towel from the stack, I laid it on the chaise and, still wet from the swim, reclined back, the water trickling down my chest, the hot sun warming me. I was exhausted and within minutes, I was sound asleep.

I awoke to the sound of crickets chirping; evening was beginning to set. Many of the guests had left to go to their rooms. Empty chaises and chairs were all around. I guess I had been asleep for a couple of hours, maybe more, as it was beginning to get dark. I walked to my room, not even putting my shorts on. I was proud of the body I now had. I stripped off the bathing suit on the patio, not wanting to drip water on the carpet and wrung it nearly dry on the flagstones. The warm evening air felt good on my enlarged member, now released from the nylon bondage it had most of the day. The last couple of hours had given me some additional sun, more than I realized. I had a nice, brown tan. There was a tan line where the bathing suit had been. The light amount of hair on my arms was bleached blond.

Upon entering through the sliding glass door of the bedroom, the barely damp bathing suit and shorts were thrown on the bed and I took a long hot soapy shower, trying not to get ‘him’ excited. It didn’t work; he wanted to play. The feeling seemed to start from deep within me. Even without touching it, my body was taken over again. A pleasant, hot sensation raced, at the same time, from the tips of my toes and from the top of my head. When they met in the middle, my cock exploded with cum. Again and again, it shot across the shower hitting higher and higher on the glass block wall. Fully erect now, my hand tried to control it, but the additional pleasure of this massage encouraged my body to exceed its previous performance. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally ended. Breathing deeply, my body weak, I leaned against the side of the shower to rest. With the water still running, I tried to rinse the soap off. A second performance was on the bill, and I tried to drain it of any further outbursts. Streams flowed again, but they did not have the standing ovation quality the first one had. It decided to return to its dressing room, completely satisfied of its performance tonight. I used cooler water and finished my shower, and turned the shower head to rinse off the walls again. Of course, a major clog was created at the drain. Finally, all of the creamy liquid disappeared down the drain.

I got dressed and again realized, none of my shirts fit. I found one polo that was very snug. None of the buttons would stay buttoned. The gold chain my wife had given me on our honeymoon, which always lay down on my chest, was almost a choker. The sleeves slid up on my arms, uncovering the thick arms they were supposed to conceal; the waist couldn’t hide the cobblestone path beneath. This shirt wasn’t as revealing as the others would be, and was good enough to at least get some dinner. Then, I would have to go and get some new t-shirts for my continuing workout sessions with Frank. Plus, I needed a few dress shirts for tomorrow and the rest of the week. I have to get some new slacks too, as the waist is too big on the ones I have with me; and the length is too short. I can’t afford to buy new clothes every few days. This is getting expensive! Hmmm, maybe I’ll do Frank’s ‘Peter Parker’ diversion: get oversized clothes to disguise my new body. Some places you want to show off; others you don’t. At work you usually don’t.

On Monday, the store was up and running on the new software. The full-timers had little problem with it, except Mary, who had only used a computer to read e-mail from her grandchildren. I still had many part-time employees to work with: some were cashiers and some were stock clerks. Frank and I looked at each other occasionally across the store, and smiled as if we had some secret to hide. I guess we did. During the day he was Peter Parker, and I hadn’t said anything about my extracurricular activities to anyone, so why do it now. Other than for instruction, which was very little, Frank and I talked together only twice; He had picked up on the programs quickly; he is an extremely intelligent man. The first time we spoke, he wanted to know how I felt. A little sore, but considering the torture he put me through, hardly noticeable; Thanks for the rest yesterday afternoon. The second, he said he would be about 15 minutes late for our work-out this evening. He had to run to the bank for the store manager after work. The usual person who did that was on vacation.

Monday night, FX had a new set of exercises for me: upper body, plus abs only, with the lower body tomorrow. “Gee, I just had gotten the other ones etched in my mind”, I told him. He looked at my new shirt, one made of meshed nylon, intended for runners, and complemented me one it. “I don’t think you’ll outgrow that one by the end of the week. But it has happened” he added. Oh Great!

The weights he planned for me were heavier that even over the weekend, the sets more and the reps less. “We are going to build additional strength and stamina for the remainder of your week; you do the work and I’ll guide you. Slow, is the key word for this week. You lift to a count of 4, and return to a count of 4. You will rest only between sets, and then only for a minute.” I did as he said, and I did pretty well, but he had to spot me a few times. What seemed easier at the end of last week was difficult tonight. Of course, the weight was much heavier with more sets.

I rolled off the incline bench after the final exercise for the evening; 4 sets of reverse incline bench presses, in a partial sit-up position, using nearly 400# on the bar. I was so weak, I could not stand. Panting, like a log-haired dog in the summer, I lay on my back, staring up at FX. Geez, from this angle he looked stronger than when standing next to him! He left me there for a few minutes as he updated my chart. He reached down, grabbed my wrist and hoisted me to a standing position. “That was a Great workout, Ryan! I’m glad you chose me to be your trainer. I see more potential in you than I have seen in most of my clients. You are doing what I ask and you have the results to prove it.” He walked toward the front desk and dropped off my chart with the greeter. He returned and said, “How about a swim? You were my only client this evening. You need to cool off and relax, and I need to ‘recharge my batteries’. The Cove always does that for me.”

We walked to the deck, grabbed towels from the stack and found chairs to put our stuff on. I had to sit down to remove my shoes and socks; my legs were still weak, and my arms were like rubber. I stood up and slipped off my shirt. “See how nice those nylon shirts are?” FX said. “You would still be fighting with that if it had been cotton.’ He stood there in his low cut tank suit, his muscles ripped and hard. The sunset reflected off his sweaty, tanned chest. “Are you going to take all night, Ryan? I have to get to work in the morning. And I have this SOB of an instructor trying to train me on the computer. He is boring as crap, and has the personality of a snail!” Laughing, I slipped off my shorts, uncovering my tank suit. “Is that so” I retorted. “Does he give any type of evaluation to your employer as to how well you are doing? It would be a real shame if you lost your job because of a poor performance rating.” With that, he picked me up, one hand on my chest and the other on my leg, and threw me into the water. I could feel just part of the power those arms and back had. He dove in after me. The first few minutes, I was as weak as a kitten, but soon, The Cove returned my energy and strength, and invigorated FX. We did sprints and dives, but he was always the winner. Whether he meant to or not, there were a couple of times I nearly caught up to him. For the next 45 minutes, though, we swan for enjoyment and soaked in the power of the water.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, FX continued to beat me to a pulp, with more weight, more sets and longer reps. Each day my strength and stamina increased; I could feel it in my body and my mind.

I was now curling 110 lbs, squatting over 500 (FX wouldn’t tell me how much), my bench had increased to 375 and I could easily do 100 crunches clutching a 50# plate to my chest. My size growth had slowed down, but the lean, hard definition I was developing was increasing and awesome. Each bicep looked like a softball, and you could see the striations of the triceps’ muscle fibers. My arms were snaked with veins, supplying blood to the new muscle. The pecs were thick and dense, with my nipples on the edge, slightly pointing down; the muscle fibers forced veins to also run across my chest. The 8-pack most only dream about, was now mine. The grooves between them were deep enough to lay your finger in, and the obliques pointed south, where my manhood really shinned The delts looked like halved-footballs while the traps angled up to my neck. My lats flared out and tapered radically to my narrow waist. I had trouble getting slacks to fit my thick quads. I had to stop wearing my chain, for my traps had flared my neck so wide, it was now too small. Even though my size had increased, though not greatly, by Thursday night it had become more dense and solid. I weighed in at 196 lbs., an overall gain of 28 pounds of muscle. Frank threw a few more stats at me. My total increases for the 2 weeks were: 6.5 inches added to my chest, 3 inches on each arm, 4.5 inches on my thighs and my waist had dropped to a hard, ripped 31”.

I was slim, compared to FX. He still was the most impressive man at The Cove. There were bigger men there, but not as admired. He wasn’t massive by any means, but every inch of him was ripped and hard. He seemed to grow stronger with every workout of every client he had; like he absorbed part of their new strength. Everyone wanted to be him. His was the picture guys had in their school locker as a role model, and the one every woman wanted in bed. He still “hid” under an oversized shirt for work at the drug store. And he had to wear cargo pants to encase his legs. Few at his full time job knew his ‘other life’.

Friday evening, was my last session with FX. I was flying home Saturday morning. It had been an extremely expensive ‘experiment’ on my part, but worth every friggin’ dime. There was no way, 2 weeks ago, I would have ever imagined that I would be like this when I returned home. I had to keep this up though. I now had to join a gym; if not for me, for FX. If he knew I would let myself go, he would come and beat the crap out of me! But it isn’t just the workouts that ‘made’ me, it was the water too. I think I will miss it mysteries as much as I enjoyed long, evening swims in it.

FX came into the gym with a gleam in his eye. “All right, plebe! Tonight you get tested! You have to see if you can beat the teacher!” He took me through every exercise we had done in the last 2 weeks, multiple times and he did them right along side me. Every time I slowed down, I watched him easily continuing and I was forced to follow. Everything I could do, he could do better! I wasn’t pissed at him; I admired him for forcing me to push myself. I will never get a trainer like him at home. After nearly 2 hours of “Can You Top This”, I conceded. “Dam it! Don’t you ever give up, Ryan! Do everything you can, and then do more. If you give up, others will see your weaknesses and use those against you.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the bench. “Now get down and give me 20!” He reached into his duffle bag and removed a raw egg. He placed it directly under my chest. “Don’t you Dare break that egg!” Sweating buckets, I complied and did 20 push-ups. Before I finished, he yelled “Another 20!”, and “Another 20!” I was finishing my 9th set when he said, “Only 10 this time.” With that he walked over and sat on my ass, and faced forward! The 10 wasn’t a problem, it was the additional weight that was a killer. He watched each and every one. If I faltered, he said “Don’t give up, Ryan, don’t give up!” I completed the last one, and threw in an extra for good luck (or miscounting), and rolled over, throwing him to the side, exhausted. He picked up the egg and said, “Well, here is part of my protein shake this evening.”

As I lay on the mat after completing this exhausting, extended work-out, FX said, “Just stay there a minute.” He grabbed a towel for both of us and returned. He stepped across me and dropped to his knees, straddling me just below my waist. I looked at him critically. “What are . . .? I started. “Shut up a minute” he returned. As he had done last week in my room, he leaned over me and starting with my neck, rubbed his powerful hands across my shoulders, chest, waist, arms and legs. My hands instinctively came up to cover my crotch. “Cool it, Ryan. I’m not as interested in those as I am in the rest of you. Your body I have control of, your cock I don’t. I just wanted to confirm how much you have progressed.”

He stood up and helped me to my feet. “Ryan, it has been a pleasure meeting and working with you. It will be a long time until I get another client, and friend, as great as you. You have given me brownie points here, as the best, most accomplished client we have, probably have ever had. I will miss your sarcastic jokes, your ‘snail’ personality and your extreme dedication. You will come back, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I know if I don’t, you will seek me out and pummel me to death. I appreciate everything you have done for me, and always will. I would have never accomplished as much without your guidance. You are the one I have to Thank for this”, I said as I pointed to my new physique.

“I have one last request from you” he said.

I saluted him and said, “Yes sir!” with a smile on my face. People looked over at my exclamation.

“OK, strip!” I looked at him, “Excuse me? Here? Now?” My smile disappeared.

“I said strip! Now!” People across the gym, hearing this request, stopped what they were doing and watched. No one even answered the phone. I peeled off my shirt and Frank removed his. The sweat from the workout glistened both of our hard bodies. I took off my shoes and socks, as he did. With reluctance, I reached for the waist band of my shorts. Murmurs were heard across the gym. I slipped off my shorts uncovering my tank suit. He did the same. I don’t mind being stared at, but because of this? ‘What is he doing?’ I thought. I was sweating even more now, as I reached for the waist band of the bathing suit, than I had during the workout.

“Stop!” he yelled. My fingers were positioned to pull the suit down.

“Now . . .” There was a long period of silence from him. You could hear a pin drop in the gym. Even the air conditioning had shut down. “. . . the last one to the far of the lake, buys dinner!” “GO!!” I broke for the door, but his strength forced me away from it. I was right behind him up the walk. I cut across the lawn and I was gaining on him. A dozen, laughing people were staring at us through the window, cheering us on. I hit the deck first and dove in. He was a whisper behind me. I could almost feel his breath on my back as we entered the water. His powerful strokes were no match for mine, but we seemed to be neck and neck. My arms are a bit longer than his, so maybe that made up a little for his strength. We continued across and he looked at me as I did at him. He would pull ahead, and then I would. Neither of us slowed down, in fact, the pace might have actually been increasing. I kept hearing in my mind, him saying, ‘Never give up Ryan. Never give up.’ My arms were still tired from the workout and my chest was sore from the past week. I kept plugging away. ‘Never give up Ryan.’

We were approaching the dock at the far side of the lake. We were still even, my legs were kicking faster, and propelling me ahead as my arms powered me through the water. He looked over at me again, and I think I saw concern in his eyes. Maybe, he had given me a break at the beginning, but it backfired on him! I was staying up with him and he knew it. He pushed harder and so did I. Five of the gym members had confiscated a Jeep and tore to the far end of the lake to see the exciting finish. They knew FX and their bets were on him, but the long shot was still running hard. 60 feet, 50 feet, I heard the cheering from the people on the dock. Other spectators gathered around, wanting to know what was happening. A fight to the finish! The onlookers were going wild! 40 feet, 30 feet, our heads were dead even. 20 feet, 10 feet, we both pushed harder than either of us thought we could! 5 feet, we touched the dock at the same time! The three onlookers closest to the edge could not determine who touched first!

Weary, we hoisted ourselves out of the water and sat on the edge of the dock. With congratulatory slaps on the backs, everyone said it was a great race, with an exciting finish. I rotated my left shoulder to get out a kink. My right hand massaged it slightly, and it slid across my chest. I felt the rock hard muscles in my shoulders and chest. My arms were bulging with blood from this intense workout. Even my abs were sore, because they were tense keeping me level in the water, holding everything together. What a pump! Who says you can’t build up with cardio!

FX looked over at me and said, “Great race, Ryan” and clasped my hand. “I really didn’t think you had it in you. I am very impressed, very.” He leaned back on the dock and then lay down.

Between breaths I said, “Frank, I have to thank you for that determination. Again, I could never have done this without your help.” He was breathing heavy, almost as much as I was. His muscled abs moved in and out with his breaths; his carved chest, also pumped from the extreme effort, heaved with each deep breath. His legs were pumped and veined. I had never seen him out of breath in the last 2 weeks. He must have really had to put on the steam to try and beat me. I felt fantastic knowing I could keep up with him. I laid down too, to rest a few minutes.

After a while, we had both caught our breath. Frank rose up on one elbow, looked over his shoulder and started to laugh. “What’s up? I asked, leaning on my elbows. “Everyone is gone!” Frank returned. I turned and verified that the last taillights were indeed driving away. They were only 100 feet away, but neither of us had the strength to call after it, let alone run after it. After a few more minutes, when we both had our second wind, we slowly stood up. “Well, what do you want to do, Ryan? It’s either a ? mile walk in bare feet on a gravel road or another 500 yards back across the lake.”

Looking at the road in one direction and the hotel across the lake in the other, and seeing no boats anywhere, I said “I’ve seen enough water to last me for quite a while. But, I will need these feet for a few more years. My choice is the water; but no racing! It is a beautiful evening and the swim will cool us down”. Frank agreed, and we dove back into the lake for a leisurely swim back to The Inn. We talked and splashed each other. We tried to dunk each other and planned a new work out schedule for me when I returned home, and 30 minutes later, we arrived at the hotel.

Dinner turned out to be room service, on the deck outside of my room. In a Gentleman’s agreement, we had decided on the way back to split the cost, since neither of us lost the race. While watching people continue to swim into the late evening, we exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers.

I have been back five times these past 2 years and Frank visited me once. The Inn hasn’t changed, nor has Frank. But I do think he is more ripped than he was, but I’ve slipped at little. I just have to work much harder at it; and I don’t have the ‘water’. The Cove is still as beautiful and rejuvenating as before, but there is a longer waiting list to get a room. Frank pulls some strings and I always get a room. Except one time, and I had to room with him for a week. But, that’s another story for another time.