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I remember the first time I saw him at the gym. He had those piercing eyes that just drew me in. I think I was on the leg press at the time and he walked by and glanced down. I had trouble focusing on finishing my set. After I racked the plates, I took my towel and walked into the hall to get a drink of water. What I really wanted was to look around and see where those beautiful eyes had gone, but I was trying to be discreet. The water fountain was in the center of the gym giving the perfect vantage point to look around, but as I casually glanced, he was nowhere to be seen. I returned to the weight room floor and tried to finish my workouts, but the distraction persisted forcing me to abandon my intensity and eventually pack my gym bag. Why those eyes haunted me so, I guess I'll never know. |
As I packed my clothes in the locker room, I had a feeling. Turning, I spotted him wrapped in a towel and heading for the shower room. I couldn't resist. I quickly stripped off my muscle shirt and shorts and, wrapped similarly in a towel, headed as nonchalantly for the shower/sauna room as I could. Several stalls were occupied with the curtains drawn so I had no idea which one he was in. I took the only open stall near the middle and left the drape half-open. After a time, I realized how silly I was being and left the stall room to dry off and redress, chiding myself for my actions. As I stood by the sauna door drying, I saw him again, this time emerging from the sauna beside me. I tried to be discreet again, but I found myself gazing, perhaps a little too long at those beautiful eyes.
And he gazed back. Once or twice, as he brushed the sweat from his light skin. But not overly so. I thought I might make a little show of myself, try to attract his attention. I slowly dried the moisture from my muscular frame, rubbed a little extra in my crotch, stretched my arms out so the spread of my lats would flare wide. I even flexed a little, in spite of my thoughts to stay discreet. His own body was not nearly as chipped and chiseled as mine, but his eyes remained the focus of my attention.
This "game" continued for a few more minutes until more men began filling the gym room and passed through the shower stalls. Since I had added the muscle to my frame, I'd had men admire and chase me, so my being naked and doing this "slow dry dance" was beginning to attract attention. I turned to bend over and dry my legs one at a time and when I turned back, he was gone. Several guys were where he was, trying to gain my attention, as I had been his, but no longer were his eyes on me.
I looked around, somewhat quickly at first, then less overtly as I chided myself for my obviousness. I slowly walked back to my locker and reclothed myself, throwing a sweater over my thick muscle and sweat pants over my large thighs. Leaving the men behind, as I knew they always were, panting and semi-hard after my "strip-tease" performance.
Getting to the parking lot, I saw him across the rows throwing his bag into his trunk. The time for cleverness past, I felt a rush come over me and I sprinted over to where his car was. He was reaching for his door when I came up on him.
"Excuse me..." I called, coming to a stop behind him. He turned. Those eyes.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed, "You scared the Hell out of me!"
"Oh, sorry, man, I..." What was I doing? "I just..." I faltered. 'Now what?' I thought inside.
"Yeah? You need something?" He began to look at me as one would a mugger, assuming a somewhat defensive stance.
"No!" I blurted out "I mean yes... I... Oh! Shit!" What a disaster.
"Look, I don't know what your game is..."
"No, wait. Look, I just wanted to know if you would... I mean... Um... Shit! I can't even ask a guy out!" And there it was. It was like all the sounds of the world had been sucked away. And then I heard the traffic and then I heard his eyes say "Um, well, I guess so." And then the world relaxed. And afterwards, when we said "Friday night. Eight O.K. All right, make it nine. Right, I know where Jerry's Pizza is. See ya then." I remember getting to my car and thinking, "They said yes. His eyes said yes!"
So the rest of the week, I worked out and pumped up and did my best lifts and come Friday, I was a tower of muscle. Six feet and one inch of thick, rippling muscle. I wore a nice, tight shirt that showed my arms off and jeans that were just tight enough. I was set. And then we met at Jerry's Pizza. At first, he didn't recognize me, but then he did. He seemed disappointed, but ordered a good hearty pizza. Nice and thick with cheese and extra meat and crust. I only had a couple of pieces when he finally stopped chewing and put his fork down.
"Look," he began. "I don't mean to sound rude, but you've got a beautiful body." My pride soared. "But I thought, well, when I saw you in the parking lot, you looked different. You were in sweat pants and a thick shirt and, well, frankly, I thought you were a little on the overweight side."
"Oh? Well, I hope you're pleasantly surprised." I said, beaming my best smile.
"Um. Look, this isn't going to work. I guess I prefer guys with a little more... well, a little softer, let's just say." And all at once, the entire planet cracked under me. He rose placing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "I'm sorry, I just thought you were, well, someone else." And those beautiful eyes walked away toward the door.
After the bell on the door jangled, I snapped out of it. I rose from the table and fairly sprinted to the door. I caught him as he, again, was getting to his car. "Hey," I called. He turned and rolled his eyes.
"Look, I didn't mean any offense." He said, backing toward his car. I was suddenly, acutely aware that my tall form was imposing on his shorter, 5'9" stature. But his eyes became frightened and it stopped me colder than ice on my spine. I backed away and stammered.
"Look, I... I can change." Who was speaking now, I cannot say. My voice from my lips disputing ten years of intense training to sculpt a perfect form. But not perfect in those eyes and that was all I needed to know.
He looked at me and sighed. "No," he replied. "Go back to your iron plates and carved abs. You belong there." He got into his car and drove away, leaving me there in the lot with my bulging chest and waspish waist; my thick thighs and carved lats. I returned to the restaurant where the waiter was clearing our table. Half of the pizza remained, untouched. I took it to go and went home.
In the morning, I woke up feeling different. I don't know, empty, I guess. All night long, the thought of his eyes haunted my thoughts and now, I stood at the refrigerator staring at the pizza box. I left the box untouched and went on to work. Afterwards, I stopped by the gym and went through my chest routine. Again, there were plenty of guys to drool over my cuts and bulges, but when I saw him again, I couldn't resist. I saw him go to the fountain and I followed, intending to bump into him as if by random chance.
He knew it for the obviousness it was, though, and started to say, "Look, I'm sorry, but..." I cut him short.
"What you said last night. Did you mean it?" I asked.
"About, you know, softer guys?"
"Yeah. Look, nothing personal or anything..."
"I can do that." I proclaimed. I watched his eyes carefully for anything, any sign.
"No." he replied. "You are from that side..." he indicated the plates and benches from the lifting room, "and me, well..." he lifted his shirt to show his belly. It was soft with a light trail of blond hair up the center. Not obese, but just enough to hang over the edge of his sweat pants. He stopped and looked up at me. Then he put his shirt back down and started to walk away.
I found myself, even without thinking, reaching out and touching his shoulder lightly. "I can change." I said flatly. And my eyes looked into his eyes and, I think for the first time, his eyes said 'yes'.
"We'll see." He replied.
I went home that evening and found out the pizza, eating the remainder without thinking. I never kept fattening things in the refrigerator, so I went to the grocery store. I recall stopping myself several times from looking at the nutritional content and just throwing things into the cart. And then I went home to eat.
It was difficult at first. For about two weeks, I struggled with eating more than I usually had of things I usually hadn't. But the tastes were pleasing and soon, I ate without thinking. It was about a month at the gym when I noticed the difference. I was in the shower room and there were a couple of guys there, but nothing special. I walked back to my locker and turned to face the mirror. I rubbed my abs expecting the fingers to dance over the ridges but there were barely indentations. I focused as if for the first time on my abs. They were soft. I could actually grab my flesh where it was filling out. I panicked. This had to stop. I must have been insane. I quickly dressed and covered my shameful, softening gut and left the dressing room quickly. As I got to my car and threw my bag in the trunk, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around into those eyes.
He stood there. I stood there. And, without another word, he lifted my sweatshirt. His eyes smiled. "I.. I didn't think you'd do it." He said slowly lowering my shirt. As he lowered it, I felt his hand rub my midsection. My panic melted away and...
"Um..." he said. "Look, you'd better sit down or something..." he looked away. I looked down suddenly aware of other parts of me looking up. I crouched onto the pavement beside my car, flushed in embarrassment. He crouched next to me.
"Look, " he said, "if you're really serious about this..." His eyes looked again into mine.
"Yes." I breathed.
"Come over to my place, Friday night. Dress casually." He winked and then he left. I stayed crouched for nearly half an hour before jumping into my car and putting the directions to his house in my glovebox.
I continued to work out and eat through the rest of the week. Occasional pangs of panic to be thin and cut would strike now and again limiting my eating, but when Friday came, I arrived in my sweats and rang his bell. It was a weekend later that I emerged into the sunlight. Lighter than I had ever felt, heavier than I had ever been. Monday after work, I rushed to the gym to bench and press and I scarcely noticed that the guys weren't noticing.
My throng of gawkers had dwindled. In the shower room, no one looked more than twice. I sat in the steamy sauna room thinking about what I would do next. A hand crept over my thigh in the misty blindness and I jumped. Peering through the fog, a large man, rolls of floppy fat hanging from his body, was leering at me. I pushed his hand away, repulsed at first then startled. That would be me! Another wave of panic swept over me. I jumped to leave the room.
After showering, I dressed and rushed out the door, bumping into someone as I went. I stopped. It was again, those eyes. His eyes looked at me as no others had ever done. Those beautiful eyes. They looked at me with remembrances of a weekend passed filled with incredible physical pleasure and more importantly, intense affection. My eyes to his, we conversed without words.
Mine were confused. His affectionate. Mine struggling within. His questioning then understanding. Mine ashamed. His sad. Sad. Like a knife through my soul. Mine pleading. His turned away. Walking away. Away.
I pursued him to the parking lot. Again with the parking lot. He said before I reached him "I knew it. I enjoyed it while it lasted. I told you where you were from. I even told myself, 'two weeks, tops!'" I caught him and turned him around.
"It was that man!" I pleaded. "He was so fat. All that flopping and the rolls...and I suddenly realized that would be me and I panicked. I'm still panicking. In your eyes I see all I know I'll ever need, but...I just don't know if I could go that far..." I was on one knee. He looked down at me with those hard, beautiful eyes. Then, they softened as my gut had. And the conflict was gone. And I knew. And he knew. I took his hand and kissed it. There in the parking lot. I kissed his hand first, then his arm. My hands felt their way to his own belly and I gradually found myself kissing his mouth. And it was long and deep. And things didn't matter anymore. Not being fat or thin or muscular or tall or short.
I hadn't noticed the crowd around us that night nor have I in the succeeding nights. And the years began to pass.
And there, on a shelf, in the back, I see a picture of my old self. Muscular and cut, the bulges in all the right places. I'm even aroused a little at the sight of myself. I can just make out the dullness of my eyes in the faded photograph.
And in the reflection of the glass, I see myself now. My lifting steady to keep my chest thick and full, complimenting a full belly beneath. I'm not chiseled and cut anymore. My gut now sags below my belt and that's just fine. Indeed, I've noticed a little sagging to my chest, the fullness from pumping the iron can't quite replace. Behind me, his reflection innocently blends with my own. His lightly plump belly has expanded as well, becoming even a little jiggly as it hangs down. Our cheeks are rounded now with lines below our lips where second chins are just peeking out. And just above... above our full cheeks... his captivating, beautiful, full eyes and mine. Merge in the reflection. Merge in the. Merge in. Merge.
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