When my husband decided that he wanted to build a home gym out of our basement, I could only think, “Gosh, that’s a lot of expensive equipment that I will need to dust every week.” Well, he bought a bunch of stuff off of Craigslist and a couple of old VHS tapes about weightlifting. I really never thought that he’d use the equipment more than twice. We are middle aged and we have accepted that we are corpulent and out of shape. To his credit I he started slowly and kept working out harder and longer every week. I’d hear him clanging away when I left for work and clanging away when I returned home from work. He’d be clanging those weights downstairs when I cooked dinner and while I did the clean-up. Quickly, his belly went from a huge balloon that projected over two feet in front of him (like mine) to a tight, hard cobblestone path. While I would sit around and eat, he turned himself into a hard, tight wall of huge swollen muscles and veins all over his powerful body. Soon enough, he was feeding my cakes and other desserts, because he wanted to watch someone eating, “What I would never put into this hard body again!” I inflated with fat like a whale. He inflated with hard, impossibly strong muscles. He’d morphed himself into a freak of nature, some inhuman beast that had unimaginable strength and power. Finally today I asked mammoth wall of overdeveloped muscle, if he was unhappy with my flabby body. You know, did he want me to be right and strong like him? He told me that he loved me and especially my soft body. His motivation was for me. He told me, “When I went to get some tax documents from your computer last year, you had left a tab open with all these big, digitally enhanced muscle guys. I knew that you wanted me to look like them, or even more muscular than them. I didn’t really care about muscle until I started to transform noticeably. Then I saw this gleam in your eyes and a hunger in you for my body that I haven’t seen in years. Well, actually I never saw you look at me the way you did when my muscles started blowing up. I got addicted to that look on you. I crave having you devour my muscles. I need to be your hero. I just want to be the huge muscle-bottom that you dream about, but thought couldn’t exist in reality. As long as you can physically top me, you don’t need to lose one single ounce. Now I’m bigger than those altered photos you have, but I think you want me bigger like the cartoon muscle drawings that I saw. There is a guy at a powerlifting gym I visited who wants to sell me gear. So why don’t I juice-up and grow bigger than those drawings!”
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2087
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