"Oh my god. I haven't been stretched like that since I had my kid!" The woman screamed in delight, her diamond necklace bouncing across her surgically-enhanced chest as she rolled onto her side.
Derek smirked and pulled himself up from the bed. His client, Betty, was one of those real-housewives kind of women. Face taught and tanned, with flowing, shoulder-length caramel hair hiding discrete surgical lines on her scalp, she had ridden Derek for what seemed like hours. She wore all of her most expensive jewelry for the occasion, "To feel like a real woman!", she insisted.
Derek gathered up his clothes and checked his phone. "Fuck! I'm going to be late for my next client!" he said, throwing the phone into his jacket and quickening his pace.
"Who the hell was your father?" Betty asked, "A god damn bull?"
Derek looked at her coyly, "I'm going to take that as an insult," and winked.
"Don't forget sweetie, there's a little, ah, something for you on the table next to the door. For your excellent pilates instruction." Betty said, wrapping a sheer dressing gown around herself.
"I should tell you that I'm going to have to increase my rates," Derek replied, "A lot of people want me as their trainer."
"I don't blame them," Betty said, sitting down to her vanity. "Don't worry, my husband won't give a second thought about increasing my weekly allowance," She sighed, "As long as it's not more than he pays his mistress."
---
Derek was the top trainer at one of the most popular gyms in the city. At only twenty-six years old, he had made a considerable name for himself among the higher-end crowd that tended to use the facility. Not that his routines were anything special. But his stunning good looks and god-like body drew everyone's attention -- and wallets.
Today was no exception. Derek wasn't coy about showing off, after all, it was how he earned so much overtime. He strolled into the gym wearing a form-fitting polo shirt and a pair of jeans that outlined every muscle on his legs -- among other things.
The girl at the front desk looked up at him as he took off his sunglasses, "Is Barry here yet?" Derek asked, his voice deep, rich and powerful. The girl blushed. "He's going to be a bit late he said, but will try to be here soon. By the way, two of your clients have asked for private sessions. You should follow-up."
"Sure thing babe," Derek said, already walking away.
----
Derek had a strange habit of clearing out the gym floor whenever he entered the change room. Of men, anyways. It was also a well-known fact that this gym had an extensive gay clientele -- most of which skewed towards older, 'established' men. Whenever Derek made his presence known, he seemed to become a pied piper of sorts. A trickle of men would soon turn into a stream following Derek into the locker-rooms. Those who had been in the middle of work-outs would abandon their progress, if only to surreptitiously get a glimpse of what had become legend among the gossiping crowds.
Derek had a specific locker he liked -- one that was virtually in the middle of the locker-room. As he opened the locker door, he threw his gym bag onto the bench behind him and took a look round at all the glances from those who had suddenly decided to finish their work-out, check their phones, or sip from a bottle of water stored in their locker.
Facing outwards, he began by taking off his shirt. His burly hands gripped the bottom of the white polo and slowly, inch by inch, raised it up. Each inch exposing more and more taught, tanned skin. Inch-by-inch, exposing the deep valleys of his abs. Slowly and expertly he lifted the shirt, tugging it over his muscular chest which measured at least 50", his nipples the size of quarters. He would finally draw shirt straight up quickly, fully unveiling his incredible torso. Derek looked as though he were carved from marble in perfect proportion: from his rippling back to his 32" waist. His canon-ball sized shoulders rippled over horseshoe-triceps and 20" biceps.
The show wasn't quite over yet. Derek would then turn and make a pantomime of searching for something in his bag, before coming around again. This time he would undo his belt buckle and, with just as much speed as his shirt, begin to tug down his jeans. Once again, the furitively glances would start as the waist was worked down below his Apollo's belt, and across the expanse of his corrugated thighs. Still wearing underwear, Derek would slip the pants further and further, over his foot-ball sized calves and then finally, step out of them as they reached the floor.
Wearing only a pair of tight white briefs, Derek stood tall at 6'7" and 295lbs of god-like muscle. His short black hair, three day stubble on his chiseled face, and the light dusting of fur across his body made him the picture of masculine perfection. He was used to the sighs and gasps that would drift in from the crowd. Casually he would re-adjust the enormous bulge in his underwear. This, then, was what the crowd salivated for. Stretching over his right hip like an obese python, Derek's enormous, circumcised cock sagged the waist of his briefs. Below this, and equally stretching the fabric to its engineered limit, were two huge testicles that, even confined, bulged outwards obscenely.
Derek would then stretch upwards, raising his hands above his head and making sure to flex his bulging arms and spread his back wide, before turning around and beginning the final performance. With many men already on the verge of fainting, Derek would, with some effort (real or fake, no one knew), push down his briefs as he faced his locker. The tanned, muscular twin globes of his ass would come into view -- perfect, round, and striated with muscle. Stepping out of these, and reaching into his locker, Derek would then bring out his typical gym attire -- an old, worn jockstrap, a tank top, and form fitting compression leggings.
Bending over and starting with one foot, then the next, Derek would tug the old jock up his legs. Many men gave themselves neck cramps attempting to peer in from the side, or between his legs, just to get a glimpse at the monster, but Derek always knew how to frustrate a gaze. With the jockstrap on, and hugging his bubble-butt, Derek would then slide on the tank-top, before finally stepping into the compression leggings.
A sudden, violent metallic slam broke the spell. The room up to that point had been silent save for the occasional gasp or moan, but this noise was new. Derek looked around and saw, opposite, that a particularly effeminate and obese looking man was putting on shoes non-nonchalantly nearby. Trying to think nothing of it, Derek finished changing and made his way to the gym floor. He was irked, however, that the new guy didn't even seem to spare so much a look in his direction.
---
Derek didn't consider himself gay. Or bisexual, really. A hole was a hole as far as he was concerned, and it helped that his clients were more than happy to offer theirs to him. In fact, almost all the men and women at the club had clamored to have Derek as their trainer. Even the straight men requested him: if not for the secret lusting, then simply to be in his presence, or to learn his secrets. Barry, his newest client, was no exception. Straddling the weight bench, Derek pretended to listen as Barry got ready for his bench press.
"Then, Rico says to me, 'you'd leave me in a heartbeat if it meant you could suck a nicer cock!', and, I mean, you notwithstanding, I would never do something like that!" Barry said.
"Uh-huh," Derek replied. "Hey, look, can you -- can you move forward a bit? To better guide the bar?" Barry said, as he moved his hands along the length of the metal. "What? Oh -- yeah, sure man, whatever," Derek said, inching forward. Barry, by this time, was directly under Derek's considerable bulge.
"That's much better," Barry said with a flush, as he stared upwards. "What do you think that guy's deal is?" Derek said suddenly, causing Barry to jerk upwards, banging his head on the bar. "OW! Fuck!" he exclaimed. Derek ignored him. "I mean, he's over there on the treadmill, and he hasn't even looked over at me once this entire time. Dude hasn't even made eye contact with me any time I've ever seen him." Derek said.
Barry, rubbing his forehead, looked over the cardio section. "Oh, that's Roy. He's a sweetheart. Moved here from out east. Don't know much about him -- he's always on that treadmill though. Not that it seems to be doing him much good."
Indeed, Derek thought. Roy wasn't exactly the most pleasant sight in the world. Dressed in a dull grey-t shirt that was already drenched in sweat, the portly bald man was grimacing as he walked briskly on the treadmill. His features were soft, his eyes beady and dark. His considerable fat and jowls jiggled under pock-marked skin. Derek thought he could smell him.
"Worth a lot of money though," Barry said, "at least that's the rumor." "I should see if he's interested in a session," Derek said, giving Barry a wink. "Derek, boy, you just can't help yourself." Barry sighed. "Give me two minutes, I'll be right back." Derek said, already starting to stroll over to the treadmill. "OK but you owe me four minutes when you get back!" Barry shouted.
Derek got up to the side of the treadmill. Up close, Roy was even more physically repulsive. What Derek had thought was stubble turned out to be acne. Barry's hair was thin, gray, and wiry. But, a hole's a hole, he thought. "Hey bro," Derek said, turning the charm up to 11. Roy ignored him. Derek moved around to the front of the treadmill. "Name is Derek, I'm a trainer here," he said, extending his hand. Roy looked annoyed. "Looks like you're working pretty hard dude," Derek said. "I'm training a client over there, Barry. Good guy, been with me for years." Roy looked over, Barry waved meekly and seemed to be stifling a smirk.
"Anyways," Derek said, bringing his shirt up to dab his forehead, exposing his rippling abs and plunging v-line, "Just wanted to say, if you ever need anything --" he paused, and, very purposefully, reached into his tight compression pants and readjusted his weighty cock, "-- and I mean, 'anything', just ask for me, Derek. I'll be more than happy to help you man. And remember, your first session is free." Derek said, with a sly grin. Roy continued to ignore him, and kept staring forward, sweat dripping off his pale forehead.
Derek returned to Barry at the bench. "No luck? What's wrong with the guy?" Barry seemed exasperated. "No clue. I guess he's fucked up." Derek said cooly. But as Barry started to get ready for his set, Derek felt a certain nagging in his head. Who the fuck was this guy to ignore a hung muscle-god like him?
---
Weeks went by. And it was the same story. Whenever Derek was on the floor with Roy, he would try to crack him. Get him to agree to a session -- or at the very least, get him to stare at. During one hot summer day, when the A/C broke down, Derek worked out without his shirt on and in an achingly tight pair of compression shorts that did little to hide the girth and weight of his considerable endowment. But still, nothing. Even when he made sure to practice his posing routine in the group fitness room directly opposite of Roy, the fat slob didn't so much as take a glance as Derek's oiled up body flexed in nothing but a pair of custom-ordered posers. Derek was starting to feel like he was going nuts. Even his clients, who took little notice of anything except Derek's incredible physique and intimidating bulge, started to comment that he seemed distracted whenever Roy was around. But the fat gym-goer did nothing but walk on the treadmill and paid no attention to the trainer who sought his attention.
---
It was a late Friday night at the gym. Derek swaggered into the locker room wearing his skin-tight under-armor compression leggings and a baggy string tank-top with the gym's logo on it. He had finished a chest and shoulders work-out earlier in the day and was still pumped, but tonight he would be working. One of his clients was a high-powered lawyer and often worked late. Although Derek didn't much like staying late in the gym, the man was insistent, and was more than generous with his payments.
Derek threw his red gym bag onto the locker-room bench. It was quiet tonight. Towels were bunched up in piles around the room and the tiled floor was still wet -- the after-work rush had just ended and had left some chaos in its wake. Opposite, Derek noticed Roy was changing into a towel. Roy looked up as he closed his locker and saw Derek give him a wink. Roy grimaced with disgust. He turned and headed towards the showers and sauna.
Derek's phone beeped. It was a text from his client.
"Gotta work late tonite. Cant make it. Tomorrow same time?"
Derek grunted with impatience. This was the third time the prick had cancelled. He texted back: "U better fukkin be there!"
A moment later, "I like it when you get tuff... u can take it out on my ass ;)"
He stuffed his phone back into his bag. Derek now had an hour to kill before his final client. He looked towards the showers and the sauna near the back of the room. The attitude Roy had been giving him always nagged at the back of his mind. Derek was a fucking sex god. Every man and woman who he'd ever encountered would have gladly given their right arm just to sniff his underwear, and here was this fat guy who could not seem to care less. It was unreal.
Derek decided he'd find out what the hell Roy's deal was. More than that, he'd get Roy to eat out of his god damn palm and make him beg to do so. No one rejected Derek.
Roy sat on the bench in the sauna, his back against the hot cedar planks in the gym sauna. Sweat was starting to accumulate on his flabby stomach. He enjoyed the quiet of the gym at this hour, no one to bother him, time to relax. He closed his eyes.
Suddenly, he heard the door open and slam shut. Opening his eyes, he saw Derek lean up on the opposite wall wearing nothing but a white towel around his tight waist.
"Hot in here," Derek said, raising his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow and flexing his mammoth bicep in the process. Roy only grunted and closed his eyes.
Minutes passed. The heat of the sauna began to make Derek sweat. His skin turned into a golden sheen as droplets began to form and then drip down his huge pecs and around his thick abdominals.
"Yo, bro," Derek finally said. Roy half-heartedly opened his eyes in response.
"Yo, you know, shit, this is weird and all, but you mind if I drop my towel? I like feeling free in this thing, you know? Just askin'."
Visibly annoyed, Roy said "I'd rather you not, but it's a free country".
"Shit, thanks man," Derek replied. Teasingly, and very slowly, he used his beefy hands to undo his towel. Roy watched as Derek dropped the thin fabric onto the floor.
Even Roy was taken aback. He'd heard the gossip of course, but they didn't do much justice to the real thing. Beneath his achingly well defined apollo's belt and neatly trimmed pubes, Derek possessed an enormous and thick cock that hung almost half-way down his muscular thighs. Beneath this were two balls the size of billiards. Derek's member was just as tanned as the rest of his body and was already glistening in the heat.
"Damn that's much better," Derek said, noticing that Roy had finally started to stare at him. "Yo is it cool if I sit next to you man?"
"Alright," Roy said cautiously. Derek nodded and took a few steps forward, his ample schlong slapping his thighs, before turning around and settling right next to the old man.
"Ah that feels good," Derek said. He opened his tree-trunk sized thighs wide, bumping into Roy's skinny legs. Roy jerked at this sudden intrusion into his personal space. He could smell Derek's cologne mingling with his heavy musk. Between his powerful legs, Derek's horsecock was lolled lazily onto the bench.
"Ah hell that's hot," he said, and flipped his considerable schlong to the left and over his muscular thigh. The thick member managed to reach almost all the way across.
Derek leaned his wide, well-muscled back into the wall and put his hands behind his head, flexing his bulging arms in the process. "Feels good in here."
"Fuck. You know man," Derek said, turning to look at Roy, who was fixated on Derek's fat cock. "You know when you've just finished a work out and you get super fuckin' horny? Fuck, that's me right now." Derek said, bringing one hand down to his chest.
"Like, fuck, I'd give anything to have a hole to ram right now." He started to massage his huge pec. "Yeah, like it's a goddamn wire going straight from my muscles to my dick. You know? I mean, I got nine fuckin' inches soft! Always gets me into trouble." Derek looked down at Roy, who was still staring. "Not that I'm queer or anything, but man, like fuck, even if you put your hand on my cock, I would probably nut." Derek made his flaccid cock pulse on his thigh and he started to pinch his nipple.
"Yo, dude, I'm so fuckin' horny right now. You think you could help me out? C'mon, just put your hand on my dick. That's all I need man. Shit, no one's gonna come in here."
Still fixated on Derek's cock, Roy was breathing shallow. "You want me... to touch that?" He said.
Derek leaned back further, pushing his pelvis up, "Yeah bro, just gotta get some release. You know?" He looked over at Roy who was further pushed into the corner by the horny bodybuilder.
After a minute with Roy doing nothing, Derek started to get flustered. "What's your deal man? It's right fuckin' there. You don't want to touch it? You've been staring at it for the past five minutes!"
"I've been staring," Roy said, clearing his throat, " because that has to be the tiniest little weiner I've ever seen."
Derek's brain seemed to short-circuit. What the hell did this flabby old fart just say?
"Are you serious man? You haven't even seen me hard. Thirteen-point-seven inches and thick as a goddamn tallboy. Who the fuck are you to say that?" Derek fumed.
"Makes me sick just looking at it," Roy continued, "can't believe you'd show that withered little twig to anyone."
Derek suddenly stood up and faced the old man. His 6' 7" frame loomed large in the small sauna. "I have the biggest god damn cock and hottest fuckin' body in this gym, and you don't even want to touch it?"
Roy rolled his eyes, "You are a fat, baby dicked loser, buddy, you don't impress anyone."
Derek was getting pissed. But despite himself, he felt his huge cock start to throb.
"Yeah, well check this out," Derek said trying to ignore this development, and quickly struck a double bicep pose in front of Roy. His wide lats splayed out, Derek looked like a sculpted statue of a greek god. Every muscle on his body glistened and rippled with raw masculinity.
Yet Roy only sniffed in disapproval. "You look like a bag of turds. Who the hell do you think you're impressing?"
Alarmed, Derek felt his cock growing at this comment. Quickly he spun around and flexed his triceps behind him.
"You really are pathetic," Roy gruffed at the sight of the muscle stud posing, "I'm surprised you even leave your goddamn house looking the way you do."
Derek felt his cock get even harder. No one had ever insulted him like Roy was doing, yet secretly, he almost yearned for more of it. And, to his horror, he felt his donkey dick harden. In moments, Derek's member had fully a engorged into it's full 13.7 inches and pointed with a slight curve towards the left wall.
"Turn around, boy," Roy barked. Derek did so, his mammoth endowment pulsing over a foot in front of him.
"Christ, it's even smaller than I thought." Roy chortled.
"You want to see what a real fucking man looks like, faggot?" Roy said, standing up. "Take a god damn look", and with that he dropped his towel. Ray's tiny cock bounced out from under his fat rolls and wiry gray bush. Beneath it were two balls the size of berries. His shriveled, flaccid penis was only an inch-and-a-half big.
"You think... that's a man's cock?" Derek said incredulously. He looked up at Roy, who's face had turned dark. Roy took two steps forward, forcing Derek's cock upwards as Roy's flabby stomach pressed into the stud's chiselled abs. Derek's huge dong was pressed firmly between the two men, it's apple-sized head just peaking out from Roy's fat. Although a foot shorter than him, Derek could sense the fearlessness emanating from Roy.
"What the fuck," Roy growled, "did you just say to me, boy?"
Derek felt his knees getting weak. His monster dick began to leak pre-cum. He couldn't believe it. How was this fat slob getting the better of him? Derek was the epitomy of strength. The prize that everyone and anyone lusted after. He felt his mouth go dry. The heat of the sauna was suddenly becoming overwhelming. He could smell Roy's rotten breath as the older man gave him a piercing stare.
"I -- I'm sorry..." Derek stammered. Roy pushed further into him, causing Derek to stumble backwards into the wall.
"You're sorry what, boy?" Roy said. Derek felt his huge muscles get weaker.
"I'm sorry -- sir!" Derek said, feeling his chest tighten.
"Good, boy. Now, tell me what you just fucking said to me." Roy said, bringing his face up to Derek's chin.
"I said -- I said, 'that's a man's cock'! -- Derek stuttered, noticing Roy wasn't backing down, "-- That's a man's cock, sir!"
"Good. Now, prove it." Roy said. He reached up one hand to Derek's canon-ball sized shoulder and pressed him down. Like jelly, Derek's muscular legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his leaking cock slapping violently onto Roy's pasty legs as he went down. Sitting on the floor of the sauna, his legs doubled beneath him and with his huge balls resting on the floor, Derek looked up at the fat troll.
"What do you want, sir?" Derek said, his cock feeling like it was about to burst. A steady stream of pre-cum was now burbling out of it.
"You want my cock, boy?" Roy asked. Derek looked forward. Roy's little dick was still flaccid. It smelled rotten, as if Roy hadn't ever washed himself. But all Derek wanted was to submit to the man before him.
"Yes sir," Derek said, leaning his muscular torso in. He couldn't believe what was happening. He had never, ever in his entire life sucked a man's cock before. But here he was, about to totally submit himself to a fat slob.
"You really want to suck my cock, boy?" Roy said, and brought his hand down. He held his tiny cock between his fore-finger and thumb, up to Derek's lips.
"Fuck yes sir, I'll give anything to have your cock sir!" Derek begged. He was about to close his mouth around Roy's member when a sudden gush of hot, salty liquid poured into his mouth and overflowed onto his pecs.
Roy laughed, his jowels jiggling, as he pissed in the over-sexed muscleboy's mouth and splashed his stinky brown urine across Derek's glistening muscles and bloated dick.
"Then you're gonna have to be a real fuckin' man to get it" He said, turning around and grabbing his towel.
Derek, still on his knees, was in a state of shock. His rippling body flexed as he tried to come to terms with what just happened. He had been about to give Roy everything that any man would dream of having, and more, only to get pissed on. Yet his huge cock was rock hard and still dripping.
"Christ you're disgusting," Roy said, pausing at the sauna door, "clean up your fucking mess, faggot." And with that, he left.
--
Days later, Derek was working out at the gym. He still couldn't believe what had happened. As he pushed through his last set of bicep curls, he saw Roy on the treadmill nearby. His life had become a haze. His clients had also noticed something was off, as Derek had been having instances of 'softness'. It was only when he thought about what Roy had said, started to think of himself as being less than a man who barely deserved to get pissed on, only then did he find himself able to get his huge cock at attention.
Wearing only a pair of briefs that did little to contain the muscle stud's pendulous gonads, Derek waited in the locker room for Roy to come in and change. When the fat old man strolled through the doors, Derek immediately walked up to him.
"Roy, uh, look, man, we need to talk," Derek said. Roy looked down at Derek's rippling muscles and bulging underwear. Derek's thick cock and fat balls were clearly outlined in the sheer fabric. He noticed that the girth of the member was already becoming engorged.
"That is fucking gross, boy." Roy growled, "Put some god damn clothes on. Maybe then I'll listen to you."
Sheepisly, and with his cock starting to strain out his briefs, Derek returned to his locker and put on his clothes. Returning to Roy, who had changed as well, Derek leaned in:
"There's a utility closet -- behind the showers. Meet me in there..." Derek said. Roy grabbed the growing bulge in Dereks jeans and gave a viscious squeeze, "Meet me in there, what?" He snarled. Derek winced, he felt his balls being compressed, "Meet me in there, please." He said. Roy squeezed harder, Derek now started to squirm, "Meet me in there please, sir!" Satisfied, Roy relented and let go of Derek's crotch.
Minutes later, the two men stood inside the utility closet. Around them were mops, cleaning detergents, and gym towels. Roy stood at one end, his arms crossed. Derek, in his jeans and tight tank top, stood opposite.
"I want to submit, sir," he said, looking down. "You want to fuckin' submit?" Roy scoffed. "A piece of useless shit like you? You're not man enough to deserve it, boy." "I'll do anything. Anything you want, I'll do, sir. Just let me be your bitch. Show me my place, sir."
"You don't get it, do you?" Roy said, looking Derek up and down. Derek's tight shirt was virtually painted over his flawless, muscular torso. Roy saw Derek's enormous cock was fully hard and pushing painfully down the leg of his jeans. A wet spot had started to form on the fabric at the end.
"It's always about you, isn't it, faggot? Gotta always be the cock of the walk at the gym. Fuck every hole that comes by. Pump your muscles and think you are god's gift to the world." Roy said. "And then I come along. And all of a sudden, your muscles and your dick don't mean jack. And you fuckin' like that, don't you boy?"
Derek felt his cock harden even further. Roy slowly walked over and began to roughly undo Derek's belt.
"You want to be a man? You want to submit to me?" Roy said, violently pulling Derek's jeans down his muscled thighs.
"You have to give it all up," he growled, ripping down Derek's briefs and tugging out his engorged 13.7 inch meat.
"A real man sacrifices. A real man doesn't give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him. A real man doesn't use his cock to get what he wants."
Roy looked down at Derek's pulsing cock, a string of pearlescent ooze now dripping greedily from the head. "You want to be a real man, boy? Then you have to make sacrifices."
"Wh -- what do you mean?" Derek stammered. Roy grabbed Derek's donkey dick and squeezed it with both of his calloused hands. Derek felt as though he were going to orgasm at any moment. Pre-cum streamed from his huge member as Roy's sandpaper like skin rubbed into its veiny shaft. Roy began to squeeze more, and more, bringing the meat up vertical between them. Derek felt as though his cock would burst like a balloon.
"You want to know what I think of your cock and your balls, boy? This ugly piece of shit you think everyone wants to look at as you stroll around the gym in your fuckin' jock and your shorts?" Roy said. Then, with a sudden flair, he hocked up a ball of mucus and spat it right onto the oozing tip of Derek's salami.
"That's what I think of it. You aren't a man, boy. Not until you make a sacrifice." Roy said, backing away. "Your meat and potatoes are useless, boy. No one is impressed by it. No one ever will be," Roy continued, "You will never be a man until you get that fuckin' fact through your thick goddamn skull. Or is your brain just a bunch of useless muscle, too?"
Roy turned and left the utility room. Derek stood silently, jean around his thighs, as he watched the oozing loogie slop down to the floor on his stream of pre-cum.
----
"Sacrifice..." Derek said, pacing around his apartment shirtless. It was a week since the utility closet, and he hadn't seen Roy. But his words kept ringing around his head. He knew what Roy meant.
Derek hesitantly approached his counter. On it was a cutting board and a meat cleaver, as well as a butane torch. His huge, sculpted body shivered. But his cock was hard as steel in his jeans. He knew what he had to do. He unzipped his fly, letting all 13.7 inches of his meat flop onto the wood board, his huge balls resting on the cool surface. After fastening a cock ring around the base of his meat, Derek gripped the cleaver with his right hand. With his left, he flicked on the kitchen disposal unit in the sunk. Its metal blades whirring, waiting for their meal. He took a deep breath.
----
Almost a month went by. Derek had cancelled all his training sessions with his clients. Yet no one at the gym seemed to notice, or care, that Derek was missing.
Then, one day, the door chimes rang. It was Derek. Grimacing, he hobbled into the gym lobby. To the girl at the desk, he looked noticeably softer. His hard facial features appeared to have gained some fat. His definition was gone. And, unnervingly, his crotch, which usually bulged obscenely, seemed emptier.
"I need to find out some information about a member," Derek said in a whisper after approaching the counter.
"Jesus, Derek!" The girl at the desk said, "We were wondering what had happened to you!", she lied. "Where have you been?"
"Roy. I need to talk to Roy." Derek said, ignoring the question.
"Roy? You mean Roy who's always on the treadmill? He's such a sweet guy. Too bad about the treatment though." She said.
Derek's face went pale. "Treatment? Do you have his number? I need to talk to him really urgently. I -- I made the sacrifice. I'm a man now. I -- I have to tell him."
The girl looked confused. "Sorry, Derek -- he cancelled his membership. He didn't give us a new number. He had to go back out east for more radiation therapy. Poor guy." With a pregnant pause, she quietly leaned in, "I heard he had cancer ... you know, "down there"."
Looking up, she saw all color had drained from Derek's face. Concerned, she tried to reassure him: "Oh don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine. But I can't imagine what its been like for his wife since his you-know-what stopped working. Can't believe she has been sticking with him through all this."
"Still," she said absently, "he always seemed to be a man about it."
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