Come to Me 3
by Richard Jasper
Eric's phone rang.
"Yo."
Laughter on the other end.
"Eric, man, is that you? Sam here," the deep masculine voice said.
It had been a month since Eric felt the big man's thick arm draped across his shoulder at Sam's and Clarissa's engagement party.
The big meat stirred in Eric's pants.
"Hey, bud, yeah, it's me," Eric replied.
Much as he was happy to hear from Clarissa's hunky NFL fiancée, Eric had no idea why he'd be calling. And Sam's idle chit-chat wasn't advancing his understanding one bit.
Cut to the chase, the voice said.
"Cutting to the chase," Sam echoed. "I wondered if you wanted to catch a workout with me this weekend. I want to try a new gym and Clarissa says it's in your neighborhood."
Suddenly, Eric's thick rod was rock hard.
"Sure, man," Eric said. "That would be great. I've been wanting to check it out, too, it's supposed to be pretty fucking hardcore."
Sam laughed again.
"Man, you are such a meathead," Sam said. "I guess Planet Fitness doesn't cut it for you?"
Eric grunted.
"Fuck no," he answered.
And at this point, he thought to himself, even Gold's doesn't cut it.
Which was why he was thinking of scouting out The Iron Pit. Word on the street said it was the perfect set up for powerlifters and hardcore muscleheads.
Like you, the voice said.
"Yeah," he told Sam. "I may not look like a powerlifter…"
Sam chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard," he continued. "But you lift like one!"
They set a time. Eric was in the locker-room changing when Sam walked in.
"Shit man, look at you!"
Eric grinned.
In the month since he'd last seen Sam he'd added another 10 lbs. of muscle, twice his usual rate. The extra-large tank tops he'd bought a TJ Maxx a couple of months earlier now fit him like a glove.
"Check it out, man," Eric said, lifting his arms into a quick double biceps shot. "These puppies are up to 19 ½" now. Not bad for a little geek, huh?"
Sam's big hand squeezed Eric's right arm.
"Son, these ain't puppies," Sam said. "They's hogs!"
Down boy, Eric thought. Down, down, down!
Any more Eric's dick was a good 7 inches soft and fully hard it was approaching 10 inches. The compression shorts he wore under his baggy sweats helped keep it under control…but just barely! With Sam around…?
Icebergs, glaciers, arctic chill, Eric thought to himself.
As luck would have it, Eric needn't have worried.
He was too busy keeping up with Sam, who despite weighing in at more than 275 lbs., was as highly conditioned as any track-and-field athlete. One set after another, cranked out with perfect form, minimal rest in between, plus dynamic stretching, calisthenics, chin ups, push-ups, the whole nine yards. Sam never stopped moving – and neither did Eric.
But that wasn't the best part.
The best part was that Eric kept up with Sam the whole 2-hour workout, set for set, rep for rep, pound for pound.
Even when they were doing incline bench with 585 lbs., six 45 lb. plates on each end of the bar.
Sam was agog and, by the time they finished, slightly out of breath.
"You're a fucking monster, you know that?"
Eric allowed himself a slight nod. He couldn't tell if the big man was turned on, freaked out, or pissed off.
A little bit of all three, Sam told himself.
"Let's see if we can get those guns over 20 inches," Sam said, at last. "How's that sound?"
Eric beamed.
"That sounds fucking great!"
Sam looked around, then nodded at the onlookers.
"This is called curling in the squat rack," he said, basically daring anyone to call him on his gross violation of gym etiquette. "Don't try this at home!"
He slapped a couple of 45 lb. plates on each end of the 45 lb. bar, 225 lbs. total, then started cranking out reps.
After 12, the onlookers started counting with Eric.
"13, 14, 15, 16…"
WHAM!
Sam slammed the bar back on the rack.
Then he flexed his big arms. After that workout, they had to be pushing 23 inches!
"Wanna try it?"
Eric grasped the bar.
"Hey, kid," one of the powerlifters said. "Don't strain yourself! That's more than you weigh!"
Eric's eyes gleamed.
"I'm stronger than I look," he said.
He grasped the bar and slowly, cautiously raised the weight.
The whole room sucked in a deep breath – would he make it?
Then, to their collective amazement, he slowly, cautiously lowered it – at exactly the same pace.
WHOOSH!
The sigh was audible. There were maybe two other guys in the room who could curl that much weight, all of them bigger by far than Eric…
Who calmly proceed to crank out another 11 reps, at exactly the same pace Sam had done.
At the 12th rep, Eric paused.
"You guys gonna count for me, too?"
A nervous titter ran through the crowd.
"13, 14, 15," each rep the chant was louder, "16! 17!! 18!!! 19!!! 20!!!!"
For the last rep, Eric lowered the bar to the rack just as slowly as he had done the first rep.
Sam looked like he had been pole-axed.
And there was a tent in his pants that would have given Eric's a run for its money.
No wonder Clarissa looks so smug, Eric thought.
"How about it, Sam? Shall we add a couple of quarters and try it again?"
Then he hit that double bi again. They were an inch bigger than when they'd stepped into the gym.
Sam visibly sagged.
"Big Man," he said. "That's enough for today. I'm whupped!"
He extended his big hand to Eric, who took it and pulled the linebacker in for a hug.
"Thanks for the workout," Eric said loudly. "I think I know what gym I'm joining!"
Sam laughed at that.
"You do that, Buddy," he said, draping his big arm around Eric's totally pumped shoulders as they headed to the locker-room. "I'll just make do with NFL training camp, if it's alright by you!"
On their way, Eric squeezed Sam's totally pumped triceps.
"I gotta get me some of these!"
Sam chuckled.
"Babe," he said. "At the rate you're going…"
Come to me, the voice said. You will make him look like a little girl.
To be continued