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Old October 7th, 2009, 05:42 PM
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Stress Relief (Part 2)

By Richard Jasper

Part 1:

* * *

Normally Roger just hit one body part on a given evening but that stuff Gabe had given him was so good and he had been so stressed out that he decided to go all out.

He did back first, then legs, then chest, then shoulders, then arms. He'd finish one set, take 30 seconds, do another set, take 30 seconds, do another set, have another sip from the Nalgene bottle Gabe had given him, over and over again.

Eventually, the overhead lights flashed on and off.

Roger looked up, confused, and then looked around. The maintenance guy had the vacuum cleaner out, there were only 3-4 guys left in the gym, and it was pitch black outside. Big Mac, the gym owner, sauntered over and stuck out his hand. Big Mac was called what he was called because at 6'4 and 350 lbs. he was still one heckuva powerlifter, even though he was pushing 60 years old.

"Buddy," Mac said, shaking Roger's hand up and down. "I gotta tell ya, that's the most impressive work out I've ever seen anyone do. You're a fucking beast!"

And then he wandered off, leaving Roger speechless, and not just because he was getting a great view of Mac's awesome back.

Roger staggered into the locker room, showered, changed, had his hand shook by the three other guys who were left, who all said variations on what Mac had said, and then dragged himself to the front desk.

"Yo buddy," Gabe said. "I wondered when you were going to finish up."

Roger felt like he'd been run over by a truck, he was that tired -- and yet he wasn't remotely sleepy or in pain, in fact he felt, he realized, fucking wired, and totally starving.

"Uh," Roger said. "What time is it?"

Gabe winked at him.

"Closing time, Big Man, 11 p.m.," Gabe observed.

Roger's mouth fell open.

"How long...?"

Gabe chuckled, an event that surely showed up on most seismometers in Western North America.

"Mmm, I make it about 5 1/2 hours," Gabe pointed out.

Roger's eyes widened.

"How is that possible?" he asked.

Gabe clapped his big hand on Roger's shoulder.

"Well, man, you did a LOT of work. I guess you didn't keep track, huh?"

Roger shook his head, causing Gabe to grin.

"That's OK, I did," Gabe said, and showed Roger a list of what all he had done:

Bench squats
Hack squats
Lunge squats
Leg press
Alternating single-leg leg press
Standing hamstring curls
Prone hamstring curls
Leg extensions
Dead lifts
Bent over rows
Single-arm dumbbell rows
T-bar rows
Seated low rows
Lat pull downs
Upright rows
Barbell shrugs
Dumbbell shrugs
Inverted dumbbell shrugs
Bench press
Incline press
Decline press
Floor dumbbell press
Dumbbell flyes
Pec deck flyes
Cable crossovers
Military press
Behind the neck press
Push press
Side-lateral raises
Front raises
One-arm dumbbell kickbacks
Preacher curls
Concentration curls
Cable curls
Freemotion curls
Reverse wrist curls
Overhead cable triceps extensions
Cable triceps pushdowns
Barbell skullcrushers
Behind the neck one-hand dumbbell triceps extensions

"Oh My God," Roger said. "And what's this X30 mean?"

Gabe looked at him.

"Sets, of course," he drawled.


Gabe chuckled.

"No, doofus, S-E-T-S, sets! You did 30 sets."

Roger was trying to wrap his head around it.

"But, I mean, that doesn't add up. Look at all these..."

Gabe interrupted.

"Well, I know you were in la-la land but the fact is: You, Mister Man, did THIRTY sets of each exercise. Got it?"

Roger looked like he was going to faint, then perked up.

"Holy moly," he said, finally. "No wonder I'm so tired!"

Gabe handed him his refilled Nalgene bottle.

"Drink up," Gabe said. "And let's go get you something to eat!"

* * *

They went in Gabe's Prius since Roger didn't really trust himself to drive or for the Focus to actually hold Gabe!

"Gee," Roger said, when they started up. "This is a lot roomier than I would have expected."

Gabe just nodded and rested his big hand on Roger's leg, like that was where it belonged. In a few minutes they were pulling into Big Boy, the oldest, most popular all night diner in town.

"How did you know?" Roger said. "I love this place!"

They went in and sat and ordered and talked and ate and ordered some more and talked and ate and Gabe kept refilling Roger's Nalgene botte with the pitcher of water Gladys, the elderly waitress, left on the table. Eventually...

"Ahem," Gladys said, refilling the pitcher once again. "I really have enjoyed you boys's company but I'm about to go off shift."

Roger jerked upright in his seat.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, please bring the bill," he said, then looked at his watch.

"Four a.m.?! Holy cow!"

Gabe settled the bill, gave Gladys a huge tip, and steered Roger back to the Prius.

"So where are we headed?" Gabe asked.

Roger just looked at Gabe. He suddenly realized he was totally in love with this man, not to mention totally in lust with him.

"Uh..." Roger said.

Gabe turned to Roger and pulled his face to his own. He gave Roger a deep passionate kiss. If Roger had been light-headed before, he was positively dizzy by the time Gabe finished.

"You're bunking with me tonight," Gabe said. "That OK?"

Roger settled back into his seat, nodded, purred, and dozed off.

* * *

Roger's eyes flew open.

He was in a king size bed, nude, the sun streaming through unfamiliar windows.

Next to him in the bed was a giant hunk of a man.

"Gabe," he whispered, and then it occurred to him.

It wasn't a dream!

They had made love, passionate, frenetic, tender, comedic, awe-inspiring love, for hours on end. Roger remembered all of it!

"Damn," Roger said, "I'm late for work!"

He took a hurried shower and then pulled clothes out of the spacious closet, pulling on the hand-tailored silk suit, the Egyptian cotton monogrammed dress shirt, the hand-dyed Italian tie, and the bespoke fine leather shoes.

Roger kissed Gabe's cheek, grabbed his sleek briefcase, and climbed in behind the wheel of the expensive car in the driveway.

At the corporate headquarters Roger strode into Hightower's office, placed his briefcase on Hightower's desk, and clicked it open.

"Please don't hurt me," Hightower said, cowering behind his desk.

Roger caught his reflection in the window looking out over the landscaped parking lot. The $5000 suit did nothing to disguise his massively muscular, 330 lb. Olympia calibre body.

When I'm standing here like this, he thought. Hightower can't even see the fucking door! No wonder he's pissing his britches.

"Dont be silly, Hightower," Roger continued. "I think you'll find the severance package more than adequate. Maybe you can go back to school and find something you're suited for. No point in making yourself miserable along with every one else!"

Hightower glanced over the provisions, his face flushing with relief.

"Roger, I just don't know what to..."

Roger put his hands up.

"Let's not get into that, OK? It didn't work out, that's plenty. Jenny will be along in a few minutes to go over the exit check list."

You slimy little bastard, he added to himself, then he turned on his heel and exited Hightower's office.

Striding into the executive suite, Roger sat behind his polished marble high-tech desk and automatically reached for the Nalgene bottle that always sat to the left of his big screen monitor and...

What the hell?!

Roger looked around the room. He looked at the desk. He looked at the monitor. He stood up and looked in the mirror. He reached his thick powerful insanely muscular hand into his pocket and pulled out the Bentley key fob.

At that moment Gabe came through an adjoining door that appeared to lead to an equally plush office and sat down in the Art Deco leather arm chair facing Roger's desk.

"I'm sure about now you're wondering what's going on, aren't you?"

Roger stared at him.

"What the fuck did you do to me?"

Gabe smiled.

"I made it possible for you to have what you deserved, that's all."

Roger snorted.

"Don't I wish!"

Gabe's smile grew wider.

Uh oh, Roger thought.

"Well, first, please tell me I'm not delusional, OK? As I recall, yesterday I was a middle-aged wannabe bodybuilder stuck in a third rate cube farm and a crapped out Ford Focus."

Gabe nodded.

"Yes, you were."

He must be the devil, Roger thought.

"So is this some kind of trick? Did I sell my soul or something?"

Gabe just shook his head.

"It wasn't like that, babe. I just tweaked something, that's all. Remember?"

And then Roger did remember.

He remembered meeting Gabe when he was 24. His parents were pressuring him to take that job with Quomedia, the one he knew he was going to hate, and to give up on his idea of opening a supplement shop and a bodybuilding career. And then he'd met Gabe, sweet, beautiful, sexy Gabe, who'd given him a bottle of Stress Relief, and said.

"You can do whatever you want with your life, handsome. Make sure it is what you want!"

Which is what Roger had done. Building his Olympian physique, using Stress Relief to turn his little supplement shop into the premier supplement company in the U.S., retiring from bodybuilding after his sixth Olympia win, not quite 40 but already a billionaire success story with a physique every bit as good as it was when he was on stage.

And Gabe.

His husband Gabe.

The man who had shared his life for the past 15 years.

"But how? And why?"

Gabe smiled.

"I was your guardian angel, darling. The first time around you made the wrong choice and I watched you all those years, getting sadder and sadder. Last night in the gym I decided it was time to give you a second chance. Not something I'm really supposed to do..."

Roger looked at Gabe.

It clicked.

"You were my guardian angel, you mean, right? You gave it up to be with me."

Gabe chuckled.

"Heaven is what you make of it, Roger, you know that."

Roger thought about that a moment, then went around the desk and gathered Gabe in his arms.

Indeed, I do, Roger thought.

I do!

[The END]

Last edited by arpeejay; October 7th, 2009 at 05:52 PM.
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  #2   Add to philat99's Reputation   Report Post  
Old October 7th, 2009, 06:19 PM
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Fantastic! I just love "guardian angel" transformation stories! You hit all the right spots! 30 sets of each - Wow!

Now I have to try to find that wonderful story of the little boy who transfers his guardian angel to his dad. Help me with the title, please.
--It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change. Charles Darwin
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Old October 7th, 2009, 06:21 PM
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I'm pretty sure the Guardian Angel was named Charley in that one, or the kid was. I can't recall author / title though (I'm bad that way!)


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  #4   Add to Lucas88's Reputation   Report Post  
Old October 7th, 2009, 08:56 PM
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NICE!!! A little magic...a little MONEY...a lot of MUSCLE....very nice.
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