This guy at my gym has been hounding me to come work at his exotic car dealership for years now, said I'd make a killing there, but I always just brushed him off. I mean, being a car salesman isn't exactly anyone's dream job, not to mention the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off my jock. I figured he just wanted to stare at my muscles... and my bulge... all day long at work.
Then one day, after the hundred-millionth time of him asking, I'd finally had enough. We were in the locker room and he was going on and on as usual.
"Come on John, you'll make a killing at my dealership! Just try it!"
"Na," I said, "I'm not selling cars as a profession!"
I was a personal trainer with a rockin bod. The pump from my workout was making my muscles look particularly sick that day. I always tried to eat clean and stay really lean. I love that ripped low-bodyfat look. Guys at the gym were always trying to get me to enter a bodybuilding competition. I knew I was big enough, and shredded enough, but I never really had the desire.
"You don't have to make it your profession!" Martin went on. "Try it out on the weekends and you'll be surprised."
"Surprised at what? How sleazy I feel? Haha!" .... "Sorry, for the dig..."
I caught a glimpse of myself in the locker room mirror. My pecs were fucking enormous, towering over my shredded waist. Sweat was pouring off my chest and pits down onto my washboard abs, twisting and turning down through the crevices of my stomach and onto my drenched jock.
"Aw, no prob, muscles." (his pet name for me) "I'll tell you what... I'll suck your dick if you try it out for two days and don't walk away a richer man..."
"Fuck you Martin!" I shouted at him, "You'd suck it anyway!"
I grabbed my huge bulging package with both hands, big wide grip, and shook it at him a little.
"Hahahaha!" he laughed, all the while his eyes were glued to my crotch. "I'm serious, muscles. I'll suck it if I'm wrong!"
What a fag, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. I don't know what snapped in me. Maybe I just liked him too much, but any way you cut it, he got me to come around.
"Fine! One weekend!" I said. "But if I don't make a small fucking fortune I'm shoving this fat cock right down your throat! Hahahahaha!"
I flexed some more in the mirror before leaving, enjoying my pump. Double bi, side tri. God my arms are huge! Maybe I would try one of those bodybuilding competitions after all. I would be fun to strut around in one of those tiny posing suits, if my cock 'n balls would fit!
___________________________
Saturday I showed up for work and Martin immediately greeted me and showed me around. Fuck he had some nice cars in his showroom! Lamborghini's, Porsche's, Ferrari's, you know, all the good shit.
"Damn Martin! These wheels are hot!"
"Thanks," he said, "I see you're dressed to impress."
I was wearing the nicest clothes I had in my closet. I guess it had been a while since I had to wear something nice. You wear nothing but athletic wear when you're a trainer. Anyway, the polo and slacks that I dug up had gotten a little tight, ok really tight. I'd been putting on some serious mass lately and my clothes were not keeping up.
My massive pecs jutted out from my chest stretching the fabric of my polo to the limits, while my thick bodybuilder back and traps pushed out the other way. My arms had grown HUGE, like IFBB pro huge, and prevented my shirt sleeves from coming down all the way. In fact, they could barely even contain my cannon-ball delts. I loved the way my arms were exposed in the sunlight. My biceps and triceps were giant hunks of muscle hanging on to my upper arms. My thick, ripped, vascular forearms rippled with every movement of my hands and fingers.