More Than Muscle

Chapter 1-2

The next morning, Ernie stepped out of the shower, dried himself, and wiped the steam off the mirror with his towel. Ever since he’d awakened he’d ruminated on his mother’s comment from the night before about making changes. He’d even been so distracted by his contemplations he’d foregone his usual morning shower jerk-off, the need being diminished due to the previous night’s nocturnal emission.

Now he stood staring at his reflection in the mirror. Changes? Yeah, he needed to make some changes all right. Not in his employment situation as Mrs. Boudine had intimated, however. He loved his job as a program developer for a financial software company. He wasn’t about to alter that part of his life. The change he needed to make was to move out of his mother’s house and get a life of his own.

He had plenty of money, so getting himself a place to live and leaving home would be the easy part. Well, not easy, as he’d have to face his mother’s reaction. She would play the guilt card about being left alone to rattle around in this big old house with all the memories of his dearly-departed father haunting her.

Ernie had paid Dr. Jonas enough over the years to at least reap some of the benefits of those hours spent on the man’s burgundy leather couch spilling his guts, while at the same time fantasizing about having s*x with the handsome psychologist. He’d learned from therapy that to make decisions based on guilt was an invitation to stress and anger. So, he’d just have to buck up and face her ploy like the mature man of that he was—or hoped he was.

It was the getting a life part that would be the real difficulty. Ernie was gay and in the closet, deeply in the closet. He was so fearful of admitting it to anyone, other than his anonymous internet s*x buddies, that not even Dr. Jonas had been informed of his s****l orientation.

He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. He smiled, squared his shoulders, and pumped up his chest. Then he exhaled with a deflated snort, his shoulders slumping. He’d never had s*x with anyone other than his left hand and his computer. Why would anyone want to? He was dumpy! Yeah, okay, he wasn’t bad looking, with dark hair and dark eyes. But his body, that was another story. He felt he looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy. He didn’t feel he even had an interesting hair pattern, just wisps covering his chest and stomach. Who would be interested in him even for casual s*x, let alone a relationship?

Yes, if he was serious about starting this new life, he’d have to do something about this body of his. At least that was one thing he could change—with a little effort anyway. That had always been the issue for him. He’d started exercise programs many times. He had a workout bench in the basement, a set of dumbbells and a barbell. All were gathering dust. He’d even bought workout DVD’s. He’d start a program with gusto and in a week or two be finding excuses why he couldn’t work out that day. So, maybe this time he needed to have a little incentive. Maybe a membership at a gym and having a trainer would be something that would make him stick to a plan. If he paid good money and had someone to whom he was responsible for his progress it just might work. That is if he could muster up the courage to actually go to the gym.