Auto-Sthenolagnia: My Search for a Fitness Dom

I envision him...

Prying my jaws open with his thumbs,

Pouring protein shakes slowly down my throat.

"That's a good boy."

Jogging besides me,

Tanning my hide when my pace slows to a crawl.

Counting my reps,

Forcing me to lift more than I've ever had,

"C'mon! Push it out!"

     For the last few months, I've been looking for a "Fitness Dom".  It's like a workout partner, with a BDSM aspect.  This would be just the catalyst I need to break through to the next level.  Having a kinky companion to weight train and run with me, would be a great addition to my life.  I am in love with the idea of being tangibly transformed by a relationship.

I envision him...

Pulling the shirt up from my sweating torso,

"You're looking real good there, Boy."

Prying my jaws open with his thumbs,

He shakes protein in spurts down my throat.

"That's a good boy."

     In my book, sex doesn't only make everything better, it makes everything okay.  If he wanted to bind my arms and lock me onto a StairMaster for hours...  If he wanted to greet each rep of my sit-ups with his erection...  If he wants to swat my ass to add speed to my squats...That would be fine by me!  Ultimately, I believe that I would accomplish more under his discipline than my own.  Plus, the reward of sexual favors would be a great motivator.

     I've been posting ads here and there, with little luck.  People find the prospect of forced exercise and diet domination alluring, but I haven't found anyone willing to go all the way.  The people I have encountered are there intellectually, but the problem seems to lie in the transition from theory to triceps extensions.  Another bump in the road: finding someone fit enough themselves to take on the challenge.  It's one thing to shout orders in between fistfuls of popcorn, but I'm looking for someone who's also looking to transform.

     For now, I'll continue to fantasize.  Nude yoga and stretching.  Long distance runs to an erotic end.  A thousand and one ways to take a protein shake.  I'm sure something will come up.  Maybe someone would read this post and respond?

Deadly Sin #6: Envy

B

     The erection doesn't sprout as expected.  Clicking through the slideshow, my pants doesn't inflate with the usual steel.  Cobblestone Abs.  Pillar-like Thighs.  Thick Hamstrings.  Display after display of strength and power, my blood takes a detour elsewhere.  Rippling calves burns into my eyes.  Square jawlines gnaw into my memory.  Arms that could build nations hammer away into my soul.  The erection doesn't sprout as I expected, instead, another part of me awakens.
     Racing with a chubby lump bouncing at my crotch, I find myself jogging to the gym.  Images of perfection flashes through my mind, adding length to my strides.  Plump glutes could be mine.  Chiseled V-shaped frames.  Defined deltoids.  I feel like a diesel engine fueled by envy; coveting which each blast of its pistons.  I will be better if it kills me.
     I imagine the upkeep necessary for one of those glorious bodies and how much I've been neglecting mine.  Twenty-piece nuggets.  Volcano hard tacos.  Cheese filled pizza rolls.  I sentenced myself to forty-five minutes on the Stairmaster.  An hour on the treadmill, with full incline.  At this moment, I become a self-indulgent sadomasochist.  Preacher curls...bench presses...dumbbell squats become my weapons of choice to beat the dwarf within to submission. 
       Perhaps there is another use to pornography besides being a masturbatory tool.  Maybe there is a stimulating quality beyond sexual.  I know: I'm playing with fire.  I know: I'm chasing a phantom.  But, I think I need to feel like shit to wield the results I'm looking for.  My feelings of inferiority gives me strength.  Comparing myself to gods, keeps the indwelling sloth at bay.

I will be better if it kills me.

     The images above are from Rick Day's new collection, PIONEERS.  I really can't explain it: Day's work turns me green with envy!  Every time without fail, I'm heading to the gym or towards the ground for some impromptu push-ups.  I'm infuriated to the degree that the images aren't erotic, they're purely motivational.

No one else's work gets this response from me

I have no explanation.