Nightmare At the Elm Street Gym, Porterhouse Gym Series pt. 3-4

Greg was dabbing at the bump on the back of Ron’s head with a wet towel, cleaning the slight amount of dried blood out of his hair, while the big man sat on a bench with his bloated legs stretched out before him.

“You got a good sized lump but it doesn’t look too bad, just scrapped up a little.”

Ron winched as the gym owner dabbed some alcohol on the tattered skin. Ron was exhausted after his ordeal and lack of sleep. Once finished Greg stepped around to his front side and offered the man a hand and helped pull him to his feet.

“I lived in my office the first six months after I opened up. I’d sold my house to bank roll this place.” Greg looked back at his training partner with a grin. Ron had to turn sideways to get his broad shoulders through the office door. The guy looked spooky so wide and bloated.

The gym owner went over to a sofa on the far wall and tossed the cushions aside. He then pulled out a queen sized bed. “It isn’t real comfortable but nobody will bother you here. I’ll lock the door to the office. Just try to get some rest and things will look better in the morning.”

Ron was past conversation and seemed dazed. He just grunted as he flopped down on the bed face first and stretched out. The freaky muscled man pulled a couple of cushions under his head just as Greg tossed him a couple pillows from the closet. Ron stuffed these under his tiny belly filling the void under the too small waist bridging the thick mass of his upper body and ballooned ass. The bodybuilder was all ready snoring as Greg locked the door and left his friend.

Greg went out to the snack counter and fixed himself a protein shake. He sat down with a tablet of paper. He didn’t know what to make of Ron’s story. The stuff about the balloon blowing scar-face didn’t make anymore sense the TJ story about the freak with the giant syringe. Both guy surely must have suffered some whacked out nightmare. Yet he couldn’t argue that something had happened to Ron - the way certain muscles on his body had grown while others remained untouched. AS for TJ who ever has put on that kind of size over night. Greg had never heard of anything remotely similar to what had happened to his pals. Ron’s story of the freak in his room sounded like nothing more than a bad dream or drug hallucination. That possibility cast a new light on things but hallucinations wouldn’t have blown their bodies up like it was. Greg knew Ron was a pretty straight arrow except for his use of bodybuilding drugs; the man never even drank beer. It was hard to believe that his late night visit was the result of a bad trip on some recreational drugs. As for TJ you just might never know what he would be up to. Greg drew circles on the pad of paper as he turned the possibilities over in his mind.

He supposed it might have been a reaction to the juice Ron was on and yet he had never seen a reaction like that resulting in massive overnight gains in only certain areas. Sight injections were one thing but this was all together something else. Greg knew that most of the guys who were ‘on’ at the gym got their stuff from the same guy. A race horse owner who had a vet willing to supply him with whatever he wanted. Greg started a list of guys he knew were his customers and quickly had a list of seven or eight. He flipped through his notepad until he found the page that he had made the notes on earlier of the guys who hadn’t been lifting lately. All seven of the names were on the list. For the first time since TJ had walked in looking blown up like a blimp, things started to make some kind of sense. The trainer picked up his cell and hit the number for his supplier. It rang several times before a groggy voice responded on the other end.

“Stan, that you?”

“Ahuh”

“Sorry, I woke you up. It’s Greg.”

“No problem”, the man croaked. “Sup?”

“You had anybody having strange effects from any of your stuff lately??

“Like what?” Stan’s voice suddenly sounded clear as the man woke up.

“Rapid weight gain and muscle blowing up like balloons.”

There was only groggy laughter on the other end. “That’s what people are hoping for isn’t it?”

Greg grunted as he realized what he had said, “Yeah, I guess but not like this. Ron showed up here tonight with his arms and legs so swelled up he can hardly move. But his belly hasn’t grown an inch.”

“Went hog wild with the site injections or synthol?”

“Don’t think so. His upper body is all blown up too and he’s put on over 100 pounds in less than twenty four hours.?

“Shit, you got to be bullshitting me! 100 pounds - impossible?”

“I wish. He was supposed to do that show in the morning. But here’s the thing TJ came in this afternoon all hulked out with a roid gut big enough to hide a ten year old in.”

Stan just grunted, “A huh?”

“They are both all freaked out and look scary. The other thing is they both had some wild assed stories. Ron was going on about waking up with some freak in his bedroom that did it to him by blowing up some kind of voodoo doll like a balloon. Now Teej thinks some drug dealer did it to him by poking a giant syringe into his navel and filling him up with some new age growth. You heard from anybody who has been having hallucinations from juicing?”

“Not at all and all I know about TJ is he has been hounding me about some super – assed growth he’d read about for weeks and I just blew him off. So you can’t pin that on me.”

“ I’m not pinning anything on you – just wondered if you had heard of anything like this? I might be off in left field but business has dropped off here at the gym lately. I was going through a list earlier of the no shows over the past couple weeks and it’s mostly the serious guys. After Ron showed up, I got thinking maybe it was the juice. I made a list of guys who I knew got some of your last shipment and they are all on the list of no shows.”

“Like who?”

“Luke, Benny, Brian, Sean, Granger, JT”

Stan sounded nervous and broke in, “No, I don’t know nothing about it. I got to go.”

“Stan, I wasn’t accusing you o? Stan, you there?” The line was dead. He hadn’t expected to freak the guy out. He just wondered if it could have been a possibility.

Greg was reminded of the way Brian got off the phone earlier that morning when he checked in with him about not lifting lately. He still suspected that the mechanic knew something he wasn’t telling. Greg stood up and grabbed his keys off the counter. First things first, he was going to drive out by Stan’s place before the guy set his house on fire and went on the lam thinking he was going to be busted for dealing tainted shit at any moment. The bodybuilder looked down at his list of Stan’s customers and picked up his pencil and added another to the bottom of the list. He wrote: ME.

The big man had only driven a block when he passed Brian’s garage. There were lights on even though it was past midnight. The garage was located in an old gas station that had had its pumps removed. As Greg drove by he noticed Brian’s motorcycle parked along the side of the building where the man always left it.

Greg changed his plans as he pulled to the side of the wide vacant street and made a U-turn. He decided to check in with Brian to see if he knew

anything.

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NIGHTMARE AT THE ELM STREET GYM PORTERHOUSE GYM Part 4

Brian Get’s a Blow Job

Brian Sanders had been working at his garage late one afternoon. He was finishing up a couple of odd jobs before he went to the gym to work out on his way home. He was behind in his work after letting one of his biker buddies talk him into going along with his bike to the track after lunch. The guy needed his advice on some after market add-ons for his new bike. Brian knew he shouldn’t have wasted the time but had wanted to try his buddy’s new bike out. One of the perks of being a business owner he told himself. Next thing he knew he was in his leathers and boots and running the thing for all it was worth down the track as if he might set a new speed record. The quick trip turned into three hours of fun and now he was paying the price.

Brian had finished installing new brake pads on the car he’d been working on that morning and was just finishing up the tire repair on a dump truck. In his haste to finish his work, the muscled man still wore his old worn leathers though he had pulled the top of his suit off and tied the arms around his lean waist. He wore a stained wife beater that barely contained his muscled torso. Brian’s lower legs were encased in high leather boots that were scuffed, dirty and laced up nearly to his knees. The man was only about 5’7” but sported about 196 pounds of lean muscle. Brian loved to work out almost as much as working on engines. He rationalized to his buddies that he spent so much time working out to gain the strength needed to work alone at his garage but most everyone knew the beefy mechanic enjoyed the attention his bigger than expected muscles brought him. Few who saw him in the leather coats he favored doubted for a minute the guy was jacked when they saw him.

Brian had just finished putting the duals back on the rear of the truck when he decided to grease the undercarriage as he knew the owner was a bit sloppy about keeping up his service routine. He grabbed a grease gun and kicked over a wheeled cart and lay down on his back on it. Just before he rolled under the truck he picked up the pneumatic wrench he had used to tighten the lugs and popped the air hose off the tool with a hiss. He then snapped the hose onto the grease gun that laying on his rippled belly and rolled under the truck. There was a hiss/click sound as he hit every zerk under the machine.

Brian heard the bells jingle on the door to the garage. He paused and waited for someone to say something. There was no response, the mechanic hit a couple more grease fittings. He heard footsteps coming his way and glanced out. He could see a heavy pair of biker boots heading his way. “Eddie you here for your car? It’s out front and the keys are on the counter.”

A deep voice responded, “Ahh, I’m not Eddie.”

Brian pushed off and rolled out from under the truck. He saw a man in a brown leather jacket with white strips up the sleeves standing over him. The glare from the setting sun coming through the windowed doors behind the man made it hard to get a good look at him. Brian didn’t recognize him. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I was heading through town and got a tire going flat with no spare. I was told you could help me.”

Brian lay on his cart with his legs hidden under the big machine. He glanced over at the clock above the work bench. It was already past five. He looked back over at the stranger and beyond him at the classic Chevy parked before the doors. The car was beautiful; all tricked out and looked as though it might have traveled by time machine straight from 1971 to his lot outside.

“Sweet ride.”

The man grinned showing gleaming white teeth. “Thanks, it gets me where I’m going, I guess.”

“Sure, I can help ya but you mind if I finish this truck first? Will take just a couple minutes. There is a control for the door on the third bay there hanging on that cable. Hit the green button on the top row and it will open the door if you want to run your car in.”

Brian slid under the truck as the man opened the large overhead door. With a roar the stranger pulled his car in as instructed. The man started loosening the lugs and had slid a floor jack under the back end by the time, Brian had finished.

The short man walked up wiping his hands on a rag. With a creak of leather the customer stood up and turned toward him with a grin. “Thanks for helping me out bud.” The customer said. He held his arm out to shake Brian’s hand. “I’m Chris.”

“Hey Chris.” Brian gave his out stretched hand a shake. “Good to meet ya. I’m Brian. Looks like you know your way around a garage.”

“A bit – my Dad owned a garage almost exactly like this one.”

“Oh yeah? Here I can take over. You don’t want to get dirty.”

The man stepped back as the mechanic hooked his wrench up to the air line and with a screech had spun the lugs off the flat. The strong man pulled the tire off the car and bounced it up onto the repair stand and with a few quick movements had the tire off the rim and clamped into the frame and was hunting for the source of the leak. He glanced back up at the customer who was busy scanning pictures of his bikes and cars on the walls. Chris was shorter than Brian but even stockier. The sleeves of his leather coat were creased over mounds of muscle and his shoulders were broad and thick. The short coat ended above his waist as the man leaned forward studying a photo. His tight jeans clung to his thick legs and ass. Chris obviously knew his way around a weight room as well as a garage. The man turned and hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and leaned back as he watched Brian pull a screw out of his tire with a pair of pliers. Chris had forced the front of his coat open exposing his thick muscled chest. He wore a red and white striped shirt that fit like skin and showed off his meaty pecs to perfection.

The mechanic glanced up and said, “Looks like you work out?” as he clipped a small grinder onto his air hose that spooled from the ceiling.

Chris waited until the man had finished roughing up the inside of the tire in preparation for the patch before he responded. “Some. I was going ask if you knew of any good gyms around here as I might be hanging around town for a few days?”

“Sure do – the best gym in three counties is about a block down the street – Porterhouse Gym. Can’t miss it. The best mix of a hardcore gym and a fitness center that you could hope for and is pretty reasonably priced. The owner is a buddy of mine.”

The two easily talked about cars and lifting as the mechanic finished the repair. Brian immediately liked the guy and thought about inviting him to work out with him after he finished with the repair. In no time Brian had the tire ready to put back on the car. He sat on a wheeled cart and wiped down the dust on the lug bolts before he lifting the tire back into place. He noticed the end of one of the shocks looked damaged and offered to take a closer look.

“I noticed it creaking this morning but hadn’t checked it out.” Chris explained.

The mechanic jumped up and grabbed a flashlight and the flat cart and slide under the front end. “No big deal. Loose bolt. I’ll see if I can tighten it up but you might want to replace soon. Could you hand me that air wrench?”

The wrench appeared under the car. “Thanks.” Brian gave the offending bolt a couple a plugs with the pneumatic wrench and it started to tighten but before he could finish the air hose popped out of the coupler connecting it to the wrench. The hose dropped down on the muscled mechanic’s belly. “Damn it!” He said as he reached down to reattach the hose but before he could close his hand around the hose it shot out from under the car.

“Well, hell. You see that hose out there somewhere?”

Chris let out a chuckle. The dirty metal wheels of the cart creaked as Brian slid out from under the car. There was a steady hiss then coming from the hose. The man peaked around the car imaging that he had cut the hose in two again. To his surprise the biker saw that the air hose had the blower attachment hooked into the coupler. It was just a brass fitting like a short pipe that could be used to inflate air mats and beach balls. The mechanic used it to blow out radiators and such. He glanced over to the tray fitted into the top of his tool box he kept his air tools in. The fitting was missing. Much stranger than the appearance of the tool connected to the coupler was that the air hose was floating in the air as air escaped out of the fitting with a loud hiss. It wasn’t shooting about the room like a fire hose out of control but several feet of hose had rose from coil on the cement floor and was standing straight up. The end was bent forward toward Brian and the air was hitting his body tossing his hair around and rippling his clothes. Dirt from the floor was stirred up.

“What the fuck? Do you see that?” Brian exclaimed.

Chris grinned while nodding in the affirmative and raised his muscled arms in a questioning manner while opening his eyes wide.

Brian reached out to grab the hose and pop the fitting out of the end but freakier still the hose seemed to jump back from his hand. “Well son of a bitch!” The mechanic rose up on one elbow and leaned out after the hose. There was no doubting it this time. The hose skidded back across the floor just staying out of the muscled man’s reach while the brass fitting darted up and down like a head watching his every movement. The air hose looked like a cobra rising up as if to strike. The mechanic chuckled a bit and looked over at Chris. “You ever saw anything like that before?”

Before the car owner could respond, Brian’s attention was drawn to the fifty gallon air compressor’s motor kicking in across the room as the hose drained the pressure low enough for controls to kick in. The air tank on the compressor was the size of a small refrigerator. The man sat up on his cart and started to get up to shut the compressor off. There was more than one way to conquer an erratic air hose that seemed to have a mind of its own. Brian had barely moved when the hose shot forward at him. The man jumped back and fell on his back on the cart. The hose struck again and stabbed him in the belly. It didn’t bounce off but ripped through his stained shirt right above his navel. Startled Brian grabbed the hose in his strong hand and tried to pull it back. The hose just twisted in his grip and kept slipping into his navel as though it had a mind of his own. “What the fuck.” He grunted as he grabbed it with both hands and tried with all his strength to pull the hose away from him but it wouldn’t budge. The mechanic was panicked now. The hose was giving off farting sounds as the air was defected off his muscled belly but the hose still kept twisting and inching forward as if honing in on its target. Then the loud hissing became muffled and Brian’s panic grew as he felt the cold metal deep in his navel and the hissing within his body. The man jerked on the hose hard but to no avail. The loud rumble of the compressor vibrated in Brian’s head as he felt his body stiffening. His arms almost instantly were hard to bend and his grip on the hose loosened as his thickening hands slid down the hose buried into his belly.

Brian raised his head up and looked down at his muscled body. It looked and felt as if his muscles were blowing up. His old shirt was straining now and he could hear his leathers stretching under the pressure. The man tried to get to his feet but failed again. His arms sprang away from the hose inflating him and stuck out stiffly. Just then he remembered the stranger. He looked over at Chris standing there watching the whole scene.

The mechanic reached out for the man and yelled, “Help me Chris! I’m blowing UP.”

Chris’s face broke into a cocky grin and the man slowly stepped forward as if he had all the time in the world. He crotched down in front of Brian and gave the ballooning muscles in his arm a poke with a thick finger as if what was happening was nothing out of the ordinary.

Chris wasn’t bad looking. His hair was dirty blond and stood up all over his head in spikes. The man had a tanned good looking face and a broad flat nose that made him look rugged. His lips curled into a cocky grin as he looked Brian right in the eye and said, “I already am helping you bro. When I get done with you – you’ll look like you swallowed the air hose!”

“Swallowed the air hose” was a phrase Brian used around the weight room whenever anyone showed some recent gains. His mind drifted back to the day he ran into one of the trainers named TJ who had rapidly packed on forty pounds after he a contest he had dieted for. The mechanic hadn’t seen him for about a month so the change was dramatic. Brian remembered patting the trainer’s roid gut quilting his nylon wind jacket and saying, “TJ you look like you swallowed the air hose this time, big guy.” The big trainer had looked pleased with the compliment.

Brian’s mind flash backed to the present as the leather suit tied around his waist now felt like it was cutting him in two. The man’s upper legs had bloomed and the air was filled with the straining sounds of his leather covered legs. His thick boots still corseted his lower legs fighting their inflation but the pain was tremendous. Brian’s upper body was swelling up wider and thicker by the second and he now over hung his tiny cart by several feet.

The man looked into the eyes of Chris as the man sneered at him. The ballooning man noticed that he had one green eye while the other was as black as coal. They both looked dead. Brian felt a cold chill down his spin. “How … I mean …Why?” Was all he could manage to say?

Chris grunted but didn’t reply. The man rose to his full height and put a booted foot on the edge of Brian’s cart and gave him a shove. The muscle blimp shot across the floor until a swollen shoulder made contact with the work bench. He could see Chris bent down and putting the tire back on his car.

Brian lay there helplessly inflating. The pressure building up within his body was tremendous. The man could witness little of the changes as he lay on his back but he could feel his body blowing up bigger and bigger. His thighs were starting to rip open the leather suit he wore as he paddled his massive legs helplessly in the air. The man’s boots were starting to give way as well as seams split and the laces popped out of the metal grommets.

The mechanic’s dirty shirt had been the first to go, shredding into tattered pieces. Now Brian was painfully aware of his ballooning belly rising up from his once ripped waistline. The man had always been proud of his lean muscled abs and they had drawn him much attention from girls at the bars he frequented. The bolder ones often asked for the honor to pull up his shirt and rub their hands over the rippled muscles. Brian was only too happy to comply knowing that with little effort he would be taking company home after last call.

Now all the man could think of was the massive roid gut he saw rising slowly above his inflated pecs that until now had been blocking his view of anything below. There was a rumble as Chris started his car followed by the slamming car door. A breeze kicked up around the garage as the man backed his classic car out. The large over head door creaked back down as Brian lay there thinking, ‘Don’t leave me blowing up. I’ll pop!”

Brian could see the grinning man watching him through the glass paneled doors as it slowly came down. Chris gave him a cocky wave and as the freak gunned his engine the man and his car faded away as if made of mist.

“Holy shit!” was all Brian could say. Immediately the air compressor died and the evil air hose fell limp and slid out from his belly button that now stood out on top of his beach ball sized gut like a golf ball. Brian didn’t want anyone to find him all inflated like that so the man started to roll his body from side to side. He was able to roll off the cart and roll up until he was resting atop his swollen gut ball. Brian could feel the remains of leather suit still tied under his gut ball flapping around his legs. His belly was so blown up the man’s legs were straight under him. Brian worked a broad shoulder over the top of the work bench and after a couple tries was able to stand up. There was a small mirror mounted into a metal sign hawking motor oil above the bench. Brian could get glimpses of his inflated body in the 8”x10” mirror by shifting. The tattoo of an eye on his right delt looked faint and distorted after the inflation. His muscles were too blown up to see much in the small mirror except for the web of tiny pink stretch marks that now covered his tanned body.

The mechanic didn’t waste any time. He waddled through a small over head door that separated the main garage from a large windowless storage area in the back where he stored racks of tires, supplies and bikes he planned to rebuild. His office was in a corner of this area. Brian hit the control to the door with his shoulder, as the door slowly rolled down from the ceiling the man was confident that he was sealing himself away from prying eyes until he could come up with a solution to his predicament.