Another good night at the gym. Tonight I did back and legs. I was on the floor working the weights easily for an hour and a half. It felt sooooo good. I pay lots of attention to my back, because the next time I get whipped, I want nice knots of muscle for the Top to aim at.

Here's something novel. As I was on my way to the shower, I checked to see if I could detect my musckelee self re-emerging. Slightly. But, there was something that looked like a proto-gut hanging over the towel. Yes! It just very well could be that I'm getting a gut! If true, that's a wonderful development. I stand 6'2. If I were able to gain some weight, I'd be a minotaur. I haven't worked my abs in about ten years. (I do work my lower back and torso, as those muscles need to compensate for my weak abs or else I'll have lower back problems.) A gut would indicate that my body is changing. So, in addition to muscle mass, I could very well develop that subcutaneous layer of fat I've longed for since forever. I could... be a bear! This will, of course, be incentive to work out all the more, lest my Welsh and English ancestry manifest itself and I develop a barrel chest and broomstick arms and legs. But, if I manage to gain weight, I won't have to spend as much time and attention working on my legs. Carrying around the extra pounds with all the walking one does in New York City will give me calves like volleyballs and thighs like Trans-Atlantic cable in no time.

Now, this could be related to the fact that I've been diagnosed as hypo-thyroidal. Hypo-thyroidism is characterized by weight gain. When my doctor told me this, I laughed at her, and said she must have it backwards. At the time, I was taking in about 120 grams of protein a day and all the carbs I could put away without vomiting. ("Oh, Waiter! Please take away this olive oil and bring me some butter, please!") And, I was not able to get to 190 lbs, no matter how hard I tried. But, since I came to work for Boss Sunshine, I haven't had health insurance, so I've put myself on a drug holiday from my thyroid medication. Which is essentially speed. It felt downright Sysiphean: every morning I would down a protein shake made with whole milk yogurt, Designer Whey protein powder and Ovaltine ("Little Orphan Annie drinks Ovaltine and so do I! 'Arff!' says Sandy.") and then take my thyroid medication to ensure that I would burn that off while I walked my dog around the block.

My one regret is that once I lose my 32" waist, I'll have to get new pants. This could be quite the boon for the Leather Pride Night auction. Or, maybe they'll expand to fit my increased girth.

I've long entertained Gainer/Coach fantasies. That's relatively obscure, so I'll explain. A Coach has his eye on 'Ex-Jocks' (that tends to be the ideal), muscleboys in their twenties who are getting somewhat sedentary now that they're no longer able to devote the time they once were to sports. The Coach sort of seduces them into letting him feed them. (In some erotic fiction I've read, the Ex-Jock is abducted and force-fed through a tube.) Slowly, a belly starts to develop. The ideal is a nice round, firm pot. There's a guy I've talked to on-line who has turned a few well-formed young men into cigar smoking porker fatboys. Here's a decent example of some of that erotic fiction to give you an idea what's going on.

Anyway, suffice it to say that after dinner tonight, I'm finishing off that half-gallon of Coffee Chocolate Chip ice cream. And then I'm gonna jerk off thinking about the gut I hope to have.

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