IGX

Fat Cat wrote:If stupidity could kill, this book would be a lethal weapon. I encourage you to never, ever read this book, and I regret the expense, but more so the time I wasted reading this puerile trash. I learned nothing, except perhaps that Kubik is more carnival barker than author, and more idiot than savant.

Tales from the Sauna House, part 1

The kid walked up to the old storefront. It was beaten, weathered concrete, slightly decayed, like you would see in any rundown area in the South. There was a small sign that said "The Sauna House. Free Weights and Free Love. An Alternative Gymnasium.". The young man took a deep breath and went inside.

"Hello!" the skinny little fellow shouted out, as he entered the gym. The rest of the sweatsuit clad clientele turned to check him out. He was a skinny man, a kid, actually, and was wearing leather boots, leather jeans, and a little vest made of the finest cow leather. All black, the deepest black, kind of what you see looking into an asshole at midnight. His hair was slicked back in a pompadour, to rival that of the Literary Lifter's.

"Hey kid!" growled another patron, "You can't wear that leather stuff in here, this isn't that kind of place. We are just a group of guy who like other guys here, we aren't into the S&M fist fucking shit!" The kid just stared and the tremendous men, training hard in their grungy sweats. "We might be pumpers, but we're not toners!" The rest of the trainees roared in laughter. The kid looked at his size 9 knee high laced up black leather boots.

The manager came out, he was a big man, probably 6'2" and 250 lbs of pure muscle, ok, maybe a small bit of paunch. "Boy, you're new here. Let me talk to you and show you around."

"Kid, my name is Paul. I am the manager here. Now, you don't look like you belong here. What's going on?"

At this question, the kid broke down, and started sniveling. "You see, sir, all the other leathermen laugh at me because I am puny. I am never picked for fun and games, even when I am in the bath houses. The other guys are burly men, with biceps and glutes like bowling balls...and I am just this!" The poor skinny fellow lifted up his arms, which resembled those of a typical RT trainee, kind of skinny and flabby at the same time, obviously with no strength or muscle at all. He had a small little gut to go with his stooped shoulders and his thin, thin legs. The manager looked on him, and a curious look of pity came into his eyes. "Hush son, c'mere." He took the young man into his arms and gave him a hug. "Now, we'll set you up right, eh? You want to get bigger and gain some weight, you have come to the right place, and you don't have to worry about discrimination, because we are all gay men here."

The kid looked up and sniffed "Really, you'll help me out."

"Sure," said the gym manager, "But you have to do exactly what we tell you to."

"Well," the kid replied, "That's never been a problem before."

"I think you'll do fine. Let me introduce you around."

Part II.

We left our young hero in the clutches (quite literally) of Paul. He had just entered the infamous Sauna House Gym and is about to embark upon his initiation into the dark rituals of that ill-favored place.

"C'mon over here, let me introduce you to someone," Paul said, taking the young man by his puny, insignificant shoulder and guiding him over to a monstrosity of a power rack. There was a large fellow there, his dirty gray sweatshirt was hooded, and it was pulled up. The young man noticed some stains about the glute and groin area. "This here is Poopie." says Paul. Poopie turned around to look at the young kid. His eyes were like two blue ice cubes in a savagely handsome face, which looked planed from granite.
"Uh...how do you do Poopie?" said the kid.

"Who the fuck is this skinny little queer?" said Poopie. There was no animosity in his gravely voice, only curiousity, and some resentment at being interupted.

"Uh...I'm Bryan." said the kid.

"Well, what the fuck are you doing in that get up?...for God's sake, this isn't New Orleans and this isn't Bourbon Street."

"Uh...I want to be big and burly...but I can't seem to get there."

Poopie looked into Paul's eyes. He then looked at the kid again, those ice blue diamonds drilling into his soul, penetrating him. The kid felt violated, and liked it. "Well, son, this is what proper training will do for you." With that he pulled off the sweatshirt. His pale nordic skin was clear and defined with an impressive array of muscle. The kid dropped to his knees. "Hit me." he whispered in awe.

Poopie looked down at him, and then looked at Paul. "He isn't ready for this yet, go take him somewhere else, like the Ballys downtown."

Paul grinned and said "I think he will do fine." He grabbed the kid and hauled him up on to his feet. "C'mon, we've got a lot of people to meet."

He walked the kid up to a door. There were two tiny window in the door. "Look here, kid, this is the combatives room."
The kid peered through the window. Two naked titans were struggling mightily with each other, their muscles standing out is sharp contrast as the attempted to throw each other to the floor. The appeared to be oiled up. "We adhere to many ancient greek principles" Paul started, "Many of us believe wrestling is the finest embodiment of individual mastery. The guy on the left is Steven, the guy on the right is Charles. They are living together, each having discovered they love the other while at some seminar in DC."

"I think I went to that seminar." said the kid.

"Let's leave them alone...c'mon this way."

They walked a little further into the building. "This is the sauna in here" Paul said, opening a door. Several figures sat up as the light invaded the room. "Keep on keepin' on, Gentlemen." Paul said.

"We have all sorts of good, solid basic equipment here, and pretty soon we'll meet someone who will help you set up your program, since it will need to be basic and brief. At least to start out with."

"Ok" said the kid. His eyes taking in the wonderment and majesty of the place.