Thank goodness for gym sightings, otherwise I don’t know what I’d ever draw!
Now for some slash:
“Sorry, not interested.” Jackson grunted, pushing past another suitor. This one was almost as big as Jackson—probably a catch by most gay men’s standards—but Jackson wasn’t looking for just any catch. His type was highly specific: clumsily awkward, twinkish, dirt-skinned, and really good at dancing instead of working out.
“I want,” Jackson paused, eyeing a scrawny Filipino boy dancing between workouts, “I need him.” He grunted, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, his heavy chain and padlock jingling from the movement. From the moment he laid eyes on that Dutch-Filipino mutt struggling to do a pushup, Jackson knew he had found his Master.
The feeling was stronger than any “love” Jackson had known. It was a sense of belonging, a need to please. But first, he needed the kid to even acknowledge his existence. Until then, the chain served as a chastity device for Jackson. Only his Master could take it off him.
He’s wearing a kilt. I tried drawing it in plaid, but it didn’t quite come out.
Also, body hair is really hard to draw!
Ugh, I need to get back into drawing. I’m so rusty and all my stuff is so sketchy!
Anyway. Enough doodle complaints…here’s some slash fiction:
A Personal Trainer by day and Disk Jockey by night, JT had experienced the highs and lows of being an A-list Muscle Bear. His good looks and excellent beat-matching had become a curse he could never escape…everyone wanted to be him (or with him) and the attention suffocated JT.
“Oh, to be THAT scrawny,” JT sighed, eyeing the wimpy Filipino kid struggling with bench presses. He was one of the lucky ones: his unfortunate genetics would prevent him from escaping Twinkdom while his adult acne would protect him from popularity. And yet, there was something endearing about him that made JT’s heart flutter.
“Excuse me, JT?” The skinny Filipino’s voice pitched, forever stuck in puberty, “Can you show me how to be a Muscle Bear?” JT quickly turned him away, warning him he would never be big enough to become a Muscle Bear before hurrying off. His heart pounding…how could he fall for this twink when he needed to protect him from the contagious burdens of beardom?
He was actually wearing a tank-top, but the drawing looked much better shirtless.
This guy is the epitome of a muscle daddy. Every time I see him I’m blown away by how perfectly he fits the definition. Not only is he big, tall, and beefy, but he has this harem (I kid you not) of muscle boys that workout with him. (I’ve got Gym Sightings for weeks). Today I caught him changing out of his workout gear and into some thick, leather boots…right in front of my locker.
High fashion, clubbing and rainbows were all alien to Scott Roughmen. Never a fan of the nelly gays that plagued the Bay Area, he lived a masculine lifestyle of cars, baseball, dirt, sweat, wrestling and men.
“Men,” he muttered as he finished his workout and headed towards the locker room. Love was always a fickle subject for Scott, as men never seemed to stick around long enough to explore it with him…or perhaps he was too picky. His ideal man was Filipino (or Dutch), athletic, average height…
“Can I get to my locker?” interrupted a golden Filipino-Dutch boy. Surely, this was fate.
One day someone I draw will find my blog and freak out that I wrote such horrible smut about them. (Unless it’s accurate?)
Gym Sightings sketch dump, hope y’all don’t mind. Here’s an old one:
Greg Valentino was a medley of talents: model, actor, playboy…with abs like these, he could have anyone. Anyone, that is, except Dylan. He had evaded Greg’s charm surreptitiously, completely ignoring him when he rubbed his abs. Instead, he seemed to float around these heavyset powerlifters.
“Grrr…. What do they have that I don’t?” He shot another look at Dylan, the first man ever to ignore Greg’s allure.
He was in love.
Special Guest slash-fiction by multi-masked (thanks again!):
As Neil finished his set, his heart pumping hard, he noticed across the room this handsome Dutch(Maybe Filipino?) guy checking him out. Although muscular, Neil grew up playing Dungeons and Dragons, yearning for someone that held the same ideals as him. He started imagining himself with the man across the room, playing a game, rolling a 6, 20+ damage. The thoughts were too much for him, as his package, already hard to conceal, started to grow ever larger. Knowing that it would be hard to conceal, he played it off, hoping his new crush wouldn’t notice how big he was. If anything, he didn’t want his crush to think he was a top rather than the power bottom that he is.
The best part of these Gym Sightings is the horrible slash fiction. Thanks again, multi-mask for writing.
Wow. I saw this guy in my gym a while back and I almost creamed my pants. The epitome of my type, blond, beefy, the guy was huge. At least 6’2”. He was doing chest workouts with a tank-top that had trouble covering his belly. So I would catch it peeking out every-now-and-then. Bliss.
This was the first time Kerry Clark had been to this gym at lunch time. Practically empty with a small group of really hot guys—just how he liked it. His latest obsession? That Dutch guy doing push-ups. He looked almost Filipino…perhaps half?
“Guys like that never go for big guys like me,” he mumbled to himself, staring longingly at his happa-crush. Kerry moved to California to find a husband, but he never had the courage to make the first move. And now his crush was walking towards him, making un-faltering eye contact.
Every step closer his heart beat faster.
“How many more sets do you have?” Kerry’s stomach jumped into his throat. He couldn’t react. Couldn’t talk. Why did he always fall for the straight guys?!
I love guys with feminine names. Kerry, Terry, Allison, Judy…it’s so cute! Especially when they’re big and burly to counter their name.
Gym Sighting slash fiction:
Despite the packed locker room, nobody seemed to notice Agrius struggle to get out of his workout clothes. “Rude queens,” he muttered to himself. This wasn’t a problem back in the South. Everyone was so helpful to get his clothes off; a politeness he missed in this bustling city gym.
I’ve been gymming at Golds more often. It’s a bit out of the way, but the beefcakes who frequent this gym have inspired quite a few doodles. Totally worth the extra hour it adds to my commute.
As is tradition with my Gym Sightings, here is a piece of horrible slash fiction to accompany the doodle:
The last thing Gunter wanted was to brave the cruisy showers at Gold’s. Wherever he went, Gunter felt hundreds of eyes following him. He hated the attention and longed for the life of a house-husband.
“If only,” Gunter sighed, keeping his eyes down to avoid eye contact in the showers…but in looking down, Gunter saw a short, frumpy Filipino/Dutch boy fumbling to get his shower working. “Wooooof,” Gunter mumbled absent-mindedly. He was a complete train wreck, which complimented Gunter’s Adonis-like perfection. A fortune teller warned Gunter of this man almost twenty years ago—skinny, yet fat, and short, with dirt skin and adult acne—this was his soulmate.
“Oh my god,” the boy squeaked in his pitchy voice. Gunter shook his head, and quickly pulled the shower curtain. His heart beating fast…he finally knew what love felt like.
Old Gym Sighting from Daly City:
“This should get his attention,” Thought Hunter O’Pinoy. The squat rack held nearly 800lbs using half the plates in the gym. “He has no choice but to watch and wait for me to finish with these 45’s.” Hunter gripped the bar, his chest slowly rising as he lustfully eyed the Happa on the neck machine.
“Heh,” he chuckled under his breath, widening his stance under the bar, “it’s amazing what I’ll do to get a guy’s attention. Finish him, Hunter.” He kissed at the reflection of his gym crush—now watching intently—and pressed deep into the squat, his chin nestled into his gut. This weight was nothing, but maybe if he faked trouble he could get the boy to spot him?
Gym sighting doodle
Tiger, lion, Mega Shark…and now a redhead. Christopher’s reincarnation line was comprised of big, dangerous predators. And his latest body was no exception. Much like the colourings of a poison frog, his bright red fur warned the men of Gold’s Gym that he was a ruthless heart breaker. (via Noodles and Beef)
