Tim made his way down the stairs from the weight room on the top floor of the Y to the men's club change room. After an intense upper body workout his pecs felt like they would burst out of his chest. Tim packed 285 pounds of muscle on his 6-foot 2-inch frame, but his chest was his best body part -- 58 inches relaxed. Pumped up with his lats flaring he easily pushed to 65 inches. Years of heavy incline bench presses had made his upper pecs separate from the lower pecs, giving him a pec shelf below his neck. But heavy shrugs meant that his neck was part of a huge mound of trapezius muscle above his chest framed by melon-sized shoulders. Some guys could boast a six-pack. Tim's was an easy eight-pack that sometimes looked like a ten-packer. Tim was no slouch in the back department. Heavy dead lifts and bent-over rows gave Tim a wing-span that flared out looked like it pushed three feet across tapering only close to his waist. The surface of his back was like a moonscape with a Christmas tree peak starting in the center of it flaring to a freakish 30-inch waist. It was there from the back that Tim boasted another shelf, from glutes he had grown and ripped with the squats he had done as a high school football player years before. Tim hardly ever did squats now, but his thighs were still 35 inches around easy tapering down to calves better described as cows that were 25 inches. On any other frame his biceps and triceps pumped up to 24 inches on his arms would have looked weird. But on Tim, it was perfect, freakish proportion. Tim was a muscle god, and he knew it and looked the part with shaggy, naturally wavy, light brown hair and a darker brown, trimmed full beard. His workout tank left little doubt as to his sheer upper body size. But even the loose workout shorts could not hide powerful quadriceps and hamstrings. Those workout shorts even as loose as they were couldn't hide Tim's other attributes, especially after a blood-pumping session of lifting weights. When Tim burst into the men's club change room, he couldn't wait to get out his work out gear, kicking off his shoes ankle socks, shedding the tank, workout shorts, and boxer briefs that could only exercise some control. All eyes -- gay or straight -- were on Tim as he went clothing optional and sauntered towel in hand, flopping and slapping from thigh to thigh, to the showers. He hung up the towel just outside the shower room, and the eyes followed him to his favorite shower head. Tim closed his eyes as the hot spray hit his muscle, and he relished the soothing heat on his skin. Other eyes relished seeing 285 pounds of god-like, sculpted muscle. Tim spent 15 minutes relaxing his muscle in the hot pool, and then to the sauna. The eyes followed gluteas maximus while those in the sauna were met with another sight of pendulous slapping from thigh to thigh. One pair of eyes could hardly take his eyes off what he saw.