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Gym Gone Right - Part 1
🕑 Added 2022-08-25 13:43:57 +0000 UTCALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 2 | PART 3
Author - Dana Louise
“Are you Bailey?” The confident female voice startled me so much that I almost jumped out of my skin. I span around to face a tall, blonde woman, her tanned skin glowing and her hair tied up in a tight, high ponytail. “Uh, yeah?” I said, hesitantly, wondering how in the hell she knew my name. “I’m Morgan,” she explained with a smile.
“Your personal fitness instructor?” I did a double take. When I’d arranged for this series of one-on-one sessions, communicating with a personal trainer named Morgan, I guess I’d just assumed it was a guy.
Then again, I supposed my own name, Bailey was also unisex. And there was no doubt tall blonde standing in front of me was all woman toned and lean, her ample curves accentuated by the tight black shorts and grey vest top she was wearing. At the same time, I could she was built too; damn, she had more muscles than me!
You see, that was the whole reason I’d signed up for this gym in the first place. By the age of twenty-two, I’d grown sick and tired of being so skinny and androgynous-looking. I suspected that maybe I was low in testosterone, which accounted for my lack of facial hair and my somewhat high-pitched voice. And on top of all that, I’d never developed too much in other, more private areas either, if you know what I mean.
To make matters worse, the only bit of me that had grown since puberty, strange as it sounds – was my breasts. Yep, you heard me right. It’s a condition called gynecomastia where the estrogen outweighs the androgen in a boy’s body as he starts to change during puberty, resulting in breast tissue forming. I’d had this explained to me by various doctors, many times over, and at first, they’d assured me it would clear up as I got older.
But here I was at twenty-two and I still had this embarrassing condition. So, having had no luck with girls whatsoever – I mean, who the hell would want to go out with a skinny, feminine little guy like me?
I decided it was finally time to hit the gym. Maybe I could turn my embarrassing man boobs into toned, glistening pecs, and my puny arms into beefy, hulking muscles. Stranger things had happened, right? But the way Morgan looked at me dismissively that Wednesday evening in the gym lobby, casting her icy gaze up and down my skinny frame, I could tell she was thinking that she had her work cut out for her.
“Okay, Bailey,” she said, “why don’t you hit the lockers, get changed into your gym gear, and I’ll meet you by the weighing machine in a few minutes.” “Uh, this is my gym gear,” I said weakly, gesturing to the baggy sweatpants and oversize t-shirt I was wearing. I’d always worn clothes like this, choosing things a couple sizes too big for me to hide my skinny frame, not to mention my embarrassing chest bumps.
But to my surprise, Morgan laughed and then shook her head sternly. “There’s simply no way I’m letting you into my gym dressed like that,” she stated coldly. “For a start, those pants are so loose they could slip down and trip you up at any moment. And that shirt could get caught in one of the machines! No, no, no, Bailey. You’ll have to change into something a little more streamlined.
Wait here a moment” I watched, confused as she turned and headed off towards the door to the women’s changing rooms. And as she went, I couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance at her butt. Damn. It was perfect, exactly the kind of big sexy ass I’d always lusted after but had never once in my life actually got my puny hands on.
After you get buff, you’ll be able to bag a chick like Morgan, I told myself, feeling myself growing aroused at the thought.
As I stood awkwardly in the lobby, waiting for her to return, I watched some of the other patrons coming and going, all fitter and more athletic than me, the girls toned and sexy, the guys big and built. I felt totally out of place, so scrawny and puny and pathetic in comparison, but I reminded myself that that was the whole damn reason I was here in the first place.
Surely some of them must have been my size when they first started attending this place? “Here you go,” Morgan said a moment later, breaking me out of my thoughts as she returned from the women’s locker and thrust a plastic bag into my hand. “Change into these, then I’ll meet you by the weighing machine.
It’s towards the far end of the gym on the left.” “But aren’t these uh women’s clothes?” I murmured, confused, as I stared in at the slinky, stretchy spandex items in the carrier bag. “They’re unisex, Bailey,” she hissed sternly. “Now stop being such a sissy and go change.”
I was stunned into silence, shocked at how she’d just spoken to me, not to mention totally uncomfortable about the idea of changing out of my baggy sweatpants and t-shirt in a public place like this. A part of me wondered if I should just tell her I’d made a mistake, that this maybe wasn’t the gym for me after all, then go home and try to get a refund on the ten private sessions I’d already paid for up-front.
But another voice told me I was just being silly, that I simply was trying to find a reason to back out of this, the way I always did when confronted by a difficult situation, and maybe for once in my life, I should just face things head on and make a positive change.
What was that phrase? Face your fears and do it anyway, So instead I just nodded, mumbling, “If you say so,” as I made my way nervously to the men’s locker rooms ...
I pushed open the door, taken aback for a moment by the sight that greeted me. Because standing only a few feet away from me was a totally naked dude, his tanned muscular body dripping with what I guessed was water from the showers, as he casually worked a towel over one of his meaty thighs, his foot placed up on one of the wooden benches that ran around the edges of the room and his thick, half-hard dick swinging meatily between his legs as he slowly dried himself.
He didn’t flinch or attempt to cover himself in the slightest when he saw me, just shot me a friendly smile like this was totally normal, then continued to leisurely dry his body as I quickly averted my gaze, my heart booming in my chest as I heading for the farthest opposite corner of the large, otherwise empty changing room.
As I began to undress, I kept my scrawny body facing inward towards the lockers, shy and embarrassed, and I found I couldn’t seem to get the image of him out of my mind. his bulging biceps, his washboard abs, and of course that big, flopping dick between his legs. Damn. Even flaccid it was impressive, way bigger than my own puny prick at full mast. Not for the first time in my life, I felt a sharp pang of envy. That hunky beefcake didn’t know how fucking lucky he had it.
I bet he could bang a different chick every night if he wanted, while I was still a pathetic virgin at twenty-two. I felt my face reddening further as I tugged off my baggy white t-shirt, uncovering my ‘breasts’ beneath. God, I hated them so much. I’d already looked into surgery but it was just so expensive, and on my meager salary (I worked from home as tech support for an online company), I just knew it would take me years to save up.
My latest doctor had been the one to recommend trying to work out first, in the hope that I could maybe flatten out my boobs or at least make them look less noticeable by adding some muscle beneath them. I felt them jiggle a little as I pulled the shirt over my head, and to make matters even worse, my nipples grew hard as the cool air of the locker room hit.
They were so sensitive it was ridiculous, way more than any guy should be. They’d harden almost at the drop of a hat, even aching sometimes beneath my shirt, just from the slightest bit of friction or stimulation. Next, I pushed off my sweatpants, leaving me now just in my socks and tight-fitting boxer shorts. But my cock was so puny, that it hardly made the slightest bulge. I’d half-heartedly tried doing penis extension exercises that I’d read about on the internet, but so far it had done no damn good whatsoever.
I pulled the first item from the carrier bag that Morgan had given me, a pair of black lycra pants with purply-pink trim that looked an awful lot like yoga pants. She’d said they were unisex, but when I inspected the label, sure enough, it said Women's, Size 10. A painful flash of embarrassment and anger shot through me as I stared at the words.
Did she really expect me to wear these girly, feminine things? Again, I deliberated, with half a mind to just storm back out into the lobby and tell her to go to hell. But at the same time, maybe she did have a point, my other pants were always slipping down, and I didn’t want them to fall down while I was training and trip me up.
From behind me, I heard the other guy pull on the last of his clothes, then head out of the locker rooms, the door swinging closed behind him, leaving me in the empty changing room. What the hell, I figured. I’d wear these stupid things today, and then next week I’d buy something of my own a new, better-fitting men’s tracksuit.
So with a sigh I stepped into the pants and pulled them up over my calves and thighs, tugging them up around my waist and feeling the thick elasticated waistband cinching tightly around my waist, while the stretchy black fabric hugged my butt cheeks in a way I wasn’t expecting. They were totally skin tight, and I gazed down at my slender legs in surprise, kind of impressed by how well the yoga pants flattered them, making my thighs and calves actually look sort of thick, not in a muscular beefcake way exactly, but certainly a little sporty.
The only thing I wished was that the bulge of my dick showed too, but instead, the tightness of the fabric had seemed to crush it right against my body, leaving nothing but the very faintest mound between my legs. The other item in the bag was a black tank top with matching purple trim, made of the exact same stretchy material as the pants.
I pulled it over my head and fed my arms through the holes, once again feeling the elasticated fabric clinging tightly to my skin and flattening my stomach. I’d hoped it might crush my breasts down, the way the pants had flattened my dick, but if anything the top actually accentuated my man boobs – making them for all the world look even more like a pair of perky women’s tits than they did in my white t-shirt, my hard nipples adding to the effect by poking through the spandex in two small but prominent points.
I stuffed my feet back in my plain white sneakers, then padded over to a large mirror by the showers to take a look at how stupid I looked before making my final decision about whether or not I could really go out into the gym dressed like this. But as I stepped in front of the mirror, to my surprise I actually kind of liked what I saw. Okay, sure, I didn’t exactly look like some muscular beefcake just yet, but I did look kind of sporty.
And sure, the tank top accentuated my tits somewhat, but hopefully once Morgan started showing me what to do on the machines, my man boobs would be replaced by muscle soon enough. You just needed to think more positively about this whole situation, Bailey, I told myself. You’re here to get ripped – and you know that won’t happen overnight, but at least you’ve taken the first step of the journey by actually getting off your ass and signing up for the gym. And now I was ready. Ready to be transformed.
I walked nervously out of the locker rooms and into the large, busy gym. The air was filled with the rhythmic pulse of some kind of EDM and my nostrils were filled with the musky scent of sweat. There were a few more people in here than I was comfortable with, and I felt my heart begin to quicken as I made my way towards the far side of the gym, where I could see Morgan waiting by a weighing machine.
The tight spandex outfit made me feel self-conscious and exposed, and maybe I was imagining it, but it was as if the other people in the gym were stopping their workouts to watch as I walked across the room. The pants were so tight they hugged my thighs and ass in a way I wasn’t used to, and on top of that, I could feel my small breasts bouncing softly in my vest with each step I took. “Bailey, looking good!” Morgan called out with a friendly grin as I approached her. “That’s much better.” “Really?” I said, feeling myself blushing. “You sure it isn’t a little, girly?” “So what if it is?” she smiled. “I think it suits you much better.
Now, why don’t you hop up onto the machine here and let’s get you weighed.” I did as I was told, stepping onto the metal plate and watching as the numbers flew up on the digital readout until they came to a stop at 112 lbs. “Why you hardly weigh anything at all!” she laughed, a little cruelly.
“Yeah, that’s part of the reason I joined this place,” I murmured, feeling my blush grow even stronger. “I wanted to bulk up a little” “Of course,” she murmured, looking at me with a strange expression now, her icy blue eyes moving over my slim body which now felt so exposed in that figure-hugging outfit, “I suppose you could use a little fattening up in places. Okay, follow me.” Morgan turned and headed towards a large, complicated-looking machine nearby, in the process giving me another perfect view of her ass.
I could hardly tear my eyes off it; it was so damn sexy, the material of her pants stretched so tight, I could even see the outline of a thong through the spandex, her butt cheeks seeming to tease me as she walked. “You know what this is?” she said, laying her tanned, manicured hand on the machine, which had a padded seat and a large series of weights attached above.
I shook my head, puzzled. “It’s a leg press,” she explained. “I think we’ll start you off by focusing on your thighs. Now you put your pretty little butt here,” she nodded to the seat, “and your feet up here ...” Again, I felt a pang of embarrassment in the way she was talking to me, but I did as she instructed, climbing into the seat and then pushing my feet up underneath the weighted metal panel.
“Now, I’m going to start you off on the very lightest setting,” she said, “just to get you started. Two sets of six repetitions” I pushed my feet against the panel, straining, feeling all my muscles tensing as, very slowly, I managed to push my legs out straight, then eased them back down again.
Wow, it was way harder than I was imagining, and by the time I’d finished both sets of six repetitions, I could feel my muscles aching and the sweat streaming down my face. “Very good!” Morgan laughed encouragingly. “Now let’s try you on a real weight.” And as she fitted more weights, I felt glad that I was finally starting on my quest to improve my physique. I just hoped it got a little easier in time.
About an hour and a half later, I was gasping for air, flushed beet red and drenched in sweat. Morgan had really put me through my paces in my first session. After the leg press, she made me do a series of dumbbell squats, then leg curls, followed by a series of grueling sit-ups.
“You’re almost done, Bailey,” she said encouragingly, once I’d caught my breath again, “but I think we should finish up with a little spin on the treadmill, This way.” She led me towards a series of running machines, all of which seemed to be occupied by hunky, muscular guys and sexy, toned girls, until we reached one right in the middle of them that was free.
I felt self-conscious as she told me to get up onto the belt, then added in a really loud voice, “And next week, Bailey, I strongly recommend you wear a thong.” I span around, confused and embarrassed. Had she really just said that?! “I beg your pardon?” I croaked, shame-faced. “You’re wearing boxer shorts, right?” she said as if this was a perfectly normal conversation for us to be having in a public place. I nodded, confused. “Exactly,” she smiled, putting her hands on her hips and nodding towards my butt. “I can see that through your pants. Really, Bailey, you think that’s a good look for a sexy little thing like you?”
I shrugged and shook my head, just wishing she’d shut the hell up before anyone else could hear our weird, fucked up the conversation. Luckily, she seemed to turn her attention back to the task at hand, and as she talked me through how the running machine worked, I almost wondered if I’d imagined it.
But as I started up the machine and began to jog, I heard her murmur behind me, “And a sports bra wouldn’t be a bad idea, either” I felt my cheeks burning a bright deep crimson, and from the corner of my eye I could feel the guy at the next treadmill over looking at me with a smirk on his face as I jogged on the spot, my small tits bouncing away in my vest. “That’s it!” Morgan called, jeeringly. “You tone that pretty little butt of yours!”
I tried my hardest to ignore her comments, hoping she was joking, as I continued to jog. I was running out of energy fast, totally drained from the workout, but even so, I forced myself to continue on by visualizing just how amazing I would look when this whole stupid ordeal was over. And finally, after twenty minutes or so of jogging, all the while with Morgan’s ‘encouragement’, she finally called out, “Okay, I think that’s enough for today, Bailey.
Good work!” “Thanks,” I replied, still a little disconcerted by the way she’d been speaking to me, but most of all pleased that I’d actually managed to make it through my first session without passing out or vomiting. “I’ll see you at the same time next week,” she replied. “Oh, and you can keep hold of those workout clothes if you like,” she added. “They look good on you.” “Thanks,” I mumbled.
As I turned to walk back to the locker room, I could feel my thighs and stomach in particular aching in a way unlike any I’d ever known. I just hoped that next week, we might focus on my upper body a little more, too. After all, my biceps, pecs, and shoulders could also do with some bulking up, right?
