by D. L. Savage
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 in 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 it 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 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?
4
The next week, I arrived at the gym dead on time, once again dressed in my regular sweatpants and t-shirt, but with the yoga pants and vest packed in a kit bag. I’d planned to grab something else to wear at the weekend – something a little more masculine – but as always time had ran away with me, and on top of that, I wasn’t exactly rolling in spare cash. These one-to-one sessions had used up most of my meager savings, but I was determined to put them to good use, and if I looked a little foolish in the process, so what?
Soon, I’d look like a god …
I’d spent the week aching from my first session – Morgan had put my legs in particular through their paces. And maybe I was imagining it, but it really did feel like my thighs and butt muscles were firming up. Now I just hoped we’d work more thoroughly on my upper body in the same way, too.
This time, as I strode into the lobby, I saw her lounging by the reception desk, chatting and laughing with a handsome dark haired man who looked like he’d just come straight from a long, sweaty workout session, his dark hair mussed and his tanned skin glowing with pure health.
It was only as I got a little closer to the two of them that I realized it was the very same guy I’d seen during my first session – the one I’d walked in on, just as he was toweling off. And all of a sudden the image of his thick meaty cock and balls dangling between his muscular thighs as he’d dried himself flashed through my head totally unprompted.
“Ah, Bailey!” Morgan grinned, waving me over to join them and I felt my face reddening as the memory of his naked body remained lingering in my mind. “This is Brett, he’s one of my old students. Brett, this is Bailey.”
“Hi,” I murmured, trying my hardes
t to think about anything other than his big meaty dick, as I reached out to shake his hand, which was so much bigger than my own, his grip strong and firm as he smiled back at me warmly and said, “Hey, pleased to meet you. How’s it going so far?”
“Oh, pretty good,” I shrugged, the awkwardness fading a little. “But I think I still have a long way to go.”
“Don’t you worry,” Morgan laughed, “we’ll have your pretty little body toned up in no time!”
What the hell? I thought, feeling my blush return in full force. Pretty little body?!
I couldn’t tell if it was some kind of cruel psychological trick that she was using on me – the same as how she’d told me to buy a thong and sports bra (which of course I’d totally ignored). Maybe she just enjoyed fucking with me, teasing me in order to push me harder, like some cruel army sergeant or something?
“Well, I suppose we’d better get started,” Morgan said to Brett, before laying an hand on my shoulder and leading me towards the doors to the changing rooms. And as we walked, I noticed that she was carrying a black shopping bag with her.
As we arrived outside the men’s changing rooms, she stopped and gave Brett a last admiring look as he strolled out of the gym, the very picture of health and masculinity, a gym bag slung casually over his broad shoulder, his bronzed skin gleaming.
“Hot, isn’t he?” Morgan murmured, leaning into me as if we were two close girlfriends, sharing a secret.
“I ... uh ... I guess,” I stammered, confused.
The truth was, I had no idea if he was – I mean, sure, it was clear he was an attractive guy, but apart from that, what did I know? I was straight, after all.
“I think he has a little crush you, lucky thing,” she added with a girly little giggle.
“What?!” I blurted out, looking around me to make sure nobody else had heard what she said, before adding, “Morgan, I’m straight.”
“Of course you are,” she giggled in a strange teasing tone, punching me gently on the shoulder like she didn’t believe me. “Anyway, did you pick up the underwear, like I told you?”
I felt my stomach drop; was she actually serious about that?!
“No!” I laughed back. “Of course I didn’t. You really think I’m going to wear women’s underwear?”
I watched as her face grew stern and cold, her eyes fixing me with a piercing stare and her voice dropping to barely more than a growl as she said, “Listen to me, sissy, while you’re here on my time, in my gym, you do exactly as I say. Understand?”
I nodded, shocked into silence.
“Now, lucky for you,” she continued, “I thought you might try and worm out of it, so I took the time to pick you out some suitable underwear, just in case. Here, take these and put them on.”
And with that, she stuffed the small shopping bag roughly into my hands.
I started down at it, knowing exactly what it contained but still unable to believe that this was even happening.
In that moment, I knew only two choices remained. I could either tell her to go to hell and storm out of the gym, no doubt wasting the money I’d paid on my remaining training sessions. Or I could do as my cruel, strict mistress instructed.
I stared at her, feeling my heart booming in my chest as I tried to make up my mind.
Then I took a deep, shaky breath and made my decision ...
5
Luckily the changing room was empty and I quickly dashed over to a far corner, wondering what the hell I was even doing. This was insane! Morgan was obviously a total maniac – why the hell else would she be forcing me into a bra and panties? It simply made no sense, no matter how I tried to rationalize it to myself.
Surely panty lines didn’t really matter at the gym, especially not on guys? And the idea of actually accentuating my tits further with some kind of sports bra made me feel sick to my stomach with shame and embarrassment. But even as I was thinking this, I still found myself complying with her demands, too scared to piss her off further and knowing deep down I’d do whatever she asked of me.
It was like she’d hypnotized me or something - wormed her way into my brain, so that I was totally at her mercy.
With a pang of embarrassment, I began getting undressed, tugging off my trainers, t-shirt and sweat pants, then casting a nervous glance at the doorway to the locker rooms before pushing down my boxer shorts, too, uncovering my puny little dick.
I felt a twinge of shame as I set eyes on it – it was as small and pathetic as a prepubescent kid’s, with just the faintest fuzz of blonde pubic hair above it. I didn’t even need to shave my balls like I knew some guys did – for the most part, my body hair was so fine and blonde, you could hardly even see it apart from in direct sunlight, and even then it was just a fine white-blonde down.
Once totally naked, I reached into the black shopping bag, and sure enough it contained a thong and sports bra – both cut from some kind of neon pink stretchy fabric.
I felt my stomach twist in shame as I began stepping into the thong, all the while wondering what the hell I was even doing. I pulled it up around my waist, feeling the strap at the back slide tightly between my butt cheeks, while at the front the fabric cupped my cock and balls, flattening them right against my body so that when I peered down at myself, there was only the very slightest, almost imperceptible bulge.
Next I pulled on the sports bra. It was like a really small, tight vest, and the stretchy fabric tugged my breast tissue upwards, keeping my bumps firm and snug – sure enough creating the effect of two small, pert breasts, my nipples quickly responding to stimulation and joining in on the act, poking through in two prominent points.
From where I was standing, I could look over my shoulder and see my reflection in the large mirror on the wall opposite, and when I finally set eyes on myself, it was the weirdest sensation, hitting me with full force. From that distance, I had to admit, I looked ... hot.
Now don’t get me wrong, I knew all along that it was me in the mirror. But at the same time, I felt a strange tingling horniness swarming up inside me, the longer I gazed at my own reflection, the way I might when I set eyes on a pretty girl. I loved the way my thong framed my butt, and the way the sports bra accentuated my tits.
And it might sound fucking crazy, but for the first time, it was as if my body actually made sense.
I always think of that moment in the empty locker room, as I stared in wonder at my own reflection, as my ‘lightbulb moment’. I suddenly saw something in myself that I hadn’t before - and the whole course of my life changed as a result.
I wondered if Morgan had known this all along, if she’d purposefully chosen these sexy feminine items to make me realize what kind of figure I really had.
Because I had to admit, a strange secret part of me was enjoying wearing these clothes in a way I’d never known before.
And what’s more, as I bent down to start pulling on the yoga pants, I found that the sports bra actually had some useful qualities, too. For the first time, my stupid tits weren’t flopping around, instead remaining nice and tight, hugged to my chest by the supportive cups of the bra.
I tugged my vest then sneakers, squatting down to lace them up and in the process feeling the weird sensation of the thong riding up tight between my butt cheeks, almost like a wedgie. But, crazy as it sounds, I found I actually kind of liked the sensation, and as I pushed myself up to my feet once more and strolled towards the door that led out into the gym, for the first time in my life I actually felt sexy ...
6
“Looking good!” Morgan exclaimed when she set eyes on me, her pretty face beaming as she raised her hand in a playful high-five.
“Thanks,” I smiled back as I slapped her hand, feeling a weird flush of pride that she’d noticed just how nice I looked in my outfit.
Okay, so I didn’t look like some hulky beefcake, but all the same I felt attractive in a slim, sporty, athletic sort of a way.
And now I was eager, eager to continue my transformation eve
n further.
“So what are we working on today?” I asked excitedly, hoping that it was finally time to start on my upper body.
“Give me a twirl, baby,” she commanded, and I did as she said, slowly turning on the spot so that she could assess me from all angles.
“I think your thighs and butt could still do with a little more work before we move to your arms,” she said in a serious tone, nodding to herself. “And we’ll do some more stomach crunches, too, get that tummy nice and toned ...”
A part of me felt disappointed, but at the same time, I figured that as the instructor, Morgan knew best – and anyway, there was some pleasure in just giving myself up to the experience. I’d never been the best at making decisions or taking control, I was always more passive, so having someone tell me what to do suited me just fine.
“Great,” I smiled, glad to get going. “Let’s do it!”
After another grueling workout I was once again streaming with sweat, every muscle in my body aching and screaming. But I felt good, too – alive and healthy in a way I don’t think I’d ever quite known before in my adult life.
And as we finished off on the treadmill again, I found that the sports bra really did work wonders – keeping my normally bouncing tits firmly and snugly in place. Sure, it didn’t exactly hide them, but at least I didn’t get that annoying bounce with every step I took.
“You’re really coming along, Bailey,” Morgan said admiringly as I finally came to a halt on the treadmill. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I beamed back. “I really enjoyed today.”
