A drawn- out assisination

As Ethan stepped out the floor to ceiling reflected back at further emphasizing his scrawny yet still with a pudgy belly body.

Ethan stares at his reflection, face flushing bright red. "Holy fuck..." Everything is on display. Every spare tire, every roll. Even his dick looks sad and small in this suit. He runs his hands down the fabric, feeling how every imperfection is highlighted.

“…I look like a discount superhero.” Ethan mutters

But before he could further process his fate, the holographic trainer from earlier reappeared. Flickering right before Ethans eyes making him squint

“ Okay, time for your full-body scan, trainee!” Tom said as he stepped aside to reveal a large oval shaped structure with a blue light grid emitting in the middle.

Ethan stands there frozen, acutely aware of how terrible his body looks in this suit. The thought of having it scanned - every imperfection measured and documented - makes him want to throw up. "Do I... have to?" He asks softly, running a hand through his greasy hair.

“Yes, so that the machine has active diagnostic stats in where you body stands at this starting point and I can best formulate a training regime for you”

Ethan glances uneasily at the intimidating scanner, his stomach churning. "Right, I guess that makes sense..." He shuffles reluctantly towards the machine, feeling the suit cling uncomfortably with each step. "So this'll show me exactly how pathetic I am, huh?"

As Ethan stepped in, a soft blue light swept over him, sending a light tickling sensation across his skin. He twitched, biting back a laugh. The sensation intensified as the scan progressed, moving from his head to his torso, then his legs—

Ethan jolted. “Whoa—hey!”

Thin, mechanical arms extended from the walls, lightly pressing against his limbs, adjusting his posture, even tracing his chest and thighs as if fine-tuning measurements. Then—

Oh, hell no.

Ethan's eyes widen in shock and embarrassment as the mechanical arms move over his crotch area, adjusting and measuring. "Oh god, this is humiliating..." He tries to shift away slightly, but the arms are insistent, ensuring every part of him is scanned. "Can't you guys just..."

Ethan yelped, swatting at the invasive robotic fingers. “Jesus,did you just measure my—”

“Scan complete!” the hologram chirped.

Ethan scowled. This place was insane.

Then the exercises began.

Or, as Ethan would later describe it: his personal descent into hell.

It started simple.

“Alright, trainee! Let’s begin with some bodyweight squats!”

Ethan frowned. That didn’t sound too bad. He bent his knees and lowered himself—

Immediate regret.

His legs screamed in betrayal. When was the last time he actually worked his thighs? Had he ever? He wobbled like a baby deer and barely managed to push himself back up.

“That was one!” the hologram announced cheerfully.

“Are you kidding me?” Ethan gasped.

“Only nineteen more to go!”

He made it to six before his thighs gave out, sending him crashing onto the mat.

“Phew! That was a great warm-up!” the hologram cheered.

“Warm-up?!” He wheezes incredulously, his voice cracking slightly.

The routine continued.

Push-ups? He barely managed one before his arms started shaking.

Lunges? Ha. His balance was so bad he almost ate the floor.

Sit-ups? His core was not prepared. He got halfway up before rolling onto his side in defeat.

Jumping jacks? Those he could kind of do. But after the first ten, he was winded.

By the twenty-minute mark, he was dripping in sweat.

By the thirty-minute mark, he considered faking ****.

By the forty-minute mark, he had had enough.

“What the hell is this?!” Ethan groaned, collapsing onto the floor. “This isn’t a workout—this is a slow ****! I didn’t fucking sign up for this!”

Rolling so that he was Lying face-down on the mat after his pathetic attempt at sit-ups, Ethan mumbles into the fabric, his voice muffled. "I can't even do two minutes of basic exercises without collapsing. What the actual fuck am I doing here?"

The door slid open, and in floated Edna, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“Ethan,” she said in that ever-neutral tone. “Throwing a tantrum will not accelerate your progress.”

Her lack of concern made him want to scream. “Oh wow, thank you, Edna. That makes me feel so much better. Maybe if I just cry into the mat, it’ll magically get easier.”

“Ethan”

“No fuck it” Ethan replied, collapsed in a heap on the floor. His breathing ragged and his body aches in places he didn't know existed. He lifts his head weakly, glaring at the hologram with pure hatred. "I'm done. I'm fucking done."

Edna didn’t react, only tilted her head slightly. “Your reaction is unproductive.”

Ethan threw his arms up. “You know what else is unproductive? Me doing anything after being turned into fucking human Jell-O!”

Edna paused, then delivered the final blow.

“I thought you wanted to finish your trainee program earlier?” Her voice remained level, but her words struck deep. “With this attitude, how do you plan on completing your self-proclaimed three-month goal?”

Ethan froze, realizing she had him cornered with his own words. Three months. He'd so arrogantly declared he could whip himself into shape in just three months. Now the goal seemed impossibly laughable.

Damn it. She was right. He hated that she was right.

"...Fine, fuck," he groaned, pushing himself weakly to sit up.

By the time the session ended, Ethan was wrecked. His muscles shook, his breath came in sharp gasps, and if he had to do one more squat, he was going to start screaming again.

Ethan stumbles out the door, dragging himself forward before collapsing, his leg muscles twitching with exhaustion. 'Fuck this... fuck this place... fuck you, Edna...' he mutters to himself.

The only thing keeping him from laying on the floor forever was the promise of a hot shower. The one in his alien studio pod, not the dinky one in the gym mind you.

Fast forward in the show the water was bliss. The steam loosened his sore muscles, and for a moment, he just existed, letting the heat soothe his battered body. But when he stepped out—

His clothes were gone.

Ethan blinked. The only thing left for him was a single pair of his boxer briefs.

His face instantly flushes red with embarrassment and anger "...The fuck?" He quickly checks around the shower area, hoping this was some stupid prank "Those alien fucks better not have taken my fucking clothes on purpose..." He realizes he has **** but to put on the boxers

As Ethan steps out he calls for Edna, but she is already floating above the center of the room. Squeezing some lotion onto her mechanical hands

“Please sit on the plush carpet in the center of the room.”

His eyes dart suspiciously between Edna and her lotioned-up mechanical hands. "...Why? What are you gonna do?" He asks warily, making no move to comply with her instruction.

“Muscle recovery treatment.”

Still skeptical, but too exhausted to argue, Ethan plopped down on the soft carpet. Moments later, Edna’s mechanical arms extended toward him, releasing a faintly fragrant oil onto her synthetic fingers.

And then she began massaging him.

Ethan stiffened at first, but then—oh.

He finds himself melting into the carpet, his body betraying him with involuntary moans of relief. "Fuck... that actually feels... ahh..." He bites his lip to hold back louder sounds.

The oil was warm, seeping into his skin as Edna’s hands expertly kneaded his sore muscles. His shoulders, his back, his calves—every touch melted the tension from his body.

Then he felt it.

A slow, creeping sensation of warmth that was way too nice.

His breath hitched as Edna worked a particularly tight knot in his lower back, pressing deep with precision. A low sound escaped his throat before he could stop it.

It was not a normal massage noise.

His face turns a deep shade of red as he realizes the sounds escaping him are far from the typical grunts of discomfort he'd expected. He's making...feminine noises, and the knowledge makes his cock twitch in his boxers.

Edna didn’t react, continuing her methodical movements. Ethan, however, was having a crisis.

By the time she finished, he was completely relaxed. Too relaxed. His skin tingled pleasantly, his mind was foggy, and—yep.

Half-chub.

Ethan clenched his jaw, trying to will away the betrayal of his own body. This is fine. This is okay. Getting hard to a pill shaped flying robot with a vaguely female sounding voice was fiiiine. Maybe I can feign the need to piss and just rub it one out in the bathroom instead

Then Edna’s voice cut in again.

“Lunch is ready now but if you want you can lay an additional 10 minutes for the lotion to set in”

Ethan’s stomach growled loudly.

Right. Food. Food was important. More important than… whatever was happening right now.

He stands up slowly, trying to maintain a casual demeanor despite the lingering sensation in his muscles and the semi-hardness in his boxers. He stretches slightly, feeling the oil on his skin glisten under the room's soft lighting. "Alright, let's get this lunch thing over with

Shoving all other concerns to the back of his mind, Ethan exhaled sharply, **** himself up, and marched toward the dining area.

He could deal with other pressing matters later. Apparently, he had the whole afternoon to—uh—address them.

For now? Food.

Because if he passed out before lunch, that would just be embarrassing.

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