Going to the gym with mom.

On Saturday mornings I usually slept until 10:00 am, if not 11:00. Staying in bed was just too nice, and my sister agreed because she would never leave her room before 11:00 am unless she had very specific plans. Things would change for me from now on, though. I was up by 8:00 am, which was a couple of hours later than during school days. When I considered it that way, it felt pretty nice.

I went down to the kitchen to make breakfast. Mom came down not five minutes later with a shopping bag in hand. She looked more awake than any day of the week. The couple extra hours of sleep seemed to make a difference to her. Though she was up late watching TV… Maybe it’s a matter of mentality? Knowing she doesn’t have to go to work is a relief in and of itself, I guess.

“Good morning, Oliver,” she greeted me with a smile. “Good to see I didn’t have to drag you out of bed. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“You have zero faith in me, don’t you?” I joked.

“Not at all. In fact, here.” She set the bag on the table. “I forgot to give these to you yesterday. They should fit.”

I raised an eyebrow at her and looked inside the bag. There were some black, sporty shorts and a red t-shirt.

“Seriously? Do I need this?” I asked her.

“No, but better to feel as comfortable as you can when you’re working out. Go get changed. I’ll finish up here.”

I was surprised at how reluctantly I left the kitchen. It had nothing to do with getting changed. I just… didn’t want to give up making breakfast? I was getting used to it, and I think I’d started seeing it as my way to help around the house a bit more.

The black shorts reached just the middle of my knees. The T-shirt was of a stretchy material that felt comfortable, but… It was a little tight. It was easy to move in, so that wasn’t the issue. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that the fabric pressed against me, showing my figure more than I was comfortable with. I was slender and toned, with a body shape that was like an inverted triangle, meaning shoulders that were wider than my waist. The short sleeves were tightly wrapped around my biceps, too. The shorts stopped at the middle of my knees, so they still showed my legs, just as toned at the rest of my body. It’s embarrassing to say, but even I thought I looked like one of those dudes posing for sportswear. Only the glasses looked out of place.

It reminded me again that… this wasn’t me. Two weeks ago, these clothes wouldn’t have fit me like this. My stomach used to have a bit more fat to it. Not much, but now it was mainly muscle. My arms used to be softer and thinner, as were my legs. I certainly had no muscle definitions that would’ve shown through a T-shirt, or at least none that could be generally considered attractive.

What a fucking impostor, huh? People don’t wake up one day with a physique and abilities they didn’t deserve, that they didn’t earn. But somehow that had happened to me, and though I liked it and didn’t want it taken from me… When I stopped to think about it, I remembered none of this was mine.

But that was the reason I was going to the gym, right? To make it mine. I didn’t know where this came from, which meant I could lose it at any moment. The thought frightened me to the core. But if I put in the work, then maybe… maybe I could stay like this, with the body my girlfriends liked. If they were willing to share me, then I had a duty to be the best boyfriend I could be, right? At least I thought so.

The ride to the gym was about 20 minutes long. It WAS a little embarrassing to get out of the car and walk into the gym with my mother of all people. The fact that she was a little taller than me didn’t help. But I did my best to push that thought aside. What did it matter if somebody made fun of me for it? I could bet none of the guys here had three consenting girlfriends or even had a foursome.

…

That was a depressingly comforting thought.

The gym mom had been going to was a commercial gym, and it was huge. I called Sarah’s basement a gym, but this was easily 30 times the size of that. Probably with 30 times as many machines, too. The sounds of metal on metal were prominent. Plenty of people were lifting weights, and a good bunch of them looked like pros. Seriously, even Thomas had nothing on how swole some of these guys were. A few women, too.

I walked slightly behind mom. It was hard not to spare a glance or two her way. I knew her enough that I could swear to anyone that she wasn’t trying to look attractive, but she managed it anyway.

She wore a light-green tank top with wide straps and a high neckline, but the size of her chest was something no sports bra would be able to completely hide. She also went for comfort with those black leggins, but… How do you say your mom has a perfect ass without sounding like the creepiest fucker in the world? It brought back memories of strange dreams I’d had.

They had started around the same time my body changed and I hooked up with Sarah, Grace and Mila. Dreams of my sister, and even my mother. I had chalked them up to my hormones being all over the place due to finally having sex, and they HAD stopped, but… It was an undeniable fact that my mother was an attractive woman.

…

ANYWAY. I’m gonna go lift 250 kilos now. Maybe all that weight falling on my head will fix me. Or kill me. I might be okay with either.