Gym 2 (Kate)

Kate

These tits were really starting to get on her nerves. First, Mikaella had come at her demanding to know what happened, which Kate did not know. Then, when she tried to stretch they were slapping her in the face.

And then there was Alkim, and his incessant staring. Part of her got it. He’d always liked her tits, always been distractible, and now there was a lot more titty to draw his eyes.

But damn it, she didn’t want to think about how much Alkim was probably enjoying the sight. Even worse, he was far from the only one. She really didn’t want to think about all the other male eyes watching her just trying to stretch, looking away when she scanned the room, and using the mirrors to watch her from angles she couldn’t check.

Jogging was worse. There was simply no way to contain the bouncing, and the pain was even worse than she’d remembered it ever being. It wasn't like the usual aches and soreness from too much bouncing, it felt more like her skin was going to tear. A few seconds had been more than enough to turn her off jogging for a lifetime.

When Alkim suggested the stationary bike, Kate decided that was a good excuse to just pedal, not move her chest, and play around on her phone while she burned some calories. Twenty-five minutes of that had been enough to remind her just how fucking boring exercise was, especially cardio.

How the fuck can Alkim actually like jogging? It’s unnatural.

A mystery for the ages.

Then, out of the twelve unused stationary bikes, some fucking dude had to pick the one bike to her left. She didn’t need to look over and confirm the creep was eying her up and down, or why else would he have plopped down right next to her.

Fuck you, perv! And fuck cycling!

She needed to do something else. Alkim said to meet him by the dumbbells when she was done, and she felt very fucking done with cardio for now.

So, she left the cycling perv behind, and went to go find her friend. It took her a moment to pick him out amidst this sea of grunting, hairy things.

Nearly every bench was taken by gross sweaty men, and like two women. The entire place smelled like ammonia, testosterone, and unwashed jockstrap (she assumed, not wanting to know how correct her assessment was). Walking past them to grab a pair of twenty-pound dumbbells and reach Alkim’s bench felt like an ordeal in and of itself, especially with the giant mirrors advertising her wobbling shelf of boob to these thirsty fuckers that were supposed to be watching their form, not ogling hers.

When she got to Alkim, he was busy bench-pressing two seventy-pound dumbbells, probably too much for her to help if he actually needed a spotter. But he seemed to have it under control, so she just hovered nearby, waiting for him to finish his set, trying her best not to catch any more wandering eyes.

After what she guessed was eight reps, he dropped the dumbbells down by his feet, and turned to look at her.

“How was the cycling?”

“Meh. Better than jogging, but I still hate cardio. This is just not my day. Can I use the bench after you? All the others are taken.”

“Sure, I’m basically done anyway. I can spot you.”

“Thanks.” Kate didn’t think she’d need a spotter for her set, but that was a normal thing for a friend to offer. She settled back onto the bench, and started lifting her own twenty-pound weights.

After three reps she really felt the burn, and her arms started to wobble. Then, Alkim reminded her to focus, corrected her form.

“Focus! Keep your arms straight, perpendicular to the ground.”

She fixed her form immediately, and continued her set.

Instead of telling him to shut up, her arms simply obeyed, straightening to keep the weight vertical.

“That’s it! Just keep going!” he encouraged.

Even though Kate could feel his sweat on her back, could feel her tits flattening out wider than normal, she ignored the odd sensations, and focused on maintaining her form. Before she knew it, she’d gone well beyond her set, and it wasn’t until she dropped the weights that she finally felt the intense burn in her pecs.

Ouch! Overworked it!

“Fuck me, I think I’m done with chest stuff. Can you put those away for me?” She took his water bottle and drank from it without thinking. The relief hit her immediately, trickling down from her panting mouth into her nerves. Within seconds, the muscle pains faded away, almost like they’d never been. Even the soreness in her boobs from all that bouncing on the treadmill had vanished. All that was left was some tightness in her pecs, just enough for her to know not to work those muscles any further.

Jesus, this stuff is too fucking good. No way am I working out without him from now on.

“Yeah, no problem.” said her walking pharmacy, as he moved to pick up her dumbbells.

Come to think of it, she didn’t really mind when Alkim stared at her tits.

It’s a normal reaction I guess. The rest can go fuck themselves, but it’s just Alkim, and he’s already helping her out so much more than he knows. Might as well just let him enjoy himself, watch some tits, not like it’s hurting me.

“Thanks. Guess if I’m going to be carrying all this extra weight, I should probably do some back exercises, huh?” She put one arm above her shoulders, and tried to grab her hands behind her back, which had the effect of thrusting her tits out even more.

Line: cast. As usual, Alkim took the bait, and his eyes locked onto her expansive cleavage.

After a moment he must have realized he was staring and made eye contact. She couldn’t help but smirk at his predictability. If he wasn’t already red-faced from his workout, he might have blushed.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Uhhhh, yeah, back exercises would be a good idea. Meet me at the lat machines.”

“Cool, I’ll clean the bench, and meet you there.” She was the last to use the bench, so it was only fair that she cleaned up. She wiped his sweat off with her gym towel, and then met him over at the lat machines.

He went first, then took off a bunch of weights, and then she took her turn.

What started out as a stressful workout had become oddly relaxing, almost therapeutic. It felt good to not think about anything beyond her next rep, and not having to worry about whether she was lifting correctly, or working the right muscles. She simply listened to Alkim’s instructions on her form, and followed them to the letter, as if he were her personal trainer.

Maybe I should let him be my actual trainer. He’d probably go along if I just let him stare at my tits.

After the lat pull-downs they did some rowing, and then some core exercises. She did some weighted crunches, allowing Alkim to hold her feet and stare at her jiggling tits while she did a set of twenty. Considering the extra weight added to her chest, she wasn’t sure the dumbbell was strictly necessary.

Throughout their workout, Kate found Alkim’s presence very comforting, and she felt a lot better using him as a buffer between herself and the rubbernecking masses. Normally, she hated nothing more than when people mistook the two of them for a couple. At parties or clubs—places where she needed other women to know she was gay—someone assuming Alkim was her boyfriend was a genuine berserk button for her. But right then, at this very dude-biased gym, she was more than willing to use that heteronormativity as a shield.

And after each exercise, she took another swig from his water bottle. God, did that make her feel better. She knew there was something off about “it”, about him, but it felt normal, natural even, for her to use “it” to take the pain away. Whatever “it” really was, it came from her friend, and she knew he wanted to help her out.

He’d said it himself. “I can spot you.”

Whatever she needed, he could provide, whether he knew it or not.

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