Let's Pump Some Iron

Britney headed toward the weight machines, watching the guy in free-weights. He was doing incline flys now, and as she approached a pulldown machine, she realized she didn't really need to take it easy. A few liberal hits from her bottle on the fine setting close enough to some of the weights would put her in control of dumbbells that would normally be way too heavy for her.

Just walking over had already gotten the guy's attention. Now Britney selected her weights, going high enough that she sort of struggled with them: 35 lbs. She huffed, and she thought she caught the guy's reaction when he saw she could barely carry the things over to her bench.

Oh, how quickly that would change. When she got to her bench, she sprayed it down with the bottle, making like she was cleaning it off. She fired one shot slightly to the side making sure to hit the 35-pounders. She held the command in her mind for everything to keep still, since a bench that decided to start dancing or galloping would kind of be a dead giveaway. She wiped it down with her towel, and once the towel had started soaking up the spray, she made sure to keep repeating it to herself: keep still.

When she sat on the bench to start her set, she altered the mental commands slightly. She pretended to struggle with the 35s at first, though by now, she'd commanded them to act about half their weight.

She caught the guy looking. She was doing curls, and once she had him glancing at her, she made the weights lighter and lighter, moving faster and faster with them. She did her best not to pay too much attention to his reaction.

"You, uh--you should slow down the reps to really get the full benefit of the curl," The guy said. "That's um...pretty great for 35s. You could probably do more." As soon as he said it, Britney was already working through her plan. Ever since she swallowed the manacite, her fine motor control seemed to be a lot more detailed. If this magic substance could make huge objects levitate, it should be able to suspend itself without a problem, right?

"Oh, thanks!" Britney said, smiling at the guy. She usually preferred her guys a little taller and a little shaggier, but this guy was cute and built like a tank. His blonde hair and clean-cut athlete look were certainly working for her. He had a tight gray cotton tank top, and shiny black athletic shorts. "I'm just going to finish out my sets with these...but I wouldn't mind some expert help on heavier weights if you're up to it when I'm done?" The guy's eyes went wide, and he nodded, almost dumbfounded.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, sure! I'm, uh--I'm almost done with my circuit anyway. Once you're done with those...try 40s, and I should be all set by then." He was practically beaming to help her out. Britney's shiny red gym clothes were obviously working for her as well.

As Britney split her focus between lifting supernaturally-lightened weights and her plans with the Manacite, the nozzle of the bottle turned to its 'fine mist' setting, and the trigger slowly pulled on its own. Britney issued the commands silently, hoping that the complexity in fulfilling the multitasking and interpretive expectations would work just as well when she said them in her head.

She obviously couldn't see the fine mist, or where it was going, but she issued the command all the same:

Coat all of those dumbbells, and all of the plates and bars enough to make them take commands--but DON'T MAKE ANYTHING MOVE AROUND BY ITSELF!

She repeated it like a mantra, ostensibly watching herself in the mirror as she completed the way-too-easy curls. She went slower now, so as not to attract too much additional attention — and to make it look like she was taking mister blonde cutie's advice.

What she was really looking at was the spray bottle under her bench, which was placed on the ground on the opposite side of the helpful weightlifter. She could see the trigger moving slowly, but once it left the bottle she couldn't really make out the fine mist in the air. All the better. She figured that taking her time with these sets should give the Manacite all the time it needed to complete its application.

And her thoughts worked! She had wondered about that before, but didn't have a reason to try it until she was out in front of people. Apparently drinking the formula must have had something to do with it. After all, if a substance could understand verbal commands — and she drank enough of it that she could control her own body — it stood to reason this stuff could cross the blood brain barrier and take her thoughts into account.

Of course, that also meant that this unknown substance was coursing through her brain. Suddenly, she didn't want to worry about it too much anymore.

And right...multitasking. Just like at home, Britney realized that once she issued a command thoroughly, she didn't need to keep focusing on it. In fact, there were plenty of bottles of manacite in the locker room…and she knew no one was in there.

She looked up above her head at the giant ventilation system circulating air throughout the gym. She grinned.

I want the bottles in the locker room to spray all over the air intakes, Britney said to herself. I want to apply a misting of Manacite that would allow me to control almost everything in this gym. Britney thought about her command, and the effect the Manacite had on her own body. She quickly corrected herself. I mean the things in the gym--just the gym itself--not the people in here!

Although--that would make for an interesting experiment...no. No. Just the things for now.

Which brought her back to the weights again. She stood up from her bench, carrying the weights back to the rack like they weighed nothing. She glanced at Blondie in the mirror, who was looking at her again with wild eyes.

Oh, shit! He'd seen her grab the things earlier, and she was struggling. Now she was practically dragging the things with her as if they were heavy kites. She smirked a little, making a point of looking back at him through the mirror and winking. He laughed nervously.

"You...you just brought those back like they didn't weigh anything," He said. "How strong are you, really? Are you messing with me?" Britney turned back to him after placing the things on the rack, giving him a coy smile.

"I'm caught," She smirked, gaining a little more confidence with her newly discovered ability to issue mental commands to the practically-magical substance. Britney walked over to the 60s. "You wanna know how strong I am?" She picked up the pair like they were nothing. His eyes bulged.

"Holy shit," He said. "With--with your mass, that's...that's not even--"

"Possible?" Britney grinned. "Here, catch." She 'tossed' one of the weights toward him, and he put up his hands to catch it, shouting an expletive in the same moment. it never met his hands. He just shuddered at the sight of it at first, not understanding what had just happened.

The weight was hovering in space, slowly rotating. He gingerly reached out a hand to touch it, sending it rotating in the opposite direction.

"What the f..." A empty bar on the benchpress clanked against its catches, getting the guy's attention.

"What do you press? I'll spot you," Britney said, biting her lip. Plates started hovering off of their racks, and the guy was speechless.

"Uh--are you doing this?" The guy said to her.

"Doing what?" Britney said, still wearing her shit-eating grin. "I asked how much you press."

"I--uh--I..." He watched as the plates were hovering in the air, shuffling around each other. By now, the attention of the other three people in the gym were on them.

"195? You can do that pretty easy, right?" She asked. The guy just nodded out of some instinctive reaction, and by now Britney could hear reactions from the two young ladies on the treadmills. "So, show me. Like I said, I'll spot you." The plates configured themselves on the bar, and the spring clips slid over once they were in place. The guy didn't move toward the bench, though. He just watched as the other floating plates replaced themselves. By now, the pair of 60 pound dumbells were back on the rack.

"I, uh...I don't..."

"Aww, and you were so anxious to help me out earlier," Britney said. "Are you saying you don't want to demonstrate an easy little benchpress for me?" She looked over at the girls on the treadmills, who were still going, but were looking at them both and obviously discussing something.

"You--you saw the weights just..." Britney rolled her eyes, getting bold.

"You're not gonna make me show you up, are you?" She asked, preparing to get on the bench. Despite what he saw, this jab at his pride clearly jolted him into action. He beat Britney to the bench, going under the bar and preparing to lift it.

While Britney watched, she could feel something. It was some kind of growing awareness around the gym. She wondered how far the nebulized material had gotten, and how well her plan had actually worked.

As she suspected, the relatively bulky guy was able to pull off a set of eight reps without too much of a problem. When he was finished, he sat up, looking at Britney with satisfaction. Apparently didn't escape him that he had extra attention from the only two other gym patrons at the time, because he glanced at them and looked back at Britney again.

"There," he said. "Now, are you gonna tell me how you did that?" He asked. "Is this a gag for a YouTube channel or something?" Britney's eyes lit up.

Her phone! She forgot that she was going to record all of this. Instead of issuing a silent command, she decided to be clever with how she'd draw it into action.

"Something like that," Britney said, "I'd love to have some solid recordings of everyone's reactions." As she said it, the device lifted out of her hip pocket and hovered up in front of the two of them. It started recording.

"S-so...that's a trick, then?" The guy asked, pointing at the phone. "Some kind of special effect?" Britney turned to her phone and nodded.

"Yeah," she beamed. "Pretty cool, huh?" The guy narrowed his eyes. The curiosity of the two girls on the treadmills was renewed when they saw the same thing — a smart phone hovering of its own accord about a dozen yards away from.

"That's…pretty crazy," The guy admitted. "I don't see anything attached to it. And the weights...how did you manage to--" Britney smiled as the spring clips removed themselves from the bar on the bench. The guy just watched them do it, staring in awe at the floating pieces of metal as four more twenty-five pound plates lifted from their spaces on the racks.

"Really cool special effects, right?" Britney asked, setting a few more things into motion with mental commands as the weight on the bar increased itself to 295 pounds. One of the spring clips are placed itself as she sent the other one to hover in front the guy's face. He stared, confused, trying to grab at it for a moment before it darted out of the way.

"Wait," he chuckled, "seriously, how are you doing that?" By now, both girls on the treadmills had stopped their work out and were wandering over toward the free weights. One of them was a brunette with a white tee and blue lettering that read "X-COUNTRY" and shimmery black gym tights, and the blond--who had markedly more pronounced tits--was sporting a pink tank top and matching leggings.

"Are you guys, like, filming something over here?" The blond asked. She pointed at Britney's hovering phone as the other stared at the free-floating weight clip, now replacing itself on the bar again.

"Yeah," Britney said. "I'm like, uh — sort of like a Chris-Angel-type illusionist," Britney lied, "and I've just been messing with this good sport here," she grinned at him. "What's your name, guy?"

"Uh, Jared," the guy said. "I mean, I saw all these weights rise off the rack and clip themselves to this bar," he guffawed. "Are you saying that was all a trick?" Britney shrugged.

"Yup!" She said, going with the flow.

"That's crazy!" The other girl said. "I saw that too, but I couldn't really...believe that I saw it!" She laughed. "No wonder it didn't make any sense to me." The blond echoed her laugh.

"Yeah, like--even that hovering phone is better than any stage trick I've ever seen," she said. "Is there like, a film crew in on this?" Britney shook her head with a smug smile on her face.

"All me...for now," she said. "But do you guys want to see something really crazy?" Both the girls nodded. "Okay, come on out!" Britney shouted, putting her hand to her mouth and directing her voice toward the locker rooms.

The shout had gotten the attendant's attention as well now, and the entire group watched the women's locker room door flew open.

Britney's sweatsuit sauntered out all on its own, still filled to its voluptuous shape, strutting across the gym floor toward the weight bench. The blond let out a little squeak, smiling as she held her hand to her mouth. The brunette quietly muttered an expletive, staring in wonder as the outfit approached.

"There's...there's no way," The guy said. "She's...invisible!"

"Want to go toe-to-toe with my invisible friend, Jared?" Britney asked. "I'll bet anything that my curvy friend on the way over here can outlift you." He sneered, incredulous.

"There's no way I'm taking that bet," he said. "You have to have everything the gym rigged to pull something like that off. That's, like, cinema-quality stuff!" Jared looked around--at the ceiling, the walls, anything that might give away a clue as to how all of these things were working.

"Is that a puppet, or, like..." The blond asked, backing away cautiously as Britney's outfit approached.

"I'll take questions at the end, maybe…" Britney grinned. She patted her sweatshirt on the back. "Do a set of presses for everyone, would you?" Britney asked. The collar seemed to nod at her, and walked around to the far side of the bench, passing right in front of Jared. He froze in place, watching the empty curves of the seemingly haunted clothes as they bent over in front of him. He found himself staring at the ass of an apparently invisible girl, and it tweaked itself once, bouncing in front of him before taking its place on the bench.

The whole group watched as the wrists of the sweatshirt pointed at the bar. There was a collective gasp as the bar rattled and lifted off of its rests. One after the other, the hollow outfit completed its set, the sweatshirts breasts flexing and pushing together as its emulated musculature lifted the bar each time.

Both the girls were clapping as the attendant came over to watch the impossible display. Jared slowly put his hands together, reacting to the invisible form in a way that his loose athletic shorts would eventually betray if he couldn't keep himself under control. Obviously there wasn't a visible woman inside the outfit, but now he had to know what was behind what he just saw.

"What's...going on over here?" The attendant asked, confused by both the empty outfit and the delighted and confused reactions from its audience.

"She's an illusionist!" The blond said excitedly. "Isn't that cool!?"

When the outfit got up from the bench, It got up on Jared's side, standing tall in front of him. He looked like a deer in headlights as Britney made the outfit emulate an arm stretch. The sweatshirt put its wrists behind its back and pushed its chest outward. The round curves in the emulated nipples at the front of the thick fabric weren't lost on Jared.

"You--are you filming something?" The attendant asked. "You, you can't really do that in here," She said, looking at the floating cell phone, and more confused than ever. "I--I mean, how are you even doing that in the first place?"