Who is jacked?

When you arrived in the weight room, Trent was ready to start his workout routine. It was an upper-body day. He went immediately to the bench press station and started racking his weights.

"Need me to spot?"

You always asked, but the answer was always the same.

"Fuck off!"

You moved over to the bench press station and stood behind Trent. He may not want a spotter, but the coach made your duties very clear. Trent racked his plates and got into position on the bench.

Trent unracked the bar and started to lower to weights toward his chest. Something was wrong, Trent could not keep the bar level, and he was not in control as the bar descended erratically.

"Shit!"

You grabbed the bar, together you manage to stabilize the bar and then return it to the racked position. Trent swung off the bench and reeled to confront you.

"What did you do? Did you switch out my plates?"

"Trent, you put the weights on the bar yourself. How could I have changed anything?"

Trent closed the distance between you.

"I have been benching this weight for over a year, then tonight I failed to even lower the bar? No fucking way. What did you do?"

As he spoke, Trent shoved you, and you stumbled back two steps.

I don't have to take that from him!

You got right in Trent's face, but he was looking down at your chest. His mouth was slightly agape. You put your hands on Trent's chest and pushed. Trent was knocked back a step. He looked you up and down as if seeing you for the first time. He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Wait. You're right. I must have loaded up too much weight. I am just off my game. Help me adjust the bar.

Trent removed one plate from each side of the bar and passed them to you. When you turned to stack the plates, Trent bushed his hand against your bicep. At first, you assumed it was unintended contact, but when handing over the second plate, Trent slid his hand up your arm and gave your shoulder a squeeze. Then Trent said a very un-Trent thing.

"Thanks, man. Mind spotting me again?"

"Uhh, ok."

You returned to your position behind the bar, and Trent slid onto the bench. He unracked and, with significant effort, managed a successful rep. This should have been easy for Trent, but he was struggling. He managed 5 more reps then got off the bench.

"Your turn."

You looked at Trent and at the plates on the bar.

"This is a little more than what I normally bench Trent."

"Pussy! Come on, you got this."

Trent reached out and started massaging your shoulders.

"You got this! Every time we come here, you just use the machines, never free weights. Let me show you what a body like yours is capable of. Push yourself. Don't worry, you're in good hands, your bro Trent's got your spot."

Nervously you got on the bench and slid under the bar.

This how I die, crushed by weights because I trusted "my bro" Trent the asshole.

You were not crushed; instead, Trent stood behind you, encouraged you, and corrected your form. You did twenty reps of a new personal best bench press by over 30 lbs.

The rest of the workout was the same. Trent behaved as if the two of you were actual workout partners. Maybe not partners, he was clearly the boss. He still called you "pussy" when you did failed to meet the goals he set for you. His idea of motivation was saying things like:

"You want to be a wimp the rest of your life? My cock can curl more than that! Those muscle are for more than just looking good!"

The weird part was how close Trent stood and how handsy he was. He massaged your shoulders, patted your ass, pounded your chest (multiple times), tousled your hair, and after one exercise he even wiped the sweat off your chest. You noticed him sniffing the towel after he wiped you down.

"Great workout, man! You feel that pump? Fuck, I always get so horned up after the gym. Flex for me. Let me see those guns."

Trent was right, you did feel great and a bit "horned up". You flexed your right bicep.

Trent stepped up behind you and caressed your arm.

"Phew. Nice guns."

Trent moved closer. He reached around your waist and his fingers traced the lines across your abs. Trent pressed his sweaty body against your back, you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. He spoke quietly, almost to himself.

"When the fuck did you get so jacked?"

Trent raised your right arm and proceeded to lick from your elbow along your bicep to your neck. You took his hand that was pressed against your abs and moved it down and under the waistband of your swim trunks. Trent's hand brushed against your hardening penis.

Trent jerked his had away, stepped back, and half tripped over a dumbbell.

"Who the fuck left this dumbbell laying here? I..I need a shower."

Trent collected his water bottle and hurried from the weight room.

You called after him.

"Wait, Trent, you didn't get to see my other muscle."