A personal trainer comes by.

{If Strength == 3}The door opens sooner than you expect, so you don't get much of a workout in. But- hey, that's not Newton. Who is that guy?{else}Quick, the door's opening!

You throw up your arms in a T, just barely in time before.... someone else steps into the side room. Oh. You lower your arms. Totally not because your body would have **** you to by now anyway.{endif}

"Well, I did think that I saw Newton take you to this room." This is a different man, and you don't like that he has a shirt on. You can't trust someone like that. He must have something to hide. Like you, with big boobs.

Instead, this man has on a blue shirt. As he turns to lock the door behind him -- why's he doing that? -- you see that the back of his shirt reads 'PERSONAL TRAINER' in white lettering. Oh, cool! And that also means he's wearing the shirt for a uniform, and probably doesn't have big boobs. It's short sleeved, so you can see most of his arms. He's got big forearms and big biceps, but they're not as toned as {if Strength == 3}Newton{else}the other guy{endif}. You guess the job of personal trainer has you getting everybody else strong more than yourself, and though you're a bit disappointed to lose your lifting buddy, if he went off to find you this guy then he seems a pretty capable replacement.

"Alright, you can leave those dumbbells on the floor." You follow his instructions. "Arms up. Hands behind your head."

As you do what he asks, he walks behind you, circling you like a bird of prey. He must be trying to see what he's working with. Your biceps feels exceptionally small at the moment.{If Strength == 3} But if this guy works you over anything like what Newton did, then you're confident that won't last.{endif}

"These look heavy." The voice speaks out from behind you, but he must be there for a reason, so you don't turn around. Yeah, those dumbbells were kind of- h-hey!

"H-hey, what are you-"

"Shhhh, I'm a professional. I do this all the time."

O-oh. That's okay then. You relax, and try to ignore the sensations of the man gripping you tightly by the front of both breasts through your tank top. He's really jostling them around...

"Got to be at least a kilo and a half each..."

Oh. Oh! He's not just seeing what he had to work with as your new personal trainer, he's seeing what you have to work with so that he can take it into account! That makes sense. For a second you thought he was groping you.

He sizes up your chest for a short while longer, before stepping back and letting out an annoyed huff. "This isn't working. Take it off."

W-what?!

"Come on, I haven't got all day."

But you don't have a bra on underneath... s-still, this guy knows what he's doing... right??

You pull the tank top over your head, and the man whistles as you runs his eyes all across you. This is embarrassing...

"Damn, I can't wait to fondle those naked."

.....what did he just say?

"Alright, pick those dumbbells back up."

Oh. Oh! Back to exercise, got it! Fondle must mean something different than you thought. You pick up the dumbbells and hold them by your hips. The man leans back against the wall and... uh, fishes his hand down the front of his pants.

"Alright, now do some star-jumps."

.........................is this for real?

"Hey, you want to get fit or not? Let's get moving already." His hand is running up and down something hidden by the front of his pants. M-maybe it's an exercise...

You do a few star jumps, but your boobs keep bouncing around too much. Or at least, you think so, but your personal trainer doesn't say anything. You can only do two before you have to put the dumbbells down, but your personal trainer tells you to just keep going without them anyway. Well, alright....

This carries on for a few more minutes, before your personal trainer leans his head back and against the wall, panting heavily. His hand speeds up, then slows, then stops, and eventually he pulls his hand out from the front of his pants. It's covered in something, which he then walks over to you and rubs all over your breasts. M-maybe it's a special workout moisturiser.... it's smelly~... you're feeling a bit light-headed. Your personal trainer gets really into rubbing it in. You're just happy to finish the star jumps, as your tongue dangles out and you pant out heavily, chest heaving. You don't even notice the money that he slips in between your cleavage, let alone wonder what for.{if Strength == 3} S-suddenly you kind of don't like the gym anymore. But if Newton wanted this guy here then you guess...{endif}