New day, new workout

The locker room was empty when Jerry arrived that morning—blessedly empty. He stood in front of the mirror in his tight-fitting workout outfit, staring at himself with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

He had laid the clothes out on his bed the night before, telling himself it would save time in the morning. But deep down, he knew the real reason: he didn’t want to face the choice. Reina had picked them. She said they were what all the girls at SpaFreu wore. Functional, breathable, flattering. He didn’t argue.

Now, standing there with them clinging to him, it was harder to justify.

The top was technically just a workout tee—but it was unmistakably made for a woman. Shorter in the torso, slightly cinched at the waist with seams that curved inward as if trying to sculpt a figure that didn’t exist. The sleeves hugged his arms tighter than any shirt he owned, and the pink fabric shimmered slightly in the light, making his skin look... softer.

Underneath it all, he wore the sports bra.

He hadn’t meant to. He’d shoved it in a drawer after Reina first handed it to him, telling himself it was a mistake, a prank maybe. But that morning, when he slipped on the clingy top and caught sight of his slightly puffy chest beneath the thin fabric, he panicked. The shirt clung in all the wrong places—highlighting things he hadn’t noticed before. And in a moment of self-conscious impulse, he pulled the sports bra on.

It wasn’t lacey or frilly—just simple black, racerback style, with pink trim along the edges. It didn’t do much for support—because of course he didn’t need support—but it flattened him slightly, smoothed out the silhouette.

His underwear matched too. A pair of high-cut fitness panties Reina had slipped into his locker “by accident.” They were soft, stretchy, and strangely comfortable… too comfortable. The snug material hugged him in a way boxers never had. There was no fly, no extra fabric—just a smooth, seamless fit that sat high on his hips and dipped just below his belly button. He had to carefully tuck himself just to make it all look right. It was humiliating.

But it worked.

It helped the leggings fit better.

Speaking of which—those were maybe the worst (or best?) part. Black compression leggings with soft pink piping that curved along his legs and accentuated the contour of his thighs and rear. The waistband sat higher than he was used to, hugging his midsection like a second skin. There were no pockets. No drawstring. No doubt they were designed to enhance curves—not hide them.

He looked at himself in the mirror and scowled.

I look like a joke, he thought.

But another thought crept in, softer, stranger: It’s not so bad. Everything matches. That means I’m put together… confident.

“You feel more confident being feminine. Geraldine is a beautiful name. You are Geraldine.”

The voice in his earbuds was back, woven between beats of the music like invisible thread. He hadn’t even noticed putting them in.

________________________________________

When he stepped onto the training floor, Reina greeted him like always—with a smile that could cut through storm clouds.

“There she is! Geraldine, you are absolutely glowing today!”

Jerry stopped dead in his tracks. “Stop calling me that,” he hissed, voice low but sharp. “It’s not my name.”

Reina blinked, then smiled again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, but made no effort to stop. “But Geraldine is such a beautiful name, don’t you think? So strong, so elegant.”

“It’s Jerry,” he insisted, his voice cracking slightly. “Just… Jerry.”

“Of course, Jerry,” Reina said, but there was a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Let’s get started.”

________________________________________

During the treadmill run, Jerry focused on his breathing, on the rhythm of his feet slapping the belt, on anything other than the snug grip of the leggings squeezing his thighs or the way the sports bra’s underband rubbed gently against his ribcage.

“You trust your personal trainer. They want to help you be the real you.”

“Geraldine is your name. It feels right. It feels natural.”

“You feel more confident being feminine.”

The voice in his ears wrapped around his thoughts like silk ribbons. He tried to push them away, tried to remind himself who he was—what he was.

But when Reina jogged beside him and called out, “Posture, Geraldine! Own that stride!” he didn’t correct her this time.

He wanted to.

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue.

But they never came.

It felt… pointless.

He was tired. Too tired to argue over a name.

And besides… Geraldine is a beautiful name, he thought, as if it were a fact he’d always known.

It was graceful. Feminine.

And wasn’t femininity… a kind of confidence?

That thought—he didn’t know where it had come from.

Geraldine is a beautiful name. It’s feminine. And being feminine can equal confidence.

He frowned and wiped the sweat from his brow. The idea didn’t feel like something he believed. Not yet. But it also didn’t feel wrong. Just… unfamiliar. And oddly comfortable.

As he pushed himself on the treadmill, Jerry’s eyes wandered—like they always did when he started to zone out. Across the gym floor, near the squat racks, a tall, fit brunette was mid-rep. Her form was perfect—her movements fluid and powerful. She wore a cropped workout top and leggings that hugged her hips in a way that was impossible not to notice.

Jerry felt that same flutter he always did when he saw a girl like that. His breath caught just a little. Damn, he thought. She’s hot.

His gaze lingered longer than it should’ve. He told himself he wasn’t being creepy—just appreciating. He didn’t even realize how obvious he was being.

Until Reina spoke.

“Well well, someone’s a little jealous today, huh?”

Jerry blinked, pulling his eyes away like a kid caught sneaking candy.

“What? No—I wasn’t… I mean, I was just looking.”

Reina smirked, her voice as smooth as ever. “Mmhmm. Sure. Don’t worry, Geraldine, it’s totally normal to feel a little envious. She’s gorgeous. Great muscle tone, perfect peach-shaped booty…”

Jerry stared at her, baffled. “Wait—I wasn’t jealous.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Reina said with a playful wave of her hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed about wanting to look like that. I mean, we all have body goals. And you? You’re just getting started.”

Jerry’s face flushed. Not just from the workout anymore.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he mumbled. “I mean—she’s just… hot.”

Reina gave him a wink. “Of course she is. And with some work, you’ll be turning heads just like her.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to correct her yet again—not jealous, not trying to look like her, not Geraldine—but the words fizzled out in the heat of her gaze and the thrum of the music playing through his earbuds.

“You trust your personal trainer. They want to help you be the real you.”

“Geraldine is a beautiful name. It feels natural. It suits you.”

His jaw tightened slightly. He hated how those words kept creeping into his thoughts—like little echoes that didn’t belong to him, but somehow fit too well.

He cast one more glance toward the woman at the squat rack. The attraction was still there—real, undeniable. But Reina’s words clung to him anyway.

Do I really seem jealous?

Is that what she sees in me?

Reina laid a gentle hand on his back. “Give it time, Geraldine. I see who you are becoming, even if you don’t yet. And I’m going to help shape you into her.”

Jerry didn’t answer.

He was too busy trying to hold onto what he thought he knew about himself.

But when she smiled at him like that, soft and proud, something inside him wanted to believe she was right.

Even if he didn’t understand why.