Home and a need to be clean.

The apartment door clicked shut behind Jerry, but he didn’t even wait to see if his roommate was home. His muscles were aching—not in a sharp or miserable way, but deep in the tissue, the way they did after a real workout. The thought of how much it sucked to be out of shape ran through his mind, he’d need more days like today where he pushed hard to get results. Not that it felt like it was paying off yet. He still looked soft in all the wrong places. Jerry knew he was still the same person he was when he walked through SpaFreu’s doors for the first time just over a week ago. Though now with a lower bank account, and less hair but more importantly he had someone on his side that he trusted.

Jerry could recall her looking him in the eye and saying. “You came here because you wanted to feel better about yourself. Stronger, right? Not physically with weights, that’s not your thing. But inside. Confidence, self-esteem, how people see you.” He wasn’t there yet, but if it easy to get results then Jerry would have been able to do this on his own years ago.

Slipping out of his shoes quietly by the door—those same SpaFreu-branded trainers Reina had said looked good on him, or specifically pink looked good on him were technically unisex, but they’d been in a section full of soft colors and curved designs. They were mostly black, with a little gray and of course pink. The laces were pink the little swoosh on the side were pink with a pale white sole, breathable mesh across the top, and a slim profile that made his feet look narrower than they were. At the time they only had lemon yellow, pink and rose red in his shoe size. They weren’t great options, but that went with what he was wearing as a whole.

Leggings. Tight black pants with pink piping that in the past would never have even considered wearing that were very much not made to have boxers underneath making it a bit uncomfortable when working out, but he could deal with it, or so he told himself, not wanting to look like a wimp in front of the petite fit and very pretty trainer. Then there was the pink T-shirt with SpaFreu printed on it in bold black letters, the tiny white ankle socks with pink accents at the toes and cuffs. All of it was outside his comfort zone, but it helped make him feel like he belonged at the gym and he did feel safe there.

Stay, you feel safe here. Join SpaFreu.

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

Then there was the sports bra, there was no way Jerry could think of it as something he needed or wanted to wear… Though Reina had insisted he couldn’t workout without it. He wasn’t so stuck in his ways with a male ego not to be open to things, she said he had to and he trusted her and he knew the place used to be a woman’s only gym and figured it was just a gym rule that hadn’t been updated yet.

Padding quietly toward the bathroom, his gym bag slung low on one shoulder, eyes fixed on the floor. He didn’t want to risk crossing paths with Travis, not wanting to deal with a conversation, a look, a question. Not now, he was sore and was looking forward to having some aspirin along with a nice long hot shower.

The moment he stepped inside the bathroom, he closed the door behind him and locked it. “Steam would help, does the gym have a sauna?” Jerry asked himself before dismissing it, knowing he wouldn’t feel comfortable mostly naked with the mostly female gym goers.

Turning the water on full throttle, so it could build up to being close to scalding hot just the way he liked it, Jerry turned, almost looking in the mirror. The mirror itself loomed over the sink, and even though the glass hadn’t fogged yet, Jerry still didn’t look into it. His reflection was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

Instead, he focused on peeling off his SpaFreu t-shirt, then reached behind his back to pull off the sports bra beneath it. He didn’t love how it felt—compressive, foreign—but he’d gotten used to it to a point over the week. Then came the leggings, sticking just slightly at the hips. The fabric slid down far too easily now, gliding off his bare, smooth skin. He folded them, almost without thinking. Then, hesitating for a beat, he pulled down his boxers.

Even before he stepped into the water, he felt more naked than he ever had in his life. He had once read a joke about how the only way to feel more naked than being without clothes is for you to only be wearing socks and he had agreed to that, but now without body hair he knew the joke was wrong. Slipping them off his feet he couldn’t help looking over his smooth leg before getting into the shower.

The hot water hit him like a blanket—dense, heavy, relaxing in the best way. His muscles softened under the pressure and heat. The ache in his shoulders loosened, the soreness in his thighs dulled. He stood under the stream, eyes closed, breathing slowly.

It felt great, but everything else still felt off. Reaching for the bar of soap. The same kind he always used—unscented, smooth, basic. It fit easily into his hand, but the moment he dragged it across his chest, he realized how different it felt. Normally… With body hair, the bar would catch slightly, lather building into the scruff of his chest, his arms, his legs. Now, it just slid. Smooth. Unresisting. Too easy.

Moving the bar of soap down his arms. His stomach. His thighs. There was no drag. No texture. Just hot water and slick skin. When he reached his groin, he stopped.

His hand hovered there.

He knew what was missing. He’d seen it in the pod. But seeing wasn’t the same as feeling. Not the same as being alone, in the shower, with no one watching and nowhere to look away.

There wasn’t a single hair. Not above. Not below. Not even on his balls. It looked alien. It looked wrong. It looked—

Body hair is for men… not someone as feminine as you, Geraldine.

The thought drifted past, too faint to pin down. Not words he heard. Just… a truth that didn’t come from him, but made space in his head anyway.

He didn’t think of himself as feminine, he was a man. His name wasn’t Geraldine, no matter how often Reina repeated it. Thinking about the pretty girl, how she touched him lightly on the arm, smiled and encouraged him made it feel more like she was teasing, like a fun nickname she was insistent he accept. And it was a pretty name…

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

The smooth skin between his legs said something else. Something softer. Something quieter. And it made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t sure how to handle. A brief thought came to him that if his name really was Geraldine, it would be fine, feminine smooth skin. Dismissing the thought he put the bar of soap down and ran his hands through his shoulder length blonde hair. “Why can’t I be confident without body hair?” Jerry said out loud to himself, his voice echoing slightly in the shower as his mind did mental gymnastics to fit with things it knew subconsciously.

“It is okay to show your feminine side. You feel more confident being feminine.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with being a little feminine.” Jerry continued, thinking that he was already wearing pink. Mentally adding that he was progressive and if he wanted to be the type of guy that got attention instead of just fading into the background he needed all the help Reina was willing to offer.

Still a bit out of sorts Jerry finished washing quickly, skipping his usual rhythm. No scrubbing. No long rinses. Just get clean. Get out. Towel off.

The mirror fogged over allowed him to avoid looking at his hairless body, even if he did feel a bit better about it. As he stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, Jerry made his way to his room, with his phone in hand the simple music playing as he tossed the device on his bed as he got dressed. He thought about some of the activities he had been signed up for tomorrow. The spin class, with what he hoped was full of attractive woman, not that he had a chance with them, but seeing them move about with the low-impact dance sets made it sound like a great place to be. Even if he had the confidence to ask one of them out he wouldn’t, he would never be that creep. He felt save at SpaFreu and wanted them to be as well.

His hand ran along the side of one thigh with the towel. They didn’t look bad, he reasoned part of him wondering why he was treating it like it was such a big deal, while another part of him insisted it was a huge deal.

Running a comb through his slightly damp hair. He thought about how long it had gotten. Long enough to stay wet at the ends, to tangle if he wasn’t careful. He parted it lazily, tugging it behind his ears. “I should get a haircut.” He told himself Feeling like he should take better care of himself.

Tossing the towel into his dirty clothes hamper he reminded himself to get his gym bag and dirty clothes from the bathroom it all needed a deep wash from his perspiration. Moving to his dresser he glanced over at his laptop still open on the desk, the screen dark but active. A blinking cursor in a spreadsheet waited for input. Jerry’s remote job paid well enough for him to survive, but not well enough to live alone. He did data entry—client records, invoice details, database maintenance. Tedious, clean work. He could do it from anywhere, but 99% of the time, that meant sitting at his desk or the edge of his bed in the same apartment, typing through noise-cancelling earbuds.

Jerry knew he had a lot of work to do, but it was also endless. No kudos for being faster, only more work as a reward for good work. He let out a long sigh, thinking about getting ahead tomorrow and just only submitting part of the work to show progress. He had planned on doing some more work when he got home after the gym, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead he thought of the bottles had been given. Thinking about if he was going to put more effort into taking care of himself he shouldn’t do things only part way. Getting his towel back he wrapped it around his waist and quickly made his way back to the bathroom to pickup the gym back and get back to the privacy of his bedroom.

The three bottles Reina had handed him at the end of the spa session were sitting there where he left them, no fanfare, just tucked into a little SpaFreu bag. Reina hadn’t said anything about price, and he hadn’t asked. Heck Jerry knew he hadn’t really looked her in the eye when she said, “Start using these tonight. It’ll help everything settle in.” He had only nodded, agreeing. She had given him two types of moisturizers, one for his face and another for his body. That seemed odd, but if anyone would know about things like that it would be a girl, they always seemed to be better at taking care of themselves and Reina herself… he sighed thinking about how pretty she was, coming to the solid conclusion that she knew what she was talking about and if he was going to be better, do better than he had to follow her advice. What was the point of earning money if he didn’t spend it to be better after all.

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