by Tina Majors
I walked over to the treadmill and stepped up onto the hallowed track simulator.
I must confess I did enjoy a good run on the treadmill. I found that as soon as I got in my zone I was able to fly and in the blink of an eye I had hammered away on it for a good twenty five to thirty minutes. It was a high level treadmill that not only had all of the specific running programmes aimed at sprint, distance, fat burn, warm up and down modes it also had hi-tech stuff like a ultra HD mini screen that you could watch music videos or TV on, or if you had a sufficiently top end phone you could project your Netflix or streaming service onto the screen.
Huh, the gym world had really come a long way since back in the days where a treadmill looked and felt as basic as a treadmill you might see in the animated comedy The Flintstones! That’s not even to mention all the other improvements to gym and workout technology. The science really has taken it a long way, hasn’t it?
Well, I was in the middle of a Game of Thrones binge so for the next fifty minutes I would be watching an episode of the Westeros based drama.
I began to run and felt my legs easing out of their weekend stiffness.
It felt good, like I was getting out on the open road. But, sadly, I was of course indoors in a hellishly loud and stuffy environment. Good job I had my friends the Lannisters et al to keep me company. It was a good episode, lots of action and a good dollop of humour in there too. I must say I had really fallen for this fast paced and action filled programme. A friend of mine complained that it was too confusing with its myriad of characters and different locations. But I disagreed, and I didn’t find it that hard to keep up. Although to be honest, I often drifted off and just caught up later and worked it out for myself. Hey ho, in this day and age no one close-watches television, it’s all about burning through the episodes and telling your friends so you can discuss the cliff-hangers.
Well I really began feeling the strain half way through the run, something in my hamstring felt like it was about to ping.
Now, I’d had issues in this area before so didn’t want to put too much stress on it.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop and quit.
I merely slowed my pace down and also reduced the incline that I was running it. This helped and I felt the strain, or threat of strain diminish. But I was of course still wary after this scare and would take care for the remained of my work out.
I safely completed my warm down on the treadmill. This was ideal as it allowed me to finish watching the episode of Game of Thrones. Good episode all in all although I wouldn’t say I would put it up there in the pantheon of classics. But maybe I was being picky? Look it was a good episode but not the best ever if you understand what I mean.
Anyway life is too short to spend time thinking in such depth about what amounts to a nice bit of pop culture eye candy entertainment. Anyway…
I walked over to the free weights area and began with some basic squats and deadlifts. I had good technique and was able to lift weights that would be seen as pretty decent by even the most ardent lifter. You see, I wasn’t the biggest necessarily but I did have long standing correct form and technique that I had developed as a result of my first gym partner, a dude called Brad at school. He was himself the product of an older brother who taught him from a young age how to lift and press, a bit of a rarity back in the day when it was all about blunt power rather than technique.
Well Brad schooled me well and together we ended up pushing each other on by having a competitive streak between us. well we did always manage to keep our focus on technique and in any contests we had, we would always call each other out for poor form and hand the victory to the other if we had lifted without sticking to our protocol. So as you can see, my gym skillset had been honed from a relatively young age.
Well they do say that the best houses are built from the strongest foundations and all that.
I completed my sets in this area. I’ll be honest I didn’t push myself as hard as I could. I don’t know what it was, something was stopping me from going that extra mile.
I tried to put this feeling to the back of my mind.
I think it was because I had made the fatal error of not hydrating properly before attending the gym. It was too late now, any water I took on at this stage would simply bloat me.
Water takes time to have its healing effect.
What I normally did was stay hydrated throughout the day so that I wouldn’t suffer any dehydration at any point. I’d add a bit of extra intake maybe forty five minutes before I thought I would be on the gym floor. But today I had not only forgotten to do this, I had also for some crazy reason not been hydrating correctly through the day either.
Error.
Big error.
And now I was paying for it.
They say you get back what you choose to put in and this was living proof of that age-old adage. I was so angry with myself but also checked myself for a moment. hang on, I thought. I wasn’t hydrated properly but I still did pretty well. Now this didn’t mean that I would regularly be intentionally not following my hydration procedures, but it did go to show that when it came down to it, I did have a certain will to push on through the toughest situations.
Now that I had done my cardio, and of course my lifting, I found myself wondering what to do.
Part of my routine was to allow myself to do whatever I liked on the third segment of the workout. It could be something fun, a little bit of capoeira in front of the mirror. It could be an extra session on the weights, but working on a different area just to you know test out the lesser known muscles. Sometimes I would go for a swim.
The whole point was that it was up to me at this stage.
I knew my body pretty well though and today it was all about a little swim, a gentle way of testing my cardio and muscle strength while at the same time minimising the risk of injury. Sure, I wasn’t exactly Michael Phelps in the pool but I was no slouch either.
I might even give Flipper a run for his/her money!
I joke of course.
I suddenly realised that I had left my water bottle over by the weights. No big deal of course, I was a mere six metres away from that area. I did feel a touch anxious though because it was a really excellent bottle. It was a hardened glass bottle that guaranteed to retain the water purity, was good for the environment, and kept the water at a nice cool temperature – not too cold you understand, but nice and chill.
It wasn’t exactly a cheap bottle either, not like the plastic rubbish you can pick up for a fiver at the market or even a pound at the pound shop. No, this bottle had actually set me back a princely thirty pounds. Now, I know that sounds exorbitant, and I am well aware that part of that cost was because of the highly trendy brand name that was subtly but clearly noticeably embossed on each side of the bottle.
I guess I was a sucker for brand names?
No, that’s not quite correct.
But I do like a well designed and nicely ergonomic piece of kit, and typically this will be the one that has the swish branding to go with it. Well, I do believe you get what you pay for in life and I suppose this is a case in point. I mean, seriously, I remember once paying a couple of quid for a bottle because I had left my other one at home. I’ll speak the honest truth, I gave it a rinse and then stuck it under the tap.
Never in my life have I tasted such foul water.
And it wasn’t a problem with the tap, because I checked. It was the bottle. It made the water taste like human faeces. I wouldn’t joke about this, it scared me for life!
Now for me, it’s all about doing the research, paying what needs to be paid (you can always search for a reduced price online), and enjoying the kit. Anyway, I’m rambling here. I walked back over to the weight area and saw my bottle perched on a shelf, exactly where I had left it.
I walked over and picked it up, relived but not surprised it was still there. It was a high class gym and typically speaking your items were as safe as houses. Sure you had to take the standard prec
autions like locking your locker, but it wasn’t one of those places where you needed an extra padlock if you get my drift.
Now here’s the thing. After my experience previously of body swapping into a hot, toned, sexy woman I had been looking at the world very differently. Sure, I had changed back into a man when I woke up but I couldn’t get the experience out of my head.
So this whole time at the gym I was looking at the other women working out and checking out their long, strong, lean legs and their tits of various shapes and sizes being held in by sports bras – some better than others!, and of course their booties, again a variety from the small, pert super-squatters to the big, bouncy, squat style that also normally turned me on.
Well, I was still aroused by what I was seeing, but another part of me kind of felt jealous of them.
I tried putting the thought out of my mind but it kept coming back, stronger and stronger and stronger:
I wanted my female body back.
It was true, I couldn’t deny it.
I wanted to be able to caress and squeeze my female nipples, finger my hot, tight pussy, lube up and see how many fingers I could get in and out of my tiny little asshole.
But it was more than that.
During my experience I had wondered at the height of my orgasm what it would have been like to feel a strong man inside me, his hard, throbbing veiny monster cock pumping in and out until it shot its hot load of stringy white cum up into me. And following on from this I had found myself, or should I say my eyes, drawn to men’s bulges ever since. Not only that, I found myself assessing whether a man would be able to pick me up and throw me down, whether he could dominate me and make me his bitch.
I’d never considered myself to have gay fantasies but this was different.
I was imagining the men doing it to the female version of me. I had lain awake most nights jerking off to a combination of my usual wank material but not I almost always needed to factor in images and thoughts of big men and their alpha cocks being pushed into me.
Well, here I was then. The ultimate place to take in the kind of man I had been fantasising about since my experience. And boy there were plenty to gawp at and drool over.
I finished my work out and walked towards the locker room when I suddenly felt like I needed a pee.
I walked into the toilet and sat down.
Bored, I took my phone out and had a quick look. For some reason, the squatting video that I had watched previously popped up and I watched it.
Why not? I’d never turned down the chance to watching a high level squatting video before, so why now?
Well, what happened next was totally inexplicable.
As the babe in the video completed her tenth squat, her tiny shorts riding up that perfect peach of a booty, and with me feeling pretty turned on, I felt myself black out.
Darkness.
Silence, darkness.
Silence.
I came around almost immediately and without even looking straight away knew what had happened.
I stood up and without even checking I looked at myself in the mirror.
Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror I was surprised, delighted, and massively turned on by what was looking back at me.
Here I was, a perfect gym slut. My breasts perky, braless under my workout t-shirt, the nipples hardening by the second until the pressed their erect shape into a perfectly visible mould, visible to anyone who wanted to take a look.
I could see that my hips had widened, my thighs now perfectly round and muscular. I felt my shorts tear at the back and my perfect bubble butt ass protruded outwards, a calling card signal for any number of horny men no doubt.
I felt a strong urge to stay in the toilet and masturbate myself silly right there and then, watching in the mirror as I debased myself. But then another thought hit me…
Why not go back out onto the gym floor and see what kind of attention I would get from the other gym members and… who was I kidding, the big strong alpha men of the gym?
I felt my pussy tingle at the thought of my body being objectified by big, ripped studs. I let myself daydream for a second about the glistening muscular bodies of the men in the shower, their hard cocks rubbing up against my delightfully feminine, welcoming body. I felt myself go a little weak at the legs before pulling myself together and striding confidently out of the bathroom area and into the main gym.
As I walked across the gym floor I felt eyes looking at me, devouring me. This felt so natural, and I knew that I loved it – and not just because my throbbing clit felt like it had been sitting on a washing machine for the last half an hour. No, this felt right psychologically.
I spent the next half an hour going around the various work out areas, not pushing myself too hard – and I did notice a different level of strength that seemed to match the fact I was now in a woman’s body. Put it this way, I would be physically helpless if a hardbody alpha male decided to thrown my on the floor or over his bulky shoulder.
But one thing I did make sure was that as I worked out I presented my body in the best possible light for men to drool over.
At one point I caught a nerd staring at me as I completed a set of lunges with small dumbbells. There’s no way I would let this excuse for manhood touch my body or even talk to me, but I saw no harm in teasing him. I winked at him and laughed dismissively. This probably turned him on, and I could see from the way that he awkwardly adjusted his cock in his shorts that he would probably be cumming in his pants to the memory of this moment later on today, and probably several times this evening too.
But a man like him wasn’t of any interest beyond my entertainment.
At this point I realised that I was late for a conference call I had arranged. I didn’t know how the hell I was going to be able to do it looking like I did now, maybe I would come up with some kind of excuse and say I was a new employee?
Anyway, I had to get back home fast.
I didn’t bother with a shower, I didn’t have time.
As I walked to my car I heard someone call out to me. This was odd, I didn’t know anyone in this form as a woman?
I turned around and saw that the person who was talking to me was a particularly hunky man I had actually seen working out in the gym. Let me take a moment to describe him in all his glory.
Six foot three, perfect smooth black skin, large square shoulders, bulky but not an inch of fat on his entire body. His biceps were probably the size of my thighs when he tensed them! Put it this way, if he wanted he would be able to pick me up, spin me around, basically do anything he wanted to me and I would be helpless to stop him.
“Hey, I’m talking to you Miss Booty”, He said.
Part of me couldn’t believe the cheek of it. He was objectifying me like a piece of meat and in a way that was totally uninvited from me. Hey, it wasn’t my fault that I had a stunning body! But just as much as I felt offended, I also felt like this man, or should I say alpha male, had read my mind.
Did he know that I lusted after him?
Did he know that the second I saw him I mentally undressed him and imagined him using me for his pleasure?
Maybe this is how alpha men thought. Anyway, I was about to find out.
“Who me?” I replied, sounding very feminine, realising as I spoke that I was actually pouting and putting my hands on my hips in a display of mock annoyance.
“Yeah, you, baby,” He shouted back, beckoning me over to his car.
Before I could even consider what I was doing, I found myself walking over towards him as he stood by his large blacked out Range Rover complete with the fancy ass alloy rims and dropped bodywork. And not only that, but I realised I was putting an extra wiggle in my hips as I walked and holding myself in a way that pushed my breasts out further.
“Oh, hells yeah,” He said as I got closer. He licked his lips like he was about to devour me the second I was close enough.
Did I really wish that this is what would happen? After all, I’d been fanta
sising enough about it.
“I saw you checkin’ me in there,” He said. “My name is Marcus by the way.”
“Hi, Marcus,” I replied. “My name is, um, um…”
“Maybe I’ll just call you Booty, seeing as you seem to have forgotten,” Marcus laughed.
I giggled and felt myself blush as I took in the size and shape of his muscled arms. Without realising until after the fact, I licked my lips and actually had to stop a tiny bit of drool from coming out of my mouth.
God, he was hot.
I was craving him, fully in heat.
“Okay, I think I know what you need,” Marcus said.
I was speechless. I felt nervous because I knew exactly what he was thinking. I looked down to his grey tracksuit bottoms, tight fitting, especially around the crotch. There appeared to be an enormous bulge in there.
And Marcus clearly saw me staring…
Marcus moved towards me, and before I knew it I was being lifted up by him and put over his shoulder. I let out a moan and found myself grinding my pussy into him, trying to get some friction on my clit. I let out another moan as he lifted me into the car and looked down on me as I lay on my back, my legs splayed open, totally defenceless and seemingly ready to be fucked senseless by this incredible specimen of masculinity.
What followed next was a bit of a blur.
Before I knew it, Marcus was inside the car with me, his large frame so all-encompassing that it seemed to be the only thing I could see was hard, large, black muscle. He basically tore off my flimsy gym clothes.
“These look like dude’s clothes?” He remarked. “But probably a beta male boyfriend eh? Damn, you’re probably not used to an alpha like me?”
“N-n-no,” I mumbled, half talking, half panting as the excitement was hitting fever point.
I involuntarily raised and lowered my crotch towards him. I must have looked ridiculous, but I enjoyed the feeling of being such a brazen slut.
Marcus seemed to like this and gave my inner thighs a firm but friendly slap to encourage more. As I pumped up and down for him, he removed his loose fitting vest and then the moment I had been waiting for, he lowered his shorts and pants to reveal the biggest, hardest, meatiest cock I had ever imagined.